+ the inability or struggle to say “no”, because disobedience meant punishment and you are used to being directed all the time
+ being unable to emotionally relate with your family (especially parents, if they are the abuser). concurring thoughts of “i won’t care if THEY die”, or “they won’t care if I die”
+ always afraid/hesitant to confide in someone else about feelings or thoughts, because you are used to being neglected/dismissed when you talk about your feelings, constantly being replied with “get over it”. the consequence of this is that the emotions/feelings pile up inside over time and, when you reach the limit, you suddenly become self-destructive or imminently violent/emotional
+ however, when given the chance to CONFIDE about your feelings with freedom confidently, everything spills out, even if it’s with a stranger or with someone you have not been in contact for very long.
+ you always assume that the answer to every question/statement you say is “no”, even if you definitely know the person is very likely to say “yes”. you prepare for denial and disappointment and feel a huge wave of relief when they say “yes”.
+ being secretive about enjoyment/liking things, or being secretive in what you’ve done for the day, even if it’s not deemed “bad” or “illegal”.
+ simultaneously confused whether you have affection towards your parent(s) or you hate them whole-heartedly, despite knowing that they abuse you. the confusion stems from “well, they’re my parent, so i think they’re doing this because they love me”, though the thought is, of course, false
+ being scared that people will only take advantage of you, as your parents consequently thought of you as an object to benefit from, and not someone to love.
+ being easily attached to others, because you had no parental figure. this can lead you to being easily manipulated and you are very easily controlled. children under parental abuse are also more likely to have “chosen families”.
+ having an “escape plan” or “last resort” if you still live with your parents, just in case they do something worse to you, thinking up of elaborate plans to get out, how you’ll survive, where you’ll stay, etc.
+ being surprised learning that other parents are unlike your parents, and having to have someone/a source to tell you that what your parents are doing is abusive, and as a child you thought it was normal to be unhappy at home.
+ liking school or days out because that meant being away from your parents
+ developing emotional/personality disorders and distorted thinking
I’VE BEEN HOLDING THIS THEORY SINCE MONSTER REUNION CAME OUT LIKE.. 8 MONTHS AGO, SO PLEASE PARDON ME IF I GET TO HYPED.
Ok so first of all let’s see what got ton of gems corrupted…
Centi tells Stevo that everyone was running away from something, and after that, it was all noise… “You heard something. From the sky, a sound. A song? And then…”
And this is also further handled on “Same Old World” where Lapis shows that everyone was running in a hurry out of the earth and because of that they leaved her on earth trapped in the mirror.
That looks like a light, sure, a blinding light, but what got me is when Centipeedle CLEARLY talks about SOUND and not LIGHT.
In the same episode, Garnet talks about how “It’s sort of like if MC Bear-Bear didn’t tear the fabric of his arm, but the fabric of his mind.”, so the nuke (let’s call it like that so is easier kie?) wasn’t spreading a kind of virus or something that messes with their body structure, aka, their light.
Now, back to an episode, season 1B, first Stevenbomb, “The message”.
What’s so important about it? I think is a lil picky, but re-watching season one it really got my attention the way Amethyst reacted to The Wailing Stone
At first it was kind of just covering her ears and being a lil moody, but time passed and there was a point where she was getting desperate.
(weirdly, Garnet and Pearl seems kind of okay, but that may be because they are in general more resistant, i think)
And you see, for the ones who don’t know, sound is basically waves that travel through matter, a constant and loud sound can get to the point of physically hurting you.
Actually, one of the discovering that Nikola Tesla did was that, with vibrations, you could make something shake, and if it was constant and strong enough, it would break, it’s exactly what earthquakes do! and guess what, sound is, in fact, vibrations!.
Now, the most common experiment about this is putting some sort of glass and turning the volume slowly as loud as possible, after a moment the vibrations would be so much that it basically shatters.
What does this has to do with gem corruption? as I said before, sound needs MATTER to “travel around”, so OF COURSE they couldn’t make the bomb attack from space as a sound!, thats where the light makes the job.
You see, light is also waves that travel around, thing is, light doesn’t need a medium to travel, so Homeworld basically found a way to make a light explosion, turn it into sound, and attempt to shatter the gems in that way.
But how did they turned the light into sound? Waving stones.
You see, in Gem Hunt we get a pretty short view of what is possibly a HUGE waving stone.
Homeworld probably put them all around the world so they would make the sound travel without problem, the original waving stones where probably little and used to send messages from homeworld/space to earth (Like Lapis did),but then they found out that they could use it for shattering gems, their plan was basically use “vibrations to break glass” but in a massive way.
So, why didn’t the gems shattered? they… kind of did! Corruption is basically their “light forms” shattered, its like the noise didn’t exactly broke the gem, but broke the coding of the gem, corrupted it, like when someone messes with the data of a video game and it gets all glitchy! they shattered their data, their “brains”.
Of course, they didn’t literally SHATTERED them, but having in mind that Homeworld made the cluster experiments with Crystal Gems (As Garnet says explicitly) then it was probably a way to prove their weapons again. They basically used their enemies, the rebels, as lab-rats, to see if their massive weapon would work, just like the cluster.
Homeworld pretty much tortured the gems with a screeching, loud and constant sound long enough to shatter their light forms.
Fire - sit down and relax. Let pure universal energy enter through the top of your head and let it connect with your own life force. Once it’s connected and working together imagine a small flame spreading from the inside of you. It can start anywhere you’d like, the center of your stomach, your head, your palms, your legs, anywhere that feels comfortable. This is not a fire that destroys and burns, this is a pleasant fire that makes you feel loved and warm. Once you’ve set yourself on fire, once you’ve felt the flame all around and inside your body, slowly let it spread on the inside of your house. This can be done with a slow small flame, or a violent huge one. Just let everything burn, imagine the fires cleansing properties burning away all the nastiness inside your house. Imagine ashes flying everywhere, and all the negativity burning away into nothingness once it’s been touched by the flames.
Water - sit down and relax. Let pure universal energy enter through the top of your head and let it connect with your own life force. Once it’s connected and working together imagine yourself as a fluid body. See and feel the cool refreshing touch of water on your body. Feel the fluidity inside yourself. Then imagine huge water, huge waves, flooding your house, pushing everything it comes in contact with. Let it mess up your house. See this water, running from one door to another, flooding everything, and destroying everything just like a tsunami would. Imagine this pure, clean and clear water gathering all the negativity in itself, taking it away with her. When you’re done, imagine one window or more, or a door open in your house and let the water go away.
sit down and relax. Let pure universal energy enter through the top of your head and let it connect with your own life force. Once it’s connected and working together imagine huge roots bursting through your floor, intertwining all around your body. Once they’ve intertwined imagine them giving birth to flowers while all around you. Imagine these intertwined roots going all around the walls, the windows, your mirrors, your table, your bed. Imagine beautiful moist soil pouring out of the holes left by the roots. Imagine this soil filling up your house, gathering in itself all that is no longer needed and negative. Imagine transforming that negativity into something beautiful. Imagine the poisonous bad energies transforming into love and light inside the earth. Once they’ve transformed imagine this earth giving birth to more beautiful light green roots, leaves, and the most beautiful flowers you’ve ever seen. Let your whole house fill up with these beautiful flowers and roots, replenishing everything in your house. Feel the flowery scent all around you. When you’re done imagine all these roots and earth slowly going back into the whole where they came from, leaving everything intact but cleansed and fresh.
sit down and relax. Let pure universal energy enter through the top of your head and let it connect with your own life force. Once it’s connected and working together imagine violent winds forcing their way in your house through the window.
Imagine these winds entering and bursting through like a hurricane through your house. Even though they are violent, they are here to help and leave everything in a better place.They’re coming straight for you. They start whirling around you, you can feel it’s pleasant coolness on your skin.
You can hear the sounds of the wind.
They are so strong, yet so caring and pleasant. As they whirl harder and stronger around you, they lift you up in the air, whirling even harder than before. Now, imagine them turning to the rest of your house. Imagine them leaving a mess wherever they touch. All of your notebooks are in the air, your tarot cards are flying everywhere, your clothes go all around the place, your crystals fly from one wall to another. Let these fresh and cool winds clean your place. Once you’re done, imagine these winds leaving through the window they came from.
Request from my fave @i-am-the-luna for a Jax x Reader using the following prompts:
#10 - “I’m gonna kill him!”
#58 - “Well this is a nice change of scenery.” “____, we’re in a prison cell.” “I was being sarcastic.”
You pace the cage, Jax sitting calmly on the bench, an amused smile on his face as he watches you.
See, today had started out wonderful. So wonderful in fact, that you decided to head to the clubhouse with Jax and see if Gemma needed any help at TM.
Long story short, some bitch had come in to get her car serviced, though you were pretty sure she was just there to drool and flirt with Jax. You’d obviously not taken to that kindly, and when said bitch started to run her mouth, you’d punched her straight in the face.
She called the cops, one of the officers grabbed you a little too roughly for Jax’s liking, which then led to him punching said officer in the face - you and Jax both having the same low tolerance for bullshit - and now the two of you were being held hostage in a fucking cell. Great.
“Well this is a nice change of scenery.” Jax breaks the silence, you stopping your pacing to glare at your cellmate. He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, a teasing look on his face.
“Jax, we’re in a prison cell.” you deadpan, holding your arms up around you to gesture to your current surroundings. He smirks at you, rolling his eyes, his hands coming to rest on his thighs as he pushes himself upwards.
“I was being sarcastic.” You raise your eyebrows, his laid back exterior slowly cracking through your stressed one, a smile making its way onto your face. He reaches you, pulling you by the belt loops until you’re right in front of him, your palms resting on his chest.
“I’m sure after the second or third time of being locked up, I’ll be calmer.” you jest, Jax’s arms slipping around your waist and resting on your ass in a protective way. “Just let me freak out for my first time.”
He hums, leaning down to share a gentle kiss, your eyes slipping shut he does so. Once he pulls away, he moves his hands to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “My apologies, babe. I sometimes forget what a good girl you are.”
“Damn, I bet she is.” you jump at the sound of company, Jax moving you aside and going closer to the bars, the police officer from earlier on the other side, a painful bruise forming on his cheekbone.
“What did you say?” Jax spits, his figure tall as he stares down the officer. The man just smirks, his eyes moving to you as they trail up and down your body, your skin crawling as he does so. Creep.
“I bet she’s really good with orders, hm? You know what they say, a lady in the streets is a freak in the sheets.” You scoff in disgust, knowing this man is just trying to push Jax’s buttons, and he’s definitely going to succeed. “Bet she’s real good with her tongue.”
“You better shut the fuck up before I reach through these bars and shove my fist down your throat.” Jax growls, his tone overflowing with venom. You rub your hand up and down his back soothingly, trying to calm him down.
“Bet she’s nice and tight, wet too. That true, sweetheart?” you scoff in disgust, feeling Jax shaking out of anger. He grabs at the bars, the officer flinching as Jax yanks at the metal, anger radiating off him in huge waves.
“I swear to god, I’m gonna slit your goddamn throat, remember that.” The look of terror on the man’s face is hilarious, and you’d laugh if the tensions weren’t so high.
“We alright here, gentleman?” you breathe a sigh of relief when Unser interrupts, a set of keys in his hand. His officer coughs nervously, before scampering out of sight.
After Unser cuts you two loose, the whore intelligently deciding not to press charges and Unser managing to let Jax off with a warning, you wait outside the station for your ride.
“I’m gonna kill him!” Jax yells suddenly, before he takes a drag from his cigarette, the nicotine failing to lower his vexation.
“Hey,” you push off the wall you’re leaning against, moving to stand in front of Jax. “Don’t let him get to you. He just said those things to piss you off.”
He shakes his head in defiance, his lip curling as he replays the confrontation over and over in his mind. There is nothing that gets him angrier than people disrespecting his family, especially you.
“It fucking worked, and once I get my hands on him, he’ll have more than a sore cheek to worry about.” Jax seethes, throwing his cig to the floor. He sits on the wall, pulling you gently to stand in between his legs.
You comb your fingers through his hair, knowing it helps calm him, his eyes slipping shut as you tug softly at his locks. “You’re my girl, (Y/N). I’m always gonna look after you, you know that right?”
You smile warmly at his confession, nodding in confirmation as he looks up at you. “And me, you.”
A/N - I hope you guys liked this! These requests are making it so much easier to write, I like knowing what you guys want to read :) till next time! X
The last place Clarke expected to run into anyone she knows is the literal middle of the ocean, but the cruise ship has barely left port before she spots a familiar head of tousled curls ahead of her in the crowd.
She loses sight of him before she can get a good look, so she chalks it up to her imagination. It’s entirely possible that Bellamy is on the same cruise she is– they did, after all, both just graduate, and therefore have the same budget and scheduling constraints– but she tells herself it probably isn’t him. And that even if it is him, it’s not like they’re going to run into each other.
So of course the next day she’s on one of the decks by the pool when a shadow falls over her and his voice says, “Is this chair taken?”
Clarke pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and wrinkles her nose at him.
“I don’t know, I my tiara really ought to have a chair of its own.”
Bellamy smirks and sits on the edge of the chair, not moving her stuff– not yet– but settling in to bicker with her. As is their custom.
She and Bellamy were RAs in the same dorm two years ago, and they had differing ideas at first about how hands-on they needed to be with their freshmen. Despite the way they picked at each other, by the end of the year they’d become reluctant allies, his calling her ‘Princess’ taking on less of a sneer and more of a teasing edge, her comebacks laced with a smile. They had each other’s backs.
But she didn’t re-up her RA contract for her senior year, and he did, and they’re not the type of friends to outright admit they miss each other, so she hasn’t seen nearly as much of him in the past couple of semesters as she would like.
“You here with Wells?”
“And Raven,” she nods. “I was saving those seats for them, but I’m pretty sure they ditched me to have tiny cabin sex.”
“O and Lincoln ditched me pretty fast too. I think they’ve all forfeited their right to a saved seat,” he grins, passing her bag back to her. The way he lounges back in the chair, skin already browning, wind ruffling his hair, he looks like something straight out of an ad. Or Clarke’s fantasies. Either one, really.
Just because she used to think he was a Class-A dick (which he is, but not in the way she thought. In the fun way.) doesn’t mean she’s never noticed how great his hands are, or how he’s got perfect hair for pulling, or how there’s probably more than one way to wipe a smirk off his face.
“Sure, make yourself at home,” she grumbles. He grins at her and pulls his shirt off, which is– honestly just so unfair.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget how happy I was to see Garrus in ME2. I never really paid much attention to him in ME1 and didn’t see what the fuss was about, but then I did the Archangel mission and got it instantly. I think for me, that was one of the most standout moments in the ME Trilogy when it came to connecting with Shepard - it genuinely felt like a huge wave of comfort to see such a friendly face in amidst of all the scary and unfamiliar shit that was going on.
Fast Firsts and Sloppy Seconds (a Manorian/Rowaelin AU)
NOTE: This is a piece very near and dear to my heart!! Welcome to my very first TOG fic, and second fic overall! This is kind of a celebration of hitting 100 followers, and kind of a celebration of ACOWAR, but first and foremost, this is a gift for my girl @highlady-casandra. You’re pretty cool, I guess and I love you so so much but you already knew that <3 but also I really hope you’re sleeping right now or we’ll have to fight Second, it goes to to my fellow Revolutionaries,
@miladyaelin@snaps7@jxmessjrjuspottcr@throneofstars@fictionalcharactersaremyreality, y’all are the true heroes ;) Third, for @propshophannah, my favorite SJM blog and one of my favorite writers for this fandom, who is a hero in her own right for a million reasons. Thanks for existing. Last but not least, this one’s this is for all of you guys reading it!! I hope you enjoy, and I hope I didn’t butcher them too bad! ( @meabhd You’re a queen and amazing artist and I hope I didn’t butcher your accent/country too much :/ ) Without further ado, here we go!
Dorian and Aelin burst into the small lively Irish pub. Well, “burst” was kind of a strong word, considering how bogged down they were by their huge backpacks. The two friends had decided to travel across Europe after their college graduation. It was supposed to be a group of them, but they’d lost Lys and Aedion back in Italy. Chaol was supposed to meet them in Dublin – but that was if they ever made it there. The huge storm had come out of nowhere, and their flight had been redirected. Aelin had insisted they try to catch a ferry to continue on to Dublin – but when the huge waves had almost flipped over the boat, she conceded, and they were dropped off on the beach in some other part of Ireland. Trudging up the long hill, they finally came to the bustling pub – the only awake part of the small sea town. Gasping for breath and dripping wet, they glanced around for an empty table in the crowded bar, and spotted a couple getting up in the corner. They quickly grabbed the table before anyone else had a chance, pulling the massive weights off of their backs and flopping into the hard wooden chairs.
They could feel the heat of the packed pub seeping into their bodies. Groups of people danced around, producing more and more warmth as they jumped and whirled to the tune of the lively reel. The band in the corner looked like they’d been playing for a while, empty beer bottles scattered around their feet as they played.
They took a few minutes to settle down – wringing the water out of their soaked shirts. Aelin was running a hand through her long blonde hair, trying to untangle the wet tresses, when Dorian shook his head at her like a dog, spraying water everywhere. It was at this moment that the waitress walked over, a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face as she watched Aelin smack him repeatedly.
She stopped quickly when she noticed the gorgeous girl. A tray was balanced against her hip, and she had a long, messy white braid over one shoulder, along with a wicked grin on her bright red lips. “Name’s Manon,” she drawled, her Irish accent washing over them. “What can I get you lot?”
Dorian cleared his throat, quickly running a hand through his hair in an effort to look presentable. He began to stumble over his words as his eyes ran over her lithe, muscular body. “I – uh – we – do you have any, um, menus?”
She snorted, raising an eyebrow at the boy. No – man. He was in his early twenties at least. Her eyes quickly flashed to his flexing muscles as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. He was broad, tall, and all around gorgeous. His bright blue eyes avoided hers as she watched him squirm under her golden gaze. “Aye, o’ course lad, would you like some gold rimmed plates, too? What d’you think this is? A palace, princeling?” She rolled her eyes, scowling at the gorgeous man. Why was it always the pretty ones that were like this?
“I’ll take a Guiness –”Aelin’s cool voice cut in, as Dorian struggled to regain his composure. “And some food. We’re both starving.”
“Aye, and soaked through the bone,” Manon mumbled, glancing at their wet clothes. She let out a deep sigh as she crossed her impossibly long legs. “I’ll see what the boys can dig up – kitchen’s supposed to close any minute now.”
The full weight of her golden gaze turned back to Dorian, a smirk on her face as she watched him startle under the attention. “Anything else I can get you, princeling?”
He cleared his throat and narrowed his stormy blue eyes as he forced a smirk on his face. “A double shot of whiskey, please.” He winked at her then, feeling the bravery re-enter his voice. “Need something to help warm me up.”
“Aye,” she smirked, “and some of that Irish courage will do you good, as well.”
With that, she turned, making her way back to the bar. He couldn’t help but stare at her enticing hips as they moved from side to side. Just like she’d wanted him to.
He was cute, this American boy. Kind of ridiculous, but cute.
Soon enough she was back with their drinks, shot Dorian some heated looks, and was off again. He wasn’t usually a one night stand kind of guy, in most situations. But for her? For her he’d make an exception. Miles of long legs were barely covered by a pair of ripped jean shorts. She had on a loose red t-shirt, further accenting her bright red lips. Yet, even in the simple outfit, she looked like a queen. His queen.
Aelin rolled her eyes watching Dorian eye-fuck the white-haired beauty. Aelin thought she was kind of a bitch, but Dorian never listened to her opinions on his conquests. He was usually more of a relationship guy, but she could tell that this time he just didn’t care. And she wasn’t drunk enough to put up with his shenanigans.
With a heavy sigh, she stood up from her seat to get another drink. Dorian barely paid her any attention as his eyes followed the waitress, watching her float from table to table, laughing heartily as she flirted with everyone, lighting up the room with her smile.
Aelin stepped up to the bar, the barkeep nowhere to be found. She eyed the empty seat in the corner and decided to take it right as she noticed someone else about to make a move. It’s not like Dorian was much better company. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair, still wet from the rain. She’d opted to keep her soaked sweatshirt on, wearing nothing but a small tank top underneath. But between the grossly wet fabric against her skin and the heat of the pub, she was leaning closer and closer to taking the damn thing off. Finally, she gave in, ripping off the soaking wet hoodie. And of course, this was the moment the barkeep chose to arrive.
Rowan Blackthorn couldn’t help but watch, shell-shocked, as the blonde beauty pulled the dark sweatshirt off of her curvy torso. As if the barely-there lace tank top wasn’t bad enough, it slowly slipped up her body as she struggled with the sweatshirt. And there, in that moment, he knew he was absolutely fucked. He cleared his throat as he stepped up across from her, averting his eyes.
“What can I get you, lass?” His voice was a soft sensual rumble, but she couldn’t really properly enjoy it in her struggle.
“Right now,” she grunted, “a hand would be nice.” He winced at the fact that he was completely and totally about to begin his descent into hell, and reached over to pull the girl’s sweatshirt off.
She was suddenly greeted by six feet and four inches of pure muscle. She wasn’t exactly short, but the bartender towered over her. His short white hair was cut close to his head. Gaelic tattoos trailed down half of his face and one of his arms,clearly showing off his heritage. His bright green eyes caught her gaze, and she found herself unable to look away. “Um, thanks,” she mumbled, reaching to grab the sweatshirt that he was holding out to her.
They stood there then, just like that, watching each other. He took in her wet blonde hair that fell just to her shoulders, and her tight light pink tank top. At least it wasn’t see-through. Then he would have definitely lost it.
“Y’know,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood, “normally I don’t let guys undress me until after I’ve learned their name.”
He snorted at that. “Is that all it takes with you, then?” Shit. He couldn’t stop himself. The words were already out, but he’d immediately regretted them. Well, that was that, he supposed.
She narrowed her eyes at the man. As pretty as he might be, she wouldn’t put up with any bullshit he was presenting her with. “Give me another Guiness,” she snapped. He raised an eyebrow before turning around to grab it without another word. He pulled the cap of the beer straight off with his hands, the asshole. The muscles in his arms tensed and relieved as he accomplished it, and Aelin just about died.
It was in this moment that Manon sauntered over, two plates in hand. “Are you goin’ back t’yer boyfriend there, or are you stayin’ over here?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she scowled, reaching out a hand for one of the two plates. “On a good day he’s my friend. Right now though, he’s my pain in the ass. So yeah, I’ll eat over here.” Manon smirked as Aelin finally accepted the Guiness Rowan had been holding out.
She walked away, an extra bounce in her step as she once again made her way to Dorian. Aelin rolled her eyes at the predatory smirk that was growing on her friend’s face. It looked like he’d found his footing fast enough. She turned back to her beer, and the asshole of a bartender.
He’d begun to clean a glass, obviously trying to look anywhere but at her. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and turning her attention to her meal.
Rowan was a fucking idiot. Yeah, Rowan. Great idea. Get the gorgeous girl to like you by insulting her. That always works. Then again, he was sort of out of practice. And more than that, she was only here for, what, a day? Two maximum? He was willing to bet the storm had rolled her in, and she’d be leaving as soon as it was over. Slowly shaking his head, he sighed. Rowan didn’t have time for more attachments to beautiful women who were just going to leave. So maybe being an asshole was a good idea.
Except then he heard the moan slip out of her mouth. And every logical thought left his head as his entire body stiffened at the sound.
“God,” she sighed, “who the hell is your cook, and can I marry him?”
Rowan cleared his throat, straining to talk as her husky voice just played over and over in his head.
He was in such deep, unending shit.
“We have two cooks,” he grumbled, trying to prevent his voice from cracking as he watched her lick her fingers, unable to look away.
His words ran away from him as he watched her dip her soda bread in the Irish Stew and take a large bite, letting out another long, low moan. “Please tell me whichever one made this stew is single.”
A low growl built in his throat, the sight much too sensual to bear. That moan. However good that stew was, it couldn’t taste nearly as delicious as he was sure she did. What he wouldn’t give to have her thighs around his head, how she would moan then –
He grit his teeth, shook his head, and forced himself to look away, discretely adjusting his pants as he once again tried and failed to regain his composure. At the sound of bickering voices coming up behind him, Rowan let out a small sigh of relief. Saved by the devils.
“Fenrys, Connal!” He called behind him, welcoming the distraction. And then he remembered what she was wearing. And that he’d been an asshole. And that she had wanted to marry one of the two idiots. And suddenly regretted everything. “You have an admirer,” he ground out. He hesitated, cautiously glancing at Aelin once again as she slowly enjoyed the bread, her eyes closed and a soft smile on her face. He began to smile as well, and then stopped, scowling instead. Remember. Lyria. With that thought in his head, he stormed down the walkway behind bar to go pour some other drinks.
Aelin opened her eyes at the sound of the barkeep stomping away. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the tightness of his pants against what she assumed was his equally tight ass. Dear god. She quickly looked away, chastising herself. She shouldn’t pine after what she knew she couldn’t have. She didn’t even know his name.
It was then that she found the twins stepping up to her behind the bar. Both were well-built, with gorgeous dark eyes, and deep tans to their skin. They seemed older than the barkeep. The one on the left was easily the most beautiful man she’d seen in her life. He had long golden hair and a mischievous grin on his lips, easily accompanying his onyx eyes that held her favorite kind of sinful promises. The other was just as beautiful, though with long dark hair, and thoughtful dark eyes. He seemed calmer – more melancholy in a way. The dark to the other’s light. Though for some reason, neither could compare to the bartending buzzard.
She took a sip of her beer and grinned at the twins who were eyeing her just the same. The blond was unashamedly appreciating her figure under the tank top, offering her a wolfish grin, hinting that cooking wasn’t the only thing he was good at doing with his hands. Meanwhile the dark-haired twin simply stepped back, leaning against the bar and rolling his eyes at his brother’s behavior.
“Name’s Fenrys,” the blond purred, holding out a large hand for her to shake. She took it slowly, feeling the calluses in his palm as her eyes met the heat in his.
“Aelin.” She smiled coolly, dropping his hand and returning to the stew, feigning aloofness. She could eat politely when she wanted to. And now that the beautiful barkeep wasn’t around, she had no reason not to. She almost laughed thinking back to his attempts at discretely readjusting his pants. As though his lust for her wasn’t entirely obvious. I hope you hate every minute of it, she thought, glaring at his gorgeous broad back.
“So,” Fenrys drawled, dragging her attention back to him. “Is our dear cousin Rowan treating you well? Irish hospitality and all that?”
Rowan. Gorgeous name for a gorgeous man. Her eyes followed him as he poured out shots for a group of boys who looked just barely legal. Then she dragged them back to Fenrys, and lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, her face entirely blank. “Well enough, I suppose.” She took another small bite of the stew, even though all she really wanted was to devour it.
“You know,” Fenrys murmured, his fingers lightly playing with the tips of hers, “I could certainly treat you very well, if you’d let me.”
She drew her hand away from his and placed it under her chin, raising a single eyebrow at his forwardness.
“Since I’m not a dog, I doubt you’ll be surprised to hear I don’t respond well to treats. Though since I’m not entirely certain you’re not a dog, unless you’d like me to rip off your balls so you can play fetch, I suggest you leave me alone.”
Connall barked out a laugh as Fenrys staggered back, an incredulous look on his face. A surprised laugh escaped his lips as he stepped away, reaching for the whiskey and mumbling to himself about crazy American women.
It was at this moment that Rowan walked back over, an aggravated look on his face. He should’ve been relieved that she’d probably already agreed to sleep with Fenrys, but for whatever reason, all he felt was a quiet stifling rage. His shoulder rammed into his cousin’s as he passed by him, stepping up next to Connall.
“Congratulations,” Connall grinned at her, “it’s not often a lass sends my brother off with his tail between his legs.” The two chuckled at the joke between them, Aelin finally smiling again as Rowan stood there, confused.
“What happened to your betrothed?” He bit out, defensive, not allowing himself to hope for what was too good to be true.
Aeliln’s smile turned sensual as her eyes once again roamed over his muscular frame. The heat in them almost burned him as they finally met his once again. “Turns out he wasn’t my type. Too easy.” A smirk spread on her lips as Rowan flinched. Connall chuckled again and began to walk away, clapping Rowan on the shoulder. “This one’s all yours, cousin. Good luck.” He winked at him and continued into the kitchen, finally ready to clean up for the night.
She took a few more bites of her stew, and Rowan went back to methodically cleaning his bar.
He wished he could say he’d forgotten she was there. But he hadn’t. Even with his back turned to her, he could feel her behind him, burning him with her gaze, and then it was almost as if her moans were ringing in his ears again. With a low groan, he wiped down the bar harder, angrily scrubbing.
A mischievous grin stretched across her lips, entirely aware of the affect she had on him. He’s going to sleep with me tonight, and he’s going to like it. And then we’ll see who’s the easy one. She ignored the small voice in her head that pointed out the fact that she would no doubt more than like it as well.
“So, Rowan,” she purred, placing both elbows on the bar and leaning her chin on her intertwined fingers, “tell me about yourself.”
After holding for hours while I babysat, I was finally able to rush home 😳 When I got there I figured I could hold just a liiiitle bit longer, pretending I was holding in public while looking for a potty. I couldn’t help a couple of leaks 💧, but kept telling myself I could hold on. Eventually a huge wave got the best of me and a big squirt became a little trickle that I just couldn’t cut off 😖💧💧, making me weak until I had an uncontrollable accident in my panties and jeans 😫💦💦💦
It was so rare that you’d be
granted two days off in a row. You’d been working so much lately that you felt
blessed to have a day off period. And since you’d already promised to spend one
of those days with your beloved boyfriend Yoongi, you’d decided to spend the
other relaxing with a bit of retail therapy. With all the work you’d been doing
you certainly had the money for it, and it wasn’t like you got to shop very
Seoul had so many nice shopping
districts and you had been to a lot of them, but there was one that you hadn’t
gone to yet, and after spending most of the morning and afternoon there you
decided it was your favorite so far. You were so enthralled with the
experience, in fact, that you didn’t notice the darkening skies.
You stepped out of the makeup
shop with yet another shopping bag in your hands when a raindrop landed square
on your nose. You looked up and noticed the dark, rolling clouds as yet another
raindrop fell on your cheek. The wind was picking up, and the rain was coming
down much more steadily now– and here you were out in the middle of Seoul,
arms weighed down with shopping bags and no umbrella.