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ramp-it-up · 5 months

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II Most Wanted Part 5: Wherever You Take Me

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: The cookout gets hot and dinner with Sy is a revelation. Plus, you get to see his place. 😏

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Fluff, Angst, Reader has PCOS, talk of infertility, talk of war, daydreaming about shower sex, anal play, natural hairstyles, clothes kink if you squint, voice/dirty talk kink, Graphic depiciton of sex. Woman on top, size kink, slight choking, squirting, nipple play, begging, raw p in v, copious amounts of cum. I did not mean to disparage yoga in any way.

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the fifth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

———-

To say Sy had you shook was an understatement. You woke up expecting to find him there, but then you remembered saying a groggy ‘goodbye’ to him almost as soon as you hit the bed after the workout he gave you in the shower.

You lay in bed as your anxiety spiked and wondered if he took that as a dismissal. You hoped that he didn't think that you didn’t want him around. But you didn’t want him to think that you were going to just fall into his arms.

You just didn’t know what to do with these old/new crazy feelings for Sy. How well did you really know him? You knew the kid from 20 years ago, but he broke your heart. How careful would grown ass man Sy be with your love? And would he still want you if he knew the entire truth?

You decided to relax and stretch and clear your mind of all the clutter. Yes, yoga was the perfect antidote to Jacob Syverson.

—---

Yoga failed you miserably.

You found yourself checking for Sy as soon as you arrived at the cookout. You socialized as you lowkey searched for him at the function, and when you realized he wasn’t there yet, you inhaled a whiff of the shirt you were wearing for the dopamine hits. It was his dress shirt from the night before that you tore off of him and that you were wearing over your tube top and jean shorts. You couldn’t help it if he left it there and it was the perfect complement for your outfit.

It was well past noon and he hadn’t arrived. You chewed your lip and let anxiety in again. You avoided questions from Carla and Tiffani about what happened, and your mind drifted to how he’d handled you last night.

Sy’s soapy hands were all over you, pulling on your wet nipples, grabbing your wet hair as his mouth attacked your neck, and sliding over your body under the hot stream of water. He was a quick study, and at the point of your fifth orgasm, it felt as if he knew your body better than you.

And you let him take possession.

His slippery fingers toyed with and penetrated your ass as he fucked you senseless against the wet tile, ramming his thick cock inside you again and again as you begged for more. You came again, harder than you ever had, and afterward your energy drained out of you just like his cum streaming down your legs. He had to dry you off and carry you to bed, all the while leaving sweet kisses all over you.

You’d never felt so…loved...and in trouble.

As soon as your towel covered head hit the pillow, you were out like a light. You didn’t see Sy’s look of adoration, didn’t feel the kiss on the forehead that he gave you as he whispered “Sweet dreams,” and his chest puffed out with pride at having put you to sleep, a cocky smirk on his face as he let himself out and strode toward the Bronco. You were snoring softly.

You were busy reliving the experience of the night before, relishing the slight soreness of your body as Carla and Tiffani chattered around you. You weren’t really present until fingers started snapping in front of your face.

“Come back to earth…”

“Oh shit,” you giggled, “sorry, Carla. What were you saying?”

Both of your besties laughed at you.

“Umm hmm. Yeah. Well you answered the question without answering it. That dreamy look on your face says it all.”

You just smiled, rolled your eyes and sipped your cider.

“I’m just chilling. Sy and I had a good talk, and a good time last night. We buried the hatchet.”

Carla and Tiffani exchanged looks.

“I bet you did. I bet you buried it hard. And deep.”

You scoffed at them both, but Carla was unswayed.

“Tell us, Buttercup. Exactly what size hatchet does Jacob Syverson carry?”

You shook your head and took another drink, rolling at your friends’ ridiculousness.

”Well, if you don’t want to give the details about Sy’s dick, you’ve got to tell us the story of that hair.”

Carla nodded toward your thick cornrows.

“Did Sy mess it up so badly that you had to detangle in the shower, or did you get tangled up with Sy in the shower?”

Your cheeks heated as you took another swig and scanned the park to avoid answering your intuitive friends. And when you saw the Bronco, you almost choked.

You put your beverage down and straightened up, patting your head. Sy had arrived.

“Does it look alright?”

“It looks dope,” Tiffani looked around to see Betty Bronco pulling into a parking spot.

“Oh shit, she is sprung. This is gonna be good.”

Their teasing faded into the background as you watched Sy unfold out of Betty Bronco and were reminded of the night before as he ran his hand over his beard. That beard. How wet that beard got last night. Both in and out of the shower…

You took in the vision of this man who indeed had you sprung after one night. You sighed when you saw him come toward you. Although he was dressed simply, a dark grey t-shirt and jeans, he looked like the best thing you’d seen in ages.

Damn, he was hot. Or was it that you’d just spent too much time in the sun? He strode toward you and the way his body moved was dangerous. You felt that you would hit your knees with the slighted signal from him.

Sy was indeed hot. And you may have also had sunstroke. Both things could be true. What else would explain the way your heart was beating and the weird feeling in your stomach?

Yes. Sunstroke it was. And lust. And nothing else.

Your friends’ laughter pierced your reverie and you got up to meet him before he reached the group.

—------

Sy got home that morning and fell into his bed, daydreaming of having you in it. It was 4 am, and he fully intended on sleeping just a few hours, then waking up and sending you a good morning text.

Soon he was dead to the world.

The next thing he knew, it was 11:30, too late for a morning text. He would just have to greet you in person at the cookout. He got out of bed to get ready, taking extra time with his hair and beard. He hadn’t cared this much about how he looked since high school. He hadn’t cared this much about anything since you. He wanted to be the one that you wanted. If it was a quarter of the way he wanted you, he’d be a lucky man.

Plans rolled around in his head as he rolled toward you in Betty Bronco, but also uncertainty. Was this just a trip down memory lane for you? Just a whim of a weekend, a chance to experience everything you didn’t 20 years ago?

Whatever this was, he wasn’t going to waste any time.

When Sy pulled up at the event almost an hour late, lo and behold, there you were. His eyes fell on you, a vision in his white shirt, your lips wrapped around what looked like a beer bottle. Your hair was different. Sexy. But then again, every look was sexy on you it seemed.

“Well, ain’t that a daisy.”

His heart did a thing and he took a beat, trying to be cool. Sy thanked his lucky stars before he got out of the Bronco, his destination not even a question.

—--

You met him under a live oak tree, a few feet from the picnic tables. Carla and Tiffany and a couple of other people called hello to him, but he just nodded and waved at them as he focused on you.

You in his shirt was one thing, but the tube top and shorts you were wearing, he felt as if he hit the jackpot as his eyes feasted on your curves. He licked his lips as if to recall the taste of some of them.

You stood there as Sy’s eyes roamed your body possessively, and although it was 82 degrees, you shivered. Maybe you were getting the flu.

“Hullo there, Buttercup.”

Sy beamed down at you and you screamed at him in your mind as you flushed hot again. ‘Where have you been!? Why did you leave!?’

But instead you just said, “Hello, Sy.”

You grinned back up at him, suddenly okay. More than okay. Sy’s attention was a powerful drug and you’d forgotten that you were an addict. You wanted it all the time.

“‘D’you sleep well?”

You bit your lip and grinned again as you played with the collar of the shirt you were wearing. Sy could glimpse a hickey that he’d put on your collarbone and he felt the urge to take you behind the tree and give you more. You had some powerful magic.

“Yes. Very.”

He took off his sunglasses then and stepped closer to you. His smile was contagious.

“I’m glad. You were knocked out when I left. Seemed tired.”

Your smile dropped as you chewed your lip.

“Yeah, about that. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

Sy shifted his stance closer to you.

“You didn’t kick me out, Buttercup. You were exhausted. I said I was going to give you space.”

“You did?”

You stared at him, wide eyed. He chuckled.

“You don’t remember that, do you?”

You sighed in relief and looked at the ground, cheeks heated.

“No.”

Your voice was small and Sy’s heart lurched, He had hope. Maybe you did have feelings for him other than lust if you thought you’d hurt his. He reached for your hand, just your fingers really, and caressed them softly. He smiled at you when you looked up at him again.

“It’s okay, Buttercup. Really. I got some rest. And If I’d stayed, I have a feeling that we would still be in bed right now.”

The deep timbre of his voice and the affirmation of what you already knew had you shook, imagining a morning in bed with Sy. You went silent, staring up at him with those eyes. His cock stirred. Shit, you were so hot when you went lust-mute. He cleared his throat.

“I like your hair.”

Sy nodded at you.

“Thanks. Got a little wet last night, had to do something…”

Sy smiled at the shower memories.

“Looks great. Like your outfit, too.”

He adjusted the collar of the shirt you were weating, eyes sweeping down your form to get a look at you underneath it. He knew that all he had to do was hook his finger in your tube top and your breasts would spill out. He licked his lips as he regarded you, eyes shining with need when he looked back up into your eyes.

Your mouth opened as if for air as you stood stock still, like a deer caught in headlights. You wanted the same things he did. Damn. You were dickmatized.

“I can see what you’re thinking, Buttercup. But everyone is watching us.”

You huffed out a breath, moved closer, grabbing his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. You heard some people murmur and your friends high five and laugh behind you.

Sy felt triumphant. He grabbed your waist and kissed you back. Thoroughly. Then you pulled back, out of breath.

“You’re right. Everyone is watching.”

Sy brought his hand up to the back of your head and looked into your eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

The gruff whisper went straight to your cunt as he pulled you back in for another kiss.

He finally pulled away and you were still holding on to the stainless steel chain of his dog tags. You looked up at him, ready to ditch the cookout on a word from him.

“Didn’t you get enough last night?”

You were posing the question to yourself, as well as Sy.

Sy inhaled oxygen, because he was drowning in your vibe right now. He grunted.

“Hm. I thought you understood, Buttercup. I will never get enough.”

Another kiss. You whimpered and he just knew that you were wet for him.

“I just want to haul you in the back of Betty right now, but we’re gonna do this thing today. Tonight we’ll go out for dinner, right?”

You nodded, licking your lips as he released your waist and took your hand, leading you back to the table.

—---

You all were sitting around the table playing cards a couple of hours later with your old friend group when someone pointed at Sy’s arms.

“What happened to you, Sy? Did you get attacked by a wild animal?”

Sy looked down at the scratches you left on him with pride, smirked and started to answer, ignoring the look from you.

“Well… Sorta. Kinda. You know I like to live dangerously.”

The wink he threw the questioner was for you, however, and you knew it.

“Sy, you’re too much!”

“Funny thing. Someone said that to me recently.”

You tugged on Sy’s hand.

“Excuse us for a minute, please.”

You gave them your best dignified smile, even though you hot. Sy was chuckling as he followed you back to the live oak tree out of earshot of the group. All they could see was that he was laughing now and everyone could tell that you were giving him the business.

Your friends watched you two and smiled.

Sy put his hands up and nodded, still laughing. You turned away from him, but he grabbed your hand as you tried to walk away. You turned around, annoyed, but then he pointed to his lips, suddenly serious. You gazed at them, smiled and then reached up to kiss him, then pulled away and flipped him off. He laughed again.

"Promise?" Sy called after you.

You flipped him off again but grinned as you rejoined the table and Sy went to get more beer.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

“Shut the fuck up, Carla!”

—---

You let Sy pick you up that evening, and the mood was subdued. He complimented your dress and kissed you on the cheek, careful of your makeup, which you’d carefully applied. Your hair was curly again, the braid-out giving you the look that you wanted. You were quiet as you looked out of the window.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Buttercup.”

You looked at him, anxiety written all over your face.

“Today was a lot.”

Sy looked back at you.

“Today was fun.”

You sighed.

“It was. A lot of fun hanging with our friends. It was like we were a couple. Carla asked… Well, I think people think we’re a thing. They expect us to…”

Sy understood. You were spooked.

“I see. Well, if you want to know, Buttercup, in my head we are a thing, but I know you aren’t there yet. I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not…!”

“It’s okay to be scared. We’ve been through a lot. Name it for what it is. I am not into bullshitting. Especially with someone I love.”

That sentence shut your mouth.

“And I don’t give a fuck what people expect us to do. I want to enjoy any time you grace me with. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Sy picked up your hand from the leather seat and brought the back of it to his mouth. The tender kiss went straight to your soul.

“Just be here now. I mean, we can talk about the past, or the future if you want. But let’s take it one step at a time.”

You smiled at him as he pulled you closer to him and as he kissed up your arm.

“Okay.”

Somehow, you wound up with your head on his shoulder as you drove to the restaurant.

—--

The restaurant was nice, Meyers on the River, and it was a great atmosphere as you and Sy ate on the deck overlooking the lake. You chatted, filling in some of the blank spaces of your lives.

You asked a question that had been nagging you as you ate your salmon.

“Did you- did you go all in during the war? Did you agree with all of that? I mean, almost 20 years Sy. I feel like you had to have a certain kind of mindset to do that.”

Sy shook his head, leaned back, and sighed.

“It was a job. With good benefits. And my family had been enlisted, my uncle Mike. I went and after I found out about Jeremiah, I just dedicated myself to my job over there. I channeled the feelings that I had in order to prepare myself to be a father to being a leader. My men were under my care. It was hell. Hot, sweaty, full of hate. So I became Syverson, the asshole Captain who got the job done. I survived.”

Sy shrugged and toyed with his napkin.

“There were problems to be solved. And most of the time we solved them.”

You took in what he said and saw there was something deeper there.

“I’m glad that you are back home now.”

He smiled at you.

“Me too. Everything happens for a reason, Buttercup.”

You smiled back and thought about what he said. He was right.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

You sat back in your chair, trying to prepare yourself.

“How do you feel about never having kids? I know about your losses, and you don’t have to talk about it….”

This was part of the reason why you were so hesitant with this relationship. You took a deep breath and decided to name it.

“No. We need to talk about it. It might change your mind about me… us…

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“Doubt that.”

“Just wait until I’m done, Sy.”

“Okay.”

“I have PCOS, Sy. It’s a condition that makes it very hard to get or stay pregnant. I’ve been through surgeries and meds, natural methods. The stress of my relationship also didn't help me to have healthy pregnancies. We were going to do in-vitro, but when I found out about the second mistress, I was done. Scott and I divorced and I was content to be by myself. The condition can be progressive. It’s why I take the pill everyday.”

You looked into Sy’s eyes.

“I don’t know if I will ever be able to have a baby. And I’m certainly not getting any younger.”

“I’m sorry, all that has happened to you Buttercup. But none of this changes a thing about how I feel about you or us. I still want you. I still kinda feel like forever with you.”

Sy had your hand across the table now and watched as the smile spread across your face. Something shifted inside you. Sy knew everything and he still wanted you. Maybe this could be a thing. You wanted to say so much, but instead, you just nodded at his plate.

“Finish your steak.”

Sy grinned at you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The conversation different, lighter after that. The chef came out and you spoke, then he comped your meal.

“I will never thank you enough for helping this place to happen Mr. Syverson.”

You looked at Sy quizzically.

“We solved that problem, didn’t we Ben?”

“Yes! Come back and bring your beautiful lady any time!”

“Will do, Ben. Will do.”

Sy stood up and shook his hand, then left what he would have spent on dinner as a tip. You walked out hand in hand as you looked at his profile.

“I haven’t told you about my business. I used my payout from retirement and my injury to start a construction company. Captain Construction. We make a pretty good living. And we help folks out when we can.”

You scooted closer to him on the seat.

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I don’t know. I feel like you are in my soul though, so…”

You gave Sy a peck on the lips, and he chased you for more.

“Want me to take you back to your place? Or would you like to see my house? Built it myself.”

You looked up in the air, as if it were even a choice.

“I want to see your house. You’ve got me curious.”

Sy grinned and started the truck. Then he shook his head and turned it off again.

“Ok, no bullshitting. If I take you to my place, I’m not gonna wanna take you back until daylight tomorrow. And maybe not even then.”

“I’ll go wherever you take me, Sy.”

—-

“Please Buttercup. I’m just a mere mortal. I can’t take this.”

You loved the way his voice broke and how Sy’s eyes were glued to your body, your glowing skin, your breasts swaying with each movement, your hand which was clutching him between your luscious thighs, which were on either side of his pelvis. You were pumping his engorged and weeping cock, teasing him, and yourself, by bouncing on just the tip, your small fist preventing full penetration.

Sy’s hands were grasping the steel bars of his headboard, stuck there by the promise he made you when you began the end of his house tour. It was a beautiful home, and now you were about to fuck his beautiful cock.

But you were testing his patience. His knuckles were white, and his biceps and pecs were flexed, forearms straining to hold back. His abs were tensed and he was gritting his teeth as he tried to respect your request, but he didn’t know that his struggle was the sexiest part.

“Hmmmm. I think this feels as good to you as it does to me, Sy.”

Sy looked to where you were connected, silently willing you to let him enter you fully. He growled.

“Please, it can feel so much better. Fuck me, Buttecup. I’m yours.”

You keened as you worked yourself open on him.

“Loot at me baby. Please. Need to see your pretty little fucked out face.”

You moaned and did as he asked. You spoke with him, halfway incoherent with pleasure as you slid down his cock.

“So, fucking hugeee. I love this big dick, Sy.”

Sy groaned as you clenched around him.

“It’s yours.”

He licked his lips as he gazed at you opening up for him. Your slick cunt clenching his cock was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I love that tight little pussy. Is it mine?”

You reached up and grabbed his shoulders as you adjusted to his size again. You looked into his dilated eyes and gave him a kiss in response.

“Shit is so fucking big. Ah.”

Sy was quivering beneath you, still holding back from going crazy on you. While he wanted to fuck you silly, he also wanted to savor this slow sensuality with you.

“Feels amazing,” you stared down into his blazing blue eyes as you slowly circled your hips.

“Yes, it does. Holy shit it does..”

You leaned down, kissed him and started moving. Sy watched your breasts as you arched backwards and he planted his feet to fuck up into you better.

“Oh! Sy! Feel so full. So good.”

Sy growled and let the bed go, causing a grin at his loss of control. He wrapped his arms around you and held you in place as his hips moved at the devil's pace. The sound of his dick breaching your wet pussy was everything. Skin slapping on skin was the music of your heartbeats at the moment. Sy’s hand found your clit and traced wicked circles there as he pounded you out, making your eyes spark as if with stars.

“F-f-f- u-u-u-ck! I’m- I’m coming!”

It was embarrassing how quickly he had you there.

“Give me that shit, Buttercup.”

He stroked you through your peak as you gushed around him.

“Fuck. Got my balls dripping with you. This is my dream come true baby. Gimme more.”

He sat up, grabbing your ribcage and moving you up and down his now even slicker, impossibly bigger, cock.

“Shhitttt you feel so good!”

Sy looked down and then up at the ceiling, eyes rolling at the sight. He was about to cum. He manhandled you like a rag doll so that he could kiss you. Hard.

“You are hotter than the desert, Buttercup.”

Your hands moved up his abs to his pecs, rubbing your palms on his nipples as he growled and reached for you. He pulled on your sweaty breasts until your nipples remained pinched between his fingers.

“Ahhhhhh, Sy!”

You moaned and rolled your hips as he pulled on your sensitive nubs.

“Love your fucking sounds, Buttercup.”

His hand was sliding up the column of your throat now, manhandling you in the way you’d come to love in such a short time. You moaned and Sy felt the vibrations of your voice box on his palm.

“You are so goddamn pretty when you are impaled on my cock. Can’t get enough of you.”

Sy leaned back on one arm so that he could pound you the way he wanted.

“Fuck, want my cum, Buttercup?”

You were circling your own clit and squeezing your breasts at the same time.

“God, yes, Sy. Give it to me!”

“Here it comes, godamn….!”

You felt his ropes of cum spurt against your cervix as he came forcefully inside you. Sy looked down to see it and your own juices eek out of you as he kept pulsling inside you.

“It’s like it’s never gonna end, fuck! Got so much for you Buttercup.”

You reached down and played in your combined slick as he pulsed again, bringing your fingers up to taste as Sy finally finished coming.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that right?”

You grinned and kissed him, as you collapsed on the bed reveling in your wet, sweaty bodies as he held you close. You wriggled out of his grip.

“Time for a shower, Sy.”

You smiled as you walked into his en suite, seeing him hot on your heels.

“Damn if I don’t die a happy man.”

You laughed at Sy as he got your hair wet again.

------

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moremaybank · 11 months

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please ok imagine jj fucking you in like an old beach shed after a long day of teaching you how to surf and hes praising you for how good you did that day 🙈

please i need this man to praise me like i'm a god (18+)

your legs are shaking from their places around his waist, and he's fucking you so hard against the wall that the wood is crackling and threatening to give out. "such a quick learner, baby. you did so good for me today, y'know that?" you can feel his breath fanning over your lips as he pants, and all you want to do is kiss him. you fear you don't have the power to do so, though, because his cock is ramming into your cervix and knocking the wind out of you. "i'm so proud of you. gonna take you surfing every morning, fuck you every night 'n whatever time we have in between." he says it with such conviction that you know it's a promise. his forehead presses against yours and he kisses you, swallowing every one of your squeals and cries for him. your nails are scraping at the skin that lays over his shoulder blades, leaving behind jagged red lines on his smooth, sun kissed flesh. "you been taunting me all damn day. this tiny fuckin' bathing suit doesn't cover anythin', 'n i'm willin' to bet you pulled that shit on purpose." your head falls forward, leaning against his shoulder. "j, gonna cum," you cry out in warning. you're clutching onto him like a koala while he fucks every last bit of energy out of you. "go ahead, baby. my good girl deserves it. such a good fuckin' student, hot for teacher." he's grinning like a cheshire cat and you don't need to see him to know that it's there. he's proud of himself, and he damn sure is proud of you.

concepts ; concepts ii

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ladystoneboobs · 4 months

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an examination of theon greyjoy's feelings about and (implied) relationship with evil uncle euron

Theon searched for his uncle Euron's Silence. Of that lean and terrible red ship he saw no sign, but his father's Great Kraken was there, her bow ornamented with a grey iron ram in the shape of its namesake. [...] It might be only a caution, now that he thought on it. A defensive move, lest the war spill out across the sea. Old men were cautious by nature. His father was old now, and so too his uncle Victarion, who commanded the Iron Fleet. His uncle Euron was a different song, to be sure, but the Silence did not seem to be in port. It's all for the good, Theon told himself. This way, I shall be able to strike all the more quickly. -Theon I, aCoK

the first we read of euron is in theon's first pov as he searched the harbor at lordsport for euron's ship. no reason is given for singling that ship out nor an initial reaction to its absence. later down the page euron is described as different from balon and victarion, with none of an older man's caution to be expected from him. that's why theon thought it for the best that euron's ship was not in port, though at this point it appears his only concern is being the boldest greyjoy around, commanding the fleet all the more quickly for its already being assembled, and not being outshone by euron. the only hint at more is his description of the ship as "terrible".

"You can marry off your sister," Esgred[Asha] observed, "but not your uncles." "My uncles . . ." Theon's claim took precedence over those of his father's three brothers, but the woman had touched on a sore point nonetheless. In the islands it was scarce unheard of for a strong, ambitious uncle to dispossess a weak nephew of his rights, and usually murder him in the bargain. But I am not weak, Theon told himself, and I mean to be stronger yet by the time my father dies. [...] [Asha-as-Esgred, to Theon:] "Euron Croweye has no lack of cunning, though. I've heard men say terrible things of that one." Theon shifted his seat. "My uncle Euron has not been seen in the islands for close on two years. He may be dead." If so, it might be for the best. Lord Balon's eldest brother had never given up the Old Way, even for a day. His Silence, with its black sails and dark red hull, was infamous in every port from Ibben to Asshai, it was said. -Theon II, aCoK

by theon's next chapter, when he and (unknown, to him) asha discuss their greyjoy uncles, theon has learned that euron hasn't been seen in the iron islands for two years. atp, rather than just noting that euron's not at home, theon has decided it's for the best if he's died somewhere and can never return. the word terrible is again used wrt euron and it's also said that his ship is infamous all over the world. euron is the only greyjoy never to have given up the old way in any sense, and the implied danger to theon is that he could also partake in the old tradition of a strong, ambitious uncle murdering his nephew. euron has thus been establishled as a villain, a threat, and possible kinslayer more specifically but we have yet to learn all the other, more unique aspects of his villainy. i think it likely that grrm, with his gardener-writing, had not yet decided that euron was an incestuous sexual predator. the risk of nepoticide is enough to explain theon's nervous shifting at the mention of euron's cunning and the terrible things said of him, but it could also apply to euron's full characterization only revealed years later in aeron's pov, one of those little half-open seeds gardener-grrm could decide to grow later.

[Robb Stark, to his assembled bannermen and his mother:] "Euron Greyjoy is no man's notion of a king, if half of what Theon said of him was true. Theon is the rightful heir, unless he's dead . . . but Victarion commands the Iron Fleet. I can't believe he would remain at Moat Cailin while Euron Crow's Eye holds the Seastone Chair. He has to go back." -Catelyn V, aSoS

our next clue about theon/euron is not from his own pov but in the book between his arcs when he's "offscreen". i'd say the fact that theon had confided to robb at all about euron is significant, let alone that he related enough things about euron for robb to rhetorically dismiss half of what theon told him and still feel confident of ironborn infighting with euron on the throne. (with theon's status unknown and asha absent from the isles too, euron would have a claim to that throne and a better one than victarion regardless as the eldest surviving greyjoy. vic is the dutiful younger brother who wouldn't normally make any power play, so for robb to know that euron's rule would be challenged by his younger brothers shows he does indeed have insider intel wrt euron.)

this accurate read from robb stands in pretty, ahem, stark contrast to everything theon must have told robb and himself about the likelihood of a robb/balon alliance. an impartial observer who knew (as theon did) that balon's first rebellion was about bringing back the old way more than just independance from the iron throne would have known those goals were not in line with the kitn's cause and that alliance was a no-go from the start. we see in the quoted portion of theon i above how he lied to himself about balon becoming a cautious old man and this being his time in the sun, yet it seems euron was the one family member he couldn't lie to himself about. not only did euron make such an impression on him that theon always remembered him very clearly but the effect was such that amid all his hostage time at wf fantasizing about his return home, he felt the need to tell robb the truth about this one scary relative by confiding in him with multiple stories. (though if euron had sexually abused theon, i can't imagine him ever explicitly revealing that to robb or anyone else.)

"My uncle[Victarion] is never coming back," Reek told them[the ironmen Victarion abandoned at Moat Cailin]. "The kingsmoot crowned his brother Euron, and the Crow's Eye has other wars to fight. You think my uncle values you? He doesn't. You are the ones he left behind to die. He scraped you off the same way he scrapes mud off his boots when he wades ashore." -Reek(/Theon) II, aDwD

this is euron's only name-drop in theon's dance pov, significant only in that it shows theon had recent news of his uncles, enough to know that euron dgaf about keeping balon's northern conquests and had instead drawn vic and the other captains far away. which brings me to ...

Crowfood. Theon remembered. An old man, huge and powerful, with a ruddy face and a shaggy white beard. He had been seated on a garron, clad in the pelt of a gigantic snow bear, its head his hood. Under it he wore a stained white leather eye patch that reminded Theon of his uncle Euron. He'd wanted to rip it off Umber's face, to make certain that underneath was only an empty socket, not a black eye shining with malice. Instead he had whimpered [...] -Theon I, tWoW

here, we have theon meeting a non-bolton northman he's known before, no different really from all the non-bolton northmen inside wf or any others he'd met growing up there, none of whom really seemed to scare him as his captors did, yet the mere sight of mors "crowfood" umber's eye patch is enough to freak theon the fuck out, wanting to rip off the eye patch for reassurance that crowfood was just a regular guy. this is the kind of terror we'd expect wrt ramsay, which would make sense in that regard, as ramsay had been his most immediate abuser, torturing theon in every sense for around a year almost right up until the moment of his escape, and ramsay's still right there in wf, so theon had good reason to still fear recapture by him. euron, though? that's an uncle he hadn't seen in over ten years, who theon knew to be far from wf as seen in the above dance quote, so he had no reason to expect to see him again in that part of westeros and one would think he had enough immediate problems not to worry about someone he hadn't seen in so long. you'd think his pre-ned, pre-ramsay childhood with all the greyjoys would feel a lifetime away with all he'd been through since, esp the reekening. but whatever impression euron left on him was still just as clear and fresh as ever, so that anyone with an eye patch could suddenly make him feel fear of an uncle hundreds of miles and a decade removed from him. from this moment i take away two things: 1) theon will survive stannis and have to meet uncle euron again bc otherwise i don't see the point of grrm throwing this in here and 2) it now feels a helluva lot more likely that theon was another csa victim of euron's bc i don't think this kind of sudden fear could be accounted for with just general scariness from euron. feels more like being triggered by a trauma flashback (just as aeron had as soon as he heard that euron had taken balon's throne), doesn't it? and after having been recently sexually abused by ramsay all that time it makes sense that he'd be even more sensitive to reminders of another abuser as soon as he'd finally escaped ramsay, moreso than when he was just nervously shifting as he and asha vaguely talked of euron's terribleness.

after all, theon/aeron are already linked in the feastdance as both are youngest greyjoy siblings who happen to also be victims of abuse who had buried their old selves in a new identity. aeron's old self even sounds a lot like pre-ramsay theon. theon remembered pre-born-again aeron as the "most amiable of his uncles, feckless and quick to laugh, fond of songs, ale, and women", and aeron described his younger self as "a sack of wine with legs. He would sing, he would dance [...] he would jape and jabber and make mock. He played the pipes, he juggled, he rode horses and could drink more than all the Wynches and the Botleys, and half the Harlaws too." doesn't that sound like the ever-smiling and joking unserious theon we first met, fond of wine and womanizing, once a good dancer, and better ahorse than most ironborn? the only part really missing for theon is aeron's ability to always win literal pissing contests. you'd think being sexually abused by two different evildoers (euron and ramsay) would be enough of a parallel, but this winds preview chapter certainly makes it seem like they also shared the specific experience of being abused by euron in childhood too. our poor youngest kraken really did never have a chance, did he?

shoutout to this post detailing the evidence of theon's sa by ramsay for inspiration. ik i'm not the first to suggest abuse by euron too, but thought it useful to make the case by laying out all the relevant quotes as evidence.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #theon greyjoy #euron greyjoy #aeron greyjoy #what is dead may never die #i really do think asha is the only younger kin euron hasn't been sexually invasive w in some way #vic was too close in age and too big so he raped vic's wife instead and parades naked in front of him #obvsly there would still be shame for an ironborn lady to be raped but we see in aeron's twow chap and w the way vic treated the maester #how much more stigma there would be for a male victim. so if euron tried anything w asha theres some chance it gets back to balon but #he knows that boys would never feel safe revealing such a crime #funny how even w bastardized tv!euron i saw showfans getting creepy sex vibes from his two scenes w fam #cw sa mention #cw csa #theon thursday!#(c)lsb

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alexander-arcturus-black-lupin · 1 year

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Ghostface!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader PART II

TW[updated]: Stalking, Breaking and entering, bandages, insert of foreign deadly material into privates, somnophilia, dacraephilia, Non-con, dubious con, Con-Non-con (at sm point i hope), bondage, knife play, rape kink, possessive!Spencer, murder threats, kinda forced bj, Creampie, degradation, dvp, BWC ig,(Idk what else BUT BRACE YOURSELF)

He continued to watch you, how you reacted to his light touches. He wanted to laugh at how you seemed to think it was a dream. However his patience kept being overrun by his need to corrupt you, every single inch of you. To ruin you for any man you dared to run to.

He thought about you, hickies splayed all over your neck, lips swollen, cum all over your breasts, cum also leaving out of both your holes.

He felt his cock tighten in his briefs.

Now

He took of your shirt with his knife and started to kneed your breasts, your breaths came in heavy but quiet sighs. You were enjoying this. He wanted to know how you'd feel if you realised who was making you feel this way.

He kissed down your neck leaving visible hickeys all round. He watched in awe as your pussy started to leak, how your hips seemed to grind into thin air.

He took caution to the wind and leaned in, he nipped the groove of your neck as he went down to your breasts he took one in his mouth.

Like clockwork your back arch a moan escaped your lips. For a moment he wondered what his cock around your lips would feel like.

One at a time.

First he was going to fuck you awake.

He remove his belt and kept it to the side, he might need that for you later. He brough out his cock and held it firmly in his hand. For weeks he'd been dying to know how your soft little cunt felt like.

And today was the day.

Now.

He slipped the head through and felt euphoria wash over him. That's when you woke up. He got harder as he watched you trash around. The very sight made him harder. He gripped your hips and planted them into the bed.

"Easy now, fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he thrust in sending your back into an arch. You started to cry at the intrusion.

"Fuck even when you're crying you're still so dam fuckabke, fuck I've wanted to see how you'd look around my dick for so long," Your breath started to get heavier as your orgasm approached. "Fuck i should have brought a camera fucking record you,"

"Please...please..." You didn't know whether you were begging for him to stop or for him to go fsster. He went faster ramming into you at an inhuman speed.

"You wanna cum so badly don't you, alright, he leaned in, "Cum for me," he said as he bit into your neck.

You came with a scream, your body feeling ten times lighter, buzzing away. You almost forgot about the man inside you.

"Will you be good girl for me? Hmm?" He says as he cuts your bindings, you're too weak to do much. All you could do was just be. Spencer chuckled as he stayed in you.

"Come here," he said. "We're not done yet," You were soon on his lap, warming up his cock, occasionally he'd thrust up and then make your hips thrust down on it hard and fast leading you to come even more. You were so sensitive that you started to cry.

"I'll have so much fun with you, turning you into my little cumslut"

***

Taglist:

@controversialkattyluv

@bunny-script

@futuremrsreid

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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

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of daisies and collisions

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: thelonious monk - "green chimney's"

summary: nanami kento felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters. (nanami x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: strangers to lovers (??), first meeting, banter-driven fluff with a little bit of angst at the beginning, gojo cameo

note: FIRST TIME WRITING FOR NANAMI RAHHHHHH. thank you to @yutaleks for donating as a part of @ficsforgaza !!! also,,, threw in a little reference for @mididoodles my og nanami lover. i hope you like this :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Nanami Kento considered himself a simple man.

A week ago, he would have clocked out of work and driven home alone, maybe throwing a baking show on the TV while he made pan-fried dinner in solitude. Nothing got past Nanami’s walls because he didn’t let them. Simple, easy, boring–that was his life since leaving Jujutsu society. Nothing exciting and nothing new, life passed him by and he allowed it to slip through his fingers like water, letting himself become pulled into the mundane pushing-and-pulling tide of everyday life. He wasn’t a sorcerer anymore; just a working man with too much time on his hands, seeing shadows no one else could. Yet, the thought lingered in his mind: who was benefiting from his efforts?

That was his existence, up until a week ago when a novice driver scraped the hood of his car in just the right way to make the engine go completely kaput.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“I am aware of your remorse. Kindly give me your information so we can handle this in a timely manner.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir!” He exhaled through his nose. The boy couldn’t have been older than eighteen and any other decent adult would have sympathy for the kid. Nanami, however, couldn’t be bothered and took down the teenager’s license and registration with as minimal words as possible. Soon enough, his phone was pressed to his cheek as he called a cab, the nearest one being at least fifteen minutes away. Before he could slip his phone back into his pocket, he senses a body rushing toward his seconds until an inevitable impact. He tries to pivot so that the figure brushes past his arm instead of colliding, but it’s no use. Your shoulder rams into his and you stumble, briefly aware of his hand brushing your forearm to catch you.

“Sorry about that!” You’re giving him an apologetic smile, still continuing in your current direction. You’re clutching a small stack of papers and you grasp at them as they start to slip from your arms. He gapes unexpectedly, meeting your eyes from over your shoulder. His silence seems to concern you and you take a few steps back toward him with drawn eyebrows. “A-Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he forces out after a moment, taking a disorienting amount of time to regain his bearings. Why was he so startled by you? “Are you–”

“Okay, great! I have to,” you stutter, gesturing the opposite way, “I have to go. I’m so sorry about running into you, again. Have a good one!” Nanami finds his hand acting on its own, stretching out to grab your attention before you’re gone. He’s a millisecond too late and realizes with a weight in his stomach why he couldn’t stop staring at you. There was something attached to you, something inhuman. It was nearly imperceptible because of your normalcy and any other sorcerer would have missed it, but he saw it, the grotesquely snake-like Curse winding its coils around your neck. The question comes into the forefront of his mind again: who was benefiting from his efforts?

Shit.

He trails after you without thinking, without any regard as to whether he would miss the cab or get home after the sun disappears. You’re texting someone frantically while still shuffling around your papers, checking street signs every so often before taking a sharp turn right into a brick building Nanami had never entered before. MIDI’S: JAZZ AND DRINKS, read the neon yellow sign, and he pushes through the door without another moment’s hesitation.

“How are we feeling tonight, ladies and gentlemen?” Cheering, a few hoots and hollers. It’s comfortingly warm in the dark space, dimly lit by a few dandelion lanterns and a tasteful amount of plain candles. There’s a bar tucked into the left wall with two bartenders chatting up distinguished-looking customers. Crowded tables and attendees lounging in creaky chairs litter the space, sipping from honey-colored bottles and crystal glasses. It’s homey, Nanami thinks. Not necessarily his usual crowd, but he could find solace in it. “We’ve got a lot more music up for you tonight, featuring our very own pride of Midi’s.” Nanami’s eyes are drawn to the circular stage at the center of the room, where the announcer gestures behind her to a person seated at the piano. He blinks once, then twice, before realizing that it’s you. You smile into the darkness, wincing a bit when the snake Curse around your shoulders squeezes tauntingly. You had no idea of the danger you were in, which Nanami figured was the reason he orders a glass of bourbon and finds a less-crowded corner of the club.

Your fingers dance on the keys of the piano, gliding and crossing over each other lighter than touching a paintbrush to a canvas. Your movements are smooth and unrestrained, flawless except for the momentary constriction of the Curse attached to you. The Curse’s eyes find Nanami’s and it seems to smile, constricting harder than it had previously while maintaining eye contact. You cough hard enough that your song is interrupted and the other musicians around you quickly cover for you as you struggle for a drink of water. The Curse was restricting your ability to play, and his body again reacted before his mind.

He focuses a significant amount of Cursed Energy into his balled fist–not enough to be noticeable to non-sorcerers, but enough to serve as a warning for the Curse blocking your airway. It recoils like a vampire caught in direct sunlight, slinking away into the darkness behind the piano. It was still attached to you, but he knew it wouldn’t pester you for the rest of your performance. Exorcizing the Curse himself was risky, since you’d recognize Nanami as soon as he was in close proximity. As the last step in his quiet plan to keep you safe, he opens his messages and scrolls through the endless amount of heart-emoji texts he left unanswered, sending his location to the one contact in his phone that isn't involved with being a salaryman.

> LOCATION SENT - NANAMI KENTO TO GOJO SATORU

—

“That’s them? That’s why you send me to a jazz bar at 7:00 P.M. on a Thursday?”

“Don’t call them ‘that,’ Gojo. It’s crass,” Nanami mutters, another sip of bourbon burning down his throat. The blindfolded sorcerer beside him shrugs indifferently, considering you again. You’re playing with more life than you were the week prior, when the Curse was snug around your neck like a deadly scarf. He might have imagined it, but Nanami could have sworn you caught his eye and winked at him. Gojo insists those winks were for him, though. “But, yes. They are the reason I sent you that message.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you follow them and get involved, anyway? It’s not like you to get concerned with things that don’t benefit the collective. At least, not since you left,” Gojo replies. It’s harsh, a little blunter than Gojo’s usual lackadaisical comments, but he’s right. Nanami hadn’t been worried about a single person besides himself in a long while, however much he didn’t like to admit it. He was fine protecting his own simple, boring existence, until he realized just how much he wanted to protect your existence too. Nanami Kento was a selfish man, inside, and he considered his actions to keep you safe not altruism, but an extension of his selfishness. That’d be too hard to express to Gojo, though, so he settles for mirroring his former colleague’s indifferent shrug.

“Felt like the correct path to follow,” he answers. The small bundle of daisies sitting in Nanami’s lap weighs heavier than a dumbbell, and it occurs to him just how out of his element he was. He was used to things being clean-cut and easy, but his recent interest in getting to know you had thrown off his entire livelihood. “We are to keep people safe, are we not?”

“I’m supposed to keep those people safe. I don’t really know what you’re doing anymore,” Gojo drawls. “Though, I will say, they’re really pretty. You think I can pull them?”

“The only thing pulling you is my arm out of this establishment if you don’t be quiet,” Nanami deadpans. “Plus,” he looks down at the stray flower petals sprinkling his dress pants, “I have first dibs.”

You smile at him when he approaches you sidestage after your set, visibly more relaxed without the Curse on your back. Gojo was long gone doing who-knows-what, leaving Nanami to deal with the unwanted fluttering in his gut.

“You’re back again. Enjoy the show last week?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “You are incredibly talented.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes flick down to the flowers in his fist, comically small in comparison to his large hands. “Those for me?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he sputters, handing you the bunch more stiff than he planned. A silent understanding hides behind your expression; you can see through him like glass. Somehow, he doesn’t mind. “Were you–”

“Are you–” You both speak at the same time and abruptly trail off, insisting that the other goes first. “Please,” you concede with a wave of your hand, “go ahead.”

“I was going to ask if you were playing here for the first time when we ran into each other, last week.”

“Was it that obvious?” You rub the back of your neck with your hand, your smile turning playfully embarrassed. “I had this weird cough that was messing with my health, so that’s why I was running late. It was also probably why I collided with you on the sidewalk,” you chuckle.

“I am unbothered,” he admits. His thoughts slip out from his mouth without thinking. “I wouldn’t mind if you collided with me again.” Your eyes widen and Nanami can feel his face begin to burn, Gojo’s devilish grin at the back of his mind accusing him of being terrible at relationships. “I-I’m not sure why I said that–”

“It’s Kento, right?” You’re peering at him curiously, as if you were trying to hold in a laugh. The sound of his name on your lips is more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol from the bar.

“Yes, how did you–”

“The blindfolded guy came up to me during my break and said he was with you,” you state, the corner of your mouth still quirking like you were hiding a secret. “You have weird friends.” You didn’t know half of it.

“Right,” he forces out. You didn’t seem to mind how goofy Nanami was acting; in fact, something in his head told him that you liked it. “Well, I-I apologize for such a bold–”

“You know,” you cut in as the back of your hand delicately brushes the tiny flowers in your hand. “My set tomorrow night ends early and there’s a really good sandwich shop just up the street. Maybe I could collide with you there?”

“That would–Yes, I would like that,” he barely replies. You tear a corner from your sheet music and scribble something onto it. You press it into his palm as you head backstage, your touch electrifying every single nerve you made contact with.

“See you tomorrow,” you wave with that same small smile he was losing himself to. For better or for worse, something about meeting you made Nanami unwilling to go back to that simple, easy way he was living before.

GREEN CHIMNEY’S (PG. 3)

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

here’s that song you like, it’s the one you smile at every time <3

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n

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useless-bulgariafacts · 2 years

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October 26th is Dimìtrovden/Mitrovden (Димитровден), or the Orthodox feast day of St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki. (Bulgarian: Свети Димитър Солунски) He is a 3rd-4th century Christian saint and great martyr (великомъченик) from the city of Thessaloniki in Greece, of which he is the patron saint.

Hagiographies refer to St. Demetrius as a young man of a senatorial family, who became proconsul and was tasked with persecuting Christians in the at the time still pagan Roman Empire. However, being himself Christian, he instead protected them, for which the emperor had him jailed. He was later speared to death as punishment for the defeat of the gladiator Lyaeus at the hands of Demetrius' disciple, Nestor. This marked the beginning of his veneration by Christians in the area, which grew in the following centuries, as he was said to guard the city against raiders.

Albeit not one originally, during the Middle Ages St. Demetrius came to be revered as a warrior saint, and iconography portrays him riding on a red horse, running a spear through various enemies — often Lyaeus, but also whoever was locally perceived as an enemy. In Greek icons, this is sometimes the Bulgarian tsar Kaloyan, while in Bulgarian ones — the Byzantine emperor Basil II The Bulgarslayer, or later on, a Turk. St. Demetrius is also associated with the founding of the Second Bulgarian Tsardom, specifically the uprising of the brothers Petăr and Asen, which broke out on Oct. 26th, 1185. The St. Demetrius church in Veliko Tărnovo (pictured above) was built in commemoration the event, and served as a coronation site of Asen dynasty tsars, who claimed him as their patron.

Traditionally, Dimitrovden marks the end of the seasonal transition from fall to winter, a period which begins on Oct. 14th with Petkovden. Bulgarian folk mythology casts the saints George and Demetrius in the role of twin brothers, whose respective holidays split the year into its warm and cold halves. The latter, elder of the two, ushers in the cold and darkness, as he rides in on his red horse and the winter's first snowflakes sprinkle down onto the earth from his beard. As St. George's opposite and counterpart, he takes on the qualities of a chthonic deity, and thus has connotations to death and the Beyond — under his patronage the so-called Dimitrovska Zadushnica takes place on the Saturday prior to Dimitrovden, one of several such holidays where food is given out in honor of deceased ancestors. Perhaps this is also why, in addition to St. George, folk imagination places him as a brother to Archangel Michael and nephew to St. Paraskeva/Petka.

Dimitrovden is the true end to the year's agrarian cycle — the harvest now over, it's time to put the farm tools away, make sure the animals have shelter and firewood is stocked up. It's also when farmhands and other labourers' contracts expire and they get rehired for the year ahead, which is why the day is also known as Razpust (Разпуст). As with other big holidays, a community-wide celebratory feast is held, and the customary ritual meal (or kurban) is mutton. The biggest ram is chosen, a pair of gold-painted apples are placed onto its horns and those present bow before it, after which it's slaughtered and cooked, and receives a priest's blessing before being served. Festivities are accompanied by music and horo (group dancing), which again has an intended matchmaking function. Namesakes of the saint celebrate the occasion, too — but they're traditionally served a chicken or rooster dish, according to gender. Other foods for Dimitrovden include corn, seasonal fruit and derived dishes, such as apple pita, pestil (a type of plum dessert), rachel (pumpkin syrup), etc.

Another activity which traditionally ends on Dimitrovden is construction work — a new house is supposed to have been completed by then, and the homeowners celebrate by throwing their own feast with a kurban, and inviting friends and relatives to witness the house being blessed by the master mason and the priest. The feast day has therefore been adopted as a career holiday of builders and masons.

The day's connection to the mysterious and otherworldly has inspired various beliefs and rituals of prognostic or divinatory nature, and anything from the weather and moon phases, to the behaviour of farm animals is observed carefully and used to make future predictions. Characteristic is the custom, known as polazvane (полазване), wherein members of the household make note of the first person to visit them, to physically cross the threshold into their home, and interpret them as a portent of things to come. Also, according to old treasure hunting legends, Dimitrovden is when "the sky opens" and buried gold emits a blue-ish flame just above ground.

Dimitrovden is part of the group of holidays, based around the idea of transition and liminality; between fall and winter, between the world of the living and of the dead. The Christian and pre-Christian symbolism intertwine, the martyr death of the saint mirrors the "death" of nature as the earth is covered in snow and daytime engulfed by darkness. And crucially — for a people whose perception of time follows nature's cycles — the coming of winter brings not only a period of calm and rest, but the promise of spring and renewal.

#Bulgaria #Slavic #Balkan #Eastern Europe #Orthodox #folklore #mythology #customs #Dimitrovden #here you go bulgarian halloween pt.2 #I am again sorry it's several days later but it took a while to write ok

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gallifreyanhotfive · 26 days

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 66

The Seventh Doctor was once frozen in ice in the Antarctic for over a million years after a skirmish involving Ice Warrior prisoners. Over time, his clothes had degraded dramatically, but he survived because he had put himself into a coma. He was accidentally awoken by an Antarctic expedition in 2012. Despite having memory loss, he brought up the names of his companions, such as Mel, Ace, and Hex, even referring to a woman on the expedition as "Ace" while he tried to remember everything. (Audio: Frozen Time)

A "monster," or "the Green Terror," had stowed away on the TARDIS when it had been caught on the First Doctor's jacket as a spawn. It eventually attacked the Fourth Doctor and K-9 when the TARDIS materialized inside solid rock. (Short story: Stowaway)

Thr Capricorn Killer was originally an office worker who had been suddenly turned to a vampire one night. Following his change and an altercation, he started killing and drinking people's blood. Eventually, he encountered the Fourth Doctor and Romana. The Fourth Doctor said, "I'm afraid someone brought you into our world. This is the only help I can give you. Now hold still. This won't hurt a bit." He then proceeded to stake the Capricorn Killer with a walking stick, something which hurt quite a bit and caused him to dissolve to ash. Then the Doctor went about his day like normal as though he had not just killed a man without second thought, asking Romana if she wanted to go for a steak at a restaurant. (Short story: I Was a Monster!!!)

Edgar Allan Poe took part in a seance with the First Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and some others. During this seance, a young girl named Abigail was possessed by evil forces trying to come into this world, connected through a ram's skull carved with a pentagram. Poe knocked a candle onto the skull to stop this, causing it and Abigail to go up in flames. Poe later recounted this in his diary but commented that he felt as though he had opened another gateway to let the evil in by doing so. The very next day, Poe was found wandering the streets of Baltimore, disoriented, and he died not long afterwards. A "mysterious stranger" visited his grave and left him roses and a cognac bottle. (Short story: The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull)

Because of LaMort, or Death, the Seventh Doctor felt the same sharp, raw pain that he had felt when Susan had left him and when all of his other companions left. He described his companions leaving as "Little deaths as they'd left him. Sometimes bigger deaths. Real deaths." (Short story: Virgin Lands)

The Eighth Doctor has been known to wear eye shadow. (Short story: Growing Higher)

Jamie has been known to take the precaution of chopping up the Second Doctor's recorder, not that it ever stopped him from producing a different recorder from somewhere. (Short story: Twin Piques)

There was massive beef between K-9 Mark I and Mark II. They fought a lot in their missives to each other and only buried the hatchet when the Fourth Doctor regenerated. (Short story: Jealous, Possessive)

A copy of "The Diary of an Edwardian Adventuress" by Charlotte Elspeth Pollard is at the Library of Kar-Charrat, the same place the Seventh Doctor and Ace once visited (as Daleks were invading). (Short story: Apocrypha Bipedium)

The Master once became producer of a show called "Make a Star," where many singers competed to become famous. He wanted to release songs as of yet unwritten to unravel the timeline. The Master later teased the Doctor for not guessing that he was involved, given that "Make a Star" is an anagram for "aka Master." (Short story: Hidden Talent)

The day after Barbara and Ian left in the TARDIS, Barbara's mother, Joan Wright, reported them missing to the police. A year later, she had not given up hope of finding her, and she shared a dream with Barbara on board the TARDIS. Barbara told her mother that she would return. (Short story: A Long Night)

The Fourth Doctor was once attacked by an entity representing all of the people who have felt fear because of the Doctor's actions and who was attempting to make the Doctor also feel that same constant fear. The Doctor was not afraid when the entity put him in cave full of people missing limbs and a terrifying creature that bit off the Doctor's arm, when the entity made the Doctor an old man in a wheelchair being tended by nurses, or when the entity put him in a padded cell. The entity eventually sensed a thought from the Doctor - that he was afraid of losing his mind. (Short story: The Fear)

Chloe and Arthur owned a bed and breakfast that the Sixth Doctor once visited. In this bed and breakfast, Chloe and Arthur were killed by hundreds of other versions of themselves over and over every day. The next version would come knocking, and the current would go outside and meet their fate. Eventually, the Doctor came to stay and also joined the ritual of repeatedly dying. After dying enough times, the Doctor decided that none of them will answer when someone came knocking, thus breaking the cycle and freeing them. (Short story: The Death of Me)

Long before The Doctor's Wife, the TARDIS took on the form of a woman called Iraj. Iraj (who I will from now on refer to as the TARDIS) had encountered Romana I just before her regeneration and decided that she wanted to play a trick on the Doctor. The TARDIS took on the form of Princess Astra and was annoyed when the Doctor barely noticed her. The TARDIS proceeded to put on three other bodies, forcing Romana to stay put when she lost her temper. The TARDIS eventually put back on Astra's body, only this time wearing the Doctor's clothes. Romana was still frozen when the TARDIS eventually returned, telling her all about an adventure she had had with the Doctor with Davros and Daleks, but she was still annoyed that the Doctor had barely noticed her. After convincing the TARDIS that the Doctor does care for her, the TARDIS helped Romana regenerate, and to Romana's surprise, she took on the form of Princess Astra! (Short story: The Lying Old Witch in the Wardrobe)

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emperorsfoot · 2 years

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Skeleteen and his friends have a band. Its happens to be Prince Dare's favorite band. Dare doesn't know its Skeleteen's band.

#motu #masters of the universe #skeleteen #ao3 #renkonnairu #dare #prince dare #he-ro #ram man ii #brash #malkyn #trap jaw ii #danger noodle #rock band au #alternate universe rock band

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sroop · 10 months

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ineta (ii)

When Duncan does sleep, he dreams of green and something gold looking.

Pairing: Duncan Idaho x OC

Warnings: violence, light blood/gore

Summary: ineta is backed into a corner, and finds that duncan may hold the key to their survival.

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Ineta shrieks and collides against the jagged stone walls of the dungeon.

Why it was necessary to remind all that they were in an Harkonnen dungeon escaped her, as though it were possible to forget. Still, the ram hung over a bloody orange field leered at her. Red eyes and claws. She had thought it a real beast, pouncing on her for its latest victim. She lays a hand over her pounding heart.

"Miss Ineta?"

Ineta curses her feeble nerves, and draws herself up to a more dignified pose on her own two feet to greet the guard. He's a tall, clean-shaven man only a few years older than her at most. Soft eyes, and a mouth twisted upwards in a curious smile. She eyes the crest on his breastplate warily.

"What are you doing here?" he asks kindly.

Ineta nods towards the cells.

"The Baron orders me to see to the newest prisoner. I am to ensure his survival for questioning," she says levelly. Ineta doesn't wait for him to respond to move past him. There's authority in her words for servants, but soldiers were hard to predict, being more under the command of the Baron and his nephew. It was best to move fast.

"Wait."

Ineta stops and feigns an impatient scowl.

The soldier looks at her with something akin to understanding in his face. She's reminded of the same expression she wears when letting off a slacking maid or clumsy server. "You'd best return quickly then, Miss Ineta. Before the Baron grows impatient."

He gives a small smile and turns to face the other way. Ineta smiles back.

"Thank you, soldier."

{}{}{}{}

Duncan Idaho is clinging to the precipice of life. At least he still had all his fingers, he thinks. He inhales harshly at a more piercing pain at his cheek, jerking his head away. The pain is soothed by a soft hand. He's been a fighter for long enough to recognize the the pain as a needle and thread, and the soft hand as a nurse.

In the darkness, he can't quite see who's there, though he's uncertain the swelling over his eyes would have allowed him to see at all. He cracks his lips open from the seal of dried blood.

"Thank you."

"You need to save your breath," comes the firm reply. He recognizes the voice immediately as the girl who'd been at his most recent beating. Duncan tries to remember her features, but recalls only the green color of her skirt and something gold looking.

"You saved my life," he says suddenly. It sounds clumsy coming from a spurt of belabored breathing, no doubt tinged with the dank, prison air. But he feels the need to thank her almost oppressively. Briefly, he realizes this is because he is unsure he will ever get the chance to ever again, and stops himself from envisioning a painful death.

No, he must not lose hope. His hands clench in on themselves, only to be unfurled by her.

"Eat it, if you can," she murmurs. Its grainy texture implies bread, but his stomach flips stubbornly. Despite its protests, he brings it to his mouth and gnaws with determination. It hurts to move, to breath, to swallow, but he'd do it if it meant he'd survive to see the red hawk of House Atreides fly again. He just needed a few days. They couldn't be too far off from their next incursion into fortress territory.

He feels her return to work, cleaning and sewing open wounds quietly and quickly, experienced with pain.

"What's your name?" he asks. There's a beat before she answers, like she's considering if he's worth the trouble of replying. Or if he'd survive long enough for it to matter.

"Ineta," she finally says. "Miss Ineta to you."

Duncan chuckles, immediately regretting the burst of pain in his lungs he feels. He clutches his chest and rolls his head over on the stone slab of a cot they'd given him. The cell, from what little he'd seen, was nothing but a simple square, enclosed on all sides save for the barred entrance. What mattered more to him was the corridor leading into it.

One way in, one way out, from what he'd seen. It was nothing but a single, unending row of rotting prisoners.

"I'm glad you can still laugh," she says quietly. Duncan doesn't really hear. He imagines Atreides forces marching through, saving them.

"Duncan?" Ineta calls gently, shaking his shoulder. He must have worried her, going quiet like that. She touches his forehead and sighs at the temperature. "You'll be alright, if you don't get any worse. I'll try to come back whenever I can."

Try. Duncan grasps her wrist. She shouldn't try, not when he wouldn't need it. In fact, she shouldn't be anywhere near him after tonight. He rasps, but the words are sticky with blood and catch in his throat. Instead, he drags her close to him, ignoring the pain of her palm pressed against his chest in resistance.

"Get as far away as possible. You should run," he says. This is foolish, he knows, it is entirely possible that she, the cupbearer for the Harkonnens, would run to warn them. But Duncan has always trusted his heart. He tells her anyway. "Run far, far away. They may not spare you."

He can't see, but he hears her gasp and stumble away. It's comforting to him. At least one person would live either way, the girl who'd shown him mercy in the face of his captors. Captors he knew were cruel masters from his time as a slave here, though he wondered what her true place was with them. Servant? Favorite? Mistress?

Duncan sighs and brings the bread to his lips again.

Moments later, he hears a body crumpling to the floor somewhere. Duncan exhales sharply, filled with cold dread. He felt hot in his head, and cold everywhere else. Useless and weak. He clings to the thought of Ineta and the hope that she will survive, that if she may be brave then he'd do the same.

When Duncan does sleep, he dreams of green and something gold looking.

{}{}{}{}

This time, Ineta manages not to scream. The horror is nowhere less, nor the odor of blood. Distantly, she thinks that it's odd. That that poor, kind soldier, dead on the floor, was not bleeding. And yet, it seemed the world stank of bloodshed.

She cannot tear her eyes from his, even when the Baron chortles.

"Poor boy, that one," he says in a sickly soft tone. "Lied for you, dear Ineta. Died for you, too."

The Baron huffs impatiently. "What is it about you? That my useless son should sire a useless girl, out of some servant on a hellhole of a planet. But that you are the one that they listen to." He looks at her intently, as though to discern meaning from her face. "Why do you inspire devotion?"

Ineta feels that she has nothing in her throat but reeds, snapping in harsh wind and making some eerie screeching of its own volition. She clutches her mouth to try to stop the sounds, but nothing does. She cries and cries, shaking her head.

"I admit, even in myself, I thought you were the best of us however lowly your birth. But this can be forgiven."

"No. No, no, no," she whispers. She could control herself. She really should, but what's the point now? The Baron knows that she was here against implied orders. It was less than what she'd seen him torture and kill for. No doubt, she shared the same, if not a worse, fate as that guard. Maybe the Baron would snap her neck too and be quick with it.

"Look at me," the Baron snaps.

He'd never seemed a more grotesque man than now to Ineta. He towered over her, perhaps triple her mass, with blood on his hands he seemed to relish in. Maybe it was the wine they drank, so dark and pungent it was that it might cause insatiable blood-thirst. It was her fault. She should not have come on some wild dream that she would do good, or that they might be able to escape. Now a man was dead, and she'd follow him.

"This is a predicament. But it seems you've made yourself pleasant to Duncan Idaho, I'd presume? My nephew is... not bright. But perhaps he was right? That Idaho is some lover of yours?" The Baron leaned over Ineta. "I might be motivated to forget this whole ordeal-" he says, gesturing to the body, "-if you were to produce viable information."

Ineta forces her hands from her face.

"Of course, my Lord." The compliance comes easily, after a lifetime of swallowing hard commands. This time though, her voice tremors. Deceit, she thinks, does not suit me.

"Good, it's settled then, dear girl. Leave, and not a word to Rabban or he will kill you both himself."

As Ineta flees, nearly running through the prison corridor where the Baron stood over his victim. She passes the banner of the red-eyed ram over its orange field. It had somehow become flat to her, and she does not pause to glance at it a second time.

Its power is lost. The real beasts, she realizes, are the Harkonnens. It would not matter if she gave in and extracted information, however vital, from Duncan. She was dead anyway, for the simple reason that she betrayed them. There was very little time to act, but she needed to see Duncan again as soon as possible.

Their lives depended on it.

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thanks for reading!

#duncan idaho #duncan idaho x female reader #duncan idaho x reader #duncan idaho imagine #duncan idaho x you #duncan idaho x y/n #dune #dune fanfiction #jason momoa characters #jason momoa #duncan idaho x OC

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talonabraxas · 6 months

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Sun in Aries II – (30 March – 9 April 2024)

The Sun enters Aries II The Crown on March 30 at 1:25 am EDT. The Crown contains the degree of exaltation of the Sun; Austin Coppock certainly noted this association when he gave this decan this name, and T. Susan Chang called it Kingdom of Gold when comparing it with Tarot’s three of wands — the man staking his claim to the high ground as he watches ships travel on a sun-touched sea toward the destinations he commanded. The descending Chaldean order gives this decan to the Sun to administer under Mars’ overall dominion — and there’s indeed something golden about the weather of early April, at least where I live, as the trees of New England burst into leaf and the understory of bushes and wild perennials erupts again.

The Chaldean order gives this decan to the Sun, appropriately enough. The astrological year begins and ends under the administration of Mars, cutting away the last deck lines of Pisces and hoisting the sails for a favorable breeze at the start of Aries — but the middle ten degrees of Aries belong to the Sun. While it starts a little early this year, on March 30 instead of the 31st or even April 1 — it’s still usually the season when the spring’s promise starts to make itself felt in quotidian experience: the sun on the arms in short sleeves, the sudden redness of your cheeks after a day in the garden, the signs of greenery in the woods. This is the young Sun, coming into his power, at least in my neck of the woods. No less than Geoffrey Chaucer cited this in the first few lines of the Canterbury Tales,

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, […] and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ye, So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages, Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages… --Canterbury Tales, General Prologue

That bolded line, the “yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne” means “when the sun is at the half-way mark of Aries,” five days from now. If you feel an urge to get up and go to Canterbury — whether England, New Hampshire, Connecticut or elsewhere — you’ll know that it’s in part an honest reaction to the arrival of April’s sweet showers, and the end of March’s dryness. The green ones are returning. --Wanderings in the Labyrinth

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blueiscoool · 1 year

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Over 2,000 Ram Skulls Discovered in Egypt's Temple of Ramses II

Cairo — Archaeologists have announced the discovery of more than 2,000 rams' heads at the temple of the ancient Egyptian pharaoh Ramses II — a find that the man in charge of the dig said surprised even veteran Egyptologists and showed the endurance of Ramses' impact, as the skulls were left there a millennium after the pharaoh's rule.

A team of archaeologists with New York University's Institute for the Study of the Ancient World (ISAW) made the discovery in the city of Abydos, one of the oldest cities and richest archaeological sites in Egypt. It's located about seven miles west of the Nile River in Upper Egypt, some 270 miles south of Cairo.

The ram skulls were found stacked in the northern precinct of the temple, said Egypt's Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, which announced the discovery on Saturday.

"We came across some random pieces of skulls first," Dr. Sameh Iskander, head of the ISAW mission, told CBS News. "We didn't know what they were, but as we continued our excavation and exploration, all of sudden we found a whole area filled with ram skulls."

"These are obviously offerings that were made to the temple of Ramses during the Ptolomaic period, which shows even 1,000 years after Ramses II, that he was still revered." Ramses II ruled over ancient Egypt for about 60 years before his death in 1213 BC.

Iskander explained that some of the ram heads were still mummified, while "others could have been mummified but the wrappings or the covers of mummifications were not there anymore."

The skulls were found among other objects, from papyrus to leather artifacts and statues, about six feet under the contemporary surface of the desert in what had been a storeroom of the ancient temple.

The large number of skulls found in the same place was "surprising even for Egyptologists," Iskander said.

"We are sure they were all dumped at the same time, so this was not an accumulation of skulls that were brought in over the years, but they came from somewhere else and were dumped into this magazine at some point for some reason which we don't know yet," he told CBS News. "It is significant because this place where they ended up is not just any place in the temple, so they were brought there for a reason. They were not just dumped in the desert but were inside this revered domain of the temple."

The archeologists also unearthed a large structure made of mudbricks with walls about 16 feet thick dating back about 4,200 years, to ancient Egypt's Sixth Dynasty.

"It is a major structure that will change our concept of the landscape of Abydos. This wall was built for something, it was at least 30 feet high." Iskander said. "We don't know exactly what this wall is. It's possible that this was a wall of the antient Abydos, which was never found. Could it be something else? Maybe, that's what we are working on now."

The mission also found other mummified animal remains, including dogs, goats, cows and gazelles.

Beside the massive structure, one very small object also captured Iskandar's attention.

"We also found a small bronze bell in excellent condition with the clapper, so we can hear the same sound of the ancient time. I was very happy to find it," he said. "It was probably used to mark a herd."

The head of the American mission, whose team has worked at the Abydos site since 2008, spoke to CBS News after traveling back to New York. He said a lot of research was still needed to find explanations for the latest discoveries.

"I hate to keep saying 'we don't know,' but this is the nature of archaeology. We keep working on findings that might lead to something, or not," he said, adding that he and his team may even need to "leave it to the next generation — they may have a better idea or other discoveries."

"Every year we have lots of finds and we come back very happy with the new finds, but we also come back with a huge sack full of questions," he said.

By Ahmed Shawkat.

#Over 2000 Ram Skulls Discovered in Egypt's Temple of Ramses II #city of Abydos #Ptolomaic period #archeology #archeolgst #ancient artifacts #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient egypt #egyptian history #long reads

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i-think-i-did-it-again · 1 year

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Fuck Buddies II

Warning: swearing, drinking

You throw back the shot of tequila, the familiar burn hitting the back of your throat. The music from the DJ booth is literally making your chest thump and there’s so many bodies pressed up around you that you’re not even sure where yours begins and ends. You can feel Rook and Sophie’s eyes on you and you know you’re worrying them but right now, you honestly couldn’t give a fuck. You just wanted to not care anymore. You wanted to be able to ignore Colson with the different women hanging off him. You wanted to be able to ignore the fact that they’re so attractive that it makes you feel like Shrek in comparison. You wanted to be so indifferent to what was happening that you could smile and give him a cheery thumbs up every time he looked your way.

It’s not like you planned this sort of arrangement with Colson in advance. It just kind of happened one night. You were drunk and horny and he was there. It was hot as fuck and you were addicted but while you were seeing Colson in this whole new way, lying in your bed panting your way back to reality, he was getting dressed. Your whole epiphany was shattered and you were left lying there, confused and hurt. You scrubbed your body raw in the shower, trying to get rid of the dirty, disgusting feeling that plagued you. You scrubbed every spot his lips touched, every bit of skin he gently stroked. Every move that made you feel like this was more than it was. You couldn’t rid yourself of the embarrassment and the shame. What made it worse was that the next time you saw him, he acted the same as always, like nothing about what you did together affected him. That cut deeper than anything else.

“Hey, you’re kind of going really hard on those tequila shots!” Rook yells at you over the music. “Maybe you should take a little break?”

“I’m fine Rook, stop stressing!” You shrug him off and push through the crowd.

You feel bad for snapping at Rook but you’re so sick of everyone seeing you as this fragile little girl who needs saving. You’ve been a perfectly fine, full-fledged adult, living alone in LA for the past 4 years, you don’t need anyone to hold your hand and even if you did, the one person you want to has his tongue rammed down the throat of some groupie.

You find the smoking area outside and decide to hide out until all the alcohol in your system hits. You figure it shouldn’t take long, you’ve barely eaten all day and you had 2 cocktails before you got to the club. You thought celebrating Colson’s birthday would be fun. You’d get to hang out, drink, maybe do some dancing. Instead, you’re hiding and inhaling secondhand smoke from complete strangers.

“Hey, can I bum a light?” A tall, ruggedly handsome man asks, sitting down next to you. An unlit cigarette hangs from his full rosey lips. He has an accent but your mind can’t exactly place it.

“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” you smile politely at him, trying to ignore his beautiful chocolate coloured eyes.

“Then why is a beautiful woman like you sitting in the smoking area all by yourself?” He quirks an eyebrow at you and your insides quiver slightly.

You know you don’t have to answer him. You think you should just tell him to leave you alone. You know you should stop sulking and go back inside with all of your friends but something about the way he watches you makes you want to stay.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m a reformed smoker and I just love the smell every now and again?” He chuckles at you and you want to hear that sound over and over again.

“I would, if you weren’t sitting as far away from all the smokers as you are and if you actually looked like you wanted to be out here.”

“So, Mr Observant, why’d you ask me for a light?” It’s your turn to quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I wanted to know what was making a beautiful woman, such as yourself, sit out here looking so miserable?”

You look at him and something about his kind and deep eyes makes you want to spill your guts almost immediately. You feel like you’ve seen him before, somewhere but you can’t quite place him. You don’t really want to get into specifics but it would be nice to have an objective party listen to the problem and possibly render a solution.

“The guy I like barely even knows I exist and if I stay in there,” you nudge your chin towards the club, “I’ll have to sit there and watch as every woman throws herself at him.”

“Oh, I see,” he grimaces and you feel a little bad for the guy. He probably just thought he was going to be able to hit on some random chick and here she is spilling her pathetic love life to him.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve just lied and said the music was too loud,” you mumble, fiddling with your finger nails like you always do when you’re uncomfortable.

“No, it’s fine. I get that feeling completely. I’m just trying to think how I could help with your predicament?”

You look up at the kind stranger and smile. The returning smile he gives you makes your skin erupt with goosebumps and your back straighten. It may be the tequila kicking in but this guy is hot! He’s tall, deep brown hair falls down across his forehead and he has the kindest, warmest eyes. You feel so comfortable talking to him that you almost forget why you came out here in the first place.

You spot a bleach blonde mop of hair pushing through the crowd and you push your body as far back into the corner of the seating and your new friend spots exactly what you’re staring at. He grabs your chin and turns you to face him. His eyes are boring into your own with such intensity, your breath hitches in your throat.

“Do you trust me?” he asks barely above a whisper. You can’t speak. All you can do is nod your head.

He leans into you and presses his lips softly to yours. His lips are slightly parted and you can taste the vodka on his breath. The feeling of his lips on yours is so inviting that you find yourself immediately kissing him back. You run your fingers through his hair, latching onto the strands like they’re the only thing holding you to the earth. He moans softly into your mouth and your body shakes at the sound of his pleasure. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost forget you need to breathe. The aching in your lungs is the only thing that can make you pull away. You gasp as you try to catch your breath. You can’t help but chuckle at how freeing that felt. You look back to the door and the blonde hair has disappeared. You feel a ball begin to form in the pit of your stomach but you push the thought away. He started this.

“What was that?” you giggle, eyeing the handsome man beside you. The tequila has definitely hit your system now.

“I was just testing a theory,” he grins at you before pulling out a cigarette packet from his pocket.

“Oh yeah? And what theory was that?” you eye the cigarette dangling between those sweet lips and almost miss his answer.

“That whoever that guy is feels the same way about you as you feel about him.”

“And what have you concluded from your experiment?”

“That he’s desperately in love with you.”

You burst out laughing, physically holding your sides to stop them from splitting, you're laughing that hard. You have to gasp for breath as you start to calm down. It feels nice to relax and just laugh for once. Whenever you’re around Colson, you feel so on edge that you’re scared you may just fall off the precipice. You never feel like you can relax and just enjoy the moment. You like this feeling of not caring and you want to hold onto it forever but that’s not reality.

“I should go back to my friends but thank you for listening and for one of the best kisses of my life,” you stand and smile down at the man whose name you still don’t know. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Give me your phone,” he holds out his hand. You place your unlocked phone in the palm of his hand. He types away quickly before handing the phone back to you. “Call me if you ever want to do it again sometime.”

With that, he stands and heads over to a group of guys standing on the other side of the smoking area. You stare after him for a few moments before turning your attention to your phone. He’s put his name and number in your phone and the name is jumping out at you like you should recognise it but you can’t for some reason. You head back to the nightclub and as you step in, someone grabs your arm and yanks you towards an emergency exit. You’re too drunk to resist the stranger and you stumble numbly behind them.

The door opens and you’re now standing in a poorly lit alleyway, a very pissed off Colson glaring at you. You’re not sure if it’s the unbelievable tension or the alcohol in your veins but you smile goofily at him. This just seems to piss him off more and he throws his beer bottle against the brick wall. You don’t flinch, you don’t even move as the glass shatters and beer spills everywhere.

“What the fuck Y/N?” he screams at you but you don’t care. “Are you trying to make me look like a fucking fool?”

Your brain can’t exactly work out why he’s so pissed or what the hell he’s talking about but that’s got less to do with the alcohol and more with the fact that you don’t care anymore. He can be as pissed off as he wants, he’s not killing your vibe because he’s having a hissy fit over God knows what. You just stand there, waiting for him to speak again and when he doesn’t you just stare at him.

He looks hot in a light blue dress shirt with only the last two buttons done up leaving the shirt open enough that you can see all the tattoos that litter his chest and top half of his stomach. He’s wearing tight black jeans, which outlines his crotch perfectly, and black Converse High Tops. He’s practically blowing out steam from his nostrils at this point but you don’t give a fuck. Colson doesn’t scare you, he never has.

You take a few steps towards him and he watches you warily. You bite your bottom lip as you stand in front of him and his gaze zeroes in on the movement. You lean up on your tippy toes and graze the tip of your nose against the bulging vein in his neck, up towards his jawline. His breath quivers at your touch and you run your fingernails up his arms to his exposed skin on his chest. He’s practically panting now and you love the control. He never lets you take the lead like this and the whole new experience is making you wet. You go to loop your hands around the back of his neck but he grabs your wrists and shoves you away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he spits at you and normally the rejection would shatter you but right now you feel nothing but desire. You step towards him again but he moves out of your reach. “I SAID FUCKING STOP!”

“Oh I forgot, we only fuck when you want to right?” you snort and he scowls at you. “I forgot that you’re in charge and I’m just supposed to be here, waiting, ready for when you want to use and abuse me.”

“Don’t act fucking innocent. You love it,” he spits at you and you almost slap his stupid face. You clench and unclench your fists at your side, holding yourself together. “You love when I spank your ass raw, when I pound into you so you can’t fucking walk the next day.”

“Yeah, it’s my great fucking joy in love Colson.”

You turn on your heels and start to leave the alleyway. You can’t be bothered going back inside and pretending like you’re happy to be there. You’re so done with faking it and you’re done with Colson. Yet again, you stupidly thought tonight would be different than any other time with Colson. You can’t keep convincing yourself that anything about your ‘friendship’ with him will change. Friends with benefits is a fucking sadistic concept and no one should be dumb enough to convince themself that it would be any different for them.

“Why were you crying last night?” he calls after you and you stop dead in your tracks, your blood running cold.

“Wh-what?” you turn around and look at him dumbfounded. You feel like you’ve instantly sobered up just from that one question.

“I heard you before I left. I went to leave but I wanted some water and when I was standing in your kitchen, I heard you. Why?”

“I-I wasn’t, you…you must’ve heard wrong,” you trip over your words as you try to think of some explanation and his features shift. He storms towards you and stands in your space.

“WHY THE FUCK WON’T YOU JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH!?” he screams, as close to your face as humanly possible.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU! FUCK! DO YOU FEEL BETTER NOW?!” you scream back at him and he stumbles back. He doesn’t say anything, he just turns and walks away, leaving you standing alone in the alley, broken and hurt.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #est19xx #mgkxx #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #good mourning #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #mgk angst

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