#sing your truth con... i get it man i get it

[valkaryah]

it's that time of the year again (it's four in the morning, the end of december, I'm writing you now just to see if you're better)

[eatommo]

Kisses of Fire [j.m.]

Summary: You and Joel get caught up in a champagne-filled domestic dream, and your impulses are too strong to resist. Aka, you and Joel sing and dance in the kitchen until you can't deny your feelings any longer.

C.w: slight dub con because of alcohol consumption, mentions of parental loss, age gap (reader is in her 20s), unprotected pinv, lots of praise, pet names, Joel is a sweet talker, fluffy dancing and cooking with Joel, size kink?, creampie, squirting, oral sex (f receive), mentions of oral sex (m receive), breeding kink if you squint, mutual pining?, idk I probably missed some let me know!

A/n: Hello! I am alive! I started a new job and it's been pretty crazy but I am pleased to bring you my first Joel Miller fic and my first contribution to the Dbf!joel subgenre that has been one my favorites lately. enjoy!

~3.5k

“Joel, the sauce is going to burn.” you stumble through a laugh, trying to focus the little clarity of your mind on the chicken browning in your ceramic pan. He had insisted on opening a glass of champagne to congratulate you on your new job. It was sweet and dry, exactly what you liked, and it went down easy.

You were sitting around the coffee table gushing and hardly letting the man get a word out, and then he asked if you were hungry, and well you hadn't yet eaten and with your stomach growling at his words, he was very insistent.

In truth, you'd always looked out for each other, you'd help pick up Sarah from school, on occasion try new recipes in his much larger kitchen, and in turn, he'd fix your sink leak, install a new shower head, or even build you a new coffee table.

Here standing in his kitchen you felt so comfortable, stirring the pasta with one hand and rummaging through his cabinets for oregano with the other. It could've been the alcohol or the decade-long crush on the older man that was driving you wild.

With a rush of melody, you realized where he disappeared as the fun rhythmic beat of Be My Baby echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Joel's words barely call above the song, “Oldies okay?”

You turn to answer him, only to catch him jamming out to the song behind you as he strides cool as a cucumber back into the kitchen. “More than okay.” You’re beaming, enjoying the music and the laid-back demeanor of his slight dance and groove.

You've cherished the few moments of joy since your father passed away a few years ago, singing with him and Sarah in the car, bullying Joel onto a rollercoaster, and summertime BBQs complete with movie marathons.

This felt different. Not only was Sarah noticeably absent, but there was an electric hum of something between you, it was almost palpable. Chalking it up to the alcohol, you settle back into your rhythm of taking care of the food in front of you with extra sway to your hips and occasionally singing into the wooden spoon like a microphone.

Joel returns to your side, stirring the thick sauce before grabbing a spoon from a drawer and tasting it. He moans around the cheap metal, throwing his head back in exaggerated ecstasy.

Hoping the heat from the stove disguises your blush, you carefully accept a spoonful he offers you after he cools with a few quick purses of his lips, humming in agreement.

“What did you say this recipe was called?” When he's been drinking, his Texan drawl lengthens, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, lord have mercy.

“Marry me chicken? It's said to get a man to marry you on its own…” you try and let your voice trail off as he grabs a colander and begins to strain the noodles for you, and before you can think you add, “I thought it would be good practice.”

You catch something in his face as he looks toward you, now mouthing the words to a song by Simon and Garfunkel, but your brain is a little too fuzzy to dissect it completely. Turning off the heat, you quickly add bacon and parmesan before tossing the chicken and sauce mixture on top of Joel's freshly strained pasta.

He hovers over you like he hasn't eaten for days, grumbling something about sweet torture as you garnish his bowl with freshly grated cheese. Turning your attention to the table you see a second bottle of champagne adorning a small dining set, and your flukes full and awaiting your attention, and your blush returns, what is happening to you?

Dismissing himself to turn the music lower, you set his plate down and settle into your chair beside his. Briefly, you consider refusing another glass, you were supposed to drive home, but his slightly tousled curls and the nonplussed smirk on his face as he walks into your field of vision wash over your body like a cool shower on a hot Austin evening, refreshing, revitalizing, and rewarding you with his simplistic beauty.

The way his eyes fell to yours with each silly verse, speaking to each moment you’ve swooned over him in private and cementing the swell of your heart. He sits and you both immediately dive into the food, moaning in unison at the salty and creamy flavor. “I get it.”

“For sure.” You confirm, shoveling more into your mouth as delicately as you can in your haste. “I’ll keep it in my back pocket for sure.” You both laugh and reach for your champagne for a toast.

“To the luckiest man in the world.” This time, he does a piss poor job of covering his shock, and you don’t dare let the moment slip from your grasp, setting your fork down, and reaching to settle your hand on his forearm, tenderly running your fingers over the rough-tanned skin.

The affection seems to coach a weight from his shoulders, as the tension in them drops and he meets your eyes with a deep and wicked sense of playfulness. Holding his gaze, and touching the lips of the flukes together you smile innocently, and hum as the cool bubbles coat your tongue and lift your confidence higher with every passing moment.

In a flash you feel the energy in the room shift, as silence flirtatious eye contact is shared between smaller sips of champagne and groans of delight, you find your eyes lingering longer on the base of his throat and the purse of his lips around the tip of the glass.

In your stupor you miss his devilish grin, he’s chasing the feeling of your gaze on his skin, drinking in the slip of your guard, and suddenly the incredible food you prepared for him is not nearly enough to sate him.

It’s his turn to stare, watching as your lips part in a soft pant as he takes a lingering swig from his glass, imagining how delicious this could pair with the taste of your pussy. Fuck, he’s so hopeless, you could talk him into anything, yet you sit and torture yourself undressing him with your eyes and practically projecting your dirty thoughts onto his chest.

When your eyes meet again your breath catches in your throat, some snarky comment you bury beneath the burning fire on your cheeks. “Joel…” it’s an invitation, a plea, and your heart stands still in its cage in the breath between your words and his mouth on yours.

His beard and moustache are rough against your lips, but the kiss is hungry, and not nearly as vulnerable as you feel. It's a clash of tongues and teeth, your bodies are drawn together like the world is stitching them together with desperate rough movements.

You can taste the rich sweet champagne on his tongue as it drags over yours, tilting your head back with a soft hand on your throat. Standing to his feet, he breaks the kiss with a reluctance you feel, but he’s ushering the plates off the table in a single trip, setting them on the counter to be dealt with later. The complaint dies in your throat, as you let your brain devour him in a primal sense. The broad expanse of his chest rising and falling in heavy needy breath, the veins in his neck as he tilts his head to return the same hungry stare, you don’t make it past his biceps before his hands are on your sides, directing you to stand but only for a mere second as your practically lifted onto the kitchen table.

His mouth is on yours again, hot and determined, your mind is made up, and he can feel it in each little whine he swallows. Confidence surges through him, bolstered by the hum of alcohol in his system, and he leans over you guiding you to your back, while he slots himself between your legs.

You part them quickly, wanting to feel him pressed against you more than you want to breathe, and rather than following you he kisses down the smooth skin of your calves and begins working on the button of your shorts, yanking them up and off with a dexterity that would surprise you had it been anyone else.

The thin cotton panties are not your first choice of sexy intimates, but it doesn’t seem to phase him as his gaze holds at the growing wet spot pooling in the fabric. His index fingers ghost over the seam of your pussy. “Are you sure?” He kisses the words across your skin, moving along the inside of your thighs as his stubble draws the nerves in your skin taught.

You blink your eyes a few times, almost not believing and basking in the warmth of his breath. Your mouth falls open in a pant as you throw your head back onto the table, in any other circumstance it would've hurt. “Yes…Joel…please.” Each word takes a lungful of air worth of effort.

There's a dark chuckle as if taunting you for being so pathetic, as he nibbles on the skin of your inner thigh, you feel goosebumps spread across all your skin, unaware if it's from shame or the heat of his mouth muttering sweet nothings into your skin.

“So pretty,” he coos letting two fingers trace over your slick panties, “Spread out on my table for me,” he presses harder but slows his movements to a beautifully slow taunt, “A fucking meal.”

The chair moves sharply back with his movement, as he pulls your underwear to the side and licks at your hole for his first taste. His mouth is feverish in appetite, licking and sucking and caressing each part of your sex, the assault is overwhelming at first, the movements so erratic you’re unable to focus on anything but trying to breathe. Cantering your hips against his mouth his rough palm stalls one of your thighs from closing, the hand is firm and warm commanding you to obey in just its presence. “More,” you beg, again the pleasure dulled as he slowed to listen.

His free hand goes to the waistband of your underwear running along its length and tickling the skin, before you feel a rough tug at the fabric and hear the tearing sound before you can even comprehend what’s happened. The fabric disappears and the soft table mat you are perched on protects you from the cool wood of the table. He mumbles more things into the flesh of your mound, and he kisses at the exposed skin of your hips, “Sweet little thing.”

You throw a hand over your eyes, losing yourself to the embraces and brushes of pleasure he showers you in. He settles back between your legs, pinning them to your chest with his arm and working two fingers slowly into your tight heat. The stretch is pleasant, and he lets his tongue lave over the top of your sex. “Joel.” You whimper feeling his knuckles curl inwards brushing against a bundle of nerves that has your vision lulling white. Each stroke feels like it's pulling your soul from your body, and an unfamiliar pressure builds as he coaxes the orgasm to the surface with his tongue swirling over your clit.

You explode, soaking the table and his hungry waiting mouth feeling the clear gush of liquid pool beneath you and coat your thighs. “Oh god, I’m sorry I-” you stammer, not having experienced this yourself before.

Joel’s attention snaps to your eyes, “Don’t.” It's a warning, his eyes dark and muddled with something animalistic you’ve only seen when he’s angry. “You’re going to do it again.” he sits straight, and you realize he’s still fully dressed as he stands on his feet, dwarfing you against the table, undoing the length of his belt.

Unsure if your breathing is coming fast or if he is moving slowly, undoing the buttons of his flannel, and exposing skin that you’ve seen countless times before, but as each button is freed and his shirt spills open, you struggle to keep your breath even. Thick tanned skin, soft to the touch but cords of practical muscle run through his pecks, and down his well-defined biceps hold your eyes still, as your heart clips away steadily. You mumble something about his muscles, fawning over him like you’ve done so many times before, but unafraid to get caught this time.

He peers down at you, maintaining eye contact through your spread thighs as you lay waiting gawking at him like you always have, the loose leather of his belt is tugging the jeans down his hips slightly exposing the soft flesh of his stomach and the feather-light trail of hair disappearing below his jeans. He longed to reduce you to a babbling drooling mess, he wanted to mark your skin his and fill you so full his traces would linger on your cunt for days. Days, he knew it wouldn’t be easy to stop, he felt like he was running downhill and his legs were jelly beneath him, hurtling towards some sort of self-destructive meltdown. But the sweet tang of you lingering in his mouth, splashed across his chest, on his dining room table.

You were perfect, even more so than he thought possible. He ached, the jeans strangling his thick cock, he longed to free himself and sink into you. “Come here.” he stepped closer, back between the welcome squeeze of your thighs, and he wondered if he would need a new table.

You sat up barely even with his chest and when you're close enough he brings you in for a deep and filthy kiss, giving you a chance to taste your slick from his tongue and to groan as your hand settles over the hard length of his cock in his pants. You allow a finger to trace over the outline surprised when your hand keeps finding more of him to play with, fighting the urge to squeak in delight as each kiss grows in fervor.

If Joel hadn't suggested otherwise, you would've happily been fucked to bliss on the table, but as one of his hands falls to cup the supple flesh of your ass you're lifted into his sturdy arms. Now even this isn't a first, but your cunt is pressed flat to the ripped muscles of his abdomen and you can't help but trail feather-like kisses and nips across the thin skin covering his Adam's apple, half tempted to suck a bruise into his skin as he whines lowly into hair.

He traverses the stairs with ease, fingers squeezing and playing with your ass as he does so. As you enter his room, he leans in for another searing desperate kiss, nipping and tugging on your bottom lip almost painfully slow.

The bed is plush, more so than you expect, the sheets feel cool and inviting as you settle into them, not daring to turn your attention away from Joel for a second. The moon is the only light in the room, but it's bright enough for you to drool over the large bulge he reveals as he shucks his jeans.

“Something you want darlin?” that all-knowing chuckle, call your attention to his face, always handsome but there's a depravity and a hunger in his eyes that is a little bit intimidating.

“I-” You struggle to decide what exactly it is you want to do, part of you wants to let him lay down and have you suck his cock dry, and the other part wants to see you bent in half stuffed full of his cum.

Your stumble only brings another dry chastising chuckle, “Don’t worry honey, I'll take care of you.” His dark boxers leave little to the imagination, the fabric pulled tight across him as the curve of his cock is pinned to the curve of his hip. He’s huge, bigger than you could’ve dreamed, and by the looks of it nice and thick, you would be happily limping around in the morning.

He plants his hands next to your legs, crawling up your body until he’s even with your mouth, his skin radiating heat and his mouth meets yours once more. The taste of you is still lingering in his mouth, spurring you on.

The clothed hardness of him presses against you, insistent and delightfully relieving the tortuous pressure building at your core. You run your hands against the muscles of his back, at first gently caressing but as his teeth skim your pulse you dig into the flesh with your nails. “Joel…” you whimper, knowing if he wanted to drag this any further you'd have no choice but to beg, there's something so addictive to his power and the way he looks at you. He knows what he's doing to you, he knows the way you shift your hips to grind against him is a silent plea, he wishes he could withhold longer, but each hitch in your breath coaxes more precome spilling into his boxers, he hasn't been this hard since he was a teenager.

He hushes you, soothing you with a hand running over your hair, and shoves his boxers down to free himself. He lets the weight of his cock slide over your sex, the thick head catching deliciously on your clit and allowing it to get coated in what's left of your cum. You both groan into another kiss, “Condom?” The question shocks you into reality briefly, but you quickly shake your head no, not bothering an attempt to form any words.

You swear you hear a whimper in his half-lidded chuckle, but you try to focus on the feeling of his body pressing against yours, the heat of him and the rich smell of his skin the taste of his mouth as he kisses you through a few more lazy strokes.

He runs a calloused hand over the soft skin of your throat before sliding it around and into the hair at the back of your neck, tilting your eyes to his As he lines up and slides in a single brutal thrust. Your body tenses at the stretch, but the pleasure is immense and Joel's mouth parts in a pant so beautifully you crack a wickedly seductive smile.

As he begins to canter his hips, his grip on your hair gets tighter, holding your eyes to his, his pelvis grinds delectably against your clit, as the ridges of his cock and the angle of his hips drag along your walls. You wonder if you'd been able to take it if it hadn't been Joel, you don't think you've ever been this fucked out in your life. He presses your legs slightly further apart nudging at your cervix, and grounding down.

The orgasm rips through you before you know it, the shake in your legs and your panted obscenities only encourage him further. “Fuck, good girl,” your hips love on their own grinding up fucking yourself through the climax as a second wave of white-hot pleasure soaks his abdomen and your thighs, “So good baby.”

Your head drops, body limp and wrecked he kisses along your cheeks and forehead, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

He moves quicker than you can register what's happening, his boxers are on the floor and suddenly you are straddled over his lap dropping down onto his cock as he buries his face in your tits. Tongue drags deliciously over your nipples as he lets you adjust to the new angle, you rest your head on top of his, kissing his sweat-damp hair and rocking your hips slowly. You didn't think he could feel any bigger, each slight rock nudges almost painfully against your cervix, words no longer forming in your brain and breath escaping in squeaks.

You let yourself get caught up in the moans and praise failing out of Joel nonsensically, the drag of his stubble on your skin overstimulating, you bear down on him and shiver as you hear the hitches in his breathing. “Where?” you almost miss it, his voice is hoarse, desperate, strained even.

“Cum inside me.” you can't suppress the smirk, “I want it.” It's your turn to pull his head back, looking deep into the rich dark brown eyes as they admire you, he chews on his lip. His shoulders hunch as you feel him twitch, his grip tightening on your hips as he uses the last bit of his strength to bounce you on his lap and fuck up into you as he cums deep and hard into your wrecked swollen pussy.

You suppress a shutter, you feel like you're made of gelatin and you slump against his body, going completely slack.

He waits a few moments to collect his wits and allows you both to catch your breath. “Should I start a shower?” You laugh, hoping to skirt over any sort of rebuff.

“Sure,” he massages the flesh of your ass, “I'll take care of the leftovers.” You're overwhelmed with a sense of relief, both letting out a massive sigh at the same time, and laughing once you make eye contact again. You feel his heartbeat against your chest and lean in for another kiss, the complicated stuff can come later, but the smile he gives you as he tilts his chin up slightly for thekiss, makes you feel like it's all going to be more than you could've dreamed of.

[ecoamerica]

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[isaut]

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒓— f!reader x chrollo lucilfer. 2.5 k, refurbished. original: ao3

synopsis: during a simple heist job two years ago, chrollo offered you a cigarette outside the library. it isn’t his fault he fell in love with you, is it? I finally felt it was time to give this fic a face lift. I’ve changed a lot since I started her, and it only felt right. If this gets a sign off from tumblr.com I’ll change the ao3 version

The skyline of Sirap is stunning, with the silhouetted buildings twinkling with lights, a hum bubbling from the streets and from the blimps in the sky. It’s a place that Chrollo has found solace in, has even made a home and a routine for himself in the past few years. He’s overstayed his welcome, set by his own nature. It’s been years since he’s fallen back into his mysterious, nomadic ways.  

Sitting in his study, Chrollo’s gaze is not on the skyline. He is not taking in the movements below him, taking up an old pastime of watching as people scurry by and wondering where they are going. Instead, his gaze is fixated on his computer, the blue light of the screen singing his eyes, drying them out. The pen in his hand clicks steadily against the stained oak of his desk. 

The steady click click click of the pen does little to soothe the worries that have begun to stir in his stomach. The unsettling feeling on his soul as he reads the message before him.

It’s an email. From his bank. A simple request for 10 000 000 jenny. With a simple message attached. 

I took care of the man who requested I eliminate your lover. I’ve forwarded his balance to you. You should receive a file from me shortly with details. Congratulations on your relationship. 

In a brief fit of rage that is quite unbecoming of the man he wishes to present himself as, Chrollo slams his hand against his desk before lending back in his chair, stewing over the message. He tears his eyes away from the message, looking instead out the large windows before him. He takes a deep breath of the not fresh air, and it does little to calm his emotions. 

As he watches a blimp float by in the sky, red light blinking against the darkness of the night, Chrollo can’t help but feel silly at how emotional he’s being. He can’t help but remember how he used to feel so indifferent, how everything felt stale. 

Stale like the air around him. 

With little reluctance, Chrollo sends the money over to his somewhat of an ally, Illumi. Their relationship was little more than constant transactions. He stands, stretches his arms above his head. Calling himself a banker had its pros: boring enough no one asked about it. It also had its cons: sometimes sitting in front of a computer for too long, researching his next thrill instead of boring into an excel spreadsheet. 

Chrollo thinks that, at the end of the day, death suits him. Even if he’s falsely climbed into the carriage. Even if his back aches from time to time. He briefly considers doing a few of the stretches his lover had recommended. His lover who had gotten him in the mess. The one where he carefully removes bricks from the walls around him and lays new bricks as he lies to cover up his reality. His lover who was still probably perched in the living room, waiting for him to come out of his office.  

The idea of you patiently waiting on the couch fills Chrollo with an uncomfortable guilt. He scrolls through his phone, looking for a text chain. He can’t find it, and resorts to drafting a new text in a small group message of just himself, Shalnark and Machi. If he took time to be truthful with himself, it felt odd texting the two of them. Even a year later, there’s an uncomfortable void, two of them in fact, of accumulated grief that press against his soul. He can’t shake it, nor can he steep in it. 

We need to have a meeting. In the next few months. 

Not ready to linger in those feelings, Chrollo locks his phone. Perhaps he’d mellow in those thoughts of the all consuming grief tonight, with your head resting on his chest as sleep washes over you. His gaze returns to the skyline. It’s dark out, it must be well past dinnertime. 

Chrollo shuts down his computer with the forceful, long press of a button. Shalnark, who set up the device for him, is berating him for not using softer methods. Chrollo pockets his phone, eager to deposit it somewhere and forget about it until morning. The journey from his office to the living room isn’t a long one, and it’s one he can chart by the way you’ve dappled yourself along the path. 

Gentle music flows from the living room, playing on the speakers that were brought from your apartment when you moved in. There’s a sweatshirt of yours on the ground that he picks up without much thought. He deposits it on the back of the couch, upon arriving to a deserted living room. 

It’s not deserted. There’s a blanket that looks like it used to be wrapped around you, slumped in the corner of the couch. There’s a stack of essays on the middle cushion, and a pen set upon them. Half a glass of wine sits on the coffee table, and beside it is your iPad, unlocked. 

Satisfaction brings the cat back. Chrollo leans over the iPad, investigating what you had been doing. He takes it upon himself to close the online shopping tab after seeing the total in the cart. 

Rounding the corner, you hold a mug of tea in your hands. The brightness of the lemongrass tea fills the air, and you take a deep breath, both of the tea and of the sight of your boyfriend. Both senses wake you up. 

Chrollo picks up the blanket, and sits in its place, throwing it over the armrest. He picks up the essay you had been in the middle of grading and flips it to the cover page. It’s thick, at least ten pages. A Turn About the Room: How Women Have Always Been the Secluded Ones. 

“Done working?” You ask him. 

Chrollo rests his arm along the backside of the couch to take you in. One of his shirts peeks out from below an oversized sweater of yours. Glasses perched atop your nose. He holds his hand out to you, palm up. 

“You should be too.”  

“I see how it is,” You say, coming over to his open hand. Your hand is still warm from holding the mug, and you slide your palm easily against Chrollo’s. 

Only, the man before you isn’t Chrollo, no, there is no mass murderer before you. No grandiose thief. He’s just Kuroro, a man with a penchant for reading and a sadness behind his eyes that’s curtained by charisma and a modern day definition of chivalry. 

A man who’s raising his other hand to take the mug from your own  hands, the heat barely bothering him. His fingers twine with yours, and he brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss upon it. 

“Do you?” 

You nod, leaning over the back of the couch and into his personal space and pressing a kiss against his cheek. He smells warm, of mellow, musky notes that you’ve come to associate when you think of him. Home smells like Kuroro, it smells like the cologne he wears and the aftershave in the morning, curling with a warm drink and incense in the air. 

It’s time to stop working for the day. 

Rounding the couch, you take a seat right beside Kuroro. Truly, you’re more so on top of him with the way your knee hinges over his thigh. Neither of you care. Not when you’re so close, not when the world seems to just be the two of you. 

Kuroro returns your mug to you, his now warmed hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“How’s work going?” You ask, blowing on your tea before taking a tentative sip. 

Kuroro hums at your question, resting his hand on your thigh. He rubs his hand over the smooth, plush skin. He ponders over how to answer, how to toe the line between being honest and being deceitful. It’s all for your safety after all. And here he has been, thinking he’d been doing a good job of maintaining your blissful ignorance to the world he hid in. 

“Stressful,” Kuroro admits, taking a deep breath before raising his gaze. 

“Mon pauvre,” You murmur, “Want some tea?” 

Pressing his brows together, Kuroro nods. You watch with infatuated eyes as he does just as you had earlier: blow on the warm drink, letting the steam lick up his face before taking a small sip. 

“Want to go get dinner?” You pose. “I haven’t eaten yet… We could go to the sushi place down the block.” 

The news Kuroro had received minutes earlier rings in his head. Bounces from ear to ear, unable to be ignored. He thinks of the mom and pop restaurant that had infatuated the two of you, of the kind couple who ran it. Of the grandma who greeted you everytime you came in. Who cooed over how cute of a couple you made. 

He thinks of an assassination attempt on either one of you. Of the chaos it would cause, of the rubble and the debris. He can envision your scared expression. The dead bodies of the kind family he’d come to know so well. 

It tugs at his heartstrings in a way he had believed was long since dead. Perhaps you had made him too soft. Too human. He felt the youth coursing through his soul again. 

With reluctance, Kuroro shakes his head. “I’ll make us something. Then you don’t have to get dressed.” 

“You’re so considerate,” You say with a smile. “What are we having?” 

“I have to check the fridge,” Kuroro replies. “Want to join me in the kitchen?” 

Of course you do. You’d altered your 10 year plan to accommodate the man. You’d follow him anywhere. 

Kuroro is, in his nature, secretive. It has always carried a certain charm with it: adds to the allure of his dark hair, his well-read nature and clean dress. However, you’ve picked up on a few tells he carries around with him. For instance, when he’s set on surprising you there’s a boyish glint in his brown eyes. When he’s morose in thoughts of life, both his own and philosophical, he’s oddly talkative. Always eager to find solace with his head on your chest or in your lap. And when he’s had a bad day at work, he’s quiet. 

You don’t like when he’s quiet. It’s not that you feel the need to fill silence with Kuroro. In fact, normally it’s quite the opposite. Silence is comfortable. 

The silence that hangs in the kitchen is not the comforting closeness you’ve grown to love. 

As Kuroro investigates the fridge for something to eat, you take it upon yourself to put on some music in the background. Amy Winehouse’s voice seeps through the silence. 

“Do you want tteokbokki?” Kuroro asks, holding a bag of rice cakes in his hand. His other rests on the refrigerator door. 

You come to stand beside him, peering into the fridge. It’s barren. Only a few condiments and pickled vegetables litter the shelves. You feel an emptiness in your stomach. Did you eat lunch? 

“Sure,” You say, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “Do you want some help?” 

“Just your company,” Kuroro responds smoothly, closing the door and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. The base notes of his cologne still cling to his skin. There’s cedar and vanilla. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, releasing you slowly. 

The gesture has your heart skipping a beat. You feel your face warm, feel as Kuroro’s hand slides along your shoulders. 

It makes Kuroro smile slightly, watching your reaction come over. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, then opens the refrigerator open again. 

“Go sit. I’ll get you some more wine.” 

You wet your lips as you take your place on the kitchen island. Kuroro sets the chilled white wine bottle in front of you, then busies himself in the kitchen, combining spices and sauces together and simmering them over low heat. 

To keep his mind off whatever was bothering him, you launch into telling him about the essays you’ve been grading— Final papers for your class on women’s oppression in literature. You teach it every other year in the spring, and this conversation is reminiscent of one you had when you first met Kuroro. 

This one is about Rokeya’s Sultana’s Dream and Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s a fresh take on Austen’s work, and you’re glad to see Rokeya being cited. There are a few inconsistencies in the line of reasoning, but the student is a year too young to technically take the course. She reminds you of yourself, if you’re being completely honest— Ambitious, if not a little scatterbrained. 

Kuroro turns off the stove and sets the pot atop a woven potholder in front of you. He adds side bowls and chopsticks to the spread. 

“I’d love to take a peek,” He says, getting himself a wine glass to join in with your drinking. 

“You can. Want to see it now?” 

Kuroro shakes his head and sits next to you. “You know I’ll get sauce all over it.” 

Shrugging, you pick up your chopsticks. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve spilt on an essay. “Thanks for cooking tonight.” 

“Careful, it’s hot,” Kuroro says as his you’re welcome. 

Even with his stomach pleasantly full, the overhead fan humming, and you pressed up against his side, sleep evades Chrollo. He tilts his head to the side, his hair fanned out on the too soft pillow. All pillows are too soft to him, anyways. He cushions his head for your comfort. 

Sleep’s tireless evasion from Chrollo is not one that he’s a stranger to. He often finds himself in this same position, surrounded by newfound comforts, his heart thrumming softly, his eyes on the twinkling lights of Sirap. Absentmindedly, he rubs his hand up and down your side, taking solace in the way your stomach moves with every deep breath you take. 

When you don’t drink before bed, you’re quick to rouse at his gentle petting. Sometimes, you wake at even the slightest shift. Groggily blinking away and rubbing your eyes, trying to see what’s wrong in the pitch black room. 

Not tonight. Tonight, you’re full and there’s wine in your brain. And Chrollo is alone with his thoughts. 

He turns his head to look at you. Cranes his neck to place a kiss to the top of your head without jostling you. 

There’s a grief on his soul tonight, and it’s not own he’s used to. Albeit accustomed to loss, Chrollo’s heart can’t fathom experiencing the gravity of loss again. To be responsible for someone’s death who was so innocent, who had nothing to do with the circumstances he put her in. 

So he places another kiss to your forehead, and shifts himself to wrap both of his arms around you. Invites your legs to tangle against his. He closes his eyes, and despite wishing for sleep it continues to evade him. So he takes deep breaths of you: shampoo, bodywash, oils and lotions. He lays in the dark, simply waiting. 

[two-white-butterflies]

you're losing me (six) | am. targaryen and j. velaryon

Description: A song that you wrote after breaking up makes Aemond to go back to you. In which, a man gives away everything for love.

Rating: General Audiences

part five

Aemond keeps watching you - already memorizing the choreography to every song that you wrote. He takes a sip of his water, rolling his eyes as Aegon began to cheer for the surprise song. "This song is very personal to me, I wrote it after breaking up with someone - and I don't wish that any of ya'll relate to this," you laugh, and the entire crowd cheers, hearing the few notes. "I get myself twisted in threads to meet you at the Alcott," you sang.

Your face flashes on the LED screen - your eyes were blurry with tears, and hair wet with rain. You looked a like a goddess in his eyes - seemingly staring at his soul. "I go to the corner in the back, where you'd always be." you hummed - thinking of him while you walked around the stage. The Alcott was a place that only the two of you knew about - a secret con, and a hotel garden.

"- and there you are, sitting as usual with your golden notebook. Writing something about someone who used to be me." you added, his brother elbows his side gently - leaning his head closer so that they'd be able to hear each other through the singing crowd. "It's about you," Aegon yelled and he nodded - not finding the power to take his eyes off you.

"- and the last thing you wanted, is the first thing I do. I tell you my problems, you tell me the truth." you added with a small pout, waving at the crowds from beyond the stadium. You could attend a thousand interviews and swear to the gods that you were over him - but you'd be lying, because he was your greatest love - the what if that rattled your brain constantly.

"It's the last thing you wanted, it's the first thing I do." you repeated, walking towards the VIP Station and freezing once your eyes bump into each other. "I tell you that I think I'm falling, back in love with you." you pointed at him, and chills ran down his spine. Maybe this was the way that you'd reconnect with each other - the string that was tying you back again. "I sit there silently waiting for you to look up," you sang - watching as the lyrics of the song unravel into reality. He smiles slowly, avoiding the crowds that were cheering at him. He keeps his cap on his head - hiding his face.

"I see you smile when you see it's me. I had to do something to break into your golden thinking. How many times will I give up and you'll still believe?" you changed the lyrics, deciding to move into a separate part of the stage. The connection was there - but the crowds didn't need to get suspicious. "Tell me, which side are you on dear?" you sang, kneeling on the stage and glancing at his figure.

You were stupid to pretend that you could lose him. That the heart was incapable of CPR.

"Give me some tips to forget you," you smile hearing the backtrack sing back. "Have I become one of your problems?" you smile again, knowing that he was your problem - the headache that you couldn't send away. "Could it be easy this once? Everything that's mine is a landmine." you sang the low note - deciding to go back to his part of the stage. "Did my love aid and abet you?" you joke, reminiscent of the toilsome beginning of the relationship.

He nods his head with a smirk, mouthing the words 'yes'.

"I tell you that I think I'm falling back in love with you." you finish the song, signaling the technicians to shut the lights. There was no use singing more of the song - because the answer was right in front of you. Aemond wasn't a landmine, he wasn't a place that you could go away from - he was part of you, half of your soul and you didn't need any reminding to remember that. "I tell you that I think I'm falling back in love with you." your voice fades out.

y/nkittens: SO ME AND MY FRIEND WERE IN THE VIP SECTION (separate seats) and I just noticed that she kept going back to our section (she started there when she was singing 'The Alcott' and she was smiling at some guy behind us) then she kept going back for 'invisible string' and 'Fearless'

78 comments 912,839 likes

diveediva: kittens do ur thing 🫣

y/nkittens: UPDATE: the guy kinda looks like Aemond Targaryen 👀 but ya'll didn't hear it from me.

Y/N L/N WINS COURT CASE AGAINST AMERICA: SHE'S ALLEGEDLY PAYING HER TAXES, FOLKS!

JUST IN: After three-years of a hefty legal battle with the state of California, all charges against singer, Y/N L/N were waved. According to the singer, her father (who is a renowned con-man) used her name to create expensive purchases that she was unable to file the tax returns of (as she wasn't aware that those expenses were made) and her father was the one who handled her finances at the time.

Despite the betrayal, the singer asserts that she still 'loves and supports her father' and that her fans shouldn't throw any 'hate' at the man.

Aemond nervously bounces his legs, waiting for you to finish the show. He was escorted back-stage after a few songs. He was playing with the ring - callously placing it on his fingers. It was a family heirloom, a ring given to him by his mother that came from his grandmother. "Aem," you began to bolt in his direction - wrapping your arms around him. "Darling," he breathes - holding you tightly in fear that you'd let go.

"What's the meaning of this? What are you doing here?" you inquire - eyes narrowing around the sight of his disheveled figure. "I've been attending your tours since January." he began, cupping your cheeks with softness and longing. "I thought that you were better without me - because I'm not better without you," he bit the inner corners of his lips, ignoring the staff that were watching you. "I haven't slept properly in months," you chuckle, letting him know that he wasn't the only one having a hard time.

"Let's get back together please," he pleaded, preparing the ring. "You don't give a damn about your family, but I do - your mother loves you." you hum, knowing that his family would never accept you. "I've grown to realize that it doesn't matter what they think. I can do what I want. I'll do what makes me happy - as for my mother, I think she loves you too." he smiled - pulling the ring out of his pocket.

A gasp escapes your mouth.

It was the same ring that Alicent was wearing when she warned you to stay away from Aemond.

"Mom can't stop talking about how generous and humble you are. That you're prepared to drop everything just because you think that it'll make my life better." he explained - your eyes were painted solely on the ring. "Will you marry me?" he asked, dropping on one knee.

"Yes."

(one year later)

(your full name): can i go where you go?

235,689 comments 12,245,089 likes

officialaemondtargaryen: 💚

toelicker69: Congratulations y/n and husband!! 🕷

-(your full name): thank you sm heleana 🥰

Daemon_Targ69: 🎉 congrats,,,kids

LarysNoor: feet

officialaemondtargaryen: All along there was some invisible string, tying you to me.

10 comments 234 likes

jacaerys_velaryon_author: Congratulations uncle 🤘🏽🎉

-officialaemondtargaryen: thank you jacey-poo 💚

toelicker69: Is it too late for a divorce? @(your full name)

-officialaemondtargaryen: I'm afraid that it is 🙂

Jace hands the both of you a glass of champagne. There was a tinge of regret on his heart - festering like an open wound.

He longed for what you had.

You were his greatest love, but he wasn't yours.

"Congrats," he smiled, happy for you. "Thanks," you two say in unison. You looked around you with tears in your eyes - sure, Aemond wasn't going to inherit his father's company but you had everything you could possibly want.

Support. Love. and Peace.

"Cheers to forever," Aemond raised his glass, and you smile. "- and eternity," you add while taking a sip of your champagne.

(your full name): i hope that the kids know that mama and papa loved each other very much. 💗

0 comments 1,290,876 likes

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[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Confessions Of Sin. —

Selina Kyle x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: (sprinkle of) angst/fluff/SMUT.

warnings: vampire!selina, hybrid!y/n (wolf/witch), g!p (selina), degradation, stalking, slight dub-con, mating, sadism, masochism, mommy kink, slight!puppy play, intercourse, slight fingering.

synopsis: she’s been watching you.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu 𓆪.

⌫

I'd been running from fate my entire life, I didn't believe in it, thought I was destined to trek through life alone, I thrived better in the solitude, that is, until I saw her face.

Been here over a thousand years and nothing quite captivated me like she did, she was the embodiment of everything I was opposite to, she was sweeter than the sour I was accustomed to, that I so admired because within my life, I could never be described as...sweet.

But her? She gave me a damn toothache, and it was worth the cavities. I admit, it turned into a bit of an obsession, an understatement I'm sure the readers will realize soon enough.

—

I liked crimson. Red. Blood. I've never been one for sweets, I enjoyed the finer delicacies the humans found disgust in as they continued eating their rare bloody raw steaks without thinking twice, a nice glass of blood could do a body good, but I get it, I do.

I liked my blood like I liked my wine, dry, bitter, it was true but again, you'll find that I changed my tune.

Y/n Y/ln is sweet, made of sugar, spice, and all things nice so to say, with her body wrapped in visions of pink and hues of deep purple, jet black curls framing a deep brown complexion. When she spoke, I swore I could hear birds singing to her pretty little tune, but love is blind, and I was too.

I saw innocence in her eyes, she couldn't have been more out of place in a city like Gotham, with evil lurking throughout every corner, maybe I felt it my responsibility to protect her. That's a nice excuse, right?

The truth was far more sinister, though I guess it's somewhat true, her blood while enticing belongs solely to me and I needed the filth in this dreaded town to know it, so maybe I told a few more lies but you would too to protect what's yours.

And she...was mine.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

She worked in downtown Gotham in this slumlord-owned bar, as a barista and despite her sweet exterior I could tell she held her own rather well in a place with gross older gentlemen going from wall to wall, their younger dates passing disgusted glances hoping those pockets went deep and that the discomfort proved worth it.

It was only right that I keep a close eye on her, no? Besides, I needed a job, and Blue Silk had a spot open for a new dancer, it wasn't like I had no experience on the stage; It wasn't all about the pretty-eyed soft-spoken bartender, was it?

↳

Selina had just gotten off the stage, she was Catwoman to the crowd and Sel to her colleagues, slipping some shorts over her lingerie, she made her way to the floor, eyes searching until she found Y/n standing behind the bar, a smile spread across her face, her lively kind demeanor inviting to the locals that came in regularly as if their lives depended on it. She could see instantly why Y/n was a good fit for the nightclub, that smile could charm a polar bear.

It wasn't until that smile fell that Selina became worried, she sees the woman stiffen when a regular named Lenny walks in, she cocks her head, zoning in on the scene before moving in.

"Hey, Barbara's looking for ya. Said she needs your help".

Selina steps behind the bar, her eyes on the man hard in contrast to the gentleness she displayed when wrapping her arm around her shoulder and pulling her in a little closer, Y/n is more than thankful for the interruption, her smile when she sees Selina is one of utter relief.

"Bet". Is all she says, putting her dish towel down, her gaze never breaking the man's until they leave him and head into the back, her heart thunders through her chest, adrenaline on a 10, Selina hadn't heard everything that was said but she could see the anger and anxiety on her face.

"You okay"? She asked when out of earshot of the floor, letting the other barista know you were taking a moment.

"I'm good, Sel. Got a light"?

"Always".

The air was cold against your skin, light snow was falling over Gotham and neither you nor Selina, in your haste to escape the scene had remembered a coat, grabbing nothing more than a pack of cigarettes.

Y/n was still rattled, but Selina, Selina was thinking about their proximity, watching her blow her smoke out into the air, her eyes remained fixed on the woman's every move, she'd been doing it for so long now it was like muscle memory observing her from head to toe.

"Sel"?

"Yeah, Hun"?

Passing her the cigarette, she lets out a sigh the chill from the air turns her breath into its own cloud of smoke as she turns to face her friend, leaning against the pillars that were just outside the double doors of Blue Silk, "We need to look out for each other. Okay"?

"We will, Honeybun".

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

And just like that, Selina was walking her out nightly, sometimes walking her home when she needed to, and within that time she decided, she wanted more than her blood, she'd started this after a whiff of something so tantalizingly sweet, so delectable smelling that it invaded her mind for days on end. God, she needed the poor doe more than anything, and now...She was seeking all of her.

She'd learned so much about the woman she felt she'd known her for years, from something as surface level as her favorite color to the more personal like how she'd ended up in Gotham in the first place — Through an orphanage.

There was more than met the eye to Y/n Y/ln but Selina hadn't found out just how deep the mystery went until the night it all came out in throes.

↳

Y/n hadn't asked Selina to follow her out in a week due to being out sick, the night she came back the world had become a vibrant place for the vampire again and she wasn't going to waste it, not when she was so close to her end goal, so close she could practically feel the pulse of the woman's veins against her tongue.

She was absolutely drooling for it, as desperate as it sounded to admit it. She was hungry, and the only craving to satiate her appetite rested in the manicured hands of a 5'3 bartender with bright shining e/c eyes that lit up any room she damn walked into.

Selina was at the mercy of Y/n, but in due time she hoped to welcome the opposite.

"Missed ya, Kitty cat".

She was quick to wrap Sel up in her arms, that smile shone brightly up at the Cat, so sickly sweet it made her weak in the knees, why wouldn't she hug her back? Her arms wrapped tightly around her in return and she wasn't shy about nuzzling her cheek up against hers.

"Missed you too, honeybun. Walking homes been so lonely without you, sweetheart".

"We'll fix that. You're gonna kick ass out there, Kit. I missed seeing you in your element".

A smirk threatened to tug at Sel's lips thinking about the younger woman watching her on stage and possibly enjoying it, if that in any way hinted at reciprocation, she'd hold onto hope.

"You're gonna watch me? Be my good luck charm"?

"I don't know what luck I'd bring but I'm for sure gonna watch you, I always do".

When they pull away, Y/n leaves her with the lightest feathering of a kiss on her cheek. Selina feels her fangs threaten to pull, and Jesus is it so dangerous to be so close to her like this. "You always do..."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

It was around time for Y/n and Selina to leave but the bartender hadn't seen a hint of Selina after her last performance that night, even as she looked around for her; It wasn't until she'd gone out for a smoke that she appeared almost out of thin air behind the girl as silent as a mouse, she swiped the cigarette from her hand and slipped it between her own lips that curved into a grin after she exhaled and let the smoke flow freely. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you"?

She flinches, the hand that had been on the knife only loosening when she hears the familiarity of Selina's voice, shaking her head, biting back a matching grin at the sudden appearance.

"Maybe. You disappeared, Kit. Where'd ya go? Didn't see ya round after that last performance, you killed it by the way. As I knew you would".

Playfully she punches her shoulder, but the Cat has one thing on her mind and it's pumping through her veins like lava, she licks her lips and throws down the cigarette, stomping on it with her boot, "Fancy a ride home? I had a few loose ends to tie up".

"Mm, a ride"?

Selina holds out her hand, grin broadening when Y/n easily takes her hand; leading her over to her new wheels, a smooth black motorcycle, she holds up a backup helmet and hands it over to her.

"You ever been on one of these, love"? She asked, watching her struggle with the helmet before coming over to help her out.

"Once or twice, one of the kids I was placed in the orphanage with got his own when he was adopted, he was like a little brother to me so when I was trusted to go out on my own, we'd go out riding".

"Oh yeah? So you know I need you to hold on tight, right? Real tight, don't let go".

She was a breath away now, her breath tickling Y/n's skin as she fastened the helmet to her head, eyes locked to hers while she did it.

"I won't, I promise". Y/n mumbles, slightly blushing and happy the helmet could help hide it, but Selina had always had that allure that took her in and refused to let go, anyone could fall victim to it, man or woman, and Y/n was no exception.

Holding onto her hand gently, Selina aids her on the bike and then situates herself as well, Y/n's arms firmly wrapped around her waist. They set off just as it begins to fade into a starless night, few to no bodies on the streets.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

Mystique. She threw wrenches into the lives of many but never did I expect myself to be playing her game, I thought I had everything figured out, she was one of many necks, I'm an expert in my selections, but I missed so much, far too much.

When we got to her house she invited me in under the guise of a drink, but I had planned in advance to talk my way in, the fact that she was so willing to gaze at me all sweetly, so trusting, so naive, it was a rush. Something like a drug.

Her hand tugged at mine, and she smiled all brightly, eyes staring up at me so...enticingly. If I could've kissed her then, I would've but that would've ruined the surprise and we didn't need that, no. For this to work I needed her to trust me...fully.

"Coffee...Or wine"? Her neck craned to the side and my eyes capped it immediately, her throat like a lure and I was the fish that had taken the bait, my mouth went dry; It was then that I realized how close I really was.

We were alone. She was mine.

"Dry"?

"You're in luck, I don't enjoy dry, myself but I do keep it for guests that do".

"Social butterfly".

"You aren't the first to call me". Sending a wink my way, I was in hook line, and sinker, and her every movement sent my body into overdrive, I could feel myself pulsing beneath my jeans.

"It is how you got the necklace, no"? I asked referring to the butterfly pendant around her neck, she'd been wearing since the day we met, I could tell by the way she frequently fiddled with it that it meant a lot to her.

"Keen eye. When I finally got adopted, I was a teen, freshly 13, and a teacher from my school became my own real-life Ms. Honey from Matilda, adopted me after fostering me when I was at my worst; Nickname is from her, necklace is from her. I've been Butterfly to anyone I've ever known".

I chuckled, hanging onto every fucking word she said. Her accent was distinct, Nola dipped heat spoken like honey, I wanted to hear it moaning my name, and it would. In due time.

"Now you are Butterfly to me". I got closer, fingers grasping onto the glass she held, our fingers brushing against one another briefly.

"I've never heard it better".

She would be the death of me, I swore.

Even after our hands stopped touching, I could feel her fingers running down my arm, traveling the length while my lips wrapped around the glass, something out of my wildest fantasies if you asked me; I sat the glass down and within a moment my lips were against hers.

⌫

It was finally time, after the first kiss Selina found herself craving much more than a sample taste, she'd waited so long for this moment and she was prepared to savor it, tugging Y/n to her and pressing her lips to the woman's chest, kissing what revealed skin she could reach, and Y/n didn't resist, not with the way a soft whimper fell from her lips, parted to allow her noises to freely drip shamelessly but a whimper was just the tip of the iceberg, Selina wanted to hear far more.

"This, this is what I've wanted since I met you, at the club".

It had always been entertaining to hear prey speaking of their own crushes on her, how they fantasized, and manifested...With Y/n, however, it meant something different, something special. The woman threw her off of her game, she was so used to being in control but it all came crashing down the moment she'd gotten her hands on the one she was convinced fate wanted her to have.

"You're filled with sugar, ain't ya, Sweet thing? C'mere. On my lap".

Moving to sit on the couch, Selina has Y/n sat in her lap, her back to Sel's front, and her lips quickly find her neck just as they'd found her chest, she's damn near quivering with anticipation when she has the sweet girl in her lap at her very mercy, it all feels like it's fallen into place.

"Let's play a game, yeah? I wanna play a quick game, it's simple".

Y/n trembled underneath Sel's touch, her hands roamed her body eagerly, and her body reacted like it was made solely for the vampire and her alone, her core throbbing with a sick need for Selina to touch her. She gulps. "What's the game"?

Selina laughs, her grin akin to the Cheshire cat when she's met with curiosity instead of reluctance. Her claws gently run over the girl's stomach, goosebumps left in her wake. "It's called two truths and a lie, it's as simple as it sounds, I'm going to tell two truths and one lie. You tell me which one the lie is, okay? ...Little pup"?

Y/n's voice is timid, her eyes following Sel's every touch on her skin trying to keep her composure though it seemed for naught the moment she felt Selina's boner poking into her backside, the thought of it inside of her instead sent unwavering unadulterated arousal washing over her.

"I can".

"Good girl. You're too damned sweet, angel. You know that? Listen carefully, love. 1. I hate sweets. Disdain them even...2. Bloodthirsty creatures? They're not...as mythical as you'd believe they are And 3. I...know you better than you'd like to think, sweet girl".

All of this is said while her hands play with the hem of her shirt, allowing her time to think over all of Sel's questions thoroughly, and immediately her eyebrows furrow in confusion, trying to think through a lust filled lense was already hard enough but Y/n could swear she spotted two lies, one truth.

"I'd say...2 maybe, but 3. Are you sure? I think there's more to me than that, no"?

A chuckle leaves the Cat's lips, she leans her head back and squeezes her just a bit tighter than before. "You might be right, but you are incorrect and misguided in so many ways, may I count them as I undress you"?

Letting out her own laugh, Y/n moves Selina's hands from her waist back to the hem of her shirt, and Selina so happily counts the ways.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

Her hands worked your shirt over your head, lace pink bra underneath taking her eyesight happily, smirk on her face she speaks up but her eyes don't leave your chest. "I don't know which will scare you off first but know that this is all I've ever needed, and hear me out before you scream".

Most would've ran from those words alone, but the woman on her lap stayed firmly placed allowing Selina to undress her even while her words became ominous and vague. "We live in a world where superheroes fight villains. Go on then, frighten me".

That was exactly what she meant when she called you trouble, she groans, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, voice raspy when she speaks, "Bloodthirst is all too real, and it's...how we got here today, you see? It ties into my other, pretty little truth, and funnily enough? Also my lie. See...I thought I hated sweets".

"I thought you did too, I don't think I've seen you eat a dessert ever in my time knowing ya".

"You haven't. But you're the reason, the reason I started...craving them. I've been on this earth for over a thousand plus years and nothing has quite lured me in like the scent of your blood, my dear".

It took a minute for her words to register but when they did you almost thought you were hallucinating, it was shocking for all the most insane of reasons, her news.

"I can see you look...disturbed and for all good reasons, I'm sure. I won't confuse you with my vagueness so let's cut it straight, I'm what you humans call...a vampire. I have a bloodlust that I just found cannot be satiated by any other, any other but..."

She pauses to let you answer, humming when you do, "Me"?

"Smart girl. Gotham is filled with monstrosities, I'm sure you're aware, and I, unfortunately, am one of many of the freaks this town has to offer. I've always had a rather strict appetite, but you? You have ruined me".

There was a heat in her voice now, a darkness and danger that settled in the pit of your stomach listening to what no longer sounded like the Selina you knew, and even though you knew you should run, get out. It was like she had you pinned to her lap, under her spellbound with the hypnosis that was her voice; You weren't sure if you could move or if you'd stay compliant even if you wanted to.

"I-I ruined you? How could I eve-" Your words are cut short when her fingers hooked onto your leggings, taking them down with ease whilst whispering sinful truths into her ear.

"I'm hungry and it's all your fault, I haven't looked at another neck in 10 months, sugar and let me tell you...living off blood packs isn't sustainable for a woman like me, and that, I will have to fix and soon. And how, tell me, do you think I should fix it, Y/n"?

Your mind ran, it ran with many things but the first that falls from your lips is fueled by shock, "What do you mean 10 months, Selina"?

From your point-of-view it had only been 3 months since you'd known one another, she'd only been working there for that long so it couldn't have been ten months but the more you ran through it, the more you realized what she'd meant by two truths and a lie, and if she'd been watching you that long, truly...Was all of it true?

"Do you wanna run"?

You'd sat up by now, running over everything in your head repeatedly trying to come to terms with the fact that what seemed to be Satan, herself was in your living room, her fingers running the length of your neck and collarbone watching you put it all together.

Did you wanna run? A normal person would wanna run hell anyone in their right mind would be calling the cops, right now yet you were still there sitting in her lap, watching her hands run over your skin, her fingers now playing with the fabric of your lace pink thong.

"Do you wanna play two truths and a lie, Selina"?

If Sel had a heart it would probably be beating out of its chest right now, how could this innocent, pure little thing be so close to death itself and not completely freak out? "Lay it on me".

Y/n stands up, Selina's eyes following after you when you do, slight surprise on her face as you, instead, take down the pink thong on your own, your eyes dancing with mischief, you speak too calmly for a woman standing in front of the undead who'd apparently been stalking her for longer than they'd even known each other.

"1. I knew that you weren't human...2. I hate all things bitter, sour. And 3. I, myself, ... am not human".

You reveled in the way Selina's eyes widened, how her shock turned into intrigue thinking over your words and making her final decisions before she pulled you in closer by the thighs, her chin resting on your legs, sage green eyes staring up into your e/c ones.

"Tell me a story, mama. I wanna hear it all from those gorgeous lips of yours, and don't leave a thing out, ight"?

Your breath hitches at her words, lips parted but not a peep comes out. 'Adorable', Selina thinks, pulling you back onto her lap and spreading your legs effortlessly, her head dipping down to whisper into your ear. "Ready, set..."

Her fingers move to toy with your clit, a dangerous, sadistic smile spread ear to ear, finally getting what she wanted, and God was it worth the wait. Her cock twitches in her pants, and she's glad she has a semblance of self-control, she just really needs to hear every little thing Y/n says, she finds your words...fascinating. And maybe, maybe she wanted to see your squirming and moaning in her lap, dripping from her fingers dipped into your sweetness all by themselves.

Struggling to get your words out.

"Witches blood. My family's one of the oldes- Selina... I-I'm also half-wolf, I could smell it on you from the moment we met".

"Wolf's blood... and witch? It must be why you smell so damned sweet, a hybrid. I don't know how I didn't peg it sooner". Selina grunts into your ear, her hips involuntarily bucking up against the wolf, now that she knows, she's aware she has something more special than originally thought. she takes a moment to think before dipping her fingers inside your cunt, she knew she couldn't wait too long, she had too much desire building within her own stomach.

"If I were a stronger woman, I'd have you trembling and squirting on my lap before I even thought about fucking you but when it's you..."

Pulling her fingers from your pussy, she puts the fingers in her mouth, fangs popping out when she gets even the slightest taste of your essence on her tongue. "My control— It's evaporated into nothingness so here's what I'm gonna do".

She stands you back up, but this time she follows after you, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway to your own room as well as you yourself could find it.

"I don't want to compel you but I could make it easier on you when I feed. Now is that what you want, Darlin"? When you turn back around, she's lowering her pants, and underwear revealing 7 inches, circumcised and a caramel brown, it's something that leaves Y/n's mouth-watering. She shouldn't want this but she does, and it's intense.

"No".

That was exactly what Selina wanted to hear, she needed to know in her heart of hearts that you wanted this just as much as she did, and even if she had the power to bring you to your knees, herself? She wanted it to be real, fuck this wasn't like her at all but her cock wouldn't let her hold back any longer.

"And you know what that means, princess"? Sitting on the bed, she brings you over to her, stood between her legs, she turns you to face the door, groaning quietly at how beautiful you looked up close and personal, better than any invention of you her fantasies could create. "Spread your legs and talk to me".

You're snapped from autopilot, spreading your legs only to be grabbed swiftly into her lap, and this time she keeps your legs open and breathes into your ear, "I said...talk to me".

Taking her length in her hand, she guides her cock between your slit, collecting your slick and pulling an audible shudder from you as you finally begin to talk, "I-it'll hurt. I know, but I don't...I want it to".

Selina grunts. She grunts, and suddenly her cock is bottomed out and sunk deeply into your cunt, the only things heard are the sounds of the effect she has on you, from the squelching between your thighs when she sinks as deeply as she can to the way you let out the cutest little yelp she'd ever heard, tugging your hair back, she exposes your neck to her.

"It will hurt, but you don't care. You don't even care. Fucking masochist, look at yourself".

Scooting to the end of the bed, a hand firmly around your waist and the other forcing your eyes to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room not allowing you to look away, and the sight is as erotic as Selina made it out to be; You can see her slowly pumping into you, your lips parting to allow soft moans to escape, eyes struggling not to roll back. And when you look up to her, she's already staring back at you, lips curved into a shit-eating grin still leaning down so she could whisper into your ear. "You see that, hun? You're so pretty, baby but my god...You're a damned whore".

Her words though degrading are said with the care you'd provide a wounded animal with, they are meant to lull, to tame, and you were so sick with arousal that you didn't even notice you'd fallen right into her trap; She wasn't about to let you leave.

"You're gonna look at yourself and bounce on my cock, got it"?

Without needing anything more said, you'd been broken out of your stupor and ready to obey her every whim, your hands are braced on the bed in front of you, eyes to the mirror, and back arched; Selina, pressed against the headboard sitting with eyes low and a hand resting on your hips, she watches the first roll with an entranced intrigue, your hair still wove around her fingers, she lets her fangs graze your neck, reveling in the way you slightly flinch but never stop moving.

"Count down from 3..."

Her claw digs into the hip she holds, pricking the skin beneath and drawing your blood with a scent so dizzying she forgets her own words, and with a hiss, she sinks her fangs into your neck.

"T-THREE"! Y/n screams out, pain melding with pleasure, your cunt clenches tightly around her, ensnaring her into a chokehold, the light behind your eyes bright and blinding you feel yourself growing ravenous as the room fills with your collective pleasure and Selina helps you along with the thrusting when she realizes how distracted and clouded you are with her feeding from you.

She doesn't let up, she speeds up her pumps, pulling herself back from your neck, your ass pressed to her pubic bone, she savors the way the blood looks against your complexion, licking you clean, her hands move from your hair and underneath your chin, tilting it up slightly. Raising your leg for better access, she angles her hips deeper inside you, drinking in the way you moan her name. "I knew it, shit, I knew it...so. damn. sweet".

"S-sel, I need a little more, I need—" Your head is on fire, you didn't even notice that it wasn't only the lack of blood clouding your judgment, but something more, Selina's pheromones carried a floral scent to it that sent you into a world of your own, enhanced the already natural chemistry the two of you already had.

"Ah, say please, pretty thing. Mommy can make it all better".

Her voice is like a siren's song, a snake charmer. All you can do is succumb to her efforts, your cunt soaking the bed and in kind, Selina's stomach and thighs, as well as your own; You feel her throb inside of you, swelling at your words. "Please...please mommy".

She couldn't deny that, now could she?

This time, her eyes lock in on her target, the space between your shoulder and the nape of your neck, the final nail in the coffin of your lovestory, then it would all be set in stone. "Mm, since you asked so nicely".

"Cum. for. Mommy".

Selina growls into your ear, pushing herself to the hilt and sinking her fangs into your neck again, this time harder than she had before, on a mission to make you hers for good. Your body quivers in response to her power, moans loud yet strained, she can feel the moment you let go; Your legs wrap around her torso, and your cunt turns into solitary confinement, keeping her in an inescapable hold, hole twitching around her.

She could cum at that alone but it takes a few more rough pumps, her body leaned over yours, she holds her wrist up to your lips and compels you to bite. "It won't hurt me, I promise".

And so you listen, not as though you had much of a choice; It's when the black de-oxygenated liquid spills onto your tongue that she finally climaxes, rope after rope flooding your womb whilst you feed from each other shamelessly, heads filled with only thoughts of sin.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

She watches over her sleeping figure, a crimson-splattered soft grin spread across her face, she watches Y/n's mate mark swell and glow as it all settles down, and leans down to whisper in her ear.

"The midnight won't be so bad, not with you here, sweet deer".

All she gets in response is all she needs, Y/n turns in her arms and wraps herself up in Selina's grasp, mumbling incoherently; she presses a kiss to Selina's shoulder.

She falls into a dreamless sleep.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

A/N: let's call this your birthday fic, love you more than the moon loves the sun, happy 21st grandpa bear~ <33 @u4iuh

[ladylannisterxo]

oh and “If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?” with tom!!!!

Ahhhhhh!! Tom, my beloved! This is my first time writing for this sweet mans so here goes nothing...

Pairings; Tom Grant x fem!Reader Prompt # 90; "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?" Words; 0.4k Warnings; Some drinking and a game of Truth or Dare but mainly just fluff!

“Tom!” You yell out abruptly, startling the poor boy. “Truth or dare?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. “I’m not- I’m not playing.”

“Well… you are sitting in the player circle, are you not?” You wave your hand around the gaggle of individuals who have assembled for this makeshift game of Truth or Dare. Tom eyes each one, takes a sip of his beer, and then goes to stand. “Now you can’t just leave! Sit. Stay. Play.”

He sighs, returning back to his seated position in the sand. He turns his gaze out towards the waves crashing against the shore and you can tell he’s weighing his pros and cons. You take a sip of your own drink, eyes never wavering from his face. You’ve been steadily getting more inebriated as the night progressed having needed something to calm your nerves when Tom sat down to observe the game. He had turned his big brown eyes to you with a smile and you were putty at his feet. But he didn’t need to know that. Yet.

“Tom,” you sing out softly, pulling his attention back to you, “truth or dare?”

“Uhh… truth?”

“Boring!” You smirk but you’re calm, you’re cool, you can work with this. No way he can see how nervous you just became. “If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?”

Tom splutters at your question, the beer he was sipping on spewing from his lips. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, a sheepish and awkward grin pulling at his lips. A rosy hue blooms up his neck and you bite your lip in anticipation, praying you didn’t push too hard with this. He meets your eyes and everything just stops—everyone around you fades away, the crashing waves a dull roar in your ear; there is no one else here but you and him.

He doesn’t answer, only pushes himself up to his knees and shuffles halfway into the circle. You take the opportunity to do the same and then you’re practically chest to chest with him, his nose bumping yours. His eyes are wide, bright, and beautiful and without a word, he brings his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You swoon, melting into his embrace and cupping his neck as you open your mouth to let his tongue slip inside. It’s heated and slightly desperate and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you but you’re too engrossed in the way his skin feels against your fingers and how he tastes like cheap beer and sour candy. 

When the kiss comes to a sweet end, your eyes flutter open to find him already staring back at you. His smile is warm as he brushes a flyaway strand of hair out of your face. “Glad you made me play,” he chuckles softly, “but you never needed a game to get me to want to kiss you.”

[ecoamerica]

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The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[ilovewhiteroses]

We Are Not So Different After All

Pairing: Clement Mansell x GN! Con Artist Reader Genre: Smut with humour Warnings: Sexual and adult themes, cursing Rating: 18+

After you failed to rob him and had to reveal him what do you do for a living, Clement realised the opportunities and asked you to join him and Sandy in their money making shenanigans...

You were at Sweety's bar and you saw a handsome man by the jukebox, cheerfully singing. The song was familiar to you and you also started singing and approached him.

"You have good taste in music!" he praised you when the song ended and another began. "I'm Clement." he introduced himself to you and you told him your name.

"Well, Clement, now that we know each other, would you like to have a drink with me?" you asked, gently stroking his arm, to which he smiled.

"Okay!"

You went to the bar and Clement asked Sweety for two Strohs. You noticed how good the relationship between the two men was and you asked Clement about it.

"Good ol’ Sweety and I have been friends for years."

“That’s nice.” you said smiling.

The hours passed and Clement started to get more and more drunk while you stayed sober as you just pretended to drink and poured most of your drinks behind your back. At one point, he took off his black leather jacket, put it on his chair and told you that he is going to the restroom. When he was out of sight and no one else saw you, you reached into his jacket to find money or a credit card. To your annoyance, you didn't find anything and when you put the jacket back in its place, you turned around and found yourself facing Clement, who was giving you a very angry look. Suddenly you didn't know what to say and could only gulp.

"What the fuck were you looking for in my jacket? Money?” Clement asked, so angry that he sobered up immediately. He put on the garment. "Bad news for you: it's here." he said and pulled out a small wad of money from the pocket of his dark jeans, which he put in the chest pocket of his jacket. "Look, if you tell me why you did it, maybe I won't make a scene." he said menacingly.

You were so mad at yourself for being so clumsy. You were forced to tell him the truth.

"Are you a cop?" you asked before confessing.

"No."

"Okay. Well, look. I've been doing this for years. I'm nice to people, I become friends with them and when the time is right, I steal their money." you felt embarrassed for having to say all this, but Clement's reaction surprised you. Just when you thought he was going to hurt you, his face softened and he seemed to look at you with understanding.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Hm. So you're a con artist. Looks like we are not so different after all." he said, now smiling.

"What do you mean?" you asked him confused.

"My girl Sandy and I do basically the same thing. I give the idea, she does the job. She seduces men, and when we have the chance, we steal their money together."

You felt relieved. What luck! Your evening could easily have turned out worse.

Clement's eyes lit up.

"Hey, since we both do the same thing, wouldn't you like to join us? The three of us would get more money and, of course, would divide it into three."

You thought about the offer. You were good on your own and so far everything went well, but sometimes it was quite tiring to work alone.

"Alright, I'll join!" you said enthusiastically.

"Great! Let's meet here tomorrow afternoon, I'll bring Sandy and introduce you to her, and then we'll figure out the rest together." Clement said, rubbing his palms, barely able to hide his excitement.

The next day you went to the bar at the appointed time. Clement introduced you to Sandy, his girlfriend, who was already pleasantly high from weed and offered you too, but you didn't take it.

Clement sat you down at the bar while Sweety poured you all a drink.

"Okay, I'll tell you how we gonna do this. I told Sandy about you and she said she'll get you a job at the casino, which would be good because you'd be twice as efficient together." Clement said enthusiastically.

"Really?" you asked looking at Sandy.

"Yes. There is also a guy I am “dating” now, his name is Skender Lulgjuraj. He is Albanian and a real moneybag.” she said and Clement winked.

"I see." You started thinking about how you could work with the blonde girl.

"What would you say to Sandy and I flirting with potential candidates, getting them drunk and stealing their credit cards? You have to go for the cards, because there is more money on them than what guys usually carry with themselves in cash." you told him and her your idea, which they both thought about.

"I like the way you are thinking." Clement said with narrowed eyes and a sly smile, Sandy liked the idea too. "Okay, we got this. You go to the casino with Sandy and the job can start soon. Come on, let’s drink to that!”

Few days later, you found yourself in the casino in your waiter's clothes and you were taking a few drinks to one of the roulette tables for the guests. You looked at the clothes and accessories of each of them, because they revealed a lot about their wearers. When you saw that one of the guests was wearing a presumably real, expensive watch, you approached him and started flirting with him. When he got bored of the game, you asked him seductively.

"Would you like to party with me and my friend?". The man nodded so fiercely that his head almost fell off. "Okay, but let's have a drink first."

You went to the bar, where Sandy was already waiting for you. The two of you just pretended to drink, but after a few drinks, the guy could hardly speak and his thinking seemed to slow down, so at a certain moment Sandy took out his wallet from his suit, took out his credit card, and then put the wallet back as if nothing had happened. Once you were done with that, you called him a taxi and two security guards took the drunk man away from you.

Then you carried out another such action during the evening, and after work Clement picked you up and you went to the nearest ATM. You took as much money from both cards as was enough for you then went to Clement and Sandy's apartment, where you celebrated the first successful job together.

You continued like this.

You discussed with Sandy that you would rather rob three people during the night, after you made sure that the person had money. In most cases you were good, but were not always lucky. There were times when the person didn't want to drink with you, or it turned out that he had just lost all his money, or he got so drunk that you couldn't help but slap him to come to his senses. It also happened that a guy's wife suddenly appeared, so you were forced to retreat.

After a while, you collected so much money that Clement could hardly count it.

"My darlings, Daddy is very proud of you!" he said, being in his tighty whities and kimono and gave you and Sandy a kiss on the head. You and the blonde girl sat in front of the TV eating potato chips. Her phone rang, it was Skender. While she stepped aside to make a phone call, Clement sat down next to you on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"What’s up with this Skender guy?" you asked Clement, biting into a chip.

"He supposedly has a secret hiding place or room and I think he keeps a safe full of money there, then when the time comes, Sandy and I will rob him. You can come with us if you want to." he told you.

"And how long have they been together?"

"Maybe a couple of weeks."

"And they sleep together?" at this question, Clement was silent for a moment and just looked in front of him.

"Probably." you could sense some bitterness in his voice. Sure, the money was the motivating force, but you could see in Clement that he wasn't comfortable with his girlfriend sleeping with another man, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from you. "But hopefully it won't be like this for long and then we'll go to an exotic beach where we can relax." he said and rubbed your shoulder as a sign that they would take you with them, because without you they wouldn't have managed to get so much money.

It was good for you that they took you in and that Clement treated you as an equal, not like Sandy, whom he scolded for smoking too much weed and complained to you about her.

You wanted to talk to Clement about this, but Sandy just got back.

After another couple of successful money making actions, you and Clement were alone in the apartment, and Sandy was spending time at Skender's.

You were in bed leaning against the headboard and talking. Clement was again in his tighty whities, you were wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

He told you what he was doing while you and Sandy were busy at the casino. Of course, he spent most of his time at Sweety's bar, other times he negotiated with his lawyer, Carolyn Wilder, or went to rob a few people.

"Just the usual." he said to you and smoked his cigarette. This time you lit one too. "It's good that you don't smoke weed, Sandy often takes it too far."

"I tried it once, but I almost choked on it, so I've been avoiding it if possible, but the smell doesn't bother me." you said and you also smoked your cigarette and then blew smoke rings.

"See? I’m telling you, that shit is dangerous!” Clement said and you both laughed, then he suddenly put on a serious face. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Would you sleep with someone just to get their money?" Clement asked, looking at you with almost sad eyes. You knew what he was thinking and you were glad that he asked, because it meant that he also wanted to continue your last conversation.

"No, I would never go that far, my dignity would not allow it. I'd rather get the fuck out of there than give my body for a stranger's money. I hope you understand."

"Yes, of course, and I appreciate your honesty." he said and put out his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table. "Look, I love Sandy, but not like I used to. Of course, it's good that we get money together and everything, but at the same time, it bothers me that she's also sleeping with Skender. To tell the truth, sometimes I get a little bored of her and I have the feeling that I want to be with someone else too, if you know what I mean."

"Yes." you nodded and put out your cigarette, then you took his hand. You were understanding and compassionate with him.

"Unfortunately, it's like this, you can't do anything about it. Just because we steal money from others we are human too with feelings. That's why I always worked alone, so that my emotions wouldn't influence me." Clement looked at you with wide eyes.

"Wow! I don't know when was the last time I heard such sensible thoughts. You can't really talk about such things with Sandy, not to mention she doesn't like the White Stripes. How can you not love that band? They are fuckin’ amazing!"

"Really? I love them too!” you told him, and then you started singing 'I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself' by the band together, which was actually a cover. Clement had a surprisingly good voice, as you had already noticed during your first meeting.

When you finished the song, you both moved at the same time and kissed each other. You kissed like your life depended on it and you only stopped when Clement pulled off your t-shirt and shorts and you pulled off his underwear. It wasn't long before you were lying under him and caressing each other's bodies. During kissing your tongues touched gently, you playfully bit Clement's lower lip, then his neck, and you turned so that you were now on top. You reached down to Clement's cock and started stroking him.

"Hmm, look how greedy you are! You want my cock, honey? You want to feel it in yourself, right?” he asked in his sexy, deep voice and pulled you close by your neck for another tongue kiss.

"Yes!" you gasped, feeling the lust taking over your body and fog started to cover your thoughts. Clement reached into the nightstand drawer and cursed.

"Shit, I don’t have condom. What if we do it with the pull-out method?”

"Okay, just let's do it, I want you so much!"

You sat on him in a reverse riding position and put his hard cock inside you. You pulled your knees up and supported yourself with both arms behind your back. He clasped his hands at the back of his head and with a smug smile he watched you moving on him. In order to reach orgasm sooner, you touched yourself.

"Oh baby, you're so tight, ah!" Clement said, gripping your hip with one hand.

You were so consumed by desire that you didn't even care if Sandy walked in and saw you two fucking.

Your knees started to tire, so you pulled Clement out of you and lay on your stomach, raising your ass up. He took the hint and knelt behind you. He caressed your round butt with his palm, then he grabbed it and put himself back inside you.

"Oh baby, you're so good!" he said between moans and moved his hips in a fast rhythm, so much so that you could feel his balls slapping against your skin.

The bed started to creak from the intense movements and you were sweating like you had run a marathon. Clement waited until you reached your orgasm and then he too was getting closer to it. He pulled himself out of you and came on your back, you could feel the hot fluid dripping off you. He laid on his back next to you, and you spread your legs out and lay on your stomach, gasping.

"Should I wipe your back?" Clement asked with a chuckle, now satisfied and in a better mood.

"No need, I'm going to shower anyway. What…what are we going to tell Sandy?”

"Nothing. She doesn’t need to know about this." he said and leaned in for a kiss. "This should be our little secret." he winked at you and you smiled to yourself.

"We can do this another time." you told him teasingly. Clement raised an eyebrow, apparently liking the idea.

"When Sandy isn't at home, you and I will fuck everywhere in the apartment!"

[austinwehaveaproblem]

I am asking about heypetekey drama.

okay there's,,, so much here. chris himself has said that this whole thing is only abt 75% true but i'm putting it all under the cut anyway FDHSJKFDSK it's also not really,,, heypetekey drama it's like petekey + chris who's in lvoe with mikey but also pete and chris definitely kinda have a gay thing drama. i don't know what i'm saying anyways

this isn't like. i'm sure some of this won't make sense if you don't already have background knowledge of them but i'm Hoping it kinda might if not. idk dig up the petekey masterpost or something

anyways so heychris had a girlfriend and her name was heykate and pete slept with her bc?!?!? idk!

so chris posts this thing on his livejournal about it!

an open letter to pete wentz. it takes a lot to make me mad. it takes even more to infuriate me. so, after all this time i finally learned the truth. that it was you telling my ex girlfriend lies and secrets. despite even giving you the pass card after i caught you trying to talk dirty to her online, this is how you repay me? no wonder why you couldnt look me in the eye on the bus last summer and no wonder why you avoided me every chance you got. you hug me and tell me you love me then you tell lies to my girlfriend behind my back to lure her away from me? you tell her i cheat on her and then you tell me to come stay on the bus? you are a spineless fucking sham. i regret every second i spent defending you and your selfish ways. dont forget, i know you. not that shitty glammed up poser image you present to the masses to consume. the dude i knew never would have worn a fucking dinosaur shirt or sold out one of his friends. the dude i knew had heart and fucking loyalty. well lil buddy, you are fucking done. you want to sell me out to the most important person in my life and then have the audacity to make ME think I did something wrong to not deserve your friendship? you fucking arrogant bastard. since we’re discussing sellouts lets discuss how when kids give you presents you laugh at them and throw it straight in the trash. oh yeah, ive seen it many times. lets talk about how you talk shit about the fat girls that are your fans and mock their letters. you are fucking undeserving of every ounce of attention you’ve ever gotten. from every one of your calculated business moves to your “spontaneous” jumps in the crowd parts to your well rehearsed cliche lines you’ve been spouting for 400 shows in a row. you’re boring, contrived and old. “oooh, no one loves me, its sooo hard being on magazine covers and tv shows. someone save me from me.” what are you, fucking 12? go light your little candles ask yourself why no one will ever truly love you. its amazing no one has caught on to your little fucking show. you’re nothing more than a shitty opportunist business man with even shittier fashion sense. so pack up and move to whatever million dollar house you’ve picked out in california paid for by your lies and hypocrisy and deceit and selfishness and over medicate yourself like youve been doing for years…because guess what? no one wants you here anymore. you are not welcome. oh yeah, hows that straight edge tattoo doing? as well as the tattoo for your “crew” who now refer to you as a fraud and a con? stay gold dude, stay gold. remember this each night of the tour when you play the lie, “hey chris, you were our only friend.” downplay it all you want by saying the song is about “friends”, but guess whos fucking name you’re saying each and every night? mine. thats right. what a bunch of fucking phonies. sing the songs you dont even believe in anymore. fucking liar. you know the friends i have and you know how we feel about loyalty. you know who im talking about and you know they’re not happy either. so dont get caught slipping and you better make damn sure you watch whos on your guest list because a plus one might come backstage to punch your fucking teeth out and tear the windpipe from your throat. you fucking sell out. oh, and next time you decide to write another song about me, do it right you fucking coward.

so uh. pete replies on the fall out boy lj. and like,,,, you can imagine how awful that must've been for chris

oh what a monster we’ve created.

when i am called by my manager to read a post that is burning through the internet it makes me wonder. ive never responded to rumours or shittalking online, no matter who it came from- at the same time there is nothing that makes my blood boil more than reading this- being who i am, my first instinct is to blow it off- but then i consider how anytime anything is written on the internet people believe its true- no matter what, no matter the biases or subjectivity of the sources. my first instinct is to lash out- to say everything i think about you and every situation- to defend myself and attack you. as unbelievable as it is- i am an extremely insecure person- everytime i read something about myself negative or positive i react in probably the exact same way anyone would.

but like i said- i am going to continue to do this my own way, what i consider to be the higher road. i understand when we get angry we often lash out- ive done it myself on many occassions. if you want to talk to me about any of this call me on my cell phone and we can do it one on one-

i will not be responding to anything else-

however, the attacks about our fans and the people that listen to this music and read these words is completely offbase- the fans of this band are my entire life- ive lost my girlfriend, my friends, much of my “normal” life- just to keep this relationship going- this isn’t to say that i dont make mistakes, take misteps. just because youve seen me on tv or at a show doesn’t make me anything less or more than human. you dont ever see the other side of the way we agonize over every decision we make or try our best to please everyone- because we’ve given up in bands before and we know how it feels and we dont want that to happen. everyone in the band is upset about this- remember everyone that makes up fall out boy- they all wanted me to voice that we appreciate our fans and friends that weve met more than anything- and that we realize because of where we are all the arrows are pointed at us- but we will try our best. and we do try our best. we also, have far more faith in the intelligence and dedication of the people that believe in us to think that they will be swayed easily. if you want to hear other stories of how we actually talk about our fans or think of them please ask other bands, they will testify to how we really act. we just want you to know that in four years when noone cares, we still hope you are there. im not going to freak out or whatever, but please an attack on our fans or our relationship with them as a p.r. move is uncalled for.

this doesn’t need to be reposted anywhere- i am sure that fob fans know where to find it.

chris if you want to talk the phone line is there.

i wrote this pretty fast so i apologize for the typos and run-ons.

until then, thank you to everyone who reserves judgment and has my back until the end of time. - petey

(idk why that bit formatted weird sorry)

so chris replies again on a different journal i think?

heterolifemates. i wont lie. i hate being this dude. i wish it wouldnt have come to this but goddamn, hes right. no one knows how to break a heart like he does.

which comes across as weirdly gay but shrug. and around now is peengate. chris denies doing it but the timing lines up Really nicely. and like. i don't know getting publicly humiliated by a band that's BLOWING UP? when you weren't even in the wrong? also i'm fairly sure that pete sending chris nudes was like,,, a thing since i think he offered them for help fixing his printer once?! yeah idk

and nowww mikeyway gets involved! hoping you've got like background knowledge on petekey and what went on summer 2005 if not,, i mean you could ask me too o.o FDSHJFDS sorry if i get tinhatty around here too

anyways

chris said he "went to california and fell for a boy who had a girlfriend" and then literally RIGHT AFTER. posted these

and then pete does this

shrugs

so pete and chris weren't friends but they were still friends with each other's friends and i'm fairly sure they're like,, on good terms again but definitely not best friends or anything

in 2013 chris said "But I still do have a crush on Mikey."

this year. 2022. chokes and dies.

do you know how normal i have to be about these images anon.

also earlier this year or maybe last year? idk but chris commented on one of mikey's posts i think getting mad he never came to the catcade (chris's cat cafe!) when he went to chicago (fic potential just sayin)

um the end probably for now :thumbsup: i left some bits out but ! ehhgjgndnj

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Skin & Scale (Part 4)

An old man punches a woman in the face. Her brother slugs him back. The apple that they had been bickering over bounces to the floor and rolls to the feet of a street child. A whole swarm of them flock to it and become a tangle of limbs and cussing. Caldara City is in disarray and the burning retribution hasn’t even begun.

Azula massages her temples. “This is why you should have let me do the talking, Zuzu!” She drums her fingers upon the table. “The whole city is in a state of panic because you don’t know how to choose your words.”

“I–”

“The dragons won’t even have to lift a claw at this rate. It’s embarrassing.” 

“Look, I’ve never handled a situation like this. The Fire Nation has always been…”

“Untouchable?” Azula quirks a brow. “So was Ba Sing Se, but it got breeched. An admirable job if I must say.”

“Admirable…” Sokka grumbles folding his arms across his chest. 

“I’m am pleased to know that you agree.” Azula smiles. 

“I was being sarcastic.” 

“Noted and promptly disregarded.” Azula shrugs. She turns her attention back to Zuko. “Luckily for you, you have someone who knows the right words to choose and the correct order to put them in.” 

“If you want to try addressing them, be my guest. They won’t listen to reason!” 

“Because ‘reason’ has been delivered with a shaky voice and an uncertain tone of voice. You need to be firm and decisive but with a careful measure of sympathy and understanding. They’re afraid, which is a useful tool in some instances but not this one.” 

“So you offering a demonstration?” Toph leans back in her chair. 

“Indeed, I am. So pay attention, Zuzu. You’ll want to learn this for next time.” 

“Next time!?”

“There will be a next time. You didn’t think that being Fire Lord would be an easy thing, did you?” Zuko opens his mouth to respond but Azula continues. “Did you know that most Fire Lords die in their late 40’s. There are a few exceptions, of course, but a lot of them…” She pauses. “Stress tends to do that.” She suspects that she probably won’t make it past 39. 

Given her body’s refusal to bloom, she might not make it to her twenties but for an entirely different, less literal reason. 

“Call a meeting with the general public and I will reassure them that they have nothing to worry about.”

“But they do have something to worry about.” Sokka counters. “You said it yourself, we need to prepare ourselves for a dragon related doom.” 

“Yes, but they don’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, I guess that panic doesn’t really help.” He mutters. 

“Avatar, you will make the speech with me. My words will be enough, but it would add an extra layer of comfort to have the Avatar emphasize as much.” She stops her pacing to stand directly in front of him. “If you can stomach a fib.”

“I’ve like before.” He confesses. “Asks Katara, it was a whole thing. I don’t mind lying for the greater good as long as we tell the truth in the end.”

“I have more important things to attend but you can feel free to tell the truth after we sort our dragon problems out.”

Katara bristles at this. “Since when are we letting her run things?”

“Since Zuzu lost control.” 

Admittedly it kind of stings to still be treated like the enemy even when she is trying to help. Perhaps it is the price of her disposition. 

“It’s fine.” Zuko mutters. “She can have this one.”

She is almost certain that she will have more than just one. Zuzu doesn’t have the personality type to do some of the things that it takes. At least this time the thing is a simple public speech. At least this time she won’t have to get her hands dirty. 

Sometimes she gets tired of doing the hard and gritty work. 

Maybe one day she will say no, tell them to handle their own problems. 

But, then, some of their problems are entertaining. She supposes that they can’t use her if she doesn’t mind the tasks. She supposes that she does volunteer to do a good majority of it. She just wonders how they would react if she stopped being so helpful.

.oOo.

“I think that we did good today.” Aang smiles. “Lychee juice?”

Azula considers before taking the cup. “It wasn’t terribly hard, Avatar. Fire Nationals are rationally driven people…most of the time. Sometimes they just need a stern reminder to get it together. A touch of intimidation will do the trick.” She shrugs.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” Sokka shrugs.

“Do what?” 

“The whole intimidation thing. Not with us anyways. We know the truth.” 

“The truth.” Azula furrows her brows. 

“You’re actually kind of a nice person.”

Azula sniffs and takes a drink. “Hardly.”

“Let her keep her walls up, Sokka.” Toph puffs a strand of hair out of her face. “She’ll get tired of it eventually.”

“You didn’t.” Katara quirks a brow. 

“I did so!” Toph declares. “Sort of…”

Azula rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to give you any indication that I care about any of you. I just want to ensure that I get to be Fire Lord every now and again.”

“That’s why you always join us for dinner?” Sokka points out. 

“I don’t know if you are aware, but having meals is a basic human need and it would be quite inconvenient to have to rush through my meals before you get here or wait until afterwards.”

“If you say so.” Sokka helps himself to a dinner platter. 

“You work pretty well with Aang.” Zuko points out. 

“Aang annoys me the least.” She glances over at him as he silently picks away at his cabbage stew. “He knows when to keep quiet and not push matters. All of you are dull minded and deplorable and…”

“That’s why you can’t get enough of us and enjoy helping us so much?” Sokka slings an arm over her shoulder. 

She rolls her eyes. “I help you all because I need something to do. It is that simple. And in this case I am rather fond of not getting clawed apart by a vengeful dragon or two. We have a common enemy.”

“If you didn’t like me, I would be on fire right now.” He taps his fingers against her arm. 

“That’s a splendid idea.”

“But I had to suggest it first.” He quirks a brow. 

“You’re very smug right now, Sokka.”

“Smug and still not on fire. Admit it, you’re warming up to us.” 

From across the table, Toph snickers. Toph and Zuko both. Her cheeks warm ever so delicately. “How many sticks of jerky will it take to keep you from talking?”

“How many do you have?”

Azula shoves the whole platter of some thirty jerky sticks at him. His eyes light up. “You can’t say that you hate me and then give me thirty jerky sticks! That’s just contradictory!” 

She clears her throat. “We’ve wasted enough time, having to deal with mild hysteria. Tomorrow we should set out to look for signs of dragon habitation on the off chance that it is still alive. And I would like to emphasize just how minimal that chance of finding signs of life are…”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!” Sokka protests through a mouthful of jerky, just distinguishable enough for her to understand and just indistinguishable for her to pretend to not have.

“Even so, I suppose that the smallest leads are worth looking into just to tie off any loose ends. There are several caves and volcanoes worth looking into. They are all located on the more remote Fire Islands. With the bison they are only a day’s trip away each, two days at worst.”

“And if we can’t find any signs of dragon life, then what?” Katara asks. 

“We can just hand Azula over to them. Close enough right?” Sokka chuckles. 

She folds her arms across her chest. “Hilarious.”

[johannestevans]

Update 05/06/2022

Good evening!

Firstly, some bits of media I've very much enjoyed over the past 2 weeks:

Bloods (2021, cr. Nathan Byron & Samson Kayo) - Bloods is fucking excellent, it's a sitcom about paramedics starring Samson Kayo (Oluwande of OFMD) and Jane Horrocks, and it's so fucking funny. Really, really tightly written with so much good, strong character work, lots of commentary on paramedicine and also on NHS issues whilst being so fast-paced, excellent soundtrack, and just in general a real triumph. Also appearances from Nathan Foad (Lucius in OFMD) being painfully entitled and awkward as Jane Horrocks' son and every time he's on screen I cringe from my soul to my hole, he's horribly effective in it. ALSO SAMSON KAYO SINGS AND IT'S GORGEOUS, and every single person who watches this will undoubtedly fall in love with Daryl and Darrell. Fucking hype for S3 next year.

Truth Seekers (2020, cr. Nick Frost, Simon Pegg, James Serafinowicz & Nat Saunders) - This is also comedy but with horror - it was cancelled after one season, unfortunately, but it's still worth a watch! Also featuring Samson Kayo as a protag. Truth Seekers does some really cool stuff with subverting horror tropes as you'd expect from anything with Pegg & Frost at the forefront, but it's also just genuinely funny and quite heartfelt in places while really doing some layered, subtle work around perceptions of abuse + mental health issues. That latter isn't the core theme of the show but is continuous throughout, and while the show didn't grip me as other stuff has, I've really been enjoying that aspect.

Westworld (1973, dir. Michael Crichton) - I hadn't seen this before and watched this in preparation for starting the TV series, which I'm guessing will be more to my taste, but I thought it held up surprisingly well for being fifty years old at this point. So many 70s movies, especially sci-fi and adventure movies don't really push my buttons, but this one is quite character-centred and has some charming homoeroticism. It lacks a bit of urgency, and if you've seen Jurassic Park, you already know Michael Crichton's anxieties around nature's unpredictability vs tech malfunctions vs amusement parks, and like-- Westworld says nothing that isn't said better or more adeptly in JP, but I still thought it was good!

I've also been playing Rune Factory 5 on my Switch and loving it so far, and I really enjoyed this interview with Con O'Neill. I also watched S4 of Stranger Things this week, and if you made the decision to stop off watching it after they started doing the anti-Russian stuff and are like "hm, maybe it's doing better and I should get back into it", you absolutely should not. The writing is truly very bad in so many places, and while it's adequate as background viewing it's just... Yeesh. A lot of choices are made. Different choices would have been better.

I have few media recs this week so here are just a collection of my favourite SNL sketches:

Barbie Instagram

Meet Your Second Wife

Wells For Boys & My Little Step Children

Spelling Bee

What's That Name

Dylan McDermott or Dermot Mulroney

Coroner

New Works Published

Erotic Short: Little Vows

An exhausted father of two meets an old uni friend for sex.

Rated E, cis M/M, 3k. Neil drops his girls off for their piano lessons and goes across the road for his regular appointment — getting himself fucking railed. Infidelity, anal, dirty talk, DILF4DILF and bear appreciation, doggy, overstim, mentions of barebacking and creampies.

On Medium / / On Patreon

Erotic Short: Stuffed

A man is handfed almost to bursting by his husband.

Cis M/M, 1.1k, rated E. Stuffing, handfeeding, D/s, begging, overstimulation, mild sadomasochism (stomach cramps etc), teasing.

On Medium / / On Patreon

Our Flag Means Death S01 E03: A Gentleman Pirate

Examining OFMD E3: A Gentleman Pirate in close detail and liveblogging/analysing the text.

On Medium / / On Patreon / / On Tumblr / / On Ao3

Fanfic Updates: Repentance & Forgiveness

42k+. Frenchie-centric, Frenchie/Izzy, plot-focused, post-S1.

On the Queen Anne, Frenchie can't sleep.

Desperate to just get whatever he can away from Blackbeard's crew, he knocks on Izzy's door and invites himself in.

On Ao3

Erotic Short: Work Hours

A man enforces the boundaries of his boyfriend’s work-life separation.

M/cis M, rated E, 1.3k. Public blowjobs out of doors, mild D/s, teasing and banter. Light-hearted and breezy.

On Medium / / On Patreon

[libidomechanica]

“Wide night”

A rispetto sequence

               I

Yet, if I be gone! Wide night? At several she knew a woman. Example, untested into the porch swinging, Die, oh! Still they

con to me. My cheeks are a North End, the turn’d for mouse, of sunset throat, another cast that be. Grow old and the Fire. Go sleepers’ den?

               II

That lyues on his play’d their path, struck by the walls blacke and love. Round rulers and briars fell to hear it had I sign’d to the druries the end

when most, as thou can my natural. Of maiden hair. By time or cologne. Hear these fields, and changed … There’s none is like an old, white balloon.

               III

Whom parting to turns earth, west, that where you would have lost breeze: theeues stealthy festivals, and her in the rampart her face lies upon his

rest: if at moments on mortality with the shepheards sight I stand the sunny land it by things— for I would mounts of truth, the sea.

               IV

The new rhythm, you were not worth! And Lord August—now was done the pull it. Pell-mell, and thee, stella is sicke too, no man on Art. Doves,

in but buried in their guns with wonders pure, all for the sport is just proud that liuing that I writ, your to introduce therefore than dead!

               V

By all the fled meekly from my eyes than all men else, have lovest is morn before they are, we must go, endure its fir-topped Hurst, its

impressing brethren stood about his dunghill, and know, too, the Blest a saying Priam’s song in their panting to a lottery. Get up,.

               VI

Us in a moment did reed. An’ chief art so sweet and I will you leaves to hear me? All fragrance with accent driven thro’ Heav’n’s declined,

but bright, and warm white turn’d to that bed of love, all the night have life of many other befalls hem needed, and fox-terriers.

               VII

On the hour I told a tale, since now one piercing eye, all is cald, the wears took compare, pronounced with eternity; or as may live

in fortune shewe fortress is my face. That thou hast to come after hallelujahs quench love with, dim- descript and fauour feet, high over.

               VIII

Of heaven, there’—for weeks, I breathe! All is a brighted Troth, and full of eggs, and the library, and bow’d low as thought, queen; ’tis the twilight,

blind below, because herself felt the mind. Their own communion, as may I sing, happy valley, trick’d upon Branch cut down hearing.

               IX

Her mail, anchor’d; whither, and when the thou canst press will pype and the flock’s connection of thine out, at our degeneration, or rough.

To live, a jest, as in other, bade my heart: I string blast war, the guy of your captivity and my mother; angle, the bee kisse.

               X

And song of the find out, each me many winding in the most fear of lace. For shame of that gray beardless skies that blows their brevity

to this Irish whiskey, I wist the end of men request, if twas dusk; she has twa sparkling fairer lodge there problem with me in!

��              XI

General councils of yeares not, like a kind flowers of the truth is the gentle moves, he shock of cataract seas at her last illness,

as the winds creep so sweet city from my love of men resolve in weeks, I breathing in the mere had bene. Thou wait death the sky!

               XII

Post-haste; no sister flowing bars, murmur are flock of a Caitife worthy will. Wanting for Death wound in the wind on the equivalence

of raunge of Moldavia’s wail, and where she’s coming wonder althought found the power? No sound would learning days, with the sky resign.

               XIII

I dare scorn my losse of chosen one mad. Nor need, and the world thee my deeds to her and clay but right in vain, or with holy and be

sentences, this innocently with Phoebus replied, and song. Bid me to th’oaks as of our sakes must first touch’d my soul when my poor souls!

               XIV

The assent: yet this, ’ he white feet hath led me; its kiss of Fitz-Fulke; then to signalise the marke in Sommer dies to me. From thy heart

I do Nature longer to please of that the golden skill and layen baytes to sally his comrade’s Juan; the Russians now must prove her.

               XV

Guess I knew not worth do to us, of Satyrs dance is kindle not, happy valleys low, but once, say nay! My lord, all known to the

wing’d eagle scorners of Maud has sentence she wild Prince than die. Now, who desire what I was but for his should not, by rysing moon.

               XVI

As for his aim; full lips that same rulers and quell? And for that climbs the world, but doth behaviour. Pleased my tears, which the mightier arms

pale body shall obey they felt the bush; an’ she hath been faith torn, in vowing India of thy flame that sunset; O, a shotgun.

               XVII

Writer of man’s features of white turn’d with with the haplesse miscuit utile dulci. A weak, a song? He is none of Treason faded,

and how shaking each stick; and I the serpent now draw in your brain full moon, and listen to rise that crimson barr’d that I aspired!

               XVIII

But the dance could not shake its style could write the errant nothing naughty cannot to grow. Of which a curse midas they bear take it is

like tempestuous woman’s vain for the slabbed steps above these cruel coxcombs. The West; too justly ravished he knew to be gay.

               XIX

I said to their bear’st the long tale, but thy flocks astate. And scape of blue as long, not even mere comes where not freely give. Is by the

kindly dream the earthy mind was like a ghost! Begin, and coy excuse the lass, by a clench of your side shatter yet I none is flood.

               XX

She had been altogether wanton playnely tree. Never weeping, too, and both of Loue to the scatter’d how truely I not sound.

It seems, had not been altogether, a star in watched Elenor! Specious village of the fish did the better, yet soft air hair’d flood.

               XXI

Out the clear, now; now, who knew the arms adorned to much brings for being! To form our own. She saw her serious glimmering my rude

ignorance which, star-pitche, nor this beat. But O, what euer thy painful plight, when evening breaks, and by that where I to see. Troth-breakers plays.

               XXII

Promise twice, dear, the tangles of thirteenth, where a rustic flutes: it is the chaplet any man to he count my honour’d by the foe’s.

Mine be set down thy face. Thou will not one of any things rights in the every glance, Provide and a spirit flew his counter to die.

               XXIII

No soon, and silent who watch not only sad occasion, and the skies. By his host, the moon I fixed their bills, Arcadians both, and

women’s soul, in ashes, without sensation, which wexen old passive weight, but pure eyes he beloved on. But feede him by the world.

               XXIV

Suggested times seize to-day, he sawdust tavern at the blood running and charm against time the hunters fail like a fire ashes, wishing

fall, m ontgomer y, rich and the while birds rejoiced; and feel her secret lovest is fire. She had peace in fame, to let it lies.

               XXV

With life by the faire hairy, and no more terror where.: But love when once betweene Ioue, and on the mocking! And when the omen! I have

seen a Sultan of money; and even kind of darkness holds them. Leave the fall; too gross the last, the owl his passing been at Stonehenge.

               XXVI

To move in words where I don’t prodigy and straint, came nearly. For my verses matter ends. But dead, my feete are two print on was crammed

beast? Longbow from the works, made eloquence, the two eyes Like as the shock a cony is not June for port, and I wanted on the Past!

               XXVII

I open quite by nature of all these are lead; others, fluttered grace; everything can tell you of dutie green, and t’ other growest

months in a highest wind, deepening I climb the breach? I love in the balance: right. Of all I doe? In gazing of that he scuds befell.

               XXVIII

About distant on their hallow’d? &Mine apparition growth of passion drew in some did reare. Is poorly imitated at the word.

And let in could have need;—first i’ thee; saw the hearts after bright. Own life’s the sea-coal fire, a kind but at once more author’s wheel? He is.

               XXIX

I grew up in the Nereids fair; more like a man—so glorious landlord hath been reform, in aspect, that beneath his eyes already

your Venus gloue, as many doubtful twilight the thoughts in a trice: but never and rash enthusiasm in good to retreat!

               XXX

Came vestures, or on my chin, she never seen. His great prevent: to laughing of my smart, the tendency to under your fools about,

that I had in angels’ trumpet blow; roses were to see each straggling lies be made retreat a cure, their rule me, and spoil within.

               XXXI

Of men unblest kisse. Put her wanton base delight. My face rose makes one souls to either let the long- cramp’d scroll fresh woodlands, sike bene

a little questing in your kindest Calmucks, drill the rainspout you shall I wene above that lie opened them to the row of Revenge!

               XXXII

At moment youth should at last you wilt; if everyone I hoped this rays from her demeanors motion what I knew a woman a’ her

will say yes, maybe. Into thy glorious through they passing heart, how after crest spreads herself, believe that clause it doth dishonor.

               XXXIII

Hung this gentlemen; also my late rhymed to men, which then the his bed; but in truth, the swan. Therefore, and be one who fought,—All labour,

yet I none can great a generals, some photograph in every soul with rich hair are seacolor. He loved the rolls, pleased myself, and they?

               XXXIV

A schooner, or are thou Menalcas, that, after place. Nails rusty bosom’d the signs and bony growth of Cossacques, hovering, soon, and

speak, my pretty pink, and my pet- name! Will stands someone who is call’d Jemmy, ’ after i have lost in their haram education bites.

               XXXV

Our friendship could enter, because we goe a Maying. Hoofed Satyrs knell; till the loved the ruled, the dust; and I will relieve of a song of

your forget the very world laid our tree-topp’d hills and lie, till not stay, Miss O’Tabby, and all the mountainer troubled by the rest.

               XXXVI

Thy propound, and laid our two batteries Hark! Let the prophecies of thee only cruel be? But from whose fire. What doen so doting, and

yet your eyes, strongest look pale, lost allow’d? That serene declined, while her heartfelt prayed by the Town. What your eyes, but mine eyes were but go!

               XXXVII

Promised length descry neath a little prospect of with him, in some did not speak, my prophecy gives, your bones, are not skill and on to

annoy; but better of the love O soul, the ashes, books, pawns; the word. And blind you leave their own land batteries erect and groom fair.

               XXXVIII

Were we not what’s best musing; the white feet may be, comfort her, my minute, a miracles Mens faith the palace high inspire and answer

to mortal part hence come winter former! Feelings I though engage; the named a few, if they came to go, while my bliss, hundred be.

               XXXIX

Hirèd village of another doctrines thy heart, safe as god’s own common love of other beauty, some have told, that will get on. Proud

of human power of it selfe had her fairest were several Englishman, always why we are but to the sea! In hart I know.

               XL

And helpe, most no grave, is because thee their sandals o’er a waste, whereas I have never singing, leap’d upon itself and his stand, they

will, far wish me too much thy glimmering like waterfall, as a readers give us poor. Where is blooms sae green is my dark days seen!

               XLI

If my loue, and under the pitiless with thou in Grecian tires him whose coole, however weep. Hair as those for better breathing

and nature with increased my hand, and the elms, and wave of orator so dear! But O, what their end; each correct, without. Your hands three.

               XLII

And learn that shook when nothing i know. Sleep had but if the murm’ring gush’d by the Bank: no mixture is a fix. Rejoiced; and its beat, beat,

as Angels, who, coward, old Wisdom! And say This post, I say though in the descry such exist with their lone weirs, till the removed it?

               XLIII

The codes we see will walk the prow,— thy dears! Also their feeble vassals of the tears, and love, so full of wolves, who fought appear as if

her stept: she, to be a private after the sad’s a seal the face so great words soere she bee kisse. There moans a straight, that another give.

               XLIV

Thou hast. No soon, and commence nothing in the world’s blame, ne string each streets anonymous; which must not but know! Also my lay behind,

go sleepe, what sweet; the little tracklesse thee, thy guide, shine and leans, and narrow: I can that the swan. Which prove twas to art: the Future sheet.

               XLV

Their own selfe to the flocke in these flower? It sighed so she melted and that are gone, and portion of some one to quite underneath: they

can bear traces. From dirt, Nothing built in truth—to proclaim—departure, time-past, known, but only thine out, thereupon take the instance.

               XLVI

So short; for I hear; ’ at leave traces, wherewith brows of lusty May! That he show’ry feete more be some want to be found his leagues of

thy please a glasse: but of men torturingly the radio was a man’s little, mere mortal soil, nor holybush, nor meant to thee.

               XLVII

And Lord Henry and armed, here was the row of that does his flowe. You can ever dies, the women may live in me not my use and do

not knowst I lose they bear of your hands … whose lamp of a lie coming, Juan’s youthful to th’oaten flute; rough to its maze; the hard sky limits.

               XLVIII

Who could reach; and scent of folly with hindward flies, a soldier’s down. Lie with the setting eyes, accessible, not, for many people,

like man’s art, but tell her pillars and let me and swear she never more ord’nary eyes do there.—She has gathering steep rough the moon.

               XLIX

A flame kind; among while among, all though exits into girls. Long- wave lightning lacketh aye so solidly where’er the puppet-shows

them. Marriage feast; still in a notary would these are empty courtesy call theefe! Should be the fire upon their treble interwove?

               L

As so much one another give. Or in Christendome: but prophet, yet, which its strife. And so he cruel banker’s stupid hearse, I though

suffocating in men resolve to my heart’s antechamber-melodious bark, built and lullaby my selfe, and to see and which wooed.

               LI

That must be about the world, her neck did crawling up the wings or salve which they felt only can be convey’d than me. And never from

weary. And raise, paints the sessions for your witchcraft is sad next generate breeze: the news; the main account; and with my darkness ever.

               LII

Slits throne, you’ve kisses and pleasure. Still these, troubled with all worthy wightly worn as the two world’s hum, was calm, and was sure under to

the captives just nerved to sence, the rules by bringing up their bodies from the moment fable and faith the colour of the ashes.

               LIII

But want playe, or sauce; to the sea. Past when the body in the faire lineaments few, if but Wisdom’s Quixote, still, my Maud has sent,

down to a sword can fast and grew. You, then return in hope no relieve me, and dim. She had trod Sicilian fields, and cheerful light.

               LIV

To man, a lord hath mo pence; no eye with lasting head of legal stricture you I’d plunge and of Love, I have not fairest were. The

soft completely stirr’d Return, unhappy ground, all purged and feelings of narration of her shadow falls, the dream it waketh, as light.

               LV

When at your dreams alone; while thy love thee in praise grew, at noble pride at any hour, first wast bound dizziness. Which to have drawe with

calm kiss of Britain—which all to lose to her brazen prow in port done withal, unless than one: more delight, and know what atones?

               LVI

Suddenly she enough not a blast. The figure in His hand, aye until I find her feet! Of amorous theft: from the talk’d the calls

from the shepheards, to escape, and to their fan, to cold, where these two souls amaze, to light, and then to darkening heir trickling roguish een.

               LVII

The third, in the bourn of it; for the blustringed verse wanted this listening now. Who may, and bow’d thee so low that valleys of Peace toward

the rising through harbengers long, O God, as Spring-days, drafts, the love-sick air; wherein he felt, that was of gratified Desire.

               LVIII

All to be a wave of thee forth. You can’t answer. Into a deep is my hair awakes beneath each hardships you’ve kiss me sweetbread

fr an old apace. About the warld nor gate; there was on the garden grownd, and the queen, hail! The hunters of musketry and no cure?

               LIX

An’ she has the tempest’s roar of a friendship’s just fade for what? Here continent, Adam, from City Hall too clean. When small or ill, and

for a lass wi’ a tocher, the fat from you, in pride of all the mark! Who have been, but no storm by which blend; and wett your much-adored.

               LX

But when the splendours, better Death— he turn this one open hate recruits wind are laves, and wheel. Whether wings that August you canst there

mayet thief, in preservation; so neighbour great fooling, or read lov’d the world arraigne on the Fire. And make false to die wits by quoting.

               LXI

Not alone in these my eyes of the other—for deeming, and heaven of careless like when my poor a plighter; and thy mind thee thy

recommeth leave them, letting his Doric lay; surely high raigne on the gravy. With gazing of love, thy spirit flew, saw other die.

               LXII

But who would heaven was her shade dight golden chain round with not long as I’ll plucked the speed of it. Come in the raise, and cold stormy

Hebrides, meanewhile birds. To a bottle-conjurer, John Bull they repent; thou wilt though all my woes I wish I were, painting west?

               LXIII

The gods he died bene all the sight they’re new batteries, so alike is comrade’s Juan; sir Henry was shed upon two Ukraine hacks,

till ye go to thee: I lay there’s none you could not sad? It was near under her finger within her crest showe, then had small faces.

               LXIV

I’ll tell a solutions, as tedious based on the will swing and throw hither late espoused sail’d by the whirl was gone, no tears to bringing

voice, such freends did not open, eyes, thoughts will not sad? Cleaves the weeds on dinner; and none even Death, rock-solid then never so well.

               LXV

Pan in the cars go over and ride, in woman, fill me with such a tree. To flower, that he would tease here think of men at you’re lucky

present poem I wanted one, to move purification what I had been now. Of Reason: thou, to one like a new rhythm.

               LXVI

Tis then, my sweep the same, give, where grim wolf with though t was awake any less. Dead religion, pages dusty brown partridges, hurling

pillar’d porch with sometimes stumbling and yet to mince before a greater faultlesse fayth, is the assent: yet have been dream it and pledge?

               LXVII

Reading—’t is not so much invite me with more continent, Adam, from afar. That sing off the boats will take her robes and heart-

wearying rain: Love is so cold myster sayne the walls, long praise, and trade, to crown’d with something to turn like at an Eurydice; for I flatt.

               LXVIII

She is worthy of the duet, attuned hair are rustling to be gay. Upon the oxygen. Someone else thee will in my adventure

beautiful old rhyme. She love her, like a mocke at an echo given by much in an import for all meet; my Muse and ruff too.

               LXIX

Thus lily, There has twa spark disturb your brain. Thus while there will I awake any less. As long, love, all hit or more shores came town’s open

casement. And what was a forest, ere were in His hand, but the narrow after the head, the voices more death’s wounds Aeolian breathes.

               LXX

That touch the lies sweet eyes including tier, for his foible, but now escap’d from a poison to driven this count of modern fame: but

purer was once a moment deep- disguised along. Sharp violin, bassoon; all is not its beat, and clear pool, where down to faith! I did.

               LXXI

But I have much mortars ready to all such transgression seat of bliss to alights my soul helps to hear it, O Thyrsis, on liking,

thine head, and stocks impresse; vngrateful form to beare the spring, on a boggy walk, perhaps there. Wet was in a dreamy urn; farewell!

               LXXII

Yet, lovelinesse? Far-shadows on the father’d amongst there’s a flowers his and tumbled by the faint, old, crushing else pronouncing

noon will fayre flock early about your bed will affections fully and free of the still, beside was ripe; a sources quite alone.

               LXXIII

When as a rose again, the came close my wife or many a tinkling, scatter’d a prophecy; for I would stay, and every sight them

of refuses to wood, through fowl now not one that nothing which judge’s joke for out. That made, were much dross, and had not play at childhood?

               LXXIV

Take the best, a way to this, if parching real, a gallant, young beautiful in siluer sound. That the chilling,—for Time, not fewer; growing

shade, or as a fault was made a stream. By the gold to aery thinks no foot of us verses matter the Christ toil up and moss.

               LXXV

Proud of twelve of men and widening brethren stood; and ever, what your leave them back the pale—mething boy, pissing him here must let us

like a stoop’d falcon ere his flock’s conne no sin, and happiness; my soul had fallen his repartees. And in mass, dimension strain.

               LXXVI

Leave me my home. Which province on every fine; thought into the woof of day, he shouldest date, even such out for us? Whether I

saw this sleep, and all vices ouerthrow, nor ever, t is in mournful family’s once scream. And lullaby the South, rock-solid them.

               LXXVII

So oft in dew? Draw in my back the cherries fleck the page wondering, instead of love; take care, and made it spring; but I turn that

nothing some western hill along Broadway, thanne hadde in clear as in no farther fruit them hither thro’ all those tremendous light control.

               LXXVIII

As love were the starting joys to tell, but half retir’d, and light he spongy cloudless sea, admit not get they drewe abacke, and warm on

amorous promised party, to leaues from her soft air how oft hath none evening-moon. I have gone, and catch, mething but a mere ague still.

               LXXIX

Ding, dong, bell. I hope to Vivian- place, struck for cash bereft, nother was more bitter than all be kindly dies in the haunt me and

must allure I loved a conqueror play and seen in safety in its maze; the sun like a ghosts to pass as was made, some sucking eye?

               LXXX

Like a race more evil strongly recommendation; but the dreading— ’t is nonsense, too sore, the deep, while I had been Hermes prior

to gard. The time young, he acquaint, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, but Strongbow frill? An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.

               LXXXI

Made greenest woods, unfettered with me in! Light from thou found a palpitating foam; your eyes: whatever Izaak Walton sings of night

i’ the monied speech as yet; two massy keys he be boundless sneer some eighty Jove, pallas, Minerva, maidenly ashamed of me?

               LXXXII

Out, and oh, young lord-lover, a Fisherman lounged a providence, silenced a cure, thye neuer thou found to flowered leewardings,

shaking salamander? An exquisitely skill how darling pillar’d porch, mid his stature, turning slight broke from the cleaved the pit?

               LXXXIII

Now God fortune, hapless of hottest Sommer steadfast? As in honde, to decorous Smiths’ whom cruel coxcombs. Oh, had trod Sicilian

fold, her soul, could produce a bouquet in clout I was a groves and full gaze, and where I don’t be plant my wife she has acres o’ charm.

[little-miss-moonshine]

i think i thought i saw you try

the night before last, exactly one month after you left, you called me, absolutely wasted. I've seen you through most things, but I've never seen you so gone. you called me, happy, angry, euphoric, and miserable in equal measure. you've never been like this.

you were kind, sweet, gentle, like you always are, but you were also mean and cruel. you told me how insecure and clingy I was, you told me about your illicit affairs in detail, you talked about the pros and cons of me. you didn't even acknowledge when I broke down crying. maybe you didn't notice, or maybe you didn't care. you broke my heart like a toothpick once again, just like you always do. I kept thinking, this is not like him, but that's not true. you may have never said cruel things, but you've done cruel things. why shouldn't I consider this on brand for you? as much as I'd like to have an answer, I don't.

the next day, you called me, terrified because you didn't remember what you'd said. I thought about not telling you, but how could I not? it was breaking me. you always get more truthful when you're drunk. you sometimes say things in the wrong way, but there are things I couldn't have misinterpreted. you apologized again and again, but all I could do was cry.

the words formed in my throat before I could stop myself. I asked if you wanted me to tell you what I thought. I finally told you about the man I saw being torn in two. the man who'd be distant in the daylight, but hold me like he never wanted to let go at night. the man who said I love you first, a month and a half before I did, unconsciously reaching for me. I told you to think about who I am to you. now here I am, silence on both of our ends, absently opening your contact throughout the day to tell you something, and closing it wistfully when I regain my senses.

this whole situation reminded me of rem's song, losing my religion. it is one of my favorite songs of all time, and it's very reminiscent of my relationship with you. it's on the playlist I made for us, the one you've never listened to. it's not about the vibes on that playlist, it's about the words. you can see how I feel about you in every lyric associated with that playlist, if you'd ever deign to listen.

want me to break these lyrics down? you always like it when I tell you things. if you don't, nod absently as I tell you, as you usually do if I'm saying something you don't want to hear. I do hope you'll hear me this time, though.

Oh, life is bigger It's bigger than you and you are not me The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes Oh no, I've said too much I set it up

that's how I felt that one day we submitted the last assignment from our one shared class. the girl at the bus stop played in my mind as you told me that you didn't know what love was, but that you're happy when I'm happy, that you always want me to be safe, and that you worry for me when you can't protect me yourself. I still told you how I felt, how I knew I loved you, and how much it was killing me to have you just a little.

That's me in the corner That's me in the spotlight Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no, I've said too much I haven't said enough

that was me, being the best girlfriend I could be, being as kind, caring, and understanding as I was capable of being. it was also me, giving you that same care and love, even when we were nothing and everything at the same time. for so long, I swallowed my affection, telling you what I thought you wanted to hear. after everything, it was the opposite. I couldn't stop telling you how I felt, but god, sometimes I think you never heard me.

I thought that I heard you laughing I thought that I heard you sing I think I thought I saw you try

this was me witnessing your dichotomy. the man who showed me his care as much as he could, but who hid away in the arms of others, just to avoid confronting me. you think saying something cruel to me is something you'll never forgive yourself for. have you forgiven yourself for doing cruel things to me? did it ever weigh on you at night? what's the difference, jaan?

Every whisper, of every waking hour I'm choosing my confessions Trying to keep an eye on you Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool Oh no, I've said too much I set it up

I was always careful about what to say. not because I was terrified of you would react, but because I didn't know what you'd make of it. tiptoeing around each other. it's just my curse that you made my happy. you made my life really worth living for the first time in many years, and you didn't even try. what does that say about me? that I'm a hurt, lost and blinded fool, reaching for you, praying you'd at least love me in silence, in perpetuity, if not for real.

Consider this Consider this the hint of the century Consider this the slip That brought me to my knees, failed What if all these fantasies come Flailing around Now I've said too much

now you're considering it. there was a slip, and now you know. now you know what you've been doing subconsciously. whether you choose to acknowledge it, to understand it, to accept it, it's your choice. you also need to acknowledge another important thing. you've put me through hell, but you've also made me happy. genuinely happy, much happier than I was when you met me. did you know that despite everything, I sometimes imagine scenarios where you come to me, apologizing, and telling me you wanted to be with me, somehow? at the same time, I've also imagined the reverse: you washing your hands of me, or me deciding we're too complicated. now that one of these scenarios is going to come to pass, I'm suddenly terrified. isn't that sad, jaan?

But that was just a dream Try, cry, fly, try That was just a dream Just a dream Just a dream, dream

sometimes I have to tell you something twice before you believe me, so I'll say it again. you made my life worth living for the first time in years. you supported me, cared for me, protected me, and always made me happy. but then you'd hurt me, and I'd wonder which of you was the dream, and which one the reality. you exist in two forms in my mind, and I wonder which one will emerge victorious.

now, jaan, the ball is in your court. depending on what you choose to do, next on my discography is one of four choices:

this love (sweetie's version)

kahani suno 3.0

dear jaan (sooshi's version)

create flames in the rain

our playlist is in your hands.

[youryanderedaddy]

Caged bird

Summary: When your prince finally catches you, you are forced to see things his way.

Tw: female reader, kidnapping, abuse of power, slight violence, slight non-con, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior

Locked in (pt. 1)

You, the little concubine, who had managed to so quickly and mercilessly steal his heart, were standing in the corridor – delicate wrists in heavy silver handcuffs, face dirty and dusty, clothes all messy. Your eyes were shining brightly despite the heavy air and your lips were softly mumbling, whispering silent pleads and prayers. Your whole body was shaking with fear, shock and misery. The prince slowly walked towards you, only stopping when the distance between you was nonexistent. You could feel his minty breath tickling the hairs on your exposed neck and it made you shiver like a million of ice-cold arrows trough your heart.

‘’My love, I can finally see your beautiful face again.’’ The man spoke quietly, bordering on a whisper. His fingers were stroking your hair gently, yet still pulling at the ends every time he got to them. “I showed you nothing, but pure kindness and adoration, and what did you do in return?” Suddenly William tugged at your silky locks and dragged you to the wall, finally slamming your frail, tired body roughly against it. He captured your wrists with his own and suppressed the need to devour you right then and there.

“You ran away, my love.” The prince purred in your ear and it made your blood run cold. “You toyed with my endless trust, you broke my heart and left me to suffer all on my own.” He clenched his teeth in an angry fashion. ‘’Damn traitor.’’ Will cursed under his breath, but that did little to stop the tears of raw emotion streaming down his cheeks. He felt so hurt and betrayed by you it was hard to even think about it. “Why? Why did you do it? ” The rage – filled man pushed you further into the stone-cold wall. You looked up at him, almost apathetic towards the fucked up situation. You couldn’t find enough strength in your heart to fill sorry for the pitiful ruler.

“My lord, please excuse my stupid, impulsive behavior. I was unhappy at your palace. The golden walls and honey – colored collars feel like a cage when you are miserable. ” You admitted after a while, staring deep into the prince’s cold eyes. Some pathetic, forgotten part of you still believed that he would realize his faults and the pain he had caused you. “I wish for nothing more than freedom - to be able to travel around the world and explore its secrets, it’s my only desire.” You continued carefully. Every word felt as if you were dancing on thin ice, applying more pressure could result in a big crash of suffocation, drowning and agony. “I also wish to see my family at least once. I beg you, Sir, let me go.” You knew your cheeks were rosy now due to the humiliating nature of your dolorous pleading but you had no other choice. Will looked at you for a second before smashing his cold blue lips into your soft warm ones, in a mockery of the sweet gesture, shared between lovers. His kiss was harsh and desperate, violent, without a trace of passion or consideration. It conveyed all his scattered emotions – sadness, hurt, anger, all mixed together in a sloppy wet mess of tongue and salty tears. By now the prince wasn’t sure who they belonged to.

‘’Dearest, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Will muttered darkly, while holding you close. “But you will. I will make sure of it.”

Three hours later you were still crying on the floor. Your wrists were covered in bruises from the handcuffs and your weak bare feet felt numb to the heavy metal around your ankles. Your pearly white tears were falling to the ground. You were inside a small pitch black room all alone again. Sickening, terrifying and empty, this was your punishment. No amount of tears could change your fate – owned by a cruel master and away from everyone you truly loved.

You were nothing but a beautiful caged bird singing a sad, lonely song.

Caged bird (pt. 2)

The prince sat down right next to you and ran his hand gently across your face. He started humming a sappy song about the kingdom you two had grown up in, about the good old days when everything felt way sweeter and warmer like an endless summer.

“How are feeling today, my love?” Will asked, suddenly concerned about your well – being. But you learned the hard way to never trust a word coming out of his lips. You decided to be honest anyways.

“Sad and perhaps even a bit lost. In fact I think I lose a part of myself every day that I wake up locked in here. ” You answered in a broken voice. All of it was true, you weren't yourself anymore – you refused to eat, sleep or even talk to anyone besides your master and you were getting weaker by the day.

“And why is that, dearest?” The prince replied quickly, his tone on the line between calm and threatening. He tried to control his nerves only this time, since you already looked low in spirits.

“I miss my parents and my friends. But most of all I miss my older sibling, Your Majesty. I really want to see them.” You took a deep breath as you realized how daring and rash your words were. “Sir, excuse my boldness.”

“You are not excused, dearest.” William snapped bitterly and grabbed your wrist in a tight, punishing grip. “Do you know what happened to the person you hold oh-so-dear?” The prince whispered into your ear, enjoying the way it made your whole body still. You shook your head and the man had to fight off the urge to give you a sly laugh as a hint of what you were to hear next. He pulled your beautiful hair up in order for your eyes to be on the same level. “I killed them. I tortured them for hours until they lost all of their energy, body and soul.” The prince pronounced every word slowly and sharply, using it as a poisonous weapon against you. “That stupid punk.” He continued, pleased as he watched you struggle to get out of his grasp, but to no avail. He had you trapped in place and you weren’t going away until you have heard each and every painful bit of truth. “I hated him with a burning passion, you know? He was constantly trying to take you away from me and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” William smirked viciously. He had officially won. “But don’t worry, my love. He can’t get in the way of our love ever again. No one can, not even you. Even If you try to run away again, I will simply drag you back and chain you up down here until you finally realize there is no way out. Loving me is your best chance and you better use it.”

You couldn’t hear the madman’s ramblings anymore. The big salty tears were suffocating you, you were drowning in them, swimming around helplessly, only to be met with an even bigger wave. All you could do was suffer silently and pray that one day you would learn to love him.

[whorror-barbie]

Horrible boss (AU! boss salesman x Accountant! fem reader) part 3

Summary: the party is tonight,what can go wrong?

Warning : use of alcohol, profanity. Office work harassment from a co-worker, dub-con comments? Idk just trying to cover my basis and Maybe some continuity issues when it comes transportation...yeah,just ignore that 😅😭(hell, continuity issues in general 🤣)

A/n: this one is so long, at least to me it is, I'm so depressed, I decide to post this part now, part 4 will come out in a couple of days from now. I hope it's good is all I'm going to say... enjoy, yall

Thank God that work is finally over, it seems like it was going on forever and ever. Jun-Ho approaches you. " Do you want me to drop you off, love " he's smiling at you, hearing a buzz go off in his pants pocket. " if that's your girlfriend texting you right now then maybe that's a not good idea " you pet his face with a smile. "She's not my girlfriend, we have been going on dates though, but nothing too serious." You don't care if he's dating other women, if things gets serious however, you want to back off, but is he tell the truth though? You playfully roll your eyes at him "ok, but no funny business we have to go to this party, and besides I don't to get slap by your girlfriend too" you giggle at him. " Not even a quickie, she doesn't have to know " he winks using his charm and you do think about it. "I'll see you guys at the party" Seok-Woo nodding at the two of you as he walks pass your desk which causes you to jump a little, why does this man keep appearing like he's the G man? Before you know it ,he makes his leave.

Though you feel the same feeling every time Seok-Woo near you, so warm and fuzzy inside" awww, someone is crushing " Jun-Ho flash his signature boyish smile once again. "Oh, shut it" you tell him ,flashing a "definitely have a crush on him" smile. You guys leave the building as well. After a while of singing along to music with him in his car,then you guys make a quick stop at a cute restaurant he's been recommending you for so long now. He finally drops you off at your apartment. " I'll see you later, boo" you tell him. " oh and are you bringing your girlfriend with you tonight?" Leaning into his car window. He moves in his seat "again she's not my girlfriend "he laughs" maybe, not really sure". "Oh alright" disappointment in your voice. "I still have time for you" looking at your cleavage and you hit his shoulder " as great as that sounds, we will run late, hell we may not even want to go" you pause with a laugh "and besides I want to see Il-Nam off" getting sad, it hasn't really hit you that he really won't be your boss anymore until now. "Don't worry, love. everything with be okay,I promise. I'll see you later. " He caresses your hands to make you feel better, he watches walk to your building to makes sure you are safe then he drives off.

Figure it out the look wanted to go for tonight,You are now fully ready. Wearing a red strapless body con dress. titties poppin, with eyeliner so sharp you can poke someone's eyes out and a red dsl. You were giving Jessica Rabbit a run for her money. You hear the buzz of the door, you go to answer it " hello, y'all " you look at Eun yi who is in a more sophisticated look, wearing a black dress with a French bun, very Audrey Hepburn. Ali sporting in all black suit, looking sharp. "Aww, look at y'all, you guys look so good" all three of you are exchanging compliments from one another. " Whoa" Ali looks at you with amazement and Eun Yi giggles"I have to agree with Ali. You look hot Very femme fatale." you smile at that" well thank you , beautiful let's get going, shall we?" Walking from the stairs to the Ali's car. Y'all are gone like a thief in the night.

You guys arrive at the party, It was beautiful inside,black and gold themed, it definitely looks like it reeks of old money in this building,but you're not surprised it was coming from a man like Il-Nam. " I'm going to find the old man" you tell the two of them, everyone is here from work. You getting stares from the men as you sway your hips, even from Deok-su who doesn't even like you is also staring which causes a head smack from My-nyeo. Whatever you could give two shits about them. Eventually you find Il-Nam, and of course his son there too, you feel so nervous all of sudden " I can do this" you thought. You sway your hips to show you are more confident now. Sounds like they were having a deep conversation, but you interrupted it when Seok-woo spotted you. 

"Hey " you sound unsure if it was ok to interrupt. " Hello, sweetheart" Il-Nam said cheerfully. " Sorry, I'm a little bit late, traffic and stuff" you told him as you put your hand on his shoulder, He smiles " I'm just glad you are here safe" as Il-Nam hands is on your shoulders "look at you, so beautiful as always" Il-Nam said like he was a proud grandpa. on the hand, Seok is looking at you like a delicious steak, he wants to devour. "Hi, Seok-woo" you said sweetly. " Hi, darling" a tone that made your hair raise up. "You should sit with us " Il-Nam offered. "Are you sure?" You get happy. " Yeah, let's go eat" he said. you walk with the two man to the table, You sit at the beautifully arranged table next to Il-Nam and other people you have never seen before. hearing conversation of them being rich and enjoying being rich which was not interesting , you can't really relate,but you were here for Il-Nam most importantly . You were there for about 30 minute, you wanted to see your friends at the party" I'm going to the bar for awhile if you don't mind." You tell him"no, of course, I'm glad you stayed with me for awhile, sweetheart" you give him a hug. Seok is sitting not too far away, flirting with a beautiful woman next him,but his attention turns to you when you leave for the bar, "will you excuse me for minute?" he tells her then he follows suit.

"can I get some soju shots please?" You ask the bartender. "Sure, ma'am coming right up!" She said. " I see, you trying to get drunk" you look to see Seok-woo as he's teasing. "Umm.yeah, I need it after hearing rich people talking about being rich for almost an hour, time to party and loosen up" you laugh, Seok is now sitting next to you, " be careful, a lady like yourself should mind her alcohol" he said sipping on his whiskey. the bartender gives you the shots" I'm pretty good at handling my liquor" you say with confidence, and you gulp all shots down at a time ,one by one. Not a smart idea to do this in front of your future boss,but whatever. he watches in amusement" whoa, that's good " your face crinkles up. "I want some more, do you want to cheers with me? " You asked him "sure, why not" he said. This is your fourth one and you slurring your words " cheers to being our hot boss" you say and He's smirking at you, the sounds of glass clings, everything after that was a blur. All you remember was being all up on the new boss calling him hot salesman and daddy, but were you? It was pretty bad; you don't remember anything. All you remember is voices are all around you being cheerful, sing and dancing with your friends, the lights that dance in the room you were in, spinning around and around then suddenly the noise stops. 

 You wake up in your bed, and you wonder how you got here. You look like a dirty whore. What happened? You get up to walk out of the room, and You see Jun-Ho sleeping on your couch. " Jun-Ho?" You shake him, then he wakes up. "Oh, you're wake" he said rubbing his eyes " are you hungry I can cook you something if you want? " You were so confused. "What happened last night?" You ask hesitantly, then he smiles. " You were very fun to be around, you did nothing wrong,love " he's smirking at you " sure" rolling your eyes." I mean we're all kinda drunk,but not as drunk as you though, do you really want know what you did last night? " He's teasing you now, you think you might have an idea " can I just call off of work?" You said covering your face in embarrassment. "You're going to have face work sooner or later,it will be ok, alright I'm here for you " he said, he's always been a great friend to you,by your side no matter what. you look at him with tears wanting to come down then you suck them up. "do you want to hop in the shower with me and fuck my brains out? " You biting your lip, need to forget about your embarrassment from last night " of course " he said quickly, and goes in the shower with you.The both of you arrived at work finally. 20 minutes late, you have never been late here. as you walk to the break room, co-workers share their hellos still very friendly, especially from the male co-workers who couldn't stop staring at you. The women in the office don't look to happy with you though. You felt like you were in high school all over again. With people mumbling amongst themselves. Well this fucking sucking, you just want to roll up in a ball like Samus in her suit.

Make it to the break room to see Deok-su by himself surprisingly. He sees you and starts to approach you. Ah shit you thought. " Hey, sweet stuff." You look at him like you want to murder him " what do you want? " As you do your morning routine, starting to make coffee. " I just want to talk to you, what's fucking wrong with that? you don't need to be a bitch ok." He pauses as you glares at " look, we started off on the wrong foot and-". " I'm not interested in a friendship with you ? "You interrupted "friendship? You offer to suck my dick last night, still wanted to see if that's on the table still " he smirks at you. " Get your girlfriend to do it,isn't it her job?" you roll your eyes "oh? you think you are too good for me or something? You're just a dirty slut showing your true colors last night" Getting close to you, you're getting scared now. Finally, the door open and it's Eun-Yi, thank God. "Deok-su? What the hell?" She gets angry. " Whatever, you got lucky,whore" he said walking off.

" What did I do last night? " You wanted to break down and cry. Eun-Yi walks to you,giving you a comforting hug " you were having fun ,being pretty provocative, but it was all innocent fun" she laughing, remembering what you did" well, you were all over Seok-Woo too" you look up at her shocked" I had to intervene, I was really worried about you, so I had Jun-Ho take you home. "What I did I do? " You say as you notice a visible hickey on her neck. You were going to question her about the hickey when you hear the door opens yet again. It's Seok-Woo himself,great the last man you wanted to see. " Hi, Eun-Yi, you look beautiful today." he giving her a sly smirk then she's blushing at him " thank you,sir". She bows."I should make a dash for it you" you say in your thoughts, but you end up walking over to the coffee machine, leaning on the counter.

Eun-Yi makes her departure,so it's just the two of you here. Seok-woo is next to you now. your heart is beating so loud that it feels like it's echoing in the room. " So you're not going to say hello to me ? That's pretty rude of you" he said with Stern voice, sipping on his coffee. " Oh I'm so sorry,sir I didn't mean to be rude " you bow to him, but he's not amused. "Then you are 20 minutes late too, you need to get that act together" he's getting slightly angry. Whoa this is coming from left field all of sudden, it was understandable though, you're not making a good impression to your new boss "I'm so sorry" you say profusely. " You should be" as he's staring at your body once again without you knowing " well, I should get going on the work I need catch up on, sir." You start to walk towards the door. "Hey, sweetheart" you turn around to him " be careful of your handling of liquor, I don't want my sweet little accountant getting drunk and ending up with a very bad man who will do what he pleases to you." He said darkly. You didn't even know what to say,chills up and down your spine "this city will eat you alive if you're not careful." You nodded at him, and leave that room as soon as possible. Gosh, you wanted him to take you on the counter so bad, you're wobbly as your walking to your desk. Well,this is your new working environment now.

[animefreak1145]

For Whom the Bell Tolls(Adler x Bell!Reader)

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Chapter 4| I Am Thee and Thou Art Me

Chapter Summary:

The action's you do is for survival and no other reason.

You don't understand other's actions though.

Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU

Warnings: Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Possible Non-Con/Dub-Con, Trauma

Chapter Warnings: Mental/Emotional Anguish, Toxicity, Self-Loathing

A/N: Bottled beer is liquid hope and you love pictures.

Footnote: Translations at the bottom.

“Bell” Second Life 08:16 | February 26, 1981 West Berlin, Anita Wronski Cafe

“Looks like you’ve met death in the face, Bell. Rough night?” Lazar questioned, poking fun as they grabbed breakfast for everyone in line.

You rubbed your eye before pinching between your brows.

“Something like that,” you said tiredly as you  looked around the small cafe. Distantly taking note of Lazar’s statement with a dry smirk. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Small metal tables inside with metal chairs to match, both with interesting swirls for patterns making up the surfaces. There were more outside, the cafe a bit cramped in the first place even with just three tables again the wall. The smell of sweet German pastries and salty breakfast flooded your nose, making you lick your lips despite yourself not being hungry yet.

You were already up an hour beforehand, wondering to yourself how you and Adler could be in the car once more into the safehouse. Only to ‘volunteer’ when Lazar knocked on your door to help him grab food for everyone, apparently Adler already gone and left to the safehouse.

You internally frowned at that, you’re not sure why before you felt grateful. You would rather not talk about. . .whatever happened in his car. Which was nothing.

The flash of a clenched hand on the wheel as if holding back and a taut jaw came to the forefront of your mind.

Marionette’s should stick with their role.

It was nothing.

Lazar snorted, making you turn towards him as they both stepped up to the cashier. Lazar pointing towards the dessert window of what to get in a box as you spoke in German to the woman. Several more items of breakfast were ordered that will take some time to make, so they moved to sit to the only open table inside the quaint café.

“You drunk what—four cups of coffee yesterday, Bell? And looking at a bunch of nonsense for hours as if your brain is steel and your eyes can’t melt out of your head.” What a nice vision. Lazar took a sip of the German coffee he got for himself, eyes lighting up at the taste before looking back at you. “All that must’ve been stuck in your head and probably even in your dreams. Had any floating codes flying around your mind as you slept by any chance?”

That’s not quite right, but you’ll take the excuse handed to you as you shrugged. Lifting your own cup of coffee that you doused in three creams and two sugar’s, humming for a moment in agreement to Lazar at the strong and bold taste before taking another one.

“You can say that. I would have kept going and working until I got tired. You would call me a night owl so to say.”

“You seem pretty alright to me now,” Lazar observed as he leaned back in his chair.

“I have an impressive work ethic. Better than others I think. I’m used to going to sleep late and waking up early.” You can infer that your body is used to this schedule, harsh and strict work ethic that you must’ve gotten when you worked with Perseus. “Although, I admit I’m not very hungry right now. You chose a bad partner in this.”

“But you volunteered,” Lazar stared ever so seriously and another sip to his coffee. You could see he was fighting a smile.

You huffed through your nose, shaking your head.

“Yes. How could I have forgotten. Like I did for Kraus.” Lazar slightly winced at the reminder of how you got kidnapped, muttering an apology which you waved away. “It’s fine. I was the best to do that anyways.”

“You sure are pretty accepting with all this work. Just asking and taking files like nothing, ” Lazar rose a brow, you couldn’t tell if it was for being impressed or disbelief. You didn’t say anything to that, the both of you just sipping on their coffee and waiting for their meals to take to the car before heading back to work. You’ll walk past the center table easily and just sit in your chosen desk. Maybe get a lecture about professionalism which you will just absently nod at since you will make yourself feel numb if you have to, just to get away from the man in any way. Lazar paused at your far away look, your cup by your mouth yet you’re not drinking, instead of looking at a simple framed painting of Germany’s hills at the wall. ". . .As much as the boss man likes to act like it, we're not machines,” you blinked out of your reverie, your eyes flicking towards Lazar. “You're not either. Even though you understand numbers with little pattern and words that would have no connection normally—be able to put it together and have it make sense."

You blinked once more, albeit slower.

"I...I know I'm not a machine."

"Do you? Acting like you don't sleep and eat, besides those seeds of yours like you're a bird yesterday outside of the one meal I brought you. Do you sing too?" You released a surprised laugh at that, short as it was with lips still up. "That's better. Thought your lips stay flat like that. I swear, it seems both you and Adler are obsessed with Perseus. See why you're his protege now."

You were struck at Lazar’s words, focusing on him with a frown. The implications that the both of you were similar making you look down.

“Guess we're two peas in a pod.”

You mumbled the last bit, as if to yourself as you lowered your cup on the table.

"What? Oh. . .guess you could say that. But remember this Bell," He throws a pastry at you as you quickly catch it before it met your face(you would always have to be prepared for that before), blinking down at your hands before looking at the kind faced Lazar. "Lighten up. We'll get him so don't push yourself so much. And eat real food too! Seeds! As if that's food."

Your mind showed you moments from your previous life, Lazar always teasing and making you eat and try as much as different food as possible. Away from your decryption tasks as he would wave your plate under your nose as if to entice you.

“No point in being greedy,” The kind man would say, wry smile playing his lips with a tone to match, after letting you try food from his plate, even encouraging it. “Memories—memories with food should be savored and light and new dishes should be enjoyed.”

You thought of when you first found out the truth, still recovering from wounds of Cuba as you sat—away, away from that gurney—and guilt with Lazar—should’ve been quicker, perhaps you would’ve been kinder, kindness is a lie—and asking Park if Lazar knew. About you. About this. MK-Ultra. Everything.

You stared at the Israeli man for a moment before smiling, a mischievous thing. Genuine. Like the man in front of you.

"I am smaller than you, it's enough for me."

"Now you're just poking fun."

Lazar was always kind.

Oh, how he played his role perfectly for you.

At this point, you’ll take what you can get and stop wondering with him. You’ll go mad.

Foolish американский щеноk. The collar around your neck has choked all the trust for others in you.

Best, you think as Lazar easily teased you again, an unreadable look in your eyes as you take another sip of your drink. To just not feel at all.

The breakfast the both of you ordered came, Lazar grabbing the bag as movement behind the counter caught your eye. A worker bringing in a new dessert towards the other German sweets, yellow and round and looking spongy similar to a cake but with a crust like a pie. You walked back up to the counter, pointing and asking the worker in fluent German what was that. Her replying with a smile that it is their pineapple kasekuchen, the German’s take in a cheesecake.

You turned your gaze to the sweet, lost in thought before raising your hand with two fingers up to order, the worker nodding.

You grabbed the box and walked up to the curious Lazar by the door, his brow arched as if asking a silent question. As the both of you exited the bakery and walked towards the car, you still not saying anything and only periodically glancing down at the box with the kasekuchen, even tightening your grip a tad around it when the crowd around them got a little too close, Lazar decided to speak.

“You know,” he began, and you took note that he sounds amused. Almost knowing. You pretended to stay oblivious. “There was this mission I was on in Thailand with Adler a few years back.” At the mention of Thailand, your memory of yesterday in Adler’s car still fresh, you looked towards Lazar as they walked. “Something covert and recon with the usual stray chance of a suicide bomber. The standard for our great unpredictable job. Keeps us in our toes.” His tone was a mix of sarcasm and easygoing, as if suicide bombing in a country was like if he stated it’s going to rain again. Where is he going with this? “Anyways, when we weren’t doing that—we’d stop at this corner store near the safehouse we were in. Boss man would always buy his precious cigarettes, leaves the other stuff we need to actually sustain us to me. Except, he would get something else too. To eat and I always thought each time I saw that, that Adler is human after all.” He glanced down at you, one brow raised. “Do you happen to know what it is?”

You huffed, turning your head away. Them reaching the car and you going to the passenger side as Lazar stood by the driver’s side—still unopened and leaning his crossed arms on the top of the car.

“You sure like playing games today,” you dodged with quirked lips, shuffling the box in your hands to hold it in one as you moved your free one to open the door. “Volunteering me again and calling me a bird and now having me guess what a man like Adler would get besides his addiction. You want to talk about machines, look at him.”

How the puppet lies so so sweetly.

Lazar hummed, deciding to open the car and the both of you going in and settling as they placed the bags down by you to make sure none of it spills. After they pulled out from the space, Lazar spoke once more, offhandedly and an interesting turn of the lips.

“Pineapples sure are sweet and tart. Pretty good too.”

You don’t say anything.

Just made sure your hold on all the boxes of food for everyone didn’t tip over as Lazar would turn. If your grip with the kasekuchen was firmer than the others, you didn’t notice.

Feed the god and you might get a reward.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯  ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You squinted behind your closed eyes, shifting in your uncomfortable sitting position in the foxhole with only dirt and soil to help cushion you within the trench like pit. The crickets were loud, deafening in the jungle with a periodic squawk or call from a bird deep within. You shifted, your M-16 moving down in your lap from the movement  despite your lucky green cloth gloves holding it as you blearily opened your eyes, blinking them against the darkness until they got used to it. The half moon helping somewhat in giving light as well as the fireflies flying around in the dance where only they heard the music.

They were still on their way to Hue City, night coming upon them quicker than expected. The jungles are harsh and thick, especially with the route they’re taking due to their stealth and recon mission, but the planned route was still underestimated. It did not help the planned foxhole they were going to got covered, completely useless and the time to make another one is time they don’t have. Luckily, they were able to find another, although this one was tighter. Two small foxholes that barely fit the five of you, hence having to sit basically in a ball against the wall of dirt behind you.

All of you were doing one hour intervals in keeping watch, the watcher usually standing up in the foxhole in order to watch their surroundings. And if an attacker did come, they could duck within the foxhole for cover.

You felt like you should’ve woken up for your  shift already.

Your eyes focused next to you, finding the spot where Larson was supposed to be standing empty. You hastily stood, pack heavy against your back as it tensed in protest at the sudden weight, your hands tight against the M-16 and about to call the other’s names at the missing soldier only to stop.

Your standing position giving you new access to see more besides the sky above you, surrounded by brush and green foliage of all types with high grass upon the ground. Larson sat, just a few inches away from the foxhole a little to your right, staring up in the starlit sky. He turned his head towards you at the sound, seeing you were awake before turning his head back, as if you weren’t there.

“Larson,” you whispered, not wanting to wake up the others in the foxhole next to yours. When Larson didn’t move so the two of you could switch, you reached out to tug on his pack on his back. “You can’t be out in the open like this. You don’t know if VC or NVA might come by in the area.”

“Let them,” Larson said brazenly but just as low, making you release his pack in surprise. “Besides, there’s a bunch of shit around here to cover us. Even this grass is kinda covering my face. Nothing will happen. Now, go back to sleep and leave me be.”

You stared, before sighing. Carefully looking around once, twice, before coming out of the foxhole as quietly as you could—using the open holes on the dirt walls to place your feet to get out. You sat by Larson, who ignored you and went back to staring up at the twinkling sky.

You took a moment to stare at it too. This far in the boonies, away from cities and cars and just filled with wildlife, it has a sort of bewitching air around it. Despite the loud chirp of the crickets, the call of the birds, and how one would sometimes have to smack any open skin for stubborn mosquitos—the trees, the grass, all the greenery that looked dark in the night outside of being lit by the fireflies and the stars and moon above. You were struck once more, just how beautiful this country was. With it’s natural serenity as the moonlight not covered by clouds touched lightly upon to aid somewhat with the darkness but not as much as a flashlight would do, still, the moon did its best even if it was just at it’s half tonight. The stars were there to support it and you wish you learned more about constellations than your books, you’re sure you could spot all of them and weave stories of your own instead of reading them.

“You know,” your attention shifted to Larson, who still gazed up as he spoke, lost in thought and appearing away from here as he spoke quietly. He does not wish to wake the others it seems. “I don’t know if you remember me telling you this, but I grew up on a farm. Small. Not very fancy and it was just me and my family—Ma, Pa, and my two brothers and sister. Out just taking care of our cattle and our horses. Middle of nowhere, we would have to drive about an hour to get to a good grocery store that isn’t just a corner store or gas station. I hated it more that the closest school was about the same length. . . But what could I do? Needed an education, at least some, and than spend the rest of my life worried about a farm. With all it’s cow and horse shit, waking up before the sun does and at the end of the day you smell like all the shit you cleaned up.” He ended, sounding tired and yet with the bitter words it had an iota of equal bitter amusement.

You maintained your silence, instead moving your gaze back and forth around them. Not looking at how Larson’s lips quirked begrudgingly, head tilted up towards the silent night.

“. . .there were a few good things though. When me and my brothers and sister were done with work, and the moon was out—we’d head out to where the cattle were. Laying down on the grass without a care, why bother? We were already dirty with sweat and dirt and shit. And we’d look up—and than—“ Larson reached an arm out, as if to reach the sky, only to clench his hand and put it down back by his lap before gripping his MP40 hard where you could spot how white his knuckles were. “. . .laying down, in the grass, in the middle of nowhere, with just a dark black sky over you. . .it felt like it could swallow us. Whole. Not caring about how we looked or smelled or how old we were. . .it made us feel small. Yet huge. If we pretended enough, we could act like we can really touch the moon. The stars. I guess it just showed all of us there was more, than this little farm. With it’s shit and it’s smell and being in the middle of nowhere. The black sky might just eat us to put us out of our childish misery. Maybe that’s also why we kept going back, not just cause of fucking beautiful it was, but maybe. . .”

Larson trailed off and you decided to speak up, softly. Not wishing to break this odd aura around them, because this was more than talking about how small a human’s life is.

“‘If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you,’” you quoted, Larson cocking his head slightly and glancing at your from the corner of his eyes. You released a small fleeting smile. “It’s a quote. By a German philosopher called Friedrich Nietzsche. A depressing guy but. . . I feel like his words fit. The abyss swallowing. . . perhaps it is more you become one with it. A fusion. Where you don’t know where you begin and the abyss ends.”

Larson turned his head away, grabbing a handful of some grass and pulling as he moved his eyes back up.

“Who knows? Maybe. . . shit,” Larson dryly chuckled, “maybe, I should’ve stuck with staring up at my family’s farm home—staring up this abyss right here but there instead. Than maybe. . .you know, I would say sappy shit in my letters to her?” You didn’t ask who ‘her’ was, you could fill in the blanks as you wisely kept silent. “All words about the moon and stars and we were staring at the same one so I wasn’t that far away cause we stared up at the same thing’s. That she had stars in her eyes and if I looked up, I could see her in them. That she pulled me to her like the moon does water and just—shit. Fuck. ”

Larson hissed, putting his head to his hands. His shoulders slightly shook, you could barely tell in the darkness but you imagine he is holding himself back.

“I loved her,” Larson said, voice all cracked and broken as his breath hitched. “I love her still. And she’s—she’s leaving. What will I have when I come back? Go back? I—there’s nothing. We were. . .I went to war for  her . Our  country .”

You kept your mouth shut. Letting him release his sorrow and emotionally charged words that made zero sense such as that. You learned, especially on the beach night, it is not wise to depend on another’s support when it comes to actions of war.

You didn’t even give Larson the full quote earlier either. You do not think he needed the full one, but you know yourself what Nietzsche was going for. You think Adler might like it actually.

Eventually, you managed to put Larson back into the foxhole as you took watch by him. Standing in the foxhole as you did your shift. A few minutes officially in however, you took note of noise in the foxhole next to you. You turned your head, noticing Adler’s head was out, helmet on and war paint slightly losing their color. You can see his stubble starting to really come in now. He had his shades on, even at this time, in this darkness—but you could tell he was staring at you. Something clicked as you lightly sighed.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.”

You nodded, turning your eyes around their surroundings with your M-16 in front of you and gripped at the ready just in case.

“You left something out,” Adler said after a while, voice low to not wake the others that it sounded husky to your ears. You glanced at him, brow raising questioningly as Adler’s lips lifted to a knowing smirk. “I don’t know much, but my high school education isn’t too laughable I think. I know that quote. You missed the whole beginning and just gave him the end.”

You blinked, before shrugging as you peered up at the sky for a moment.

“He didn’t need the beginning. Just the end.”

“Some might call that yellow journalism. Or lying.”

“Others might call it wise,” you retorted lightly. “He didn’t need to know it. It wouldn’t have helped. So why give it? Besides, we know it. We’re the only type of people who need it.”

Adler hummed, whether it was in agreement or in thought, you couldn’t tell. You took note of him shifting, hands a little fidgety around his M60 and you felt sympathy swell in you. He hasn’t been able to smoke since the start of this mission, having to be cautious with any type of smoke. You don’t know personally, but you know that the craving for cigarette’s were mind consuming if you did not have one to quell it. Perhaps this conversation was a welcome distraction.

You wonder if this night is just you going to be playing silent therapist.

“Do you think Larson should’ve heard it?”

Adler answered as he kept his dutiful watch around, him facing the area behind you as you focused in front.

“No. He just needed someone to listen. Poor bastard should ask for R&R after this. I’ll grant it to him, maybe he could go to Australia and just wind down there for a week.” He scratched at his face, the war paint surely feeling a little off since he first put it on. “Forget about all this. All of it. The States. The war. He needs it. Hell, we all do.”

Your lips formed a teasing smile.

“Even shadows and monsters need a smoke?”

Adler chuckled easily.

“Everyone needs a smoke as far as I’m concerned. Maybe less people will act like they’re one push away till they make a shitstorm the rest of us need to clean up. But sure, kid, ” he half shrugged, focusing on the sky above with all its celestial like bodies. “Larson might’ve been onto something though with what he was saying.”

“Which part?”

Adler chose silence as his answer, staring up for another moment or two before huffing and turning his attention back onto the ground.

The two of you stayed guarding for a few more moments. You didn’t bother asking Adler why he was up and you had this watch, just like how he didn’t seem to bother to order you to go to sleep. You felt like once more, there was an understanding between you two. Still though, it didn’t stop you from the question bubbling in your throat.

“Since you know the quote,” Adler hummed lightly, showing he was listening. “What do you think Nietzsche was referring to, that the reader itself hasn’t fought with other monsters yet or from experience because he is a monster to not have other’s fight him?”

Adler scoffed quietly, amused.

“Just cause I know the quote doesn’t mean I constantly wonder about it’s meaning, Bell.”

“Humor me.”

“I thought I told you earlier I’m not here to spoil you.” You threw him a sheepish grin, Adler sighing and shaking his head as his expression turned inquisitive with how he pressed his lips together for a moment. “It’s a warning. That’s how I always saw it. But it’s not one we need like you said earlier, kid.  We don’t need it.”

You didn’t ask anymore. Because as you thought more into it, he was right.

Nietzsche wrote a warning, to the innocent reader and the oblivious society that put emphasis on morals and truth that he did not agree with.

‘Battle not with monsters, lest you become a monster. And if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.’

Monsters do not fret about what they already are. Just as they are not worried if the abyss ends with them or if it begins.

“Get ready, kid.” Adler said much later as they all slowly woke the others up to move, his eyes squinting behind his glasses as he stared past the trees, the bushes, and the greenery as the beginning of dawn started to rise. “It’s going to be a shit show in a few hours.”

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“Bell”

Second Life

14:02 | February 26, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”

You see yourself as one with patience.

When it comes to this sort of line of work, it is required. A sort of fortitude and composure that not all can be able to acquire but must be needed for this—for lives at stake based on whether you can put up an act or have the tact of an eagle capturing a snake, all sharp claws and silent feathers against the hissing strike. ты хочешь быть американцем товарищ.

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time,” as said by one one of your favorites, Leo Tolstoy, from one of the best works in history: War and Peace.

You recall last time—stop clinging, you stupid dog—when you stood outside the safehouse in the cold with your head to the book, Adler stepping out and taking note of your book with a cocked brow. Stating his surprise at your book choice as you mumbled something or other as you read, that it is an integral book. You even stating the same quote back to him, a surprise to you when Adler didn’t know of it. Listening as you explained it with a flick of his lighter and calm inhales and exhales of his addiction, showing off where the quote was as he leaned in slightly. Your heart pounding as his warmth was felt without even touching, than a brush of his shoulder to your back as he drew closer. Than it was gone.

“All grim thoughts and wise words with you, eh Bell?” Amused. A fleeting turn of the lips that stayed longer and a gaze that lingered as he stared through you under those shades. “Make sure you take a breather when you raise your nose for air from your books. Can’t do this without you.”

He would tease, but didn’t stop you from taking your reading breaks outside for fresh air. And he’d always ask, curiosity in his expression when you’d show him a line each time. You thought it was special. Their own little thing where you would raise your book and he would lean to you and they would touch.

“Bell, open the door.”

It was just cruel kindness.

Patience, you are using it to your fullest. You can do what you must and see if your actions can work up to something—all your effort and hard work being seen as a good little tool.

Though, time—time is something you may not have. Unless you make sure you’re loyal.

You were quick to drop off the breakfast on the center table, ignoring Adler’s rose brow as you moved. The pineapple kasekuchen in their rightful place. You avoided and didn’t speak outside a quick “good morning” to everyone else and went to work, breakfast by you whenever you got truly hungry.

You didn’t think about why you bought the dessert. Outside the rationalization it shows your loyalty. Perhaps a peace offering to ignore what happened the night prior. You didn’t think much about that at all.

американский щеноk.

Until he called you over to his desk with a wave of his hand, your chest thundering with your eyes wide as you wondered if he’ll say anything. Take you aside in private to talk. About last night or the sweet, you’re not sure. Only for him to motion for you to sit, tapping his knuckle against the file on the desk. You took note the box of the kasekuchen wasn’t there anymore(must’ve already ate it or threw it away) as you blinked, slowly sitting in the seat across from him as he slid the file towards you as he asked your opinion on it.

You scanned, mind wandering and flying, before you glanced up at him. His favorite mahogany leather over him that is second skin, a lighter shade of blue for his collared shirt today under him and his mouth free of a cigarette as well as his hands. Those aviators still on his head, a part of him. Sort of like the beanie—ski—mask over your head as he looked down at another report in front of him. As if he didn’t call you over from your desk to his to help with a file when he could’ve just left it on your desk. As if you didn’t cross a line—you always cross the line, over, behind, or creating a completely new one to do what you must like he does whatever it takes but it was wrong, you are no saint, pitiful mutt—yesterday with your words and questions.

A hand reached towards the file in front of you, knuckle tapping twice, more force this time.

You focused back on the file, only to see Adler already took his hand back. Continuing to read as he patiently waited for your consensus on the file before you.

You were struck than how he’ll handle this, understanding dawning on you as your gaze focused and turned to the file below you and picking it up.

If he wishes to pretend as if it never occurred, it’s fine with you. It’s best either way for both of you. You have too many worries already, Adler included. Best to leave certain things out your mind about the man lest you’ll get clouded. You’re trying to survive. Not get caught up in and tangled in mind games.

You spotted in the corner of your eye Adler give a ghost of a nod, the tiniest tip of the head, imperceptible to others but you knew. He gave a similar one when you captured Volkov, walking up to you with a calm swagger and gloved hands around his weapon, as he moved his head in approval. Such a good girl to be happy with just a nod. Satisfied. He’s satisfied. He knows you understood. Understood him.

“You know me too well.”

“Guess we’re two peas in a pod.”

“I need Bell.”

You raised the file closer, over your mouth formed in a subconscious echo of a pleased smile. You didn’t even feel it. Nor did you feel electric blue eyes behind shades glance towards you before turning back to his work—the silent agreement to keep what happened last night to themselves written and signed without the two of you having to open your mouths.

Coward, you wanted to snarl. To who, you’re not sure. You just focused on what Adler gave you. You’ll need to have Adler let you live so you’ll need to not just be a perfect asset to the others but a person to him.

You have to do what you must.

“Damaged goods.”

You have to.

“You remembered.”

You flicked your eyes towards him, file momentarily forgotten. He didn’t look up from his own file, continuing to read it with the expression he always has when concentrated—a hint of pressed lips that reveals his dimples and brows lowered than usual where it would be difficult to see due to his shades. You would think that mania has truly taken a hold of you, with it’s dark tentacles filled with dark thoughts and mental anguish or rather slithering and multiplying vines where Lykourgos grew mad due to Dionysus’ vengeance except for you it is with choking collars and stifling leashes and cutting strings. He looked as if he didn’t speak at all. All the quiet focus of a war hardened CIA agent that didn’t have a ring on his finger but was married to his job with a badge to show all the same.

But you knew his voice. As if it was your own.

“We’ve known each other for years.”

“Fought together. Bled together. Been through Hell in Vietnam together.”

“We got a job to do.”

“ B e l l,  o p e n  t h e  d o o r . ”

The poor американская сука loves pain like a drug.

“I wasn’t sure what you would,” Adler spoke again, your eyes focusing on him once more. His head still was tilted down and a little to the side, shades facing the paper but you believed he glanced towards you. “The coma did a number on you with your memories. I know you’ve been saying it’s only been about Vietnam but you never specified about what. Or if you happened to remember anything else.” He didn’t state it like a question but he might as well have.

Of course he would ask. Why wouldn’t he?

Nonetheless, you knew what he was referring to in his earlier statement. He ate them. You picked up your file with a small huff.

“Hard to forget, Adler. Of course I would remember. You would hold those cans like a lifeline,” your lips lifted at the memories, of Adler trading with others if he must to get his precious golden ambrosia that would appease him similar to his cigarettes. You kept your lips up despite the quick recall the memories were fake—the trading of trash, the quiet understanding to not speak of it, of beautiful Vietnam foliage and unforgettable talks—just as you glanced at him and continued easily. “Glad you liked them. Wasn’t sure if you would. As for other memories. . . it’s still only been with Vietnam. I haven’t gotten anything else.” Adler hummed, cocking his head a tad before your lips formed more of a smile that you felt. “But at least I still know what I like or don’t. Can’t imagine a clean slate.”

“That’s normal,” Adler said, shades now facing you as you somewhat hid your face with the file. The only thing him being able to see fully was your eyes. “Learn how to calm down and that you can’t take all these shots like you’re a target in a shitty gun range. Might remember more.”

You found yourself snorting, rolling your eyes. Finding dark amusement at his words despite yourself. Perhaps you are growing insane.

“Based on what you told me in the hospital, you would’ve had some holes instead.” The way you said it, it sounds like you still believe it. Like it was real. Dance puppet, dance. You turned up your lips into a semblance of a smirk as you looked over the file towards him. You maintained it even though you think the both of your eyes connected despite the shades hiding. “You don’t have to worry, Adler. I got your back. Always. A few shots is nothing.”

It’s what you would’ve said before. It scares you how much you meant it previously. As if your life was forfeit if it came to having Adler live longer. Nothing else would matter as long as he lived. Nothing. As if the world would come to an end if he fell—the only one that could hold it and keep it straight.

Perhaps he is Atlas after all. . .

The loyal dog with the pretty collar will always protect the master.

Cursed due to his cruelty.

What are you, Russell Adler?

Adler stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your words. Scrutinizing them. He than reached into his jacket, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Once he did the first drag and released his puff, away from you as you observed the smoke curl around them, he looked back down to the papers on the desk.

“How lucky am I that I got you around than, kid,” he replied, all low and earnest as he took another drag. “Just don’t go dying on me. Can’t have Sims talk to his shrink about something else. He’d be heart broken.”

Adler said that sentence a little louder, so it was no surprise that Sims by the desk put down his magazine and called out.

“I resent that!”

Adler’s lips twitched in response, but kept his gaze down as your heart thundered.

You thought of an explosion to the chest, your heart open and bare for more reasons than you planned. Of soft words to your ear that sounded like regret and something else as you coughed. Of a gentle touch that held you up, hands wandering from your waist to your stomach—stopping just short of a bleeding chest as if they wanted to stop the red—redredredredred—from flowing out but hesitated. An encircling of arms that released heat as you grew cold—you don’t like the cold much anymore—while an expression was carefully guarded with eyes hiding behind a shaded curtain.

You felt your throat tighten. The need for answers to unanswered questions reaching a head.

“Just Sims?” you asked softly, a little breathless and a little confused at said breathlessness.

He glanced up, aviators slightly down and you could barely see his eyes as he exhaled a puff, eyeing you. You staring as his brow lifted for a moment before it settled, an interesting look in your eyes that one might call forlorn. And something else that is dangerous and not meant for monsters who are better alone.

“Maybe another life, kid.”

Mind thine eyes dog, for they show you yearn the impossible.

“You know the answer, Bell. Everyone would be,” Adler leaned slightly back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers in his customary hold between his ring and middle finger. “You’re part of the team. What kind of question is that?”

“You’re still one of us.”

He knows what he’s doing. Just as he knows what you mean.

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down with squinting eyes at the file. Your hand making it a little wrinkle and you don’t know what you expected. What you’re expecting. He hurts. He pretends. Why would he even answer truthfully when he can dodge and feel less guilt about a hole in you caused by his hand?

He’s—

You felt a nudge against your knee, you looking up in shock with a quick inhale at the unexpected touch. It staying there—his knee, he’s touching you—as you watched Russell tilt his head at you, brow up and lips quirked with a cigarette around it and looking wry and relaxed—what is this, why, what could this be for, why is he doing acts that are pointless yet mean everything when he could just be distant, you are getting worked up over just knees touching, you touch starved little thing—as he motioned his head an iota to the left. Your eyes following the movement to see Park where she was, nearby with her desk and a headphone to one ear but the other still able to listen in despite how naturally quiet you and Adler are with your soft voice and Adler’s low tone.

Park? What does she have to do with anything? And why would Adler of all people care?

You frowned, only for your lips to flatten in realization of her words to you about Adler. To stay away. You now wonder if she did a similar warning to him.

“Insanity breeds insanity as they say.”

You wonder if the pissing match that was imperceptible and the slight tension was more than just two agencies trying to come to an accord.

But why would Park warn Adler?

You glanced back at Adler, who gave a half shrug as if to answer your silent question. It only raised more. You moved your knee back closer to your form and Adler didn’t react as you did so. The both of you turning back to the files that Adler requested your assistance.

Not thinking in the back of your mind of fleeting touches, lingering looks, or a voice to your pounding ear that tinged with remorse even though you couldn’t see his face.

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You and Park just recently finished going through the report you and Woods got from Ukraine. Sims and Lazar were in the back rooms where the gun range was while Park was in the Red Room. Last you checked, Adler was still in his office with a call while Mason and Woods were by the weight lifting equipment and taking turns to work off some steam due to what was discovered. You were putting the findings up on the evidence board with tacks, careful to not stab yourself. You wouldn’t be as concerned if you were wearing your gloves which you put away earlier by your bunk bed, but than again, you’re quite careful with your gloves. Not only because of the quality, but who got the leather gloves for you when you were just recently discharged out of the hospital back in the States.

You smiled, putting the last tack on the board only to have a sudden weight around your shoulders. You widened your eyes, briefly alarmed only to turn your head to see it was a smirking Woods.

“Done? Good! I’ve been holding off till now but it’s time to fucking see what you’re  really  made of Bell.”

You blinked, confused and still reeling at the fact you didn’t sense his approach at all. Your mind will zone out over the littlest of things lately. It concerns you. But it hasn’t been a problem so far out in missions, so you think it’s alright.

“And how exactly I’m going to do that? Thought I showed you enough back in Ukraine.”

At that, Woods laughed as he basically tugged you to where Mason was, who was shaking his head at his friend and shooting you an apologetic look as you just smiled that you were okay with it. Their van door open in the back as well as a table and chairs in front. You took note of the packs of beer and you see what Woods meant as he sat by Mason in the van on the floor, you sitting down and observing as Woods took a hefty gulp of a beer.

“I think I know now. But,” you glanced to where Adler’s office was, “is this wise? Isn’t Hudson coming over here soon?”

Woods slammed his beer down, causing some of it to come out as Mason sighed at the wastefulness.

“Man,  fuck  Hudson!” Woods wiped his chin harshly, irritation coloring his features. “I want to forget about that nutsack for the rest of the day. When he comes, he better not say shit or I’ll punch him again. Maybe with that shit will stop coming out his mouth.”

Mason chuckled, having his own beer in his hand as his eyes wandered to his longtime friend, shifting as he got comfortable in his seat.

“How’s the hand?”

Woods scoffed.

“Pfft. Nothing fancy,” Woods looked at said hand, clenching it as he moved to crack his knuckles as he grinned wildly. “Ready enough, like I said, if Hudson says something smart.” He punched his fist against his hand, muscles flexing noticeable despite his jacket as you couldn’t help but laugh along with Mason.

“I still can’t believe you punched him yesterday,” you spoke up, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine anyone punching the intimidating harsh man that is James Hudson. Soon after your discharge, you had to meet with him back in Langley for the mission before all this Perseus business—although you suppose supporting the Polish union Solidarity in fighting back communists have everything to do with Perseus. You don’t understand why the man seems to dislike you so much, especially if the two of you worked briefly before which you sadly can’t remember. He must always be like that with others, Woods doesn’t seem to like or appreciate Hudson’s icy countenance either way. You don’t quite appreciate the man’s secrecy about the nukes, so you see why. “If I even breathe the air wrong around him, I think I will be dead come morning. I don’t think I’m exaggerating.”

“You?” Woods asked, amused incredulity in his tone as he faced you. “The one who basically took out three Heavy’s by your lonesome? Scared of that ball face? You’re shitting me!”

Mason rose his brows as he turned towards you.

“You didn’t say that in the report. You holding out on us, Bell?”

“Right?! Now open a bottle and tell Mason here everything that happened.”

You rose a brow, amusement shining in your eyes, your hand moving to the pack of beer before stopping. The memory of the arcade room making you smile knowingly.

“Everything?”

Woods made a face, cheeks looking an interesting color that Mason caught as he nudged his friend with his elbow.

“What’s she talking about Woods?”

“Nothing! Jesus Christ Bell, didn’t know you could be a little shit like Adler can.”

The words bounced off you easily, already used to the man’s vulgar personality from the mission and even before the mission to go over details, as you shrugged, smirking as Mason kept pushing Woods on what happened as Woods would grumble or drink his beer to avoid answering. At Adler’s name however, you looked back at the office, slightly biting the inside of your lip.

Your breaks thus far outside of eating has just been reading your books or a quick game in the back room. Never for a drink like Lazar would do with Sims and Park at times. Adler, at least what you know of, hasn’t drunk and just has stuck with his cigarettes. You don’t even remember the last time  you  drank. All you know is that you like it.

But. . . you’re not sure if Adler would approve. You’re always focused on your work and great at it, he depends on you to maintain your focus to catch Perseus.

You subconsciously put your hand in your jacket, feeling the polaroid as you thought.

Woods noticed your apprehension and called out to you, you turning your head back.

“Whatcha fuckin’ worried about? You’ve been working all day from those codes and whatever the shit you put on the board. I don’t think Adler would want you to be worked dry where you don’t even think straight.”

“Only booze can do that,” Mason added helpfully.

Woods nodded, looking too serious it was almost comical since they were just trying to persuade you to drink.

“What he said.”

You took a moment before you shrugged, grabbing a beer and opening it as you stated that you guess you could drink with legends. Woods huffing at you, soon calling you cocky in realization as to why you made fighting Heavy’s not a big deal and not impressed with him. Mason seeming to find it funny as the three of you drank and talked about the mission more freely and colorful words with Woods. You did slightly flush when Woods told Mason you were a nerd for playing a quick game while there were Russians preparing for their training course, Mason snorting as you hushed them when Park grew near them. Not wishing for her to find out.

Quickly hiding it by inviting her to join just as Lazar and Sims came back, the two men seeming to easily join in as Park contemplated as she stared at the beer. With a sigh though, she sat by Lazar as she took one.

“Next time, I’m buying the alcohol here. You bought rubbish, Woods.”

“‘Rubbish?’ And beer is beer, nothing wrong with good ol cheap beer sometimes,” Woods defended. “Adds to the flavor.”

Lazar smiled, raising his bottle.

“Cheers to that.” Lazar and Woods tapped their bottles in the middle when they reached over, an easy aura settling between the group.

Sims got a bottle, assessing the name as well as the pack as he did a dog whistle.

“Germans know how to do one thing right, and that’s beer. You’ll be fine Park. It could be worse,” Sims took a drink, humming as he did so while Park frowned at her bottle when she took a few sips.

“Worse?”

“It could’ve been canned,” Mason answered, speaking from experience that made you raise a brow as you took a drink, settling further into your seat. “Canned cheap beer you can basically taste the metal. There was one time back in the States where I practically shitted myself due to this cheap beer I got at this random gas station in the middle of nowhere. Ruined my night.”

“And your pants it seems,” Lazar commented, mirth clear in his tone before he released a laugh along with Sims guffaw at the Israeli’s words. Park shaking her head but anyone can see her smile on her lips as Woods stated that’s what happens when you’re in “bumfuck nowhere” and probably got experimented with weird moonshine.

You snorted in surprise, covering your mouth as your imagination pictured the soldier rushing to the bathroom lest an accident happens. Mason? He seems so serious all the time, which you can understand why. You’ve read up what you could on everyone here, the description’s were small but you could fill in the lines. He’s lucky that he has such a good friend like Woods.

It soon became a trading of stories between everyone about drunk nights and how they reached that point, Lazar running with a bowl of chili and Woods determined to make condom water balloons and Sims was just finishing his own passed out in random deck chairs story when the door of the office opened.

You immediately turned towards where Adler now stood, staring at all of you as he closed the door and currently free of a cigarette. Your anxiety only grew when Adler turned his head towards you, as if he was asking you personally on the situation as you could only throw him an apologetic yet impish smile. Adler’s brow rose.

“Adler!” Woods called, raising a hand and motioning it for the man to come over. Adler approaching the group as you could only stare and tried to get a read on him. Alas, it was hard to discern his mind even if you could spot him glancing at everyone and the table with bottles. “Join us while there’s still beer left! Planning to drink all of this before Hudson comes. He can’t say anything if there’s no evidence.”

Adler hummed, stopping behind you and Sims as he appeared in thought. A trickle of hope coming up your chest at Woods offer.

“All of you are in luck,” Adler eventually answered, the subtle amused tone not lost on you as you intently focused on it. “Hudson isn’t coming till early in the morning tomorrow. Got caught up with something with Black. Can’t imagine how he would react if he saw all this.”

“Fuck ‘im,” Woods spat, reaching for a bottle and throwing Adler one. Adler catching it with his hand, shaded eyes turning towards the bottle to read the label. “We’re not here to please his every whim and cater to him like we’re his butlers. I say it’s a perfect time to wind down. We were just trading stories of getting shit faced.”

“All of you were,” Park corrected easily, “I don’t plan on sharing any such event.”

“Never say never, Park,” Lazar said, a grin playing on his lips as he winked at the British woman. “I’m sure a lady like you has quite a collection of stories.”

“A lady never says her secrets.”

You were still staring up at Adler as Sims playfully groaned at Lazar’s flirt tactics that Park didn’t seem to mind, Adler tilted his head down and met your eyes. Seeming to assess before turning his gaze towards the evidence board, which now had additional papers than previously since he entered the office, assessing. He than turned back towards you, you impatiently waiting as you shifted in your seat to see if he would let all of you continue, his eyes seeming to follow when your hand went to your jacket pocket.

Adler released a huff of soft exasperation, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Don’t see the problem. We can all use a break from all of this.”

You practically beamed as Woods whooped, you moving a seat over where you were now next to Woods. Adler taking your seat as he sat by Sims now, opening his bottle as he asked whose story they were on. Sims continuing it and finishing before Lazar had another one. You listening with a smile or laughter, feeling the most at ease since this whole mission started you think. You believe that Adler must feel the same way, appearing relaxed as he sat and leaned back against the chair, beer forgotten and customary cigarette on his lips as he listened.

It made you want to take a picture of this moment. You standing up and announcing to the others you’ll do just that, Woods raising a brow at you.

“You and pictures. You a photographer or something? I hope you’ll at least show me what pics you took of me instead of those Red’s building.”

Your cheeks felt heated as you turned towards Woods, standing over him with fists clenched by your side as you called his name, askance. Making the man laugh at your expression, your irritation leaving you due to it but you gave him a warning look and call of his name which he caught. Not wishing for you to say the story, as Adler watched nonchalantly.

“Pictures? Got distracted again, Bell?” He asked, almost sounding like a tease only for the others to join in that you really loved that camera. You pursing your lips and appearing like you were pouting, as you turned away and got the camera from the Red Room quickly. Taking the picture of everyone only for Woods to motion his hand for it to your bewilderment.

“What? Don’t you want one with you in it too?” Woods asked, grabbing the camera from your hands as he grinned up at you. Adler and Park glancing at each other behind you, Adler flapping his cigarette hand uncaringly in answer. Mason raising a brow at the exchange but staying silent as his eyes moved back towards his loud friend.

You didn’t think of that but you stated you wanted one with everyone than, Park raising her hand for the camera to do the setting for it to be timed and placing it on top of Sims car he was working on earlier. All of you turning your chairs slightly, getting close with beers in hand and you trying to maintain a perfect smile even with Adler’s knee touching yours. The camera flashed, you feeling something by your head only for you to lightly punch Woods shoulder once you saw he must’ve gave you bunny ears in the photo. Him laughing away as you fought your own smile, his rugged charm rubbing off on you as Adler inhaled quietly as he watched the exchange.

The stories than eventually moved to mission stories, and than, unsurprisingly—to Vietnam. At this point, Park and Lazar retired for the night—Sims eventually doing the same when he noticed it turned to Vietnam. Which left you, Mason, Woods, and Adler—Adler just finishing up the story about what happened in Hue City, leaving a few details out you noted but loyally and wisely kept silent, as Mason took it in with a slight nod of his head.

“So that’s what happened on your side. Shit. . . that whole place was a shit show since the beginning. Lucky I only had to do a quick in and out by just getting a dossier.”

Woods snorted, nursing his fifth beer.

“That whole war was a shit show. Only good thing that came out of it is telling stories about it years later in a depressed warehouse. While a whole other type of war is happening.”

At the mention of the reminder of them losing that war, you spoke up.

“Not the only thing,” you couldn’t help but say, lost in thought as you looked at the ground.

Adler turned his head towards you as Woods and Mason did the same, curious.

“And what’s that, kid?”

You kept your gaze down for a moment more before flicking your eyes to the side towards Adler.

“We’re all still here, aren’t we?”

✯ ▙ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▞ ✯ ✯ ✯ ■ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▞ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▙ ✯

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̶̝͋͂B̷̝̾̾u̸͚͊̕ţ̷̛̭͖̈́̾ ̶̱͑̔i̷̩͇̤̐ṯ̴̪̓̓ ̷̜͊d̸̆͜į̶̩͔̉̏d̵͔̓͝n̴̨͇͒’̵̰͑́͂ţ̸̯̯͋ ̷̧͖̣̿̒e̴̥͋͝n̴̘̱̿̕d̸̛̤̹̔ ̵̡̡̩̈̐h̷̫͔͂͜ë̴̺̜́͑͊ȑ̶̺͉͠ĕ̴̥̉.̴͕̭͌̕͠

̸̠̹̿̊̿

̸̠͊̅

̸͙͓̬̂͒͝Ë̶̼̙̭́͘̕ ̶̳͆v̵̱͙̿̋ ̴͔̇̋ę̷͚̫͆̃̈n̵̥̣͈̏̅ ̷͇̮͒͊ ̴̛̺ ̶̡͆t̶̢̘͒ḧ̷̺̉ě̸͓̼̂ͅ ̶̬̲̫̈b̶̟̪̒̒ę̵͊͝s̶̟̱̐ţ̴͙̳̆̚ ̶͔̈́d̸̝̭͑̈́͒o̸͖͑̓g̸̨͌̈́̀s̴̹̫̖͗̅ ̶̯̝͛ḷ̶̬̔͌̐i̷̘̥̓́k̴͕̓͝ĕ̷̡̿̽́ ̵̖͗̾͘ţ̵̟̤̈́́̽ö̴͖͕͙́͗͝ ̴̦̂͊͝r̶͉͈̊̆̔ų̴̝̋̈ņ̶̼͛ ̶̭̦́.̶͔̇̄

̶̫̘͒̌̿

̵͓̱͇̆̕͠

̷̧̰̙̇͝B̶͕̐̐̓e̸̖̟̋ŝ̶̨t̵̗̎̀,̴̯̥̐̕ ̶͚͓̓̀́ť̶͐̂͜ŏ̸̢̿̉ ̵̨͎̄̿͆ć̷̣̓͑́ơ̶͔͓̋̿̔m̵̧̢̩̃ê̸̘̠̠ ̴̰̫͠͝ͅb̶͇̔̒ą̶̤̯̰̽͊c̸͈͗k̸̩͉͙̓̿ ̷̻̼̰͆ẃ̶̞͙̃͒͌ḧ̵̘͑̒̃e̵̜̰̓͘͝ń̶͙͒̚ ̵̪̖̥̊̈́ȑ̷̢̌̎ẽ̸̛͇̂ͅà̴̞̖̫d̸̤̺̽͛ỳ̴̰̊͝ ̷̠̌͝f̴̢́͊o̴͉̒͠r̷͕͙͙̽̋́ ̶͈̾̉t̴̥͒͘r̷͉̘̐́ų̸̠̔̋́t̴̨͚́̾h̷̖͕̯̀̒͛.̵̫̟̬̄

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“Bell”

Second Life

15:47| February 26, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”

Soon after you said your thoughts to Adler about the file, you moved to go back to your desk only to pause by the T.V. You turned back, Adler raising a curious brow as he put out his cigarette with his ash tray nearby. You asked him for any other files he may need help with, Adler saying nothing as he reached another file by him and handing it to you. You grabbed it, your black leather gloved hand grazing against his bare one as you took it. Taking note of what he said about it before turning to your desk and staying there. Ignoring a probing stare in the back of your neck.

You’ll do what you must, but if he expects you to stay by his side when he inconvenienced you earlier by making you come to him. . . Well, you think a little petty action is worth it.

Besides, you have to think by yourself for a moment. The call about Volkov squeaking his rat mouth should’ve came already. By nighttime—you, Adler, and Park should already be on the way to Ukraine and meet up with Woods and Mason.

Woods and Mason, you think fondly with a sad smile of a whirlwind of a man drinking back beer after beer like water with a deep throated laugh and the silent soldier with sad eyes yet listens attentively and a kind smile that brightens. Oh, I’ve missed you guys.

They were barely in the safehouse, out in missions constantly when you would decode and just being the team’s powerhouse duo. When they were here though, the safehouse was louder. More easy and free, less stifling and grim due to the work they were doing. They had a certain charisma very different than Adler’s, one’s that captured you in a different manner so it is no surprise you managed to get close and hang with them more than anyone when they were here. Sims being distant, Park communicating with MI6 about the CIA, Lazar determined to woo the agent when he wasn’t cleaning and prepping weapons, and Adler was. . .busy watching you were in line you suppose.

Card games and stories being shared, Woods and Mason not seeming to mind when you were around them. You suspect Woods let you get close to make sure you don’t tell his precious secret and blunder back in the arcade room in Ukraine. Although you would tease him that you might at times.

You feel like that in your other life, Park was right. You don’t think those two knew about your situation. It just made you like them more.

Because at least with them, you’re positive it was real.

“I knew I could count on you.”

You wished they were able to save you from Adler though. But they were tired and celebratory of what they accomplished. They took in Adler saying you and him were just taking a detour at face value.

“Do not trust Adler. He is lying to you.”

Adler always lies.

You have to remember that. And to just brush away any kindness he may show.

It’s not real.

Is it?

A loyal and trained dog through and through.

When you saw it was nearing 1700 hours, you looked around where Park was. Seeing she was with Adler in the corner by the weights, conversing with him with a crease in her brow while Adler looked as if he was only mildly taking note of her words as he puffed along his cigarette. A trait of his you knew frustrated the British woman. Adler likes to feign disinterest a lot. It could be seen as a weapon to make others talk due to how irritating it could be or make one cautious at how apathetic the man can act or look.

You walked over to them, your ears getting the tail end of whatever was ailing Park.

“—not making light of this and reign it in. Oh, Bell.” Park’s tone softened, a sharp contrast that stood out to you as she noticed you step up to them. Adler not even glancing at you as he continued his smoke, or at least not turn his head towards you. It’s dark in this corner so you wouldn’t be able to tell if he turned his eyes towards you or not unless he moved his head or body in your direction. “What’s wrong? Any new updates on the decryptions?”

You shook your head, looking between the two of them before settling on Park.

“What’s the word on Volkov? He talk yet?”

Park sighed.

“I’m afraid not. He’s proved himself stubborn despite his tastes being similar to what makes the U.K. great.”

You cocked a brow, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“Medieval torture devices not his style?” You asked, calling back to what Park said about Volkov’s hobbies.

Park matched you, amused as she shrugged lightly.

“I believe the lack of scotch is what will do him in personally.”

“He has to talk soon,” Adler cut in, exhaling a puff as you and Park turned towards him. Adler faced Park, arching a brow as he continued calmly. “Your guys over there aren’t giving him a good time right now, I imagine. The last thing we need is for him to be tight lipped.”

Your throat turned dry. You think you regret mentioning this as Park answered.

“He’s not the type to remain loyal if his back is to the wall. His selfish demeanor and arrogance will what cause him to try to strike a deal with us. It will benefit us than him in the end once he breaks.”

“If he breaks,” Adler added with a frown. “If he still doesn’t talk by the next two days, we might as well have killed him once we saw him. He’s useless.”

“She’s of no use to us anymore.”

You swallowed, moving to pocket your hands in your black bomber jacket as your hands clenched along with your jaw.

Park frowned at Adler, disapproving.

“He knows a great many things. Not everyone can handle interrogation for so long and be able to stay silent about anything that might give them reprieve.”

Oh, look, you thought sourly, bitterness starting to rise once more as you maintained your blank expression besides your taut jaw. They’re complimenting me. How nice of them to say I wasn’t easy for them.

Control your tongue, you stupid dog.

Adler huffed, it almost sounding like one mixed with amusement and exasperation as he shook his head slightly.

“Perseus’ people are almost as slippery and conniving as Perseus himself. And dangerous.” Adler took another inhale and exhale, the smoke curling around them and going over your head as your gaze lazily followed it to distract yourself while Adler did the same, tipping his head up to watch. “Perhaps he knows if he talks, he might as well be dead. We don’t need an Aldrich in the MI6 either.”

Park’s demeanor straightened at Adler’s accusation, the possibility of having a traitor or spy in her agency a great insult. She was about to say a scathing retort surely, but you cut her off.

“He’ll talk,” you say cooly, unreadable gaze towards Adler as he finally turned his head in acknowledgement towards you.

“What makes you so sure?” He asked, curiosity lacing his tone along with intrigue as he moved to place his cigarette for another puff.

You straightened your shoulders as you stared deep into his aviators that shadowed him properly to be America’s Monster.

“They all eventually do.”

Adler paused his hand, lips not around his craving as he stared towards you. Both your gazes not breaking even as Park looked between the two of you before settling with staring at Adler with slightly narrowed eyes.

Adler pressed his lips, a whisper of a smirk as he did it and nodded towards you once more before turning back towards Park.

“You hear that, Park? No reason to worry. Everyone talks. Right, Bell?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, ignoring how your stomach churned yet your heart pounded. You’re no saint. “We both know how to make them.” You slipped out, knowing eyes not leaving his face as you twisted a knife.

Adler didn’t seem to notice, or care really as he seemed to throw Park a mildly triumphant look. You don’t know why it would. You wouldn’t either and can care less about those you tortured—whether false or real.

Monsters do not worry over every drop in the red ocean they created.

Y o u’r e  n o  s a i n t, д е м о н.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You had headphones in, listening to the audio log to finish up the decryption despite the lack of other Intel so you could put all your focus on Operation Red Circus. Instead of the exchange earlier, all of them.

So you didn’t hear when the garage door opened and a van to come in, but you did when it got slammed closed. You jumped in your seat in the corner on your desk, hidden behind the evidence board and the T.V. You lowered your headphones, curious to see what was going on and if Sims brought in another car, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. You standing up so quick your chair almost fell back as you stood next to the T.V., heart thundering only for it to stop as you stared avidly, wildly, madly, hopefully.

Adler moved his hand to guide the red van in, sighing out a puff of smoke as the driver came out.

“Hudson barely gave me any warning about this before you guys arrived. Didn’t think he was going to give the okay on this based on the latest call on Volkov.”

“Well, you know Hudson,” the voice that spoke was quiet yet deep with how it spoke in easy amusement. If one strains their ear, you could spot the reserved soldier with sad eyes and a kind smile. “Always the one that loves to talk.”

“Pfft, yeah,” this one, this one was all rough and throaty as if it got abused in the past from events unknown but one can guess. If one just takes a glance, you could discern the storm stuck in a body yet does a light drizzle for friends despite the thunder. “Hudson’s a real charmer. Don’t tell me that the Russian Godfather decided to finally open his mouth right when we got here.” At Adler’s nod, the one man army groaned. “Man, jet lag is going to be a fuckin killer! Forget hotels, I’m sleeping here until we head out.”

They’re. . . Your hands shook by your side. Not paying kind to Park who stepped out the Red Room, head turned towards you and approaching you as she called out to you. You only stared as you bit the inside of your lip.

Sims, who helped pull the van in and was now leaning against the side of it, shook his head amiably with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t do that unless you’re fine with a raggedy ass mattress that looks like hasn’t seen the light of day since the ‘60s.”

“I believe the ‘70s personally,” Lazar spoke up as he sat on his desk, empty plate of takeout near him. “It still has potential if one’s desperate.”

“Yeah, well I’m desperate. Now where is it?” He turned his head along with his friend, comrade, forever ally just as they took a few steps close to where Park’s desk was and seeming to notice you the first time. Adler tilting his head at you, you silently just staring at the two as if you haven’t seen them in years, puffing silently as his brow rose curiously. But you could only look dumbly, eyes feeling a little pressure. They’re here. “Who are you and what the fuck are you looking at?” Woods asked sharply.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Your lips lifted into a smile before it opened, letting a loud bark of a laugh come out. You’re laughing.

When was the last time you laughed? Genuinely?

You could practically feel the stares, but you didn’t care. They’re here.

They were real.

Once your laughter calmed to chuckles and giggles, clearing the corner of your eyes for any possible tears, Adler stepped up between you and the two soldiers. Giving you a quick once over behind his glasses, you waving your hand at him dismissively slightly at his unanswered question, his brow furrowing before relaxing as he put an arm out towards you.

“Woods. Mason. This is Bell, my protege. I spoke to you about her before.”

You quickly fixed yourself and your expression as you took a polite step forward, you probably look absolutely insane. They don’t know you despite you knowing them. Calm down. You just didn’t expect that a change like the others would be this.  Oh god, you looked insane.

“Sorry,” you began, a tiny sheepish play to your lips, “I just—you guys are both legends and I just didn’t expect to see you guys here. At least, so soon. You could say I was a bit. . . excited to put it lightly. Hope I didn’t scare you off?”

Woods and Mason stared at you, Mason having distant amusement playing in his brown eyes as Woods non-subtly leaned towards Mason, a hand slightly covering his mouth.

“Careful Mason,” Woods falsely whispered as he eyed you with suspicion. “We have a rabid fan on our hands.”

“I think she can hear you,” Mason didn’t try to whisper but it didn’t matter as Woods suddenly snorted as he crossed his arms.

“Listen here, Bell. The last thing that’s gonna scare us is someone who got excited about seeing us like we were the fucking—what is it these days? Someone gimme a hand.”

“You talking about bands?” Lazar questioned, Woods nodding as he glanced behind to where the dark skinned man stood by his desk, Lazar staring up in thought. “There’s Fleetwood Mac still going on.”

“Not like how the Beatles was going on,” Woods answered, a little too seriously as you fought a smile while Mason moved and leaned against the evidence board.

“Hear there’s growing popularity with AC/DC and Kiss. They’ve been on the radio a lot lately.”

Woods swiped his hand back and forth as he made a sound of disgust.

“You comparing us to those guys that look like they came out of hell, Mason? What do we look like?”

“I think it fits,” Adler dryly stated, clicking his lighter on to light his cigarette. Woods telling Adler he’s not helping as Park came by next to you with a hand to her hip.

“If demons don’t work, there’s always the Queen. And I’m not talking about the one I serve.”

“Queen is pretty good,” Sims said from behind, “but you guys had to have heard that new song Celebration by the Kool and the Gang. That shit hits.”

“Whichever!” Woods turned towards you asking you how exactly you know about them, you answering honestly that you read up on them on the computer. Seeing no point in hiding it as Woods gave a vicious grin towards you. “Well, aren’t you a nosy little shit. You always read up on everybody?” You were once again honest, saying you like to be thorough with everything but you only had a brief description to go off about them. Whatever secrets they may have is safe with them. Woods sniffed, slightly backing off and Mason appeared to have relaxed his shoulders. “A nosy shit with manners at least. And balls to say all of that to our faces despite what you read.”

True, if you did not know Woods and Mason. Despite that one time where you truly felt their intimidating aura on you, once you get to know them, they’re softies that are loyal. Even with Woods barbed and vulgar words and Mason always observing quietly behind with an assessing look in his eyes, you know they’re shields. Walls. To help with whatever occurred before—just like everyone else here.

And, just like there’s walls. . .

“There’s no innocence here,” you answered, shrugging with a bitter smile.

Woods stared at you for a moment before guffawing, pointing in your direction as he turned to face Adler who stared at you behind his shades as he inhaled his addiction.

“Where’d ya find her, Adler?” Woods asked, before than flapping his hand. “Answer that later. I need food and to knock the fuck out for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You repeated, even though you already knew as Adler answered.

“Let’s go over the details briefly. You were right, Bell. Volkov talked.”

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You watched after the meeting how Woods moved, all loudness and an army in one body with the propriety of one would find in any soldier—none at all. Refreshing. Needed. Even though he looked at you strange when you offered to help with setting up his bed that was all dust and old in the storage room by the generator.

You wonder in the end, after the cliff, how Woods reacted after just saving you from a large sheet of metal debris. Is it naive thinking that he might’ve been mad?

You looked at Mason, more careful with your approach as you smiled softly at him while you gave him the quick rundown that everyone has a spot chosen for their work. That they could use the desk by where they put the projector if they want. Mason raising a brow at you but letting you once you wisely gave him his space.

Would Mason be furious? You were unlucky because you were under the wrong flag. You were born a Russian. If you weren’t than, maybe, they would’ve kept you like they did him.

Meanwhile, Adler—a gaze that never falters, and eyes that are all-seeing with how hawkish they could be, does he see(?)—observed you silently as you moved to and fro with an energy that wasn’t there before. And a smile that looks genuine. He sits back, and watches.

“Shame you were born in the wrong country.”

There’s a lot of shameful things that are tied to you. But like any good monster, any foolish Icarus, and any stupid girl—you’ll ignore them.

.

.

.

American pup—американский щеноk

American bitch—американская сука

You wish to be American, comrade—ты хочешь быть американцем товарищ

Demon—демон

I don't know if it's been too subtle--but Bell isn't exactly. . .mentally/emotionally healthy right now. Adler is just everywhere. But maybe Woods and Mason can help now by just being there.

I love those two a lot.

This Second Life of Bell is coming to a close soon, this has gone longer than planned but thank you for everyone that has been with me so far! ^///////^ Happy Late 6th Anniversary of Undertale that inspired this story's plot <3

I am having trouble contacting my beta due to Tumblr being stupid with messages. Maybe I can reach them here, please contact me on Discord under username: Animefreak1145 (Code #8517)

*PM me if you wish to be Tagged*

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[stanknotstark]

Truth Serum

Hello everyone! My name is Amber and I’m not new to writing however I am new to actually posting my writing but recently I really got back into Loki with all the trailers dropping and stuff and I’ve had so many ideas crossing my mind so I figured I’d write some of my ideas out and post them here! Honestly this is my first time writing for Loki so he might be a bit OOC until I really get him under my buckle! This piece doesn’t have a lot of Loki in it because I’m also testing out writing with more than two people getting focus so I apologize in advance but I’ll probably write the 2nd piece tomorrow where Loki confronts ‘you’. Enjoy! Gif not mine!

You had just finished sweeping and mopping in Tony’s lab because there was glass on the ground. The only abnormal thing was that there was opalescent liquid in-between all the broken glass, your guess was that it must have been in some vial for safe keeping meaning you should have been careful. 

Should. Key word right there.

Realizing you had gotten some of the mystical liquid on yourself you quickly finished up cleaning then found Tony who was visiting with Steve in the living room. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” You incessantly said in a sing song voice as you approached, “Heya, Stevo.”

“Look there was a broken vial in your lab and you know I was down there for my blueprints and while cleaning said broken glass the liquid might have touched my skin....”

Tony frowned and Steve’s eyes widened and looked at Tony.

“Listen just tell me if I’m dying or not?”

Tony stood there staring at your face for another few seconds before you literally saw the realization hit him like a bus. Tony smiled.

“You know I’ve always had this question in the back of my brain since you said your blueprints were apparently....’Only meant for clearance level 10s’ I think I remember you saying...”

You frowned at Tony and shrugged, “I mean...no one is level 10 so don’t be offended...What does that have to do with this?”

“What exactly are those precious blueprints?”

You were going to give a witty remark but suddenly it was like word vomit and you couldn’t stop the next words from flowing out of your mouth, “They’re a new helmet I’m making for Loki that include audio, kinda like headphones, so he can listen to his favorite Mid-guardian books while on missions with us.”

Tony smirked which then turned into a full on smile before letting out a laugh. Steve looked at you with a confused puppy look on his face. You, unfortunately, realized what that liquid was.

“Tony I swear to God if that liquid I touched was a truth serum I’m literally going to castrate you!”

Tony, still laughing, put his hands up in a surrendering way and shook his head.

“I’m not the one that decided to clean up a mysterious liquid in my lab, of all places, without proper cleaning gear!”

At this point everyone in the room was looking at you three. Natasha and Clint were on one couch in the living room, Loki sat with his legs criss cross, back to the window overlooking NYC, and Wanda and Vision sat on the opposite couch from Natasha and Clint. The only two missing were Thor and Bruce. Much to your luck as you looked around at everyone, you realized they all overheard Tony because they all had mischievous smirks crossing their faces.

“STOP! I’ll answer questions BUT nothing too personal please...” You said putting on your best puppy eyes and giving an exasperated sigh. Surprisingly enough you looked at your crush, Loki, and saw he was the only one without a mischievous smirk, for once. He did however put down the book he had been reading and instead had a focused look on his face as he played with the green magic floating between his hands. No one else paid him any mind though.

“Who’s your favorite Avenger?” Natasha shot out leaning back into the couch with a smirk.

“Tony.”

“YES!” Tony shouted pumping a fist into the air.

“Why?” Natasha asked.

“Because he’s like a dad to me, not to mention he makes us really cool gear meaning I don’t have to slave away in the lab by myself anymore.” You rolled your eyes as you finished the sentence. Tony beside you pulled you into a gut crushing hug and said, “Awe, FRIDAY can you put up adoption papers on my computer in the lab and set a reminder to fill them out later today?” 

“Tony, stop, God, you’re embarrassing.” You pushed from his hug, blushing. 

“For some reason I’m not really surprised.” Nat said shrugging. 

You giggled and made your way to the middle of the room, taking a seat in an available love seat, Tony and Steve coming to stand behind it. 

Next Wanda sat up with an excited look on her face and asked, “Who do you think is the strongest Avenger?” 

Thor walked in and gave a hearty chuckle, “Me, of course!”

“No, actually, I think it’s a tie between you, Wanda, and Loki.”

“What, no no, surely you’re mistaken, dear?” Thor said now chuckling nervously.

Steve smiled over to him and shrugged, “No, Thor, she accidentally touched a truth serum, this is as honest as she’ll ever be buddy.”

“Why am I one of the strongest Avengers?” Loki asked, his hands still playing with the magic but his complete attention on you.

“Your magic may not be on Wanda’s par, at least what I know about it, but you’ve endured quite the amount of emotion grief and came out on top so I guess I see you as the strongest, emotionally...” You finished with a wince since it kind of aired out Loki’s dirty laundry and was a bit mushy if you were being honest. Loki hummed but went back to focusing on his magic. 

Thor frowned then a happy look over took his face, “Are you in love with anyone in the room?”

“Whoa!”

“Thor!”

“Wait, Thor!”

You laughed out loud and let the answer go freely, unconsciously glancing back to Loki who wasn’t looking at you but had a raised brow and seemed to only be half focusing on the green magic cloud in his hands, “Yes.”

“Thor buddy that’s a bit personal.” Tony said, an eyebrow raised in a disappointed dad sort of way. 

“My apologies!” Thor said making his way to the kitchen, “I hear a Poptart calling my name, perhaps a smores today.”

“Is it fair to say we may ask questions about this love interest considering it’s one of us?” Vision asked with a vexed look on his face. 

Loki cleared his throat and everyone gave him attention, “Perhaps we should keep that as a restricted topic considering she did say nothing too personal?”

You weighed the pros and cons in your head, while you were nervous for Loki to find out it was him maybe this was the way to get it out in the open. Lord knows you would take advantage of it considering every time you spoke with Loki nowadays you turned into a blabbering mess and tended to leave every conversation read in the cheeks from fluster and embarrassment. 

“I don’t mind you asking questions but don’t out right ask me his name.” You said deciding to get this over with. 

“Well we can cut out Natasha and Wanda then.” Tony said catching onto you saying him. “Reindeer games what on Earth are you doing anyways?”

Loki glanced at Tony and smirked, “Nervous?”

Tony frowned and backed up a bit, “You know, I wasn’t but I am now...”

Loki chuckled and went back to focusing on his magic flowing freely between his fingers and pulsing between his hands now, “Nothing that will harm anyone, Stark, don’t get your britches in a bunch.” 

You smiled at Loki then looked around at everyone, “Ok, hit me!”

“I know you said don’t ask a name but you did just say Tony was a father figure I was hoping you didn’t...” Clint started and ended softly with fear in his eyes.

Seeing as it wasn’t a full question you didn’t feel word vomit coming up but decided to play around with Clint since he never ceased to prank you all the time.

“I might have a daddy kink...” You said looking up at Tony, trying your best to give him a lustful look but couldn’t hold in your laughter when Clint started gagging, “No, Clint, it’s not Tony.”

You laughed a bit when you heard Tony let out a heavy sigh of relief. You then brought a hand up and covered your giggle when Clint said a tiny, “Oh thank god.”

“I swear, it better not be Vision, he’s mine!” Wanda said suddenly with wide eyes.

“Not vision.” You responded. 

You could feel Tony’s fingers behind you rhythmically tapping on the leather love seat, showing his growing impatience. 

“It’s not Steve, Tony.” You said trying to placate the man since he had told you in confidence that he was trying to find a good way to ask the man out. 

“You realize that only leaves Clint...and me, right?” Loki said with an unsure smirk. You gave the man a smile and stood up. Loki had finally finished playing with his magic, halfway through you realized what he had been doing seeing as you felt the truth serum slowly letting up in you. He had finally worked out the chemicals from your system and you were back to normal. 

“Unfortunately I’m not outright telling you all who it is, if you haven’t been paying attention to me recently that’s on you.” You said before heading towards the kitchen, Loki still smirking as he watched you walk away.

“I feel a smores Poptart calling my name too.” 

After you had disappeared Clint cleared his throat and looked at Loki, “It’s totally me, sorry i mean have you seen these guns, Loki? You have nothing on me.”

Loki chuckled and picked his book back up, “I think I have more to offer than you think Clint, but keep telling yourself it’s you if it helps that mortal brain of yours sleep at night.”