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#A Scandal in Brooklyn
thereadingcafe · 2 years
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readtilyoudie · 3 months
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“‘What big teeth you have,’ the girl said next. To which the wolf answered, ‘the better to eat you with.’” Vincent snarled and seized her shoulders.
Heat flared low in her body at his touch. Lydia shivered as she looked up at him. A trick of the moonlight made his teeth appear sharp and deadly. A gasp tore from her throat as he lunged forward. For a moment it seemed he was going to bite her.
She wanted him to.
Instead, his lips caressed her neck as he whispered, “Then the wolf swallowed her whole.”
Liquid tremors wracked her form. She reached up to cling to his shoulders, to beg for more. Vincent stepped back, leaving her to grasp at the air.
Shielding her embarrassment at her reaction, she managed a small giggle. He’d only been telling a story, after all. “In the version my mother told me, the girl got away.”
“Yes, that would be best.” His voice sounded rough. “She should get away.” 
One Bite Per Night (Scandals with Bite, #2) by Brooklyn Ann
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Right but important question does London Spot use they/them or was it used to refer Brooklyn Newsies as a collective not to spoil the big fucking surprise in Brooklyn Here
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solo-ojo-jojo · 2 years
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Santa Ana Winds - Ch 6 (Chenford Fanfic) Teaser in GIFs
The Rookie Fanfiction | Chenford | WIP | Word count 21.8 K Rated M | Friends to Lovers | AU - canon divergence starting 4x01 + Future Fic
A preview of what to expect in the next chapter of Santa Ana Winds in 10 GIFs (or photos) or less.
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Phot credit: Eric Winter Instagram @ebwinter
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Gif credits: proboards Witches of East End
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Photocredit: @corinnestark
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Most of these gifs/photos were credited or linked in the image, but if they're not, I found them on giphy. I've I've made an error and you were not credited for your work, please let me know.
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sunnymenagerie · 1 year
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Brooklyn Nets Hire Ime Udoka
Brooklyn Nets Hire Ime Udoka
The Brooklyn Nets just passed up on a golden opportunity to steal one of the best coaches in the NBA from the Celtics. Here’s why: Last season, rookie head coach Ime Udoka took the reins of the Celtics from longtime coach Brad Stevens. By the midway point of the year, the Celtics had a drab 18-21 record, with Udoka earning himself a position in the hot seat. But suddenly, Udoka became a leader of…
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myfunkybdaytv · 2 years
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R.Kelly sues Brooklyn jail
R.Kelly sues Brooklyn jail
R.Kelly sues Brooklyn jail (more…)
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sunlightmurdock · 8 months
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Power and Control | Prologue, Part 1 | Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)
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masterlist | prologue pt 2
chapter moodboard | recommended listening
As an unwanted birthday and an important launch approaches, Jake meets his match.
warnings: infidelity. age gap (20s/40s). sugar daddy relationship. scandal. one-sided pining. drama drama drama. SMUT. This content is intended for those 18+ and over, minors dni
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New York City, the beginning of January. Four days after the New Year, to be exact. Jake steps outside into the increasingly familiar arctic chill of the city air, his breath clouding in front of him as he pulls his phone from the black trench coat hugging his body. His free hand dips into the pocket on the other side, curling around the keys of his rental.
Nadine: *image attatched*
Nadine: Troublemakers talked me into letting them snuggle while daddy’s away.
Jake’s lips quirk upwards. He examines the image on his phone, knowing damn well that those kids insist on sleeping in that bed even when he is there. The picture is taken from the foot of his bed. His children are curled up amongst the pillows, sprawled out impressively far along the length of the custom XL king bed.
Jake’s oldest, his son Cade is laying flat on his front with his face mashed into the pillow. He’s five now, and looking more and more like Jake every day. Tanned skin, green eyes, blonde hair and his wife’s impressively long, dark lashes.
His daughter is about as far as she could get from her brother. Adeline — Addie-Bear — she’s laying the wrong way, lengthways along the bed with her foot pressed into Cade’s stomach, her thumb in her mouth and her pink rabbit tucked up under her arm. She’s turning three next week. She’s Jake’s shadow when he’s home. It’s normally his stomach that her foot’s pressed into.
He taps away at the little keyboard on the screen, that smile lingering on his lips. It’s only 6am back there — she’s up early, and Jake knows why. The same thing she’s been up all hours of the night since November.
Jake: Missing one?
His phone vibrates with another text. Another picture. This time, it’s his wife — Nadine. Dean. She’s wearing a thin-strapped camisole, looking at him through her dark lashes with those big blue eyes, her hair tied back in a neat bun. Cradled against her chest and latched onto one nipple is their youngest. Elliott. Their oops baby, a product of the celebration of Jake’s skyrocket entry into the Forbes’ 300, born on November 12th.
He looks like her. His hair’s dark like hers and his cheeks are pink like hers. Jake’s got two just like him already, he hopes that this one’s all hers. He’s been hoping for more and more of her from the second he met her.
Jake exhales softly, the chill nipping at his cheeks and his ears. He lifts his gaze to the electric skyline, thinking of his family back there outside of Austin, a clear sky of stars.
Jake: Be back before you know it. Hope to find every single one of you in bed and ready to snuggle.
He slips his phone back into his pocket and turns his attention back to the sky. He just stepped out of his hotel, ready to begin the day. Today is the biggest day of his career so far. Well, it’s not — but it feels like it is. People keep telling him it is. Truthfully, ever since he blinked his eyes open this morning and took a look out over the Central Park view, his chest has been feeling tighter and tighter.
In two days, his Brooklyn office is opening. The East Coast launch of his company. Investors, parties, rooftop bars, he’s going to have a busy couple of days. Which is why he has opted to take these few extra moments for himself.
In seventeen hours, Jake turns forty-two. This date has been creeping up on him for a while now, he figured he would get used to the idea at some stage. So far, all he feels about the nearing birthday is dread. Chest-tightening, dark feeling, dread.
Luckily, he doesn’t have a lot of time to wallow in that.
The Rolls Royce in the parking garage is rented, but Jake’s got one the same sitting in the garage back home. The leather feels familiar but the smell is off. His kid hasn’t accidentally punctured an entire can of febreeze in this car, and honestly, he kind of misses the overwhelming scent of Forest Pine every time he opens the door.
He misses everything about home. He misses Nadine’s cooking, and her laugh, and her blow jobs. There haven’t been many of those recently. Even before Elliott. It’s not her either, Nadine hasn’t ever been the problem. She wants him just as much as he wants her.
Jake’s the problem. It’s just that with two kids who come crawling into their bed at all hours of the night, he finds it a little hard to trust that one of them isn’t just going to burst into the room at any minute.
And he travels so much. He’s away so often that by the time he gets home, he usually passes out in the guest room just so that he can actually get some sleep for once. He hasn’t ever been able to sleep on flights. Truthfully, he had thought that his company would allow him to have more time at home. And it does, kind of.
He’s not deployed for months at a time like if he was still in the Navy. He’s just not there that often either.
The drive to the new office is fine. Driving in New York is dull and Jake spends the entire drive with his foot hovering the brake in case some delivery driver steps out in front of the hood. It’s not a delivery driver that does.
It’s a girl in a big coat. She’s got the puffer jacket pulled up around her ears to shield them from the cold and a pair of headphones covering them to make all of that effort redundant.
More importantly, she’s not watching where she’s going. She’s looking down at her phone. Jake won’t know this until much later, but she’s googling him.
She steps out on Jake as he’s halfway around the corner. Luckily for her and his insurance policy, his fighter pilot reflexes haven’t ever failed him yet. The car screeches to a halt. It’s unclear whether she saw it in her peripheral vision or heard it stop, but she whips around anyway.
Pretty face, even when it’s all screwed up and angry. Her hair’s windswept but he can see the effort that went into styling it. Her make-up’s cute. Somebody’s assistant, probably, running late. His eyes flicker down to her legs, then swiftly back up.
Jake stares at her calmly. Then, he lifts his hand from the wheel and gestures for her to keep crossing. The girl narrows her eyes, lifts her hand and flashes her middle finger at him. Jake’s hair is longer now than it is in his Wikipedia picture, she doesn’t have a clue.
Watching her rush off on her way, Jake scoffs and shakes his head. More parents should teach their kids how to cross the road properly.
The office is in Dumbo. He’s told that that’s a good location, but really he doesn’t care. The office isn’t where the important stuff goes down — that’s why he’s always away on these business trips. He should care, he would have cared in the past.
This company means everything to him. Jake can see himself hurtling towards burnout, something’s got to give. There just isn’t room. He doesn’t have time to think about it.
There isn’t a whole lot of parking there, but there are ten spots reserved for his company. One reserved just for him. He’s told that this is also a lot for the area.
Everyone has been talking about him. ‘What do you mean the driver said he wasn’t there?’. Jake’s calm as he pushes open the glass door and strolls into the building. Everyone quickly quietens. The mystery of their missing CEO is suddenly solved.
He remembers wanting this. Wanting the kind of power that made people shut up when he walked into a room.
“Mr. Seresin!” Jake has met the woman speaking a handful of times now. She’s his East Coast liaison. She organized this whole launch while Jake got to enjoy some time at home with his new baby. She’s in her late thirties. He knows she’s got kids too. Two boys, maybe. He doesn’t really remember. Her blonde ponytail swishes as she rushes over to him. “We sent a car for you!”
“I know,” Jake offers her a quick smile as he shrugs his coat off of his shoulders and hands it to a readily available assistant. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I just wanted some quiet time before I’m talking all day.”
People want Jake to be an asshole. He’s handsome, in a classic kind of way too. He’s beyond successful. Graduated from the most elite Naval training programme to exist and enjoyed a twenty year career there. Built a Forbes 300 company from the ground up. Beautiful, smart wife. Perfect kids. And he’s still young, only forty-one now.
But, that’s simply not the case. Jake remembers the name of the East Coast Liaison he has only met once, briefly, over a zoom call three months ago. He remembers that she’s got two boys. He has stepped strategically into the office so far, so as to not disturb the freshly mopped floors.
He knows that his daughter’s rabbit is named Zade — and absolutely not Cade, because she hates her brother for at least 22 hours of the day. He knows that his son plays centre-back on his soccer team, but really would rather be playing goalie. He knows that his wife hates going to the gas station late at night but loves late night gas station snacks.
Rosie’s lips quirk up into a soft smile. Not just at being remembered by such a handsome or impressive man, but because that’s such a human request. Ten minutes of peace this morning before he spends the next two days smiling for every camera in a hundred foot vicinity.
“That makes sense. It really isn’t a problem. You could tell us, you know — we aren’t here to dictate your day,” She explains to him, a team of eager office staff standing nearby ready to meet their new boss. “You’re the boss, Mr. Seresin.”
She watches him visibly relax, his face softening a little.
“Jake.” He corrects calmly, tapping her elbow platonically and stepping around her. “Alright, who am I working with here?”
He’s beyond charming. Everyone loves him. Receptionists, admins, accountants and fee-earners. This launch is going to be easy. It starts off here, at the office, with a press day.
Meaning that Rosie gets to walk a bunch of eager journalists around the office and explain to them exactly what Vulcan is, and stands for. While Jake sits in his office all morning providing interviews, takes a brief break for a networking lunch, and continues with the interviews in the afternoon.
His office is pretty bare, it’s his first time seeing it this morning. High ceilings, black industrial style windows. A designer took the lead with the whole building — Jake remembers getting a lot of phone calls from him. He’s happy with the direction that he took.
Red brick flows through the building, dark floors. Grey and slate colours throughout. Masculine, modern. He likes it.
Almost instinctively, Jake walks to sit behind his desk. A ten foot length of oak, stained to look darker than the wood naturally is. Thick, leather office chair behind it. A computer sits in front of him and blocks his view of the door — he’ll have that moved by the end of the day.
He rarely works off of anything other than his laptop, making this stupidly big monitor redundant. They can make use of it somewhere else, he’s sure.
Spinning about ninety degrees in either direction on the chair, he taps his fingertips against the wood and surveys the room once more.
He wonders briefly if he’ll ever even touch one of the books on the length of bookshelf that spans the ten feet of wall space behind the ten feet of his desk. Almost definitely not.
To the right of the bookshelf, there’s a tall cabinet. Some kind of filing system most likely. To the right, there’s a bar system. All top shelf labels.
He hasn’t ever brought his kids to work with him yet, but he would have to do some serious baby proofing in here if he ever wanted to.
He leans back in the chair and turns his chin towards the window. He’s got a pretty great view of the East river from here, and past that, the lower East Side.
“Hey, Jake?” Three knocks at the door and his new assistant twists the handle and opens the right side of the double doors that lead into the office. Matthew. Recently graduated from a private catholic college in the city, will probably only be here until he finds something more permanent. Nice kid. “They’re ready when you are.”
He makes the decision that hiding behind a desk isn’t the best first impression. People already make assumptions about his business and his character just because of the industry he’s in. He tries to prove them wrong when he can.
Sitting in the brown leather arm chair, his suit jacket hung neatly on the hanger in his closet and the sleeves of his grey shirt rolled up to his forearms, he’s nothing if not approachable. Polite, well-informed and passionate about the work he’s doing. He makes a good first impression for the first six interviews.
It’s been three hours and he hasn’t faltered yet, until he looks up at the sound of Matthew introducing him to his next interviewer, and finds someone familiar before him.
You swallow softly, watching him tilt his head as he tries to place where he knows you from. You aren’t having the same problem. You recognise him instantly. The guy in the Rolls who almost ran you over this morning.
His lips quirk slowly up in realization. There it is: he knows.
You’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Jerry’s going to skin you alive when he hears about this.
Amusement drips from his features as your heels tap meekly across the concrete office floor, your hand trembling as you hold it out towards him. He pushes himself up from the armchair and slips his palm into yours. You’re faintly aware of Jake’s assistant closing the door behind him as Jake squeezes your hand and shakes.
Your eyes dart briefly downwards, watching the way his fingers extend past your palm, stretching up onto your wrist. The way your hand disappears under the cover of his. Looking back up, you inhale. He’s taller than his Wikipedia page would suggest — and his hair is shorter. You hadn’t recognised him.
“Jake Seresin.” He introduces himself calmly, his palm still in yours. His eyes are an unreasonable shade of green and he smells like the Tom Ford section of Macy’s. He looks down at you, seeming to enjoy the burning embarrassment on your features.
It’s unclear if he’s trying to embarrass you or smooth things over, but either way, you’re waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. You meekly reply with your own name. He smiles, nods, and drops your hand. “You want a drink?”
Christ, he’s trying to fuck you. You messed up and he’s trying to get you drunk so that he can fuck you. You silently scramble for an answer that won’t tank this opportunity harder than you already have.
“Can’t. Sorry,” You answer him quickly, your voice finally loud enough for him to get an idea of what you sound like. He continues away from you without looking back, his broad shoulders filling out that slate coloured shirt perfectly. “I’m nineteen.”
His reaction to this question is important. If he doesn’t mind, then he’s a dirtbag. If he does, he might still spoil this interview on account of your behavior anyway.
Jake turns, and gives you a brief look over his shoulder.
“Sprite? — Sparkling water? Regular water?”
You should honestly probably just leave. Assuming that he was trying to get you drunk at 11am. Flipping him off before that. It’s not like you’re even particularly prepared for this interview. You were googling him on the way here.
“Still. Please.” You breathe out, taking a step back and a seat on the couch.
“I didn’t say you could sit.” Jake deadpans as he turns towards you with two bottles of water in his hand. Your eyes blow wide open and you launch yourself back onto your feet swiftly.
Slowly, his face twists into a devious grin. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Dimples at the sides of his cheeks, a neat dusting of blonde stubble covering his jaw, his eyes creasing at the edges. “I’m fucking with you. Joking. Sorry, forgot that I had little ears around — I’m joking with you.”
Poking fun at your ‘age’, seeming to forgive your previous indiscretions and setting the water on the coffee table in front of you with an annoyingly cool attitude. He’s running rings around you already.
“Funny.” You tell him quietly, trying to smile. Jake just chuckles as he settles down into the armchair and twists the top off of the glass bottle, bringing it to his mouth.
He takes a gulp and swallows, then brings the bottle down to rest against his thigh. “Little young for a reporter, anyway, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a writer. My boss couldn’t make it, and it was going to be a valuable experience, so, uh… he offered it to us. I’m one of his interns.” Jake crosses one knee over the other and watches as you reach down to pull your notebook from your purse. Black mini skirt, white blouse, cheap heels. He believes it. You look like somebody’s intern.
“Who’s your boss?” He rests his forearms on either side of the chair, his gaze never once wavering from you. He’s not a man that is easily distracted.
You set the notebook on your lap and fiddle with the pen.
“Jerry Jones, with the Observer.”
Jake presses his tongue into his cheek. Being snubbed by Jerry Jones, that’s fucking rich. Jake knows what it means when someone is too busy for a press day — they didn’t want to come.
His reaction tells you quickly that he isn’t a fan of your boss. That’s probably a good thing, since you’re not a fan of that pig either, but it’s not a good thing in terms of the interview.
“You like it there?” He asks. You wish he would look away from you for just a second. Those green eyes feel like they’ve got the power to mesmerize you and really, you can’t afford any more embarrassment.
No. You hate it. Jerry’s a pervert and you aren’t interested in working for him at all. You’re just here because your professor pulled some strings. You hate your job, and everyone you work with.
Jake’s lips quirk once again. He flashes you a quick smile. “You’re young. There’s always time to move on.”
Fuck. If this gets back to Jerry, any of it, you’re in big trouble. Apparently reading you is just another skill to add to Jake’s already impressive resume. He leans forwards and sets the bottle of water down on the coffee table, then relaxes back into his seat with parted knees.
“Sorry. I’ll stop. What did you need to ask me, honey?”
There’s a brief pause where your eyes linger on his face before you exhale. Jake knows that look. He is more than used to receiving it. But, coming from you, he can’t pretend not to enjoy it.
Looking hasn’t ever been a crime, flirting hasn’t ever been a crime. Nadine knew that was who he was when she met him. Hell, she looks at guys sometimes. Jake looks.
Jake Seresin is a former Naval Aviator turned entrepreneur. That’s the opening line of his Wikipedia. Four and a half years ago, he founded a company called Vulcan.
“We specialize our activity in military contracts service,” Jake’s knees are parted wide and he’s beyond confident in holding your gaze. You scrawl notes down onto the page, hoping that he’ll drop something interesting soon. “Personal protection, convoy security, tactical operations.”
Swallowing, you look up at him and set the pen down on the page.
“Over eighty-five percent of your workforce are former United States Armed forces, and you’re known for working closely with several notable veteran’s charities,” Jake listens to you list off the front-page facts about him, his hand resting calmly against his thigh. “How would you say that your background in the Navy affected your business-plan?”
You’re nervous about being here, that much is clear, but there’s a boldness in the way that you look at him. He likes it, he would hire you on the spot. A little guidance and you could be great. Jake has always liked confident girls.
Between questions, when you’re looking down at your notebook with your lips pursed in concentration, he looks. He looks at the way your legs curve, how those heels make them look. The way your neck disappears under the collar of your white buttoned blouse.
You’re professional enough. Young, sure — but he doesn’t buy for a second that you’re nineteen. The way that you talk, the way that you sit, the way that you look at him. He knows you’ve been with men. More importantly, he knows you’re used to getting what you want.
His answers are eloquent, you can tell he cares. He can tell that you think this entire industry is a farce. But, you’re too polite to admit all that.
You finish up, you shake his hand and pretend like feeling him grip your palm in his doesn’t affect you in the way that it does. And then, you take the train back to your office.
Jake works through the afternoon and heads straight to drinks in Soho from there. These aren’t casual drinks though. No, he starts off with dinner with his investors. Then, they move to a rooftop bar with views over the city.
He’s bored. The longer that this goes on, the more he feels it eating at him. Forty-two has him in a vice-grip, and it feels like he’s being crushed by it. Tapping his fingers against the chilled glass, he turns his attention towards the lights and finds himself zoning out completely. Suddenly the little Wall Street jack-off that he was speaking to is far more quiet, and Jake’s mind is a lot more busy.
He’s bored. He isn’t happy. In the San Diego office, on business trips, here. At home. Something is missing. It’s ridiculous, he has everything and he wants more.
A hand on his arm snaps him out of it. He looks down at the 5’6 broker that has smacked a palm into his bicep and stares. The hand lingers there, the person on the end of it has no idea how much they’re pissing him off.
“So anyway, Jake, then I told ‘em-“
“Will you excuse me for just one second?” Jake pushes his glass forwards and the poor son of a bitch in front of him has a split second to decide if he’s going to catch it or wear it. He chooses correctly and his suit is saved, fingers curling around the glass.
Jake steps around him without any kind of idea what they were even talking about before he had rudely interrupted. In one more hour, Jake will be forty-two. It’s not an age that he has been looking forward to. Nothing about getting older has seemed particularly exciting, ever, but this — this is much worse than ever before.
He exits out onto the terrace, leaving his own event behind him. It’s too cold for most people to want to be out here. There’s snow on the forecast for this week.
Running a hand over his face, Jake thinks of his father. He looks like him. Apparently, he acts like him. Jake was eight years old on his father’s forty-second birthday. He remembers the smiling, the music, the cigars. More importantly, he remembers attending his father’s funeral eight weeks later.
Swallowing thickly, Jake pulls his phone from his pocket. He already knows how this will end. It’s 10pm back home — she’s going to be asleep in bed with her book still open, dropped onto the pillow next to her. He calls anyway, resting his forearms on the glass railing, breathing deeply.
“C’mon, honey, pick up the phone.” He whispers into the air, his breath materializing in front of him. His foot taps impatiently against the stone tiles. If he had ever smoked, he’d probably be itching for a cigarette by now. “Just pick up.”
It rings eight times, and then her voicemail starts to play. Upon hanging up, Jake is met with his lockscreen. 11:03. Fifty-seven minutes to go. His throat feels dry. He closes his eyes for a second and thinks of his family. Asleep, cuddled up together.
He’s suddenly reminded of exactly how many nights they have spent like that, without him. His kids are always excited to see him, but they probably barely notice that he’s gone on nights like this.
His body makes the decision to head for the bar before his mind does. Jake needs another drink, something strong. If he wakes up hungover, maybe he’ll feel thirty again. Being the boss has its perks. Asking for three shots of whiskey and then a scotch on the rocks with a twist would get anyone else here fired. For Jake, it gets him service with a smile.
He rests his hands on the bar and exhales deeply. Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he starts to wonder how cheap tequila used to get him so drunk when now top shelf whiskey doesn’t seem to do the trick.
Jake checks his peripheral, then deems the movement to his left interesting enough to justify turning his head to look. Like Rosie had said, he’s the boss. Who’s going to lecture him for being nosey?
He almost smiles at the sight of Jerry Jones standing right next to him. Too busy to drag his lazy ass out to Brooklyn this morning, too cheap to miss out on an open bar in the city. Then, his attention turns to the girl that Jerry has wedged between him and the bar. Jake recognises those legs instantly.
“I get it, I screwed up.” You whisper. Jake’s close enough to hear the anger trembling through your voice. He watches as Jerry’s short, stubby fingers reach out and curl around your forearms.
“Damn right you fucking did, what are you going to do to fix it?” Your boss sneers. Jake can smell the beer reeking off of him, and the disgusted, pinched look on your face tells him that you do too. Surely this isn’t about your interview earlier. It went well. Jake could have been a lot more dull, if he hadn’t been rooting for you.
Turning his attention briefly back to the bar, Jake remembers his Navy days. Kicking drunk assholes out of Penny’s bar. Knocking the worst of them on their asses just for sport. It’s been a while. Getting into a bar fight wouldn’t be good press, but Jake’s just itching to do it. To do something.
Unfortunately, in his moment of deliberation, Jake misses the opportunity. He’s caught somewhat in the splash zone, which makes his head whip around just in time to catch the aftermath. The empty champagne glass in your hand, Jerry’s soaked shirt and wet face, the fury in your eyes.
“You are done. You know that?” Jerry’s fingers press harshly into your forearm as he leers closer again, growling threats in your direction. Jake stands up, enough is enough, but once again, you’re faster. He watches as you lift your chin, then swiftly your knee to follow, slamming it right into your boss’ groin. Jerry recoils enough to release his grip.
Jake just watches as you spin away from the situation. He doesn’t even notice the smile on his face until he turns his head and stares Jerry in the eye. He makes no effort to hide it.
“Jones, you touch a woman like that again,” Jake adjusts his sleeves under his suit jacket as he straightens up and prepares to believe. His gaze is strikingly cold as he meets your boss’ gaze once again. “I’ll take everything you’ve ever worked for from you, I promise you that.”
This isn’t the first time that they have crossed paths. That’s one of the nicer of their exchanges. Amused enough, Jake heads for the exit with every intention of making the most of the stocked bar in his hotel room and the opportunity to jerk off without needing to lock three separate doors first.
He grabs his coat on the way out, huffing out a deep exhale as he steps out onto the street. He should probably take a cab. He can get someone to pick up the rental first thing tomorrow.
Slowing as the heavy glass door to the bar closes behind him, Jake examines the girl in the short dress standing by the curb, shivering. He shrugs his coat off of his shoulders as he walks forwards, clearing his throat to alert you of his presence.
You must have been in the city for a while with the expert way that you round on him without visible fear. He’s silent for a moment, studying the dark mascara smudged under your eyes. City lights behind you, your lips a deeper colour from how you’ve been gnawing anxiously at them, your skin prickled with goosebumps.
“Jesus Christ, did you fucking follow me out here?”
Jake’s mouth twitches. His brows raise slowly, creases starting to appear on his forehead. It’s been a long time since someone spoke to him like that. Much less an intern.
“I don’t have to be nice to you anymore, I know you saw him fire me.” You point out, hands gripping onto your own biceps in an attempt to keep in some of your body heat. You’re an idiot for forgetting to grab your coat, but there’s not a chance that you’re walking back into that building.
Jake holds his coat in one hand, cold nipping at his hands. He’s cool, confirming your accusations. “I did.”
Whether that’s that he followed you or that he saw you get fired, he doesn’t specify. He lifts his hand and offers his coat. You look between him and the heavy black material, statuesque. Both of you are staring at the coat when the first snowflake falls. White spots disappearing into the dark, wool-cashmere blend.
Jake lifts his gaze. You clench your jaw to keep from shivering. He lifts the coat slightly, reminding you that his offer is still there. Hesitantly, you uncross one arm and reach out with a trembling hand. He’s dead quiet, watching you wrap yourself in his coat, shrugging it close to your body.
“You wanna go for a drink?” Jake breathes out, his breath clouding in front of him, the tip of his nose pink. You stare back at him. He saw you with that champagne glass in your hand upstairs. Realistically, if you fuck him, it’s not like you can get fired twice — and fuck, he’s handsome.
Plus, you kind of don’t want to give his coat back yet.
Ten minutes later, you’re sitting across from the richest man you’ve ever met in a dimly lit cocktail bar in Soho.
“So, you’re not nineteen.” Jake muses, parting his knees excessively wide as he sits back in his chair. You study him.
“Twenty-four.” You answer quietly. His lips quirk up into a smile, and he nods finally. There’s a quick reprieve as a waitress sets your drinks between the two of you. A scotch, and a margarita. “Look, I would have told you the truth, but—“
Jake shakes his head calmly. “No need. I get it.”
You frown slightly, resting your elbow on the table and propping your chin on top of it. Jerry had sworn to you that this guy was an asshole, and so far, you’re just not seeing it.
Until Jake gets you to laugh for the first time. A passing comment about life in the city that’s accurate enough to warrant a small giggle. Then, you watch him reach out and pick up his glass, and your eyes land on the gold wedding ring on his finger.
Here you are letting him buy you drinks when he has a wife waiting for him at home.
Toying with the straw in your glass, you rest your cheek against your hand. “So, Vulcan,” You start with a shrug, letting him know that you’re disinterested in his work. Jake smiles coolly back at you.
“Why leave the Navy and still work with military contracts?” You push the straw around the glass, letting the ice clink to break up some of the silence.
In the years since he started this, Jake has heard that question almost every day. His answer is polished and perfected.
“Getting out of the military isn’t like quitting any other job. For a lot of people, assimilating into another career path just isn’t feasible after the experiences they’ve been through,” Jake’s exceptionally still, beyond okay with the silence. He watches you fiddle with your drink. “And there was nowhere for them to go before Vulcan.”
Nowhere for him to go, he means. He doesn’t say it, he knows it himself, and when you lift your gaze to look at him through your lashes, he knows that you know it too.
“You really believe in what you’re doing. You know, some people think that there’s something concerning about private companies carrying out military duties.”
“Well, you did your research,” He’s taunting you now, you both know that you didn’t. “You know how strenuous of a process it was for my company to build the impeccable reputation that it has now.” Jake takes no time to consider. He’s firm, decisive. He watches you take one more look down at the wedding ring on his finger.
“A lot of people think that you’re just in it for the money.” By that, you mean Jerry Jones. You don’t have to say it, you know it. And by the way Jake looks at you, you know he knows it too. Unspoken words, your eyes drawn in on each other, your heartbeat in your ears. His wife is a lucky woman.
“I didn’t know that I’d even earn any money when I started. I had a one year old at the time, I needed it to work.” He admits.
“You’ve got kids.” You breathe out. Jake can hear the disappointment in your tone. So, the wedding ring wouldn’t have stopped you. Kids is where you draw the line. Anyway, he decides to test you further.
“Three. Two boys and a girl.”
Blinking across at him, you should be running for the hills by now. Instead, you refuse to let your silence ruin this for you. “How old?”
He should probably be ashamed of himself for sitting in Soho with a girl half his age, telling her about his kids — but he isn’t. He just isn’t. “Five, almost three, and uh… My youngest was born in November.”
Your glossed lips press softly together, almost in consideration. He watches as you cross one knee over the other and flick your gaze back up to him.
“So, what are we doing here, Jake?”
He likes the way his name sounds coming from your mouth. Too much. He likes the way your legs look in the dress that you’ve changed into. He loves the way that your eyes remain on him as your tongue slowly dips from your mouth to a portion of the salt from the rim of your glass.
There’s only about a foot of distance between the two of you and it’s beyond evident that sooner or later, there will be much less.
“Can’t friends get a drink together?” He’s playing coy, and truthfully he wants you to be the one to put an end to this because he has three minutes left until his birthday and he wants nothing more than to pin those pretty fucking legs behind your ears.
“We’re going to be friends?” You huff amusedly at the idea. You’ve been wanting to see what’s under that expensive suit all day.
No, Jake doesn’t want to be your friend. He lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a drink.
“I hear you’re staying at the Plaza.” No job to go back to tomorrow. An ex-boyfriend who will inevitably get a phone call if this doesn’t work out. A masters’ degree that you still haven’t finished, two years in. In lieu of spitting in Jerry Jones’ face, there’s a more wild and infinitely more exciting opportunity right in front of you.
There it is. Jake’s been waiting for that confidence to break through.
“Have you stayed before?” He knows that you haven’t. This cat and mouse game is winding down and Jake’s about to make a decision he won’t be able to take back. You give a slow shake of your head, sitting back in your seat. Jake’s eyes flicker down to his watch. He looks back up to you. “You want to?”
Less than an hour into his birthday, Jake lingers just inside the doorway of his hotel room as you walk ahead of him towards the ten feet tall windows facing the park.
“No fucking way.” You breathe out, eyes wide, heels tapping gently across the floors. Jake’s lips quirk upwards into an amused smirk. He takes a second to look you over, eyes trailing your silhouette in front of the skyline.
Then, he turns and pours himself one last drink. For you, he takes a moment to examine the bar.
“What do you want?”
“Whatever you’re having.” You call back as you turn, craning your neck to try to see up the stairs. There’s so much to look at, but it’s clear that you’re here to fuck him, not tour his hotel room.
Jake chuckles to himself, already figuring that you probably won’t like it, but pouring you a measure anyway.
When he turns, he finds you resting you palms against the window frame, one ankle crossed over the other, smiling softly at him. The expectation is that he’ll finally touch you, but no. Jake sits down in the armchair and sets your drink on the coffee table in front of him.
“Go, explore. I know you want to.” He permits, settling down comfortably as he takes a sip of the amber coloured liquid. Your lips quirk up, almost smiling at him. That’s a smile that he could get used to seeing.
He watches as you walk back through the way that you came. Closet and a washroom by the door, an impressive study just past that. Upstairs, there’s an even more impressive bedroom. A huge bathroom with a bathtub bigger than you’ve ever seen that leads out onto a private terrace.
You’re in a Penthouse. It starts to finally sink in that you’re here with one of the most powerful men in the city right now, and you’re still wearing his coat.
Shrugging off the expensive wool blend, you hang it in the bedroom closet and then turn to look at yourself in the floor length mirror.
The dress is nice. Your sister had helped pick it out. It’s classy enough for a work event but it fits your body in a way that has always earned you special attention.
Slowly, you touch at the bottom hem of the dress with your fingertips, guiding it up just slightly to expose the tops of your stockings. It’s beyond presumptuous, but you see the way that he looks at you.
Reaching back to catch hold of the zipper of the dress, you think of how humiliating this could be. It doesn’t stop you, though.
Tags: @alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream
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Happy 28th! Here is my February 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!
Remember Me Fondly by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (73k)
“You’ve told the beginning of the story so many times. I want to hear the end.”Louis laughed, scratching at his chin. “I can’t say I really know when the end happened.”“How about the tour of ninety-five?”“Alright.” Louis took a deep breath. “But it took a few steps to get there. What would you like to know?”Penny cleared her throat.“How did you first meet Harry Styles?” Grunge legends Fearless Doe topped the rock charts in the ‘90s, but they spent the decade kicking Smudge off their heels. From lawsuits to jaw-dropping scandals and a surprising joint world tour, the two bands share a complicated history.
Twenty-five years later, frontmen Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are finally ready to sit down and tell the world their two sides of the same story.
Truth may vary.
I Would Know You From Touch Alone by staybeautiful / @harruandlou (72k)
They had never been face to face before now. They’d never touched, skin to skin, until Harry landed a punch to his face, high on his cheekbone.
Louis shoved him off and was pulling his fist back from Harry’s abdomen before he realized his face wasn’t tingling because of the pain.
It pooled out from his cheek, over his face, down his neck and spine. A shiver in the late September night. Heat, sparks - whatever you wanted to fucking call it.
or The Tomlinson and Cox gangs have hated each other for over forty years. Harry Styles, the grandson of Gritty Cox, was freshly back to the city after uni when, on his first night out, he punched the Tomlinson heir in the face. It shouldn’t have mattered, their gangs have done worse to each other. But all it took was one single touch to recognize your soulmate. Louis was adamant that being soulmates changed nothing, not who they were or which family they were loyal to. Or, at least, it shouldn’t have.
A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)
Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.
Ferricadooza! by suspendrs / @suspendrs (65k)
Harry can’t even fathom the idea of surrendering; he’d fight ‘til he died, if he had to, anything to keep from surrendering.
Or, the year is 1963, homosexuality is illegal in the UK, Louis owns a gay bar, and Harry’s an underground boxing champion with an unfortunate enemy.
The Recklessness in Water by LarryOn (50k)
Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.
Passing By by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow (48k)
Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.
Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.
Rivers 'Til i Reach You by embodied (29k)
Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer.   AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).
You Promised Forever by indierection (amandamoraisa) (21k)
[Harry wants a baby. Louis wanted a baby. Now he's not so sure.]
Of course they've always wanted to have kids, even as young as they were in 2012. But it's only ten years later, when they've been married for already three and One Direction is no longer together, that Harry and Louis will finally get to start their own family. Or at least that's what they thought, because Louis suddenly feels the pressure of fatherhood on his shoulders as he realizes he has to be responsible for another human being; and if that's not terrifying he doesn't know what it is. He is, in fact, having these sudden panic attacks when he thinks too much about the future. Yet, Louis just sucks it up because he's losing his mind, but Harry has already to much on his. Besides, in the end they are fireproof. Aren't they?
The Sunshine Stays by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird (15k)
It's three years after One Direction got back together, and Harry and Louis have just come off a world tour. They're enjoying a much more relaxed schedule the second time around, allowing themselves to bask in married life. Until, one day, Louis surprises Harry on vacation, and there are some surprising consequences.
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beardedmrbean · 1 month
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Bad Dragon is suing SinSaint over copyright infringement of their dildo designs. What I want to know is, can you copyright the shape of a dog's dick? Because if you can, you shouldn't be able to.
I did knot need to hear about this one.
one more pun
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TSG is gonna be one of the more reputable sources for this one
MARCH 25--A manufacturer of “fantasy-themed sex toys” has accused an upstart Brooklyn, New York firm of knocking off its distinctive designs, according to a federal lawsuit alleging that the defendant has infringed on copyrights for dildos such as “Spritz the Seadragon” and “Tyson the Water Buffalo.”
In a March 20 complaint filed in U.S. District Court in Arizona, Bad Dragon Enterprises contended that its “sculptural” products have been illegally copied by SinSaint, which is headquartered in a Coney Island warehouse and advertises that all its “Ethically Manufactured” toys are “made in Brooklyn, USA.”
Bad Dragon, which noted that it has had “significant commercial success” in the adult toy field, alleged that SinSaint has been selling the duplicative dildos through its website and other trade channels, including the recent AVN Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas (where the new firm’s exhibitor booth was next to that of the all-nude Palomino strip club).
The lawsuit identifies 13 separate dildos that Bad Dragon claims have been copied (and renamed) by SinSaint, which was incorporated in New York last year. The colorful silicone toys feature scales, tentacles, suction cups, and other design elements meant to mimic the genitalia of dragons, sea creatures, and other fantastical characters.
Some of the Bad Dragon products that SinSaint is accused of swiping are “Kelvin the Ice Dragon,” “Stan the T. Rex,” and “Vergil the Drippy Dragon.” SinSaint has not been accused of pirating other Bad Dragon offerings like “Jason the Demogorgon” or “Cuttlefish of Cthulhu.”
According to the lawsuit, SinSaint’s counsel last month stated that the company had begun removing “some of the allegedly infringing listings for product redesign.” This response, Bad Dragon contended, was “unacceptable,” adding that it “continues to be harmed by Defendant’s ongoing, unlawful conduct.”
The Bad Dragon complaint seeks an order enjoining SinSaint from continuing any further alleged
copyright infringement and seeks “disgorgement of all of Defendant’s profits” related to the artificial penises. The company may also seek statutory damages of up to $150,000 for each of the dildos in question.
For more than a decade, Bad Dragon has sought trademark and copyright protection for various product lines. While often successful, the firm’s application to trademark its “Cum Tube” was abandoned after a government attorney rejected the ejaculating dildo because the “applied-for mark consists of or includes immoral or scandalous matter.” The application included a very NSFW image, which can be found on the U. S. Patent and Trademark Office website.
According to an August 2023 trademark application, SinSaint’s owner is Oleg Semenenko, 50, a resident of Brooklyn’s gated Seagate community. Semenenko lives less than a mile from SinSaint’s warehouse, which shares an address with GlobMarble, an industrial molds business for which Semenenko is listed as “manager” in a separate trademark application filed this month.
In a brief interview today, Semenenko was asked how a dildo firm grew out of his original business. “We work with rubber,” he replied. Semenenko dismissed Bad Dragon’s claim that its products were unique and original: “How can octopus hand can be your idea?” (4 pages) ____________________________________________
Hope the judge that did the recent trump case gets this one, even though I know that's basically impossible, just the thought of making him listen to hours of testimony about how these rubber fantasy dildos are protected by copyright or trademark law, or something like that is funny to me.
It's not a revenge thing wanting it, just a keep him humble thing. I know you think you're hot shit now, so here listen to these arguments for a bit.
Totally different note, I'm wondering how long until the discourse starts up, or if it has already started up, where using horse dildos is either bestiality or a gateway to bestiality because what with the way people treat cartoons of fictional people I can't imagine it's far off or not already here.
Look to japan for the tentacle ones.........
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shiorimakibawrites · 3 months
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Cozy Corners Masterlist
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Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Greta Punch (Unsplash) / Stephanie Harvey (Unsplash)
Cozy Corners
Overall Rating: 18+ for canon-typical violence and eventual smutPairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! ReaderSummary: You have a problem. You has feelings for two men. The first man is local defense attorney Matt Murdock, a regular at your cafe Cozy Corners, whom you has been pinning over since he first walked through your door. The second man is Daredevil, the vigilante who saved your life during a mugging and has appointed himself as your guardian angel. Meanwhile Matt is wondering how he managed to get into a love triangle with himself.Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy, DramaWarnings: Canon-typical violence, secret identity hijinks, eventual accidental love triangle, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, referenced oral sex (f receiving), reference p in v sex, referenced masturbation, dirty thoughts, female gaze Series page on A03
Completed Installments
Part 1 - A Tale of Two Men
Upcoming Installments
Part 2 - The Color Purple
Future Installments (In No Particular Order)
Great Expectations
A Christmas Carol
Hard Times
Pride and Prejudice
Sense and Sensibility
Persuasion
A Scandal in Brooklyn
The Scarlet Armor
Brave New World
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tessa-liam · 4 months
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Turning the Page  
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Home is Where the Heart Is -8-
Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 
Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 
Turning the Page Series Masterlist 
Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 
All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series. 
Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 
Rating: M🔞Warnings - Series will contain crude language, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 
Words: 2501 
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Home is Where the Heart Is – 8 
Chapter Summary: Madeleine reveals her threat to the Royal council, while Liam makes initial preparations to bring Riley and William home to Cordonia. William, with Riley’s help, decorates a gingerbread house for his father. Liam arrives in New York on Christmas Eve. 
Music Inspiration:
Bless the Broken Road, Selah, Melodie Crittenden 
All I Want for Christmas is You, Mariah Carey 
A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  
A/N2: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Week#64, prompt #2 - “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.” 
A/N3: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Holiday Prompt #82 - “The only thing I want for Christmas is you.” 
A/N4: My submission for @choicesdecember2023, prompt, Food and Feasts - ‘Gingerbread House.’ #choices monthly challenge 
A/N5: My submission for @choicesholidays, Winter Holidays 2023 prompt event, Week5 – This is the best Christmas ever! @angelascribbles  
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Brooklyn Heights, New York City 
As Riley carefully placed the gumdrops on the roof of the gingerbread house, William stood nearby, watching her intently. “Mama, put red one there,” pointing to the chimney top. William was serious about the details of the house. For him, everything had to be ‘just right’. 
Riley softly smiled. William wanted everything perfect for his Christmas gift to his father. 
"Mama, can I help?" 
"Of course, honey." Riley handed him the bag of candy, and William began to place them on the house, giggling as he did so. 
"You're doing a great job, LiLi. Your Daddy will be so proud of you.”  
"Look, Mama! It's finished." 
"Yes, it is ... almost. We just need a few more pieces of candy and we should put more ‘snow’ on the roof." 
William squealed with delight as Riley handed him the piping tube of frosting to hold, as they began to finish the roof together. 
Just as they were finishing up, Riley heard the front door open, and she turned to see Matteo coming into the brownstone, a large bag of Chinese take-out food in his arms. 
"Surprise! We thought we'd bring dinner." Daniel announced while Matteo nodded his head to the royal guard standing next to the entrance. Daniel followed, stomping the snow from his boots. 
"Thanks, guys. You're the best." Riley carefully moved the house to the counter to set, to make room for dinner.
"Unca Dan Dan! Unca Matty! Look what Mama and I made." William tugged at Daniel’s coat. 
"Wow, that looks so cool, LiLi." Daniel squatted down for a mini fist bump. 
William beamed, "It's a gingerbread house for Daddy. He's going to be surprised." 
"He will. I'm sure he'll love it." Matteo placed the bag of food on the table and pulled out his phone. "We should take a picture." 
Riley nodded, "Good idea. Come on, everyone." 
They all gathered around the gingerbread house, smiling as Matteo snapped a few photos. 
"Perfect. Thanks, guys.” 
"We got your favorites, Ri. Orange chicken, vegetable lo mein, and fried rice." 
"You know me so well." Riley smiled appreciatively. 
“Ummmm ... Ri?” 
Riley looked at Daniel, noticing he was moving his head toward the Royal guard. “Do we need to feed ‘Lurch’ over there?” he whispered. 
Smirking, Riley shook her head ‘no’ and asked, "What's the special occasion?" 
"Just a quiet night in. It's been a long week of travelling." Matteo sighed. “I am beat.” 
"Well, we have three days here before we leave for Greece," Daniel shimmied over to kiss Matt on the lips as William climbed into his toddler seat. 
"What's happening in Greece?" Riley asked, puzzled. 
"Matty’s corporate New Year's Eve party is being held at a private estate this year in Athens," Daniel answered. 
"Wow. Sounds fancy." Riley grinned, setting plates on the table. 
"It will be.” Matteo winked at Daniel. 
“Speaking of fancy ... and what about you, Riley?  What has Liam planned for you and William this Christmas?” 
Riley glanced at the royal guards standing near the entrance. She knew Liam would be returning in a few days, knowing that the guards received the King’s itinerary this morning. "Actually, I'm not entirely sure, yet." 
"Maybe a romantic dinner up in the Hampton’s," Daniel suggested, waggling his brows at Matteo. "The man owns a private jet, Dan. The sky’s the limit." Matteo added. 
Riley giggled, "Who knows? I am just thrilled he will be here with us," mussing William’s hair as he returned her smile. 
"So, how are things with you two?" Riley asked, changing the subject. 
"Good. Great, actually" Daniel replied with twinkling eyes. 
"Couldn't be better, Daniel is right. The change of scenery has been fantastic," Matteo agreed, giving Riley a wink. 
"Uh, ha," Riley chuckled, suspiciously. "Okay ... what is it?” Riley laughed, knowing her best friend all too well. 
"We might have some news." 
"Daniel ..." Matteo shook his head, "Not until after we formally announce it." 
"Spill. You can't just say something like that and not give details." Riley demanded., chuckling.
"Okay, okay. I cannot keep it a secret any longer. We're getting married!" 
Riley gasped, "Oh my god, Daniel! Oh! You guys! Congratulations!” 
"Thank you, Ri.” Riley stood up and gave Daniel a huge hug. Matteo smirked, knowing all too well that Daniel could not wait to tell his best friend the good news. 
"I can't believe you're getting married. That is amazing.” Riley gushed hugging Matteo.
"We're really, really happy, Ri. And we could not have done this without you. If you hadn't encouraged us to take a chance, we would have never realized how perfect we are together." Matteo gazed lovingly at Daniel. 
"It was all you two,” Riley countered. “You both just needed a push in the right direction.” 
"We're so glad you were the one to push us. This is the best Christmas ever!”, Matteo grinned. 
"So, when's the big day?" 
"We haven't decided yet. But we're thinking sometime in the spring," Daniel squeezed Matt's hand.
"That sounds lovely. I can't wait." Riley paused ... “Oh, I mean ...” 
"Neither can we. Riley, would you do me the honor of being my maid of Honor?” 
"Oh, yes! I'm really, really happy for you guys. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Yes! I would be honored.” 
"Thanks, Ri. That means so much to me." 
As they sat down and began to eat, Riley could not help but feel a tinge of sadness. She knew that the wedding would be beautiful in Greece, and she was happy for her friends, but ... she could not help but wish that she and Liam were engaged, too, and planning a future. 
"Mama, can I have some chicken?" William asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. 
"Of course, honey." Riley placed a piece of chicken on his plate, cutting the piece into bite size portions. William dug in, grinning. 
Standing up from the table, Riley's eyes were filling with unshed tears as she excused herself from the table, turning towards her bedroom. Needing a chance to breathe and have some space, she walked into her room and clicked the door closed behind her. Riley bowed her head, wiping the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks, and slid down to the floor. 
It was hard not to think about all the ‘what-ifs’.
What would have happened if they could have found Tariq in time to stop the wedding?
What if Liam had chosen her the night of his coronation instead of Madeleine?
What if Liam had chosen her, scandal be damned? As she sat on the floor, more memories surfaced.  
A memory of her and Liam together in the blue grotto in Italy, when Liam mentioned abdicating the throne as a way of moving forward. 
'There's this thought I can't shake off ... what our life could look like together. You and I. Without the court and the Crown.' 
'What does it look like?' 
'The parts I know? We elope and get married in a small, private ceremony...' 
Riley wiped her tears. knowing that this was in the future for Daniel and Matteo, but not for her. 
‘But you can't abdicate, Liam. You wouldn't be happy if you gave up the throne and... you wouldnt be you. In your heart, you know that.’ 
’If I do marry Madeleine, can you go on like this? Stealing moments, meeting in secret?’ 
"Mama?" William’s little voice sounded outside her door, interrupting her thoughts. 
"Yes, LiLi?" Riley softly spoke, standing up and wiping her tears away. She opened her door to see William looking up at her. 
"Are you sad, mama?" William pointed to her eyes. 
"No, honey. I'm just happy for Uncle Dan and Uncle Matty." 
"They marry?"  
"Yes, they are. Isn't that exciting?" 
"Mama, are you and Daddy marry, too?" 
Riley took a deep breath and put her arm around William, "someday, maybe." 
“We can be a real family." 
"We're already a real family, William. No matter what happens, you and I will always be together." 
"Promise?" 
"...and Daddy too?" 
Riley closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she tried not to break down. She was unable to speak and was trying to catch her breath. 
"Mama? Why crying?" 
"I-I'm sorry, William. I'm just feeling a little sad. It has been a long day.” 
Overhearing William, Daniel pushed open the bedroom door.  
"Hey buddy, go see Uncle Matt and finish your dinner." 
“Okay, Dan Dan.” As William went back into the kitchen, Daniel sat down beside Riley and hugged her tightly. 
“Riley?" Daniel questioned his friend. 
"Y-Yes. Everything's fine." 
"Doesn't look like it." 
"I'm just...it's hard, you know? To watch my best friend, get married when..." 
"I know, Riley. It is difficult. But remember, you and Liam are in a good place, now. And who knows? Maybe someday, you will be the ones getting married." 
Riley’s breath shuddered as she looked at Daniel, searching his eyes, staying silent. 
"I understand this is hard, but you can't let the past hold you back. You and Liam have come so far. You just have to take things one step at a time." 
Riley's cell pinged with a message. Picking up her phone, ‘Liam’ appeared on the screen.  
Cordonian Royal Palace 
Olivia, standing in for Liam, and standing for the Royal council, sat at the King's desk. Rashad and his father, the Crown’s personal legal counsel, sat on the sofa next to Liam’s large ornate desk. Madeleine's heels could be heard clicking down the hallway, stopping outside of the study door. Madeleine cleared her throat before Bastien opened the door and allowed her to enter. 
Entering the King’s study, her face was impassive. 
"Where is Liam?" 
"The King is occupied with important matters. He's asked me to represent him in this meeting." Olivia coldly, but politely answered the ex-queen of Cordonia. 
Madeleine’s glare turned nasty as she looked at Olivia in disdain. 
"Keep it up Madeleine. As the King’s representative, you will deal with me and answer all the questions I am looking for. Is that understood, Madeleine? I am not your subject.” Olivia sat back confidently. 
"I am not in the mood for a lecture," Madeleine scoffed.
"Very well. I am here to discuss the matter of the succession of the Crown. I trust the council has brought you up to speed?" 
"Indeed, they have." Olivia responded. 
"Good. Then there is no need to waste time. Let's get down to business." Madeleine said with a smirk. "As you know, the King has yet to select a queen, and secure an heir to his throne. Given his indecisiveness, I propose that the council appoint an heir, should Liam not produce an heir by his thirtieth birthday." 
"We're well aware of the succession laws, and I assure you, the council will make the necessary decisions, should the time come." Olivia rebutted. 
"The King's appointment must meet the established criteria. Should the King choose an heir that does not meet the qualifications, the council is authorized to remove the heir from the line of succession." 
"Your point being, Madeleine? I am sure that you understand that you no longer have any sovereignty in Cordonia." Olivia confidently countered. 
"My point is, is that if he fails to produce an heir, then the council has the authority to choose an alternate. I propose that the council select my unborn child to be named as the heir, since the child was conceived while our marriage was valid. My child meets the requirements, and should the King fail to produce an heir, the council would have no choice but to appoint my child." 
Rashad's eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Madeleine. The law is quite clear. A child cannot be appointed as an heir, unless said child is adopted by the monarch first." 
"...and Liam could adopt my child,” Madeleine seethed. 
Rashad continued, “that would require the child to live under the guardianship of the monarch, which is not possible, given the circumstances. Your residence is in Morocco, not Cordonia. as per the marriage dissolution filed legally." 
Olivia nodded, "The council will consider your proposal. In the meantime, Liam's position is still unchanged. He is free to choose his own heir, should the need arise.” 
Madeleine stood up from her armchair and turned toward the bay window overlooking the gardens, contemplating her retort her arms crossed.
"Madeleine, you cannot expect the King to simply appoint your child, when he has another option." Olivia rebutted, knowing that Madeleine was aware of William. 
Rashad added, “again the law is quite clear. A child who is conceived by the monarch while married or not, has the right to a place in the line of succession, even if the parents are not together." 
"Even if the child is a bastard? He was conceived outside our marriage.” Madeleine spat, frothed with resentment. 
"Yes. As was your child," Rashad reminded her. 
"This is absurd. We are done here....guards!” Olivia summoned, as Madeleine was escorted out of the study by the Royal guard. 
*** 
Liam, Leo, Drake and Bastien watched the entire exchange virtually from Liam’s personal quarters. 
"Do you think she's capable of harming Riley?” Drake wondered aloud. 
"Yes, I am sure of that. If not herself ... her father. Liam sat back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of his mouth, annoyance etched on his face.
"I think that she is desperate and will do whatever she can to get what she wants.” Leo added supporting his brother. 
“Bastien, begin the surveillance protocol on the countess and her father, Liam commanded. 
“Consider it done, your Majesty.” Bastien confirmed, standing to leave the room. 
"Do you think it’s wise to bring Riley and your son back to Cordonia?” Drake questioned. 
"It's the only way, Drake.” 
"What if Riley doesn't want to come back to Cordonia?" 
"Then I will support her decision, but I have to at least try.” 
Liam stood, walking to his private chambers, with phone in hand.
‘Hello Riley!’ 
‘Liam, hi! How are you?'
‘I'm well. How are you and William keeping?’ 
‘We're doing great. We miss you, though.’ 
‘I miss you both, too.’ 
‘I have a proposition for you...’ 
‘Oh?’ 
‘How would you and William like to come to Cordonia and stay with me at the palace after Christmas?’ 
Riley blinked, not sure how to respond.
‘When I go home after spending Christmas week with you...come back to Cordonia with me.'
'Liam, you can't be serious.'
'I'm quite serious, love.'
'You want me and William to come to Cordonia and stay with you in the palace?'
'Yes, I want you both here with me.'
'Li, I don't know. That seems like a big step.'
'I understand your hesitation. But please, just consider it.'
'I will see you in a couple of days, love. We can talk more then.'
'OK, I am looking forward to seeing you, Li. William made something special just for you.'
Liam smiled, 'I look forward to seeing it, but love, the only thing I want for Christmas is you.'
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Thanks for reading!
📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234
📌Liam x Riley, MC/ OTP: @jared2612 @irisk12 @thesvnsins @walkerdrakewalker
📌Liam x Riley, OC: @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @walkerdrakewalker @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @queenwalton @bascmve01 @umccall71 @choicesfrog @amandablink
📌Liam x Sophie: @charlotteg234
📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @choicesdecember2023 @choicesholidays
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readtilyoudie · 2 years
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“But surely you are relieved that she is safe from the attentions of a vampire?” Lady Pillsbury asked, perplexed.
Lady Crenshaw snorted. “At the cost of the loss of such a lofty title? Are you mad?”
Bite Me, Your Grace (Scandals with Bite, #1) by Brooklyn Ann
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incorrect-nevermore · 11 months
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Nevermore headcanons-
• Morella is fluent in Irish and Pluto speaks just enough, Gaelic that they can hold a conversation, just barely.
• Lenore and her entire family are fluent in Dutch, with the exception of Lucille, who can understand it most times, but cannot speak or write it. Lenore and Theo would talk shit about people at parties in Dutch.
“Mijn heer, wat is dat voor verspilling van fijne kleding die meneer Asher als jas draagt?”
“Echt, heeft hij dat geblinddoekt uitgekozen?”
• Lenore of course also curses in dutch.
“AH! Neuken!”
“Wat doet deze klootzak nu?”
“Ik ben deze shit beu.”
• Annabel smokes cigars, but of course has to hide it as women smoking in 1800s and early 1900s was scandalous. You guys seen Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Ya know the scenes with Amy trying to hide her shame cigarettes? Yeah that was what she had going on the entire time she was alive. Lenore is very homo about it. (Thank @likeastars for this one lads)
• Lenore has the alcohol tolerance of like a rhino or something, she’s probably got a bit of nordic ancestry in there somewhere, what do you expect? Same with Berenice and Duke. Annabel however, she’s not exactly a lightweight, she’s English, has pretty decent alcohol tolerance, however, compared to these guys? She’s out. Ada and Will on the other hand? Are absolutely lightweight. First place is a tie between Pluto and Morella for strongest alcohol tolerance. Pluto doesn’t even drink often he’s just from the north.
• Lenore doesn’t get drunk very often on account of her mother’s possible drinking problem and it sometimes reminding her of the effects of ether, every now and again, maybe? But she avoids it most of the time. She’s the designated sober person at most of the misfits parties.
• Theo does not enjoy smoking, he does not like the taste, the feel, or the smell of it. But since it was a thing in the 1800s for gentlemen to smoke and drink together, he has to just awkwardly put up with it, since denying to smoke with someone could be interpreted as not considering them good company, and not wanting to spend time with them. Or not enjoying smoking, could be considered “unmanly”Lenore is trying not to laugh at him as he’s like, resisting the urge to throw up his lungs. 
• Since Annabel apparently DOES NOT ACTUALLY LIKE EARL GREY TEA OR SCONES - (I know I was shocked too). I have decided to her give a sweet tooth and say she prefers sweeter drinks and pastries. Hot chocolate and chocolate croissants or churros kinda gal.
(But those didn’t exist at time- *gunshot* HUSH)
•Modern au! Lenore tries a sip of Annabel’s drink order and gets blasted back Halloween as a kid with the amount of sugar, cream, cinnamon, and chocolate in the thing 
Lenore: Holy- Annabel this is enough sweetness to put someone in a coma! I mean it’s great, but still-
Annabel: It could be worse I could be insane like Prospero and just get a shot of plain, bitter espresso.
Lenore: heh, Fair enough!
Prospero: It’s not my fault you have the taste palette of an 11-year-old, Annabel!
Pluto: I fuckin’ wish you did too! No, seriously I don’t know what he drinks, at this point I’m not even sure it’s espresso! Because I’ve tasted plain espresso, right. It’s just really bitter- I can handle that fine. But i literally will not kiss him after he’s had his morning coffee, because I can still taste it and it. is. shite.
Annabel: HA! 
Prospero: ..Why would you do that?
Pluto: You need to be checked sometimes, love.
• Pluto is a pretty good game for Annabel. She still always wins, of course but Pluto is one of the few people that can manage to make her sometimes switch up her strategies or improvise new ones on the spot.
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cannibalizedyke · 2 years
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Brooklyn Baby
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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 776
Warnings: Language, a bit of angst
Summary: You really wish Eddie Munson would stop playing with your feelings. (Inspired by the song by Lana Del Rey)
General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1
Moots: @spidervee @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa @roxetteblack
Hawkins, Indiana is very different from Brooklyn, New York. You’re used to bustling streets, tall, busy buildings, and car horns honking even in the dead of night. Hawkins is small, and quiet. There are only a few stores and fewer restaurants and you’ve been to all of them. You like it, though; you like feeling like you’re the coolest person there, with your obsession with jazz and beat poetry and the novels you spend most of your time writing - you even sing in a band with Eddie Munson.
Eddie Munson.
You’re too cool for Eddie Munson, is what you always tell him.
“I know,” he’ll reply, smirking and twirling a strand of your hair in your fingers. “You’re like ice, baby.”
You’ll laugh, tilting your head back before covering your face. “Shit, that was terrible.”
Eddie’ll laugh as well, biting his lip before leaning closer. “I know,” he’ll whisper, and you’ll close your eyes for a kiss before he pulls away. Just like he always does.
You shake off your thoughts. You’re wearing a little white silk dress; your makeup makes you look like a 1940s femme fatale. Eddie’s letting you sing Lou Reed, your favorite artist, even though he usually sticks to current rock bands or original songs.
“You ready?” You feel his breath on your neck as he sidles up beside you.
You shiver. “Mhm.”
Eddie grins, patting you on the shoulder. “You’re gonna do great. You’re my Brooklyn baby, yeah?”
“Yup.” You force a smile, wishing his flirty remarks actually meant something to him. You sucked in a breath and walked onstage, which was really just a slightly elevated structure in the middle of a park.
Eddie began softly strumming his guitar, and after a moment you began to sing.
“Just a perfect day
“Drink Sangria in the park
“And then later, when it gets dark, we go home
“Just a perfect day
“Feed animals in the zoo
“Then later, a movie too, and then home…”
Eddie is mesmerized by your soft, haunting lilt of a voice. The strumming becomes subconscious as he focuses on you, watching the way the music captures your soul and takes you away from the world. You convey emotion like no one he’s ever seen, with your melancholy stares and delicate, ethereal movements. He loves you like no one he’s ever loved before, but he knows better than to get too close.
You’re a Brooklyn baby, cool as ice and hard as stone. His fleeting glances and flirtatious comments mean nothing to you, so he tries his best to make them mean nothing to him.
After the performance you follow him backstage; sweat glistens on your brow but it only makes you look more ethereal, like a goddess glowing and sparkling after placing an enchantment on a helpless man. Eddie knows not to get too close, but his body doesn’t; he feels himself stepping closer and closer against his will, and before he knows it his lips are on yours and he’s kissing you like his life depends on it.
You desperately kiss him back, grabbing his face and devouring him like you’ve fantasized about so many times. Then you break away, tears streaking mascara down your cheeks. You turn away, rubbing your arms shakily. “Please don’t play with me, Eddie,” you beg him quietly.
Eddie’s features twist in confusion. “What?”
“You don’t love me.” Your voice breaks. “Don’t flirt with me and touch my arm and kiss me like you care when I know you don’t.”
“(Y/N)...” Eddie takes a step toward you. “(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I’d never play with you.”
You sigh, looking down. “Are you lying to me?”
“No, no…” He steps closer; you can feel his breath on your neck. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I couldn’t. Not when I look at you and feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle on the floor.”
You let out a watery laugh, relaxing when you sense his authenticity. “I’m in love with you too,” you tell him quietly.
Eddie grins, spinning you around and capturing your lips once again. “How would you like a boyfriend who’s in a band?” he mumbles against you. “You could brag about me to all your friends, cool girl. They’d be obsessed with you.”
“I’m obsessed with me,” you reply, kissing down his neck. “I don’t need them to be. I just need you to be obsessed with me too.”
He breaks away and cups your cheek, grin widening. “You don’t need to worry about that, baby. I’ve been obsessed with you for years.” He kissed you again.
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valleydean · 1 year
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HEAVYWEIGHT
Posting begins New Year’s Day 2023 a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) playlist | ko-fi
SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1927. The Golden Age of Boxing. Two years ago, light heavyweight champion Dean Winchester and heavyweight champion Castiel Novak had a secret affair. After a scandal tarnished Cas’ name and stripped him of his title, the two parted ways. Now, with a heavyweight tournament on the horizon, Dean aims to up his weight class so he can compete for the title. He finds unexpected competition when Cas comes out of retirement and returns to New York to fix his reputation. Upon their reunion, the two contenders learn that, outside of the ring, some bruises never really heal.
/////
TAGGED: @lovercas @donestiel @wanderingcas @wayward-angels-club @thetiredstuff @skella-bro @casthegrumpy @celestialcastiel @bluefirecas @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @that-one-fandom-chick @haru-park96 @alejandriaiqq @no-aesthetic-all-aethetic @amirosebooks @epple-benene @agus-likes @the-ship-haz-sailed @justkissalreadyforfucksake @madimoo31 @an-angel-in-love-with-a-hunter @gracelesstars @bazghetti @wayward-waffles @theojaxons @jenmishrob @all-or-nothing-baby @auttownblue @leftistdean @sargafust @wannabe-loser @jessalrynn @splicedthoughts @castielss @that-dumbass-on-a-horse @passionfruixts @fabreagab @princesswinchester100 @superduckbatrebel @hopefuldreamers-world@theangelwiththewormstache @casandeans @mylovelydame21 @confusedisaster @superduckbatrebel @destielwentcanonomg @highest-brightness @i-put-the-ayyy-in-asexual @darkacademiagay @imthedoctorlove @freckledean @youcanteverknowenough @chicken-kebabs @myguardianangelisatrickster @hotactiongirlcoded @wingsandimpalas @casandhumanity @tploz @dontsgotalifee389 @on-a-bender @castiel-mybeloved @siriusseverusdeservedbetter @doctorprofessorsong @castielshotgirlsummer @toomuchheartcas @paintdriesfaster @lesbiancowboyy @angelinthefire @transdeantruther @fluffy-alpacaness @rogue-cas-whore @winchester-derangement-syndrome @lizzybennettdarcy @kineticpassion @i-love-books-and-so-do-you @dascean @llamasdumpsterfire @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff @im-some-lionheart @charlie-bradburi @bunnymcbunnister @gothanna @afeelingsosweet @sinnabonka @artsymoth @cassandrablah @sweetpeaalena @goiwantamuffin @rauko-is-a-free-elf @jessalrynn @ungcl @highwarlockofinnsbruck @deancaskiss @caddy-coo @bloodydeanwinchester @hannibalsthembo @proudpigeon @butterscotchdean @this-is-me19 @layofcastiel @claire-drinks-lovely-lemonade @harleycao @jgvfhl @thembo-cowboy @aussie-twat
Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in chapters or if you’d like to be taken off the list.
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