#I have also wondered this and would like to know the answer

[egcdeath]

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one. 

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding. 

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course. 

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good. 

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business. 

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying. 

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds. 

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit. 

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.  

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch. 

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him. 

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined. 

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of. 

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted. 

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union. 

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning. 

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you. 

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings. 

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless. 

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling. 

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance. 

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision? 

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.  

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face. 

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back. 

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation. 

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased. 

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down. 

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him. 

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird. 

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit. 

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response. 

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear. 

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words. 

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of. 

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first. 

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet. 

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached. 

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch. 

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief. 

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified. 

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on. 

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in. 

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off. 

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there. 

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives. 

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away. 

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.  

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point. 

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug. 

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.” 

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way. 

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense. 

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.” 

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel. 

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage. 

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair. 

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.    

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events. 

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather. 

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship. 

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand. 

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink. 

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.  

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events. 

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.  

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago. 

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand. 

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name. 

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.  

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you. 

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend? 

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John. 

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag. 

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about. 

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder. 

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear. 

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now. 

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own. 

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference. 

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis. 

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump. 

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon. 

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically.  “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.” 

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.  

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no. 

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together. 

[xannsin]

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warning: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Hardcore sex, Praise, Creampie

Précis: He’s an overprotective ‘best friend’.

A/N: this is my first write, bare with me lol, also major credits to @cherryredstars for inspiring me, thank u :)

Edits & Look-overs: 2

It’s 3am.

You’re walking back to your college dormitory building, exhausted from a night out. Your feet hurt, you have a slight wobble in your walk, and your lungs feel like they burn with every step you take due to the cold air. A misty cloud fleets from your mouth with every exhale.

You left without Miguel’s knowledge. Which, to him, is a big no-no. He isn’t possessive over you, per se, but he does like to know when you leave the dorm you two share together. That’s all he asks for, and you didn’t even do that. He’s been protective over you your whole friendship with him. It pisses you off sometimes but you can’t help but wonder why he is the way he is with you. You mulled over how he’d always hold you close whenever you two went out, like he was trying to show off this imaginary ownership over you, and when he’d give guys death stares at their attempts to flirt with you. That was the least he did — there was a long list of his overprotective ways with you, but those are just the ones you thought about mostly.

When you finally get to your dorm, you unlock the door with your key before quietly opening the door. Thankfully it wasn’t a squeaky door, the faintest squeak of the door or a creak of a floorboard would probably wake Miguel up. He was a really light sleeper. You close the door behind you and lock it before turning around and seeing Miguel sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, his laptop on his lap as he types away, not even looking at you. You freeze up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Miguel? Why are you up so late?” you ask, holding your breath as you wait for his answer. “I could ask you the same thing.” he replies, his husky voice making you exhale nervously.

“Well… I was out,” you mutter, “I didn’t want to wake you just to tell you so I-”

“Don’t.” he interrupts, “just don’t. You didn’t wake me up and tell me because you didn’t want me to know. Look, you’re my best friend and I worry about you. I worry about what could happen to you when you’re out of my sight. I feel responsible for your well-being, and all I ask of you is to just let me know where you’re going, and you can’t even do that, mm? Do you know how worried I was, huh? Huh?!” he exclaims, his voice getting louder as he spoke. You stay silent for a few minutes before sighing, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry, I just… I-” you’re cut off again by his booming voice, “No, you’re not fucking sorry! Carajo!”

There’s a long pause. You’re a little shaken up, he’s never yelled at you before. “Where were you?” he finally asked, closing his laptop and setting it down before finally looking at you with slightly tired eyes. “I was out clubbing.” you say. He groans at your words, pinching his temple. “With?” he asks shortly after. “I was alone…” you say quietly, causing him to open his eyes. He stands up and walks over to you, his 6’9" frame towering over you. He barely keeps a distance between you and him.

“Listen to me and listen well,” he grunts, grabbing your arm, “I don’t know if you’re too dull to understand this but if something ever happens to you I couldn’t possibly live after that. You may think I’m being overdramatic, and while I’m not disagreeing with you, it’s for a reason, Y/N.” He sighs, staring at you with those piercing crimson red eyes.

“You understand the danger of going out alone, right? I wouldn’t have to be like this if people weren’t horrible, but Y/N, you don’t understand how easily you can get snatched up, hurt, killed, and so on. Especially at night, where sickos like that lurk every street corner and alleyway. I’ve lived through it. You haven’t. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you so unaware when you’re walking home, but whatever it is, it’s pissing me off.”

You pause for a minute as he gives his big spiel. “How’d you know I was drinking?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? You have a wobble in your walk. Either your feet hurt and you’re drunk or it’s a mix of both, your breath reeks of alcohol, and you’re slightly slurring. If you were trying to hide it then that’s… that’s just sad.” Miguel sighs. “I’m glad you’re safe, I really am, but can’t you acknowledge what I’m saying?”

“I… I-I just…” you trail off, sniffling. You try to retract your arm from his grasp but his hand is clenched around your arm. “You just what?” Miguel asks. “I just don’t understand why you care about me so much!” you finally exclaim. After a moment of silence, he’s finally had enough. He tugs you by the arm, “Let’s go.” You’re fucked. Probably in many other ways than metaphorically. He drags you to his room, slamming the door open and pushing you in. He shuts the door behind him and locks it before grabbing you and setting you on the bed, slipping his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be sensual, passionate, gentle sex.

He climbs in bed and gets on top of you, staring at you. Your breath was hitched, your eyes were wide. He rolls his eyes before looking down and beginning to unbutton your shirt. It was agonizingly slow, like he wanted to build up your anticipation. “I guess I have to show you how much I care about you since you can’t understand.” Miguel says, getting to the last few buttons. You squirmed slightly, not saying anything back other than an ‘I’m sorry’ under your breath. Miguel just shook his head gently, unbuttoning the last button.

He slipped your pretty blouse off and tossed it to the side. He leaned down more, his mouth hovering over your lips. He finally leaned in just a bit more, enough for your lips to barely touch. But he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. He just gently grazed his teeth over your lip before trailing his lips down to your neck, where they’d actually settle. His tongue poked out of his lips to graze it over your neck.

He reached his arm up, his large hand going behind your neck and grabbing a fistful of hair to keep you in place as he licked and sucked your neck. He eventually started leaving carmine red hickeys all over your neck. You whined and whimpered under him, all you could really do. He was in tune with your body. Your sensitive spots, what your body responded to, what it didn’t. He knew you.

He pulled back to gauge your expression. You were all hot and bothered, your breaths coming in and out in little huffs. The edges of his lips slightly curled up in a devilish smirk. His thumb rubbed your bottom lip. That ‘tender’ moment didn’t last long until he went back to work. He leaned down and continued kissing and marking you all over, his kisses trailing down your body and leaving spots of saliva in their wake. When he reached the hem of your jeans, he began unbuttoning them.

Once that was done, he pulled them off in one strong tug and tossed them onto the floor behind him. One more obstacle — your panties. He kissed your inner thighs, rubbing your wetness through your panties. He could practically feel your sex pulsing in your panties. He ran his fingers over the black laced hem before slipped them off and tossing them to the side. There it was, what he was looking for. “So wet already.” Miguel mumbled as he began unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them off. He grabs the hem of his boxers and slips those off too, tossing the fabric to the side. Your eyes widen at his length, and you try to push yourself away from him. Miguel tuts in annoyance, grabbing your thigh and roughly pulling you back under him, where you were before. You whine when he slaps his heavy cock against your cunt. You freeze under him, finally learning that squirming gets you nowhere.

He positions himself over you, and you struggled a little bit more. “M-Miguel, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, I’m not-”

“Shh,” Miguel interrupts, patting your cheek a little roughly, “no need to talk. You’ll be fine.” You stay silent but you’re breathing heavily through your nose as you feel Miguel reach down and stroke his tip along your folds. “I’m sure you can take me.” he says, his tone nothing close to passionate. His voice was husky and rough. He stopped teasing you with his tip once he felt your entrance before sinking into you with one push. It was slow and painful, but then it dissipated as he began moving his hips. The pace itself didn’t start off slow or soft, he immediately dove into hammering into you.

You cried out, throwing your head back onto the pillow as his shaft slid in and out of your wet sex. You closed your eyes and panted, but you flinched as you felt Miguel’s hand tightly gripping your chin. “Look at me. Mírame.” he says as he pounds into you. You let out a whine in response as your glassy eyes looked into his. He curses under his breath, holding your waist so you stay in place with one hand, and holding himself up with the other. You never knew dick felt this amazing.

You were feeling this way and he was only a little over halfway in. He was making his way deeper, and you felt it. You went to hold his hand, and he took his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining. Your mouth slightly fell agape and you let out a choked out moan as he bottomed out inside you, his balls nestling tightly against your ass. He fucks the noise out of you, you can’t do anything but let out choked out moans. “Lift your hips for me.” Miguel says, wanting better leverage to your pussy. You weakly lift your hips and he grabs ahold of them, sitting up just a tad to fuck you better. His balls repeatedly slap against your ass with every thrust, fucking a pathetic noise out of you every once in a while. Your boobs moved up and down with the movement, and the headboard squeaked as your body hit it.

“So beautiful…” Miguel murmured, taking one of your boobs in his hand and resting it there, his grip tight on your titty.

You were slightly lightheaded on dick. Creamy little clap noises mixed with Miguel’s grunts and your little noises filled the room. Your seeping juices coat Miguel’s cock with every in-and-out motion his shaft does into you, leaving his cock slicked and with a shiny little coat on it from you.

He was like a machine, his stamina was incredible because he showed no signs of slowing down just yet. “Who’s my good girl, hm? Had a bit of a scare tonight, didn’t we?” he says, hoisting your knees up on his shoulders so he had more leverage. He reaches down and toys with your clit, rubbing his thumb in circular motions on your nub. You whine at the double stimulation. You don’t know if you can take much longer of this before climax slowly comes knocking. Miguel struggled to hold off his climax the more your walls pulsated and tightened around his throbbing cock.

But it didn’t end there. He pulled out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your back roughly and getting behind you. You didn’t even have enough time to react. “Keep that back arched baby.” Miguel says, placing his hand on your back to keep your arch in that position. He uses his other hand to guide himself back in your dripping cunt again, continuing his rough pace. His strokes were deep, fast, and most importantly, calculated. You nuzzled your face in the pillow, and Miguel grinned slightly your muffled screams of pleasure, his lips curving upward.

“Such a good girl… you take me so well…” he breathed out, catching your hand as you swung it back to hold his. “Give me your other hand.” Miguel said, getting both hands and holding them by your wrists as he continued to fuck you roughly. Your upper half bounced slightly upward with every thrust because your arms were being pulled back. “M-Mig.. Mig…” you choke out, whining as his balls smack against your clit. “Qué te pasa, mami? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, his shaft sliding in and out of you with ease. He was getting so close.

He let go of your hands, your hands plopping back at your sides. He had a new fixation — your ass. He grabs both of your ass cheeks in his large hands, groping them and pulling them more towards him, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. With a few more of… doing that, his warm cum eventually shot inside of you.

The two of you moan loudly as you climax at the same time, your juices seeping onto his cock. He pulled out, leaving a trail of warm cum on the sheets, and it seeped out of you. He creampied you. Your best friend gave you a creampie.

“Come here. Fuck, come here.” Miguel pants, pulling you close to him. He wraps his arms around you from behind, both of you collapsing on the sheets.

“So, tell me,” he starts, “still think I don’t care about you?”

You inhaled and exhaled heavily before responding, “I do, I just knew if I said ‘I don’t understand why you care about me so much’ this would be the outcome.” you smirked, rolling over to face him. He froze.

“What?”

[sixosix]

BABY, CAN WE DANCE THROUGH AN AVALANCHE? | LYNEY

notes 1.5k words, aether and lyney have a talk :o

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

They watch in stunned silence as you storm off, ice materializing where you go. To Lyney, it’s an all-too-familiar sight. He’s seen it before: your back turned on him, and his body frozen from not just the frost but fear. Why didn’t you say it back?

Aether is able to snap out of it quickly, wiping off his hurt for the sake of chasing after you.

“Y/N!” he calls out, moving to run, but he couldn’t get too far.

Lyney whips an arm in front of him. “Don’t.”

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Lyney who says it. Lynette stares at her brother, bewildered—how, of all times, does he choose to surrender now? If anything, they expected Lyney to be the one to chase after you first. Why didn’t you say it back? But Lyney has his eyes trained on Aether, cold and calculating.

None of this would’ve happened if I never met you.

“What did she mean by that, Traveler?”

Lyney tips his head as far as it can go, blood rushing to his head and leaving him a little dizzy. To his dismay, the loveseat stays firmly in place. It would’ve been better if he fell—perhaps it would’ve hurt less than whatever the hell you two have going on.

“Are you still sulking?” Lynette asks, sitting beside him and jostling the seat.

Lyney grunts.

Lynette sips her tea, her tail flicking against his arm in a gesture of comfort. The air no longer held the tense chill in the warmth of their home, but they could still feel it. Lynette could hide it with her face, but her ears were tucked—she was nervous.

Aether’s in their home. Lyney is unhappy about this arrangement and is not afraid to show it. He doesn’t spare the Traveler a glance, doesn’t give him words of comfort. Aether has been obediently silent so far, which was somewhat weird. Lyney had been expecting Aether to rub it on his face that Lyney had been—for a lack of better words—dumped. Instead, he sits there by the chair they pulled from the dining table, looking like a distressed puppy.

“Are we not going to do anything?” Aether asks, which is the question they’ve all been thinking in their heads.

“We will,” Lyney says. Of course they will. Just not like this. He has watched you leave before, and you have returned to him eventually—he can be patient again. This is just far too delicate right now.

It has only been about thirty minutes, at most. Lyney already has a plan, and it’s not his most favorite, but he can’t face you at the moment. Or, instead, it’s you who can’t face him at this moment.

Lynette is aware of his plan, even without him saying anything. Aether obviously doesn’t have the advantage of twin telepathy, so he sits there wondering, distressed, and confused.

“I know it’s a little too late to ask this, but who exactly is Y/N to you two?” asks Aether, his voice loud in the room's dead silence.

“It’s a long story,” Lynette says.

“Would it change anything if I told you?” Lyney challenges.

“To me, it would change something,” answers Aether, open and frustratingly honest.

Lyney lowers his gaze. “Then listen. At least now you’ll understand what you got yourself into.”

When you left the House, you also left an unsettling silence that jarred Lyney even to this day; he can’t visit so freely and not bear the weight of your disappearance. It was eerie and dark, and everyone was afraid to even speak your name for the first few days—like you were dead, like you weren’t to be seen again, and even the thought of that pained Lyney like no other.

The House was no longer your home; he had to accept that eventually. But it was fun and beautiful when you were still a part of it, and he would never choose to forget nor act like it never happened, as fleeting as it was. 

When Lyney first saw you, he felt childlike wonder. At first glance, it was nothing special—just curiosity. You were beautiful and stood out amongst the other orphans, like a glow, and Lyney was just a moth.

Before the House, magic was just a means of survival. He performed for the money, hoping that he and his sister could live another day. But when he saw you, striking the air hard and fast, Lyney thought you wore it like it was something special. You were performing, too, for the eyes of praise, but he understood that you weren’t the same. You were bright, lit up with a smile. You were enjoying it. Maybe that was what Lyney lacked; maybe that was what drew him to you.

He could be wrong. Maybe it was already love by then, or at least the beginning of it.

Lyney remembered moments that he’d bet you wouldn’t. Like when his sister got her Vision, and he was left behind. He was crumpled on the floor, a pathetic mess, while her sister was thrown into the face of danger. He couldn’t sit still, but he couldn’t do anything either.

“Are you still sulking?”

Lyney whined pitifully. “How can I protect her when she’s so far away?”

You glanced at him briefly, then traced the dull tip of your weapon. “You’re twins, are you not? Have you considered that Lynette was thinking of how to protect you, too?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re not the only one working harder to protect the one you love. The least you could do in return for Lynette’s hard work is to stop whining and keep up with her, no?”

Lyney blinked, offended and furious, but his anger was washed over by the warm feeling he sometimes got when you talked to him like this. “Are you also working hard?” he asked, settling beside you.

“I have to.”

You felt so much older than he was. So goddamn beautiful that it felt like Lyney was forced to never look away, painfully captivated. 

But as he learned more about you, he realized a few things: You were his age; you were never older than him; you were just trying to survive; you were more alike than he first thought. It felt like when it was just him and Lynette, and he had to act brave for his sister. Only it seemed you were doing it by yourself, for yourself.

Still beautiful, but in all the wrong ways. He found contentment in this pattern of pursuit, of pushing and pulling—it was the kind of thrill that he relished above all, and he could tell that, in some part of you that you wouldn’t admit, you liked it, too.

Lyney wonders to this day where it all went wrong.

Lyney finishes his story. Lynette sits quietly by the side, both of them watching Aether curiously. Aether has his head hanging low, frowning, no doubt surprised that the children of the House have deeper stories than he expects. They are not just Fatui. They were children, too—orphans trying to survive.

Lyney hopes Aether understands.

They are orphans who have hopes and dreams and hobbies. Orphans that had motivations and banter and dumb crushes. Orphans like you and Lyney, a complication, a commotion: something that Lyney wouldn’t trade for the world (until you did). Orphans that just happened to be Fatui.

“If you had a choice, would you still be a Fatuus?” Aether asks.

”It was never a choice for me; it was simply the path we were meant to take,” Lyney says.

Aether sinks into the couch, and Lyney thinks he finally gets it.

“Tell me what she meant by saying all this is your fault.”

Aether winces. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair, right?”

And so Aether tells them both about how he really met you. It was a devised plan, albeit a failed one due to the complications of their relationship and your unfinished business with ‘Father’ and the one next in line for the throne. Even now, you have to lie about yourself and run from the backlash.

“So you were doing it because of… us,” Lynette trails off.

“And look where that got me,” Aether sighs. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I really am sorry. I underestimated all of you.”

Lyney snorts. “At least you’re right about one thing.”

Aether’s gaze sinks to the ground guiltily.

Perhaps, to Aether, savior of regions, known worldwide as a hero, it was difficult to comprehend. Perhaps he met too many Fatui that had been out to get him, and stabbed him in the back, but Lyney needed Aether to understand that the Fatui was a large organization—you have The Doctor, then you have Lyney and his siblings. Lyney could only hope that Aether wouldn’t become so hostile after meeting you, too bright for this world, that you got snuffed out.

“Why did you do it?” Lyney asks. For whose sake was Aether trying so hard for?

“My sister.”

Lyney’s brows raise. “Your sister?”

“I’m doing all of this for her.”

You’re not the only one working harder to protect the one you love.

Lyney supposes he can’t hate Aether that much for that. And selfishly, Lyney supposes he can’t truly hate Aether because he brought you back to him. In a vague sense of camaraderie, Lyney understands.

Aether scratches at the back of his head. “Well, you have a plan, right?”

Lynette nods. “We’re waiting for him.”

“Who are we waiting for?”

Lyney directs his gaze to the ceiling, beyond it, to the sky. If any Archon was listening…  “The only person Y/N probably trusts right now.”

a/n this chapters very short i know but the next one is going to be posted in a few hours so theres going to be more

TAGLIST moved to comments bc tumblr is being annoying :(

[hippolotamus]

thought i planned for everything (just didn’t count on you) | 1.6k | E (BuckTommy)

Earlier today I promised my wife @bidisasterevankinard an incentive for studying in exchange for making her think about too many WIP ideas. Since husband @diazsdimples is also going through it with schooling, this is for both of you 😘 ps: idk anything about what certs and licenses and stuff Tommy would need. Just roll with it and be nice, yeah? Also, this is unbeta’d so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.

Tommy scrubs at his forehead, blowing out a frustrated breath. He’s looked at the material in front of him for months now, determined to ace his recertifications. And it had been going well. Really well, in fact. He had a study schedule mapped out, accounting for his shifts and time with friends. He even left a small margin for the unexpected. There was just one factor he hadn’t accounted for. Evan.

The past few years of dating haven’t exactly gone anywhere serious. Some casual dates, one that he thought could go the distance but only broke his heart. So the expectation of having that feeling again? Of having someone thoughtful and caring, who gives him butterflies and makes him want things? Pretty much zero.

But then a hurricane happened. Actual and metaphorical. It tore through his life, upending the idea that love – or anything close to it – just wasn’t in the cards for him. And when everything settled, there was Evan. Evan, who asks how his shift was, tells him when he gets back from a call, and turns a pretty shade of pink as he blushes and says ‘I missed you’.

Tommy doesn’t regret any of it, but he does wish the universe’s cosmic timing could’ve held off just a little longer. At least until the state of California tells him what he already knows and says he’s fit to pilot an aircraft.

A knock on the door gets his attention, but he seriously contemplates ignoring it. He didn’t order anything and he doesn’t have plans. Unfortunately, the first responder in him can’t help wondering if one of his elderly neighbors needs something.

Fine. He sets down the pen he’s been chewing on and reminds himself it’s been too long since he stood up and walked around anyway.

“Evan?” Tommy asks, surprised to see him standing there. He instinctively looks him up and down for obvious injuries or signs of distress, but finds nothing. Only his gorgeous boyfriend, smiling coyly. “I didn’t forget about a date, did I?”

“No, uh, nothing like that. Because you are supposed to be studying.” Evan raises one eyebrow like Tommy is in the wrong for answering his own door after somehow manifesting Evan’s presence.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Evan says shyly. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately and wanted to help.”

For the first time, Tommy notices Evan’s got his hands behind his back and wonders what his definition of ‘help’ is. He’s dressed down, soft and adorable in a hoodie and joggers, so it’s unlikely to be a booty call. Though not completely out of the question. And not that Tommy would complain either.

“Did you bring flashcards or something?”

“As a matter of fact…” Evan steps over the threshold, past Tommy, like he owns the place. While shy, demure Evan is a favorite, confident Evan is by no means a turn off. Especially as he whirls around and proudly holds up a set of blue, yellow and pink index cards. “I did.”

“Evan-”

“A few nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I might have taken some notes of my own. And, like I said, thought I could make myself useful for my hot, pilot boyfriend.” He rocks up on his tiptoes, capturing Tommy’s lips for a chaste kiss before he meanders to the kitchen.

Tommy pushes the door closed, following Evan where he lays the cards down on the table, opposite the books and manuals Tommy has scattered. Evan walks to the cabinets and helps himself to a glass, filling it with water before returning. Next he makes himself comfortable in a chair, sitting slightly back with his legs spread apart.

“So, can I help?”

There’s a glimmer of mischief in the way Evan looks at him now that has his heart racing. Like helping is the last thing Evan plans to do.

Tommy gathers himself enough to sit down in his own seat and flashes Evan a confident smirk.

“Do your worst, kid.”

“I’ll start with an easy one. What is the atmospheric gas composition?”

“Twenty-one percent oxygen, seventy-eight percent nitrogen, one percent other,” Tommy rattles off.

“Well done.” Evan flicks the card down then casually leans over to untie one shoe and slip it off.

“What are you-”

Evan clicks his tongue, tutting in fake admonishment. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, baby. Next question. Each one hundred meter climb in elevation causes a temperature drop of what?”

“One degree Celsius.”

Evan simply grins and removes his other shoe, leaving him in socked feet. Tommy would be lying if he said his dick wasn’t taking interest now that he’s caught on to Evan’s game. It is thoroughly unhelpful.

“PAIP should be implemented how many minutes after an aircraft fails to give its position report or is overdue for arrival?”

“Fifteen. Got anything harder for me?”

Evan’s tongue darts out, licking along his lower lip. “Oh, you bet I do.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure and think about… anything except bending Evan over the table. If only it was that simple.

They repeat the process, volleying questions and answers back and forth until Evan’s stripped down to his boxers, his cock obviously hard and leaking beneath the tented fabric. It’s distracting as hell and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate.

“Come on, old man,” Evan teases, palming himself lazily. “Lives are on the line here. You need to be able to think under tense conditions.”

“You’re such a brat.” Tommy’s jeans press uncomfortably on his own straining erection and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from mirroring Evan’s movements.

“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” Evan applies more pressure, letting out an obscene moan as he strokes himself. “Or I could be – ahh – if you get this – mmph – question right.”

“Fuck, Evan.” Tommy undoes his belt and zipper, creating the tiniest bit of relief.

“That’s the idea. Even – oh, fuck – wore the new plug I told you about.”

Christ, Evan’s gonna kill him before they get the chance to see this all play out. And that’s unacceptable.

“Don’t stop,” Tommy orders, stalking off to grab the lube stashed in the couch cushions. When he returns, Evan is still stroking himself exactly like he was instructed. “Good boy, Evan. Doing what I told you.”

Tommy grips his chin and crashes their mouths together in a filthy kiss, delighted as Evan makes the most beautiful whine.

“But, you – ah – didn’t answer me,” Evan protests when they separate.

“Myoglobin.” He leans close to Evan’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “Lesson’s over, kid. Face down over the table. Naked. Now.”

Evan nearly trips over himself, leaping up from his chair and shoving his boxers down. He drapes himself over the piles of papers and index cards, wiggling his ass like he’ll die if he has to go one more second without being fucked.

“Gotta say, I like your methods,” Tommy murmurs, starting to work the plug in and out, tracing his other hand along Evan’s bare skin. “But now I think it’s time for your reward. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yes. Please.”

“So desperate, my Evan,” Tommy coos. “Thought you would be in control, getting me all worked up. And here you are, laid out so gorgeously for me, just begging for it.”

Tommy pulls the plug out completely, discarding it to the floor. Evan keens and clenches around nothing, just waiting to be full again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Tommy shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He slicks himself up with the lube and smears a generous amount on his fingers, fucking them in and out of Evan’s hole. Just enough to ease the way.

“Tommy,” Evan pants, practically crying when he pulls out.

He lines himself up, gripping Evan’s hips and pushing in without additional warning. He doesn’t pause for adjustments before he sets a relentless pace. It’s unlikely either of them are going to last, but he’s not going for longevity here.

Evan curls his hands around the edges of the table, leveraging it to fuck himself back against Tommy’s cock. It’s stunning and breathtaking, the rhythm they’re creating. A symphony of moans, squelches and skin against skin.

Soon the familiar heat pools in his belly, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Ohfuuuuck,” Evan moans, purposely tightening around him.

Tommy digs his fingertips into Evan’s sides, the world around him being reduced to static and white noise as he comes, filling Evan up. He thinks he might shout Evan’s name, but he’s not really sure, nor does he really care as he slumps forward, draping himself across Evan’s glistening skin.

“Gimmeasec,” he mumbles. “I’ll take careayou.”

“No need,” Evan murmurs back. “All good.”

Tommy presses a lazy kiss to Evan’s spine, enjoying the resulting small shudder. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He kisses another ridge, and another, before answering. “For taking notes. For caring. Wanting to help out. For being you.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Evan whispers, hesitantly.

“Never,” Tommy assures him, dropping gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders, mindful of the mess forming between them as he maneuvers to properly reach. “Never too much, baby.”

He bites back words that are too early to say, even if he definitely feels them. Has felt them building in his chest, creating a near endless chant. He wonders how long he’ll be able to smother them before they burst forth. Hopefully long enough. Enough for Evan to feel them, too. For Evan to want to stay.

“Clean up and nap?” Tommy asks instead.

“Sounds good. Earned it.”

Tommy huffs an amused sound against Evan’s skin before pressing one last kiss there. God, I hope so, kid.

[evanbuckleyweek]

Evan Buckley Week 2024

The prompts for Evan Buckley Week 2024 are here!

This event celebrating our very own Evan "Buck" Buckley from 9-1-1 will be held from the 12th until the 18th of August 2024.

You don't need to sign up to participate, just make sure that when you post your work here on Tumblr, you use the tag #buckweek2024. Since tags can get a bit finicky here on Tumblr, you can choose to let us know you posted by also tagging @evanbuckleyweek in your post. Fics posted to ao3 can be added to the Evan Buckley Week 2024 collection.

We've provided prompts for edits as well as fanfiction and art. However, you don't have to stick to one specific list. We encourage you to choose from whichever one sparks joy, as long as you make sure to post on the corresponding day the prompt belongs to!

Edits

For edits, we have some prompts for you where you can pick your Buck-related favorites to make an edit with. All kinds of edits are welcome! Show us your gifs, image-edits and collages!

Day 1: Buck + favorite rescue

Day 2: Buck + favorite line

Day 3: Buck + favorite near death experience

Day 4: Buck + hugs

Day 5: Buck + bi disaster moments

Day 6: Buck + love language

Day 7: favorite headcanon or free choice

Fic & art

For fics and art we're giving you a few prompts to choose from every day. You can choose only one of these, or choose to combine two or all three of them! Every day consists of a line, a theme and a feeling.

Every part of the prompts is completely open to your interpretation. Surprise us with your creativity! We look forward to your fics and all variations of art and other creative works!

Day 1: “Why did you do that?” | reckless behavior | fear

Day 2: “This is my home” | catharsis | hope

Day 3: “Stop lying” | walking away | anger

Day 4: "I really don't like thunderstorms" | late night conversations | anxiety

Day 5: “I wonder what it would have been like if I had known sooner” | bi pride | acceptance

Day 6: "that's why I love you" | love languages | joy

Day 7: favorite headcanon or free choice

Some last things before you go and create your masterpieces:

Please make sure that your fics on ao3 are tagged with the proper ratings and warnings.

We want to ask you to refrain from submitting any of the following: works with character bashing or ship bashing as well as works containing explicit rape/non-con, pedophilia and incest (exploring the aftermath or trauma of these things is okay). Fics that do contain any of these will not be accepted into the ao3 collection and posts will not be reblogged to the Evan Buckley Week blog.

If you have a question, check our FAQ page to see if the answer is there or drop an ask in our inbox!

[storiesbyjes2g]

👀

What is this about you say? Stay tuned!

Thanks to @trumpets0ng and @ladybugsimblr for letting me use your sims' credentials lol. Walker Pearson from Jett Studios (trumpet) was the photographer, and Alex Greene (LB) was the author. He also wrote Bailey Kay's article.

(transcript under the cut)

A well-dressed man walked into the studio, swaggy and confident, with more drip than a coffee pot. His perfectly tailored suit glimmered under the stage lights, looking just as expensive as one would imagine it to be. My initial thought upon seeing this cat with a larger than life personality was, “Oh, great. Here comes another industry brat.” Then, he walked up to my assistant, smiled, extended his hand, and said, “Hi! I’m Orange.” That’s when I knew I’d been completely wrong about him.

I started off slow.

ALEX: How’ve you been? How’s life treating you?

ORANGE: Life is wonderful, thanks for asking.

I’m excited about my baby sister being back on the west coast! She wanted to spread her wings and moved east; that’s where she met and married her guy. But she’s a mom now, and my parents are getting old, so she’s back. I can’t wait to spend time with my nephew and get to know my brother-in-law better.

ALEX: Wow, okay. It’s always nice to have the family close. So where have you been all this time, my man?

He leaned back into the sofa with a huge sigh and a smile.

ORANGE: Where have I been… I’ve been everywhere, man!

ALEX: Oh word?

ORANGE: Yeah, man. I pride myself on not being a prideful person…which is probably the most proud thing I could say.

He laughs at his own joke, wiping fake sweat away from his brow. And all at once, he had me. I was sucked into his energy.

ORANGE: I appreciate everything my parents did for me, but I was never interested in following in their footsteps.

ALEX: Never?

ORANGE: Not really. I was kinda artsy as a kid. I can sing, but I never had a passion for it. Don’t get me wrong…I’m a gregarious kind of guy, so I wanted to be in the public. Just not doing what my parents did.

ALEX: So what did you do?

ORANGE: Whatever I could. I didn’t want it said of me that my life was handed to me, so I moved out, got a crappy apartment, and worked as a barista for a while. People told me I was funny, so I started writing sketches and going to the comedy clubs.

ALEX: And then sim.TV called.

Laughter erupts, startling everyone on set. It’s loud and hearty and sounds like that uncle at the family barbeque.

ORANGE: It didn’t exactly happen that way, but yes…eventually. I honestly don’t know what happened. I’m guessing someone just happened to be at one of my shows and thought I would be a good fit for this new talk show they were planning.

ALEX: What does this mean for you?

ORANGE: Wow… This means… It’s so validating. I’m middle-aged now, and all my peers are off doing so many amazing things. It was really hard to resist the urge to go to my parents and ask for help. But the thing that kept me going was this moment right here. I knew that if I stayed the course, eventually something would happen, and I would have an immense feeling of pride. And I do.

ALEX: That’s so dope. So, tell us about the show.

ORANGE: It’s called “The Pulse,” and it’s all about keeping you entertained and informed about what’s going on in the entertainment world.

ALEX: So you’re keeping your finger on the pulse of the industry.

ORANGE: You get it. I’m so grateful for the opportunity because it’s so perfect for me. I grew up around it. I know all dirty secrets, but I also recognize and respect the beauty in it.

ALEX: So from your interviews, should we expect to get a different perspective of celebrity life?

ORANGE: I hope so. I don’t want to be just another talk show host, asking the same tired questions. One thing I want to do differently is get the audience involved. Everyone watching has their own reasons for being interested in someone, so if there’s something they want to know, I’d like to give them the answers.

ALEX: Okay! I like that. Kinda like, power to the people.

ORANGE: Exactly.

ALEX: So, why Nick?

ORANGE: Why not Nick? He’s the hottest thing smoking right now, and he’s not even working. I’m trying to get on his level! But seriously though, I think we’d vibe well. We’re similar in our values and ways of working, and I don’t think he’s ever done a TV interview before, so I think it’s fitting that he be my first guest.

ALEX: Best of luck to you, man. Thanks for sitting down with us.

[wayfayrr]

Hey there, I wondered if Tears ever gets insecure about his arm, scars or possibly even his height. Like I find his height absolutely perfect and adorable but he is smaller than most other people and it might bother him?

So I've been wondering how he acts when insecure and what would be a good way to comfort him. I would just hold him and try to convince him of all the good qualities he has. As well as petting through his hair. Making him feel loved and secure. And honestly an extraordinary arm isn't that bad, it doesn't affect who he is after all.

I wonder if that would help or he'd need some other form of comfort. Or maybe to be left alone. Anything from an answer to hc's to a short story or even deletion is fine! If you even have time and are willing that is!

Have a great day! <3

I absolutely loved this request, thank you so much for it - I've gone with three different possible scenarios for why he could be dealing with feeling insecure and some headcanons for how you could help him feel better about himself after each one <3 There is one major one I left out but the issue regarding his memories will definitely be explored some time soon!

honestly exploring tears is just so fun, it's nice tearing into his different layers :3c headcanons under the cut!

[masterlist]

due to his prosthetic 

✦ This is the easiest of his insecurities to deal with, as it only really tends to show itself when his phantom pains act up. 

✦ he’s long used to having lost his arm by the point that you meet, having had to figure out a replacement for when Rauru’s arm faded after his second quest was over.

✦ despite that though he still isn’t used to the ricocheting pain he gets once every so often, less now than when he was first still drowned in gloom but still just as debilitating. 

✦ He just needs to taken away from other people and shown affection, reassured that his is a benefit rather than something people only pity him for. 

✦ it’s all he really needs in those moments of vulnerability, when he can feel the flesh being shredded from his none existent bone. 

“Wouldn't it be better if there was some way to just have my arm go back to how it should be? That way I wouldn’t be such a burden when he decides to haunt me again.” “Sherbert whatever do you mean? You aren’t a burden for this, why even consider it?” “The whole group has had to come to a stop just because of this stupid pain and I know you’ve seen time getting pissed off with me for the things I can do with it.” “Time’s just an old man who’s worried about your safety, he means no harm with it. Wars got the rest to come to a stop for the same reason, not because you’re a burden, but because we care for you.” “But If my arm wasn’-” “Your arm is part of who you are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, I love you for you Li, don’t even waste your energy thinking otherwise.”

✦ another way to help him through these patches is more to do with also indulging his love for learning about your home, or well more to the point - stickers. Giving him ones with meaning and that he thinks are pretty help him to work his confidence back. Because it wouldn't be possible without his arm!

due to his height 

✦ This comes out even rarer than his doubts about his arm, and only due to a very specific scenario and that’s if you’re talking about Earth's beauty standards - how taller people are often seen as more attractive.

✦ If you aren’t quick to say otherwise he’s going to assume that’s what you think too, it’s going to do a real number on his self esteem - because the thing is, he never really cares about what other people think about him, it simply doesn’t even register as something he should be worried about before he met you outside of the memory issue but that’s a whole other thing 

✦ this is the first time that something that REALLY has never been an issue for him becomes a big problem, if you aren’t aware of why he’s feeling like this then the sudden shift will come as a surprise. As he starts to avoid you and tear up whenever you see him before leaving. The rest of the chain mention that they’ve seen him tinkering with things but no one has seen exactly what it is.  

✦ the reason it came up was possibly from another member of the chains jealousy of how close the two of you were before this, or simply another villager trying to get you to go with them ‘because why wouldn’ t you want a tall handsome guy? 

✦ the sooner you can catch on and comfort him the better, as it’ll give it less time to get stuck in his head that you aren’t comforting him because it’s true, and it’s harder to tell himself that it isn’t while you’re pretty much confirming it

✦ but when you finally do get through to him that you don’t care about his height? That you aren’t secretly judging him for being so short? He’ll have a little moment where he breaks down, he’s been avoiding you for so long… and for what? All that time with you he’s missed over such a ridiculous reason will haunt him for at least a few days. 

“Tears? Link what are you doing? You’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week now. And - are those?” “I, no I haven’t been ‘avoiding’ you, just, I’ve just been busy… yeah.” “Were you just making those stilts this whole time? Is that why you’ve blanked me, seriously?” “I just - I, that - in the village.” “Hey, hey lilac there’s no need to cry love, I’m not angry, I’ve just missed you. You don’t have to tell me why, it’s just worried me.” “It - that guy, what he said - I just, wouldn’t you prefer someone taller?” “Well someone taller wouldn’t be you love. And I couldn’t even imagine being with someone else.” “R-really?” “Really darling.”

✦ he'll be impossibly clingy and almost showy after the fact, to the point where other people start getting concerned about how close he's getting - but it's not like he's hurt anyone else over it yet but if the villager who planted the idea in his head ever appears again then, well who would blame him..?

due to his sexuality (haha demiromantic asexual tears hc stepping innn)

✦ This is a bit more of a unique one, because it isn’t something he’s had to put all that much thought into before, it’s just never come up, but when he hears how some of the others talk about relationships he starts to have doubts about himself. 

✦ He simply doesn’t feel things that the others have described and the things that he has felt happened so much slower than how they said it did for them. He simply can’t help but question if there was- is something wrong with him. 

✦ He only started to fall when he was good friends with you, not the instant connection that he heard that time had with malon, or twi with midna. He doesn’t want you the person who he loves more than his own life to be with someone who he’s starting to think as so broken. If he can’t feel love ‘right’ then how could he hope to treat you right? 

✦ If he learns about this being normal, about the fact that other people share the same things as him, that he has flags that can use to show off his identity? It’s the biggest relief that he’s felt since meeting someone who treated him like a person. 

✦ once he’s gotten it through his head that he’s not broken, and that he doesn’t need to be worried about not being enough for you. You accept him for what he is and aren’t trying to make him change. It’s something he very very rarely gets to experience, and it definitely helps him feel even closer to you in the end 

✦ some of the biggest comfort he gets is you just accepting him and letting his feelings progress at his natural rate, it’s one of the best things he could have hoped for.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I turned my coworker in for using his phone?

☎️ for obvious reasons.

So I’m gonna put this up front: this isn’t actually about the phone, it’s about the coworker. The phone is just convenient.

Our players are me (35 AFAB), Coworker A (~30 M), Supervisor C (N/A M), D (N/A F), and L (N/A F).

So first, the reason I have beef with A: he has never had a conversation with me that didn’t involve hitting on me and/or inappropriate questions. These have included demanding to know who I voted for, how my paycheck is delivered, whether I’m in a throuple with my roommates, and whether I have a boyfriend, which wouldn’t be weird except it was literally the first question he ever asked me—he didn’t even know my name yet. After I yelled at him over the voting thing because he refused to take “I don’t discuss politics at work” for an answer FOUR TIMES, he tried to break my glasses when I put them down so I could put on my safety goggles.

You may be wondering why I haven’t turned A in for harassment, ESPECIALLY after the glasses incident. I have. The problem is, he’s very good at looking pathetic and saying “I was just _________.” In this case, he was just looking at my glasses (never mind that you shouldn’t be playing with someone else’s expensive medical device!), and just making conversation. In spite of the fact that he was ignoring his trainee and distracting me from my work, he somehow got away with this. After a few of my screwdrivers went missing the same day he went pawing through them and he broke my brand-new pen, C told him to stop having anything to do with me, that his attention WAS NOT WELCOME.

Now we get to L and D. They’re two of our coworkers who can solve just about any problem you have. Ever since A was warned off, I’ve noticed that if I’m working with L or D, suddenly A needs all kinds of help that keeps bringing him over to our machine, and he always seeks out help from whoever it is I’m working with—if I’m with L he’ll go to L, if I’m with D he’ll go to D. If you’re a dude and think I’m overreacting, go ask a couple of the women in your life—you probably know someone who’s had similar experiences. (And for the record, another coworker I only know to say hello to has commented that his behavior toward me makes her feel like “he wants to wear your skin or something.”) I don’t think A is actively dangerous, but he’s very clearly a creep—especially because he also has a girlfriend and baby and still keeps doing this.

Now we get to the phone. I work in a factory where we’re not allowed to have phones on the floor because we work with food product and a phone dropping in a box is a huge contamination issue, on top of which distraction at my job can lead to life-changing, possibly even life-threatening injuries. (I was on a machine that threw its chain drive once and the only reason I didn’t lose an eye is because there happened to be another machine piece between me and the snap.) So: phones are a big no. Management will look the other way for people in extenuating circumstances, like having a sick kid at home, but in those cases your phone is to remain in your pocket and if it rings and you need to answer, you have to leave the floor.

I have caught A texting FOUR TIMES in the last month. Once I caught the words on his phone screen, and he was making plans for a party. That’s definitely not extenuating circumstances, and twice I’ve found his phone in the product catch tray.

So: very against rules that are there for the safety of us and our end users, and if I turn him in he’s going to get a writeup and possibly even a termination, which would mean I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. On the other hand, if he gets fired for violating safety standards he’ll have a hard time getting new work, and his baby doesn’t deserve hardship just because Dad is a creeper. Also, while I don’t carry my phone on the floor, I worry that turning him in could lead to a blanket ban that affects those in extenuating circumstances, because I’m almost positive he’d try “I was just checking on the baby” as his excuse.

WIBTA?

[doctor-dusk]

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

mr. turner (the car!alex) offers you a ride home on a rainy day. could you turn down an offer from your favorite teacher? 

warnings: almost none, age gap, just a bit of angst, most fluff actually.

word count: 3.9k

kinda into prof!al for so long but i only managed to write something now. maybe there's a part 2 (with smut included), idk.

this was wrong. he knew that.

but was it so wrong?

he asked himself that every time he looked at you, sitting in your usual spot in the classroom, second chair in the second row, from left to right.

quiet girl, shy, intelligent, deer eyes that discreetly followed him when he explained the content as he walked around the room, always making a point of passing close to your row, just to be able to delude himself with the sensation of feeling your body close to his. 

if he was lucky, he could also smell the faint perfume you exhale dissipating due to the air conditioning. vanilla scent, to be more specific.

you were his favourite girl. secretly, of course. so secretly that you didn't even know that.

little did he know that he’s your favourite teacher. but just like him, you were also discreet. 

you avoid looking at him for too long, afraid of looking like a psychopath, or worse, that he would look back at you, something that happened sometimes.

but, oh, when he looks back at you... simply the best three seconds of your life.

you made him feel strangely uncomfortable. not that it's in a bad way. it was a ‘’good uncomfortable’’, if he can put it that way. 

he liked the way your voice sounded, feeling like a warm breeze in a cold day. he wanted to be able to talk to you more, answer something other than a simple question that you occasionally asked him during class. the most you say outside the classroom is ''see you next class'' along with a polite smile.

but again, reality comes weighing like a ton. you were his student. his sweet little student.

this was so wrong. but he couldn’t help it. his eyes fell on you more than he would have liked, as if you were a magnet. to your face, your neck, your chest, always with a minimum of cleavage that was almost always covered with your coat. to your hands, always busy holding a pen, writing tireless and useless notes in your notebook.

he wondered what your delicate hands could do besides write so much. 

on this particular morning, it was raining. like, a lot. you specifically loved rainy mornings when you didn’t have to go to campus, which unfortunately was not the case.

and now, you were stuck in there at one of the exits, watching the rain fall like a deluge, hoping that it would give you a minimal break so that you could at least get to the bus stop without getting all wet.

you looked at the time on your phone. it wasn't that you were in a hurry to get to your apartment, just the idea of staying there on campus didn't please you as you wish.

if only you were taking a class with mr. turner right now… yeah, the whole world could fall apart out there as long as you could be near him. his voice sounding like a shooting balm, his firm hand holding the book while the other hand was hidden inside the front pocket of his pants. you paid attention to all these details just so you could replay it like a movie in your head.

especially before bed.

oh, if mr. turner only knew what you thought about him in the dead of night…

‘’y/n?’’ you were startled by the sound of that familiar voice urging you from behind, and you hoped you weren't too pale when you turned to look at him. were your thoughts too loud?

‘’h-hi, mr. turner.’’ you forced an embarrassed smile, rubbing your arms awkwardly. ‘’what are you doing here?’’

‘’well, i… work here.’’ he chuckled weakly, hoping he didn't sound too rude, and you felt dumb for asking such a stupid question. ''waiting for the rain to stop?'' he asked, looking away from you and looking at the surroundings.

‘’yea, stupid rain.’’ you grumbled, looking around too, giving him the opportunity to look at you. as always, you were breathtaking. 

he thought for a moment before opening his mouth again. should he risk it? well, he could, but he was afraid you would refuse, and worse, end up moving away.

but he had a good excuse. it was raining a lot. it wasn't an stupid rain after all.

''can i... i mean, would you like a ride home?'' he asked after clearing his throat. he had smoked a few minutes ago, so his throat was warm and his voice was a little hoarse.

‘’oh, it's very kind, but there's no need to bother.’’ you said politely, your heart beating like a drum, your palms sweating a lot as you clasped your hands in your arms discreetly. 

‘’not a bother, miss. they said on the news that the rain is not expected to stop, you can stay ‘ere all day.’’ he responded, his mind worked quickly to come up with a convincing lie for you to accept. he didn't even watch the news today. 

you squeezed your arms tighter. you really want to accept it, but what if someone sees you getting into his car? god, you didn't even want to imagine.

‘’listen, 's okay if you don't want to, i just…’’ he said when he noticed your hesitation, looking away for a brief second. did he fuck up? ‘’just tried to help, i know what it's like to have to go home while it's raining a lot like it is now. besides, no one's gonna see us.’’

the last last sentence caught your attention, and ironically, it was what made you calm down. it was raining, what harm would it do if you accepted a ride from your teacher?

you nodded, accepting his offer. he gave a small smile, his fist clenched around the handle of his briefcase, trying to dissipate his excitement. 

you let him lead the way. luckily, he had an umbrella. a small one, not that you’re complaining. this gave you legitimacy to stand closer to him so that the umbrella could protect you both. 

‘’ready?’’ he asked you, opening the umbrella, holding it by the cold metal handle while the other hand held the briefcase. you nodded, getting closer to him so you could follow his lead when you two finally stepped out. 

the cold splashes of water hit your bare legs as you took a short run to the parking lot, dodging the puddles of water along the way and the wind ruffled your hair almost violently.

but nothing gave you goosebumps more than feeling his arm go over your shoulders to bring you closer, careful not to hit you with the briefcase he was holding. he didn't give a fuck if the briefcase was left unprotected and with rain falling down on it, as long as you were protected under his wing, everything was fine.

you stopped next to his car, he was cursing under his breath for forgetting to take the car keys out of his pocket before leaving with you. you held the handle of the umbrella so he could have his hand free to reach inside his pocket and pull out his car keys.

‘’thanks.’’ he muttered, disabling the car alarm. he smelled so good. a good smell of sandalwood, cedar, coffee and cigarettes. better than you have imagined. ‘’get in, ‘s fucking freezing here.’’ he said after opening the passenger door for you to get in, holding the umbrella again so you could get in.

he closed the door before you get in, running around the car to get to the driver's door, opening it quickly, closing the umbrella and throwing it on the backseat along with his briefcase. he didn't care if it was going to get the whole bench wet, he could deal with that later.

‘’oh, god, it feels like a flood, huh?’’ he chuckled, looking at you for a moment, noticing that you’re shaking. like he said, it was fucking freezing. ‘’oh, sorry, let me just…’’ he said, quickly starting the car so he could turn on the heater. ‘’there, better?’’ 

‘’yes, thank you, mr. turner.’’ you smiled at him, feeling your body getting warmer as the heater was doing its work. he smiled back, running his hand through his damp hair, putting on his seat belt and you repeated the act so that you could get out of there.

the heater managed to keep you warm, which was great. you could say that the car seat is more comfortable than your bed, you could easily sleep here, and the smell of his perfume permeating the car made you take a few deep breaths, your lungs almost exploded with ecstasy. 

you could spend hours describing how you’re looking at the car the whole time, but you would be lying, because you were definitely looking at your teacher next to you, driving attentively, with his hard expression intact, changing only when he pressed his lips together, forming a thin line. his damp hair gave him a sexier touch than usual, his wide-open brown eyes, even though they weren't looking at you, remained enigmatic.

everything he did seemed mesmerizing. the way he operated the car with one hand, looking at the mirrors, or when he changed gears, or when he simply turned on the windshield wipers.

what a handsome man. 

‘’i forgot to ask you where your house is.’’ he said, taking you out of your daydreams and you widened your eyes slightly, soon laughing softly.

‘’yeah, i forgot to mention that too.’’ you said. ‘’do you know belvedere? the neighborhood, i say.’’

‘’oh yeah, i used to go to a pub nearby when i was younger, good days.’’ he nodded, knowing the way. 

you wondered if it would be polite to ask his age. he didn't look that old. he wasn't, actually. but for you, socially, he was old. not that you would care. 

‘’those days are over?’’ you asked, trying to continue the topic respectfully with him, not wanting to sound desperate to talk to him. but oh, you wanted so badly to keep talking to him.

‘’yeah, i think so. when you're a teacher you don't have a lot of time and energy for this kind of thing anymore.’’ he replied, scratching his chin a little, keeping his eyes on the road, eventually glancing at you. ‘’i can barely stay awake until 2am.’’

you laughed respectfully. but you could laugh without respect too, he didn't care as long as he could hear the sound of your laugh and see your cheeks blush.

‘’if it's any consolation, i also can't go past 2am without ending up asleep.’’ you said, being honest. despite being young, you had a tiring routine, you didn't have the time or inclination to go to parties and stay up until the sun came up. 

‘’two old souls, i suppose.’’ he chuckled and you followed suit. you felt good with him, he made you feel comfortable. and strangely needy.

no wonder he was your favourite teacher.

unfortunately, the ride lasted less than you wanted. you only had to indicate a few streets for him to stop in front of the building where you lived. a small building, which was certainly perfect for single people or couples.

''there you go.'' he said, forcing a smile. he wished to spend more time with you, how he wished…

‘’thank you, mr. turner.'' you said, taking off your seat belt, placing your hand on the door handle to open it, the rain was light now, just little sprinkles of water falling. 

well, you should be more grateful for the ride, shouldn't you? just a small act. 

‘’uhm… would you like a cup of tea?’’ you asked shyly.

he had never felt his heart beat as fast as it did now. so fucking fast that he took a while to respond. he doesn't even like tea, but he would never pass up the opportunity to spend more time with you.

‘’yeah, sounds great, if it's not a bother.’’ he answered shortly, paying attention to your face to see if you would change your mind. it was not politically correct in the eyes of society to invite a teacher to have tea in your apartment, both of you knew it.

and as always, you didn't give a fuck.

soon enough, you were unlocking the front door of your apartment, your teacher right behind you, at a considerable distance, even though all he wanted most was to hug you from behind, feel your curves under your dress to know if your body is as warm and soft as he imagines.

you led the way, turning on the lights wherever you passed, opening the door wider so he could enter. your apartment was small, as expected, but it was tidy and cozy. 

‘’just like you,’’ that's what he thought.

he made himself comfortable there while you were in the kitchen. he had no tea preference, he would take whatever you offered him. he looked around a little more, paying attention to every detail of the living room and hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom.

the dim lights made the space more cozy and warm, the small plants in the window brought a little more color to the living room, and of course, the books along with the picture frames on the small shelf near the tv were what caught his attention the most. small books of the most diverse genres, but of course literature was what most prevailed, including foreign literature.

he swept his eyes over the photos in the frames. always you, an older woman and a younger girl. he assumed it would be your mother and your younger sister. oh, there was a dog too. such a cute poodle.

it was just normal family photos. except for the absence of a man. not that he thought he should have, he didn't know anything about you at that point, but he couldn't help but think: did you have a father?

why wasn't he in the photos? is that all that you had? your mother, your sister and a dog? 

and then, suddenly, he started to wonder if it was possibly worth risking all of this.

‘’sugar?’’ your voice sounded behind him, making him blink his eyes and look away, his hands hidden in his pants pockets reaching out to grab the cup of warm tea.

‘’thanks.’’ he muttered. 

‘’no, i… asked if you like some sugar on yours.’’ you gestured and he shook his head, taking a sip. lemon balm flavored, a true natural calming agent. you noticed he seemed a little uneasy, but you didn't want to ask him. 

‘’it’s a… cute dog, actually.’’ he said, pointing to the picture with his thumb. you gave a warm smile.

‘’yeah, he was.’’ you agreed, siping your tea. was. so, the dog died. he felt sorry for you, but before he could say something, you pointed to the small couch. ‘’would you like to sit?’’

he sat on the couch after you. the sofa was a two-seater, so it was impossible not to end up leaning against each other, his shoulders pressing against yours gently.

you felt nervous, the silence wasn't embarrassing, but it wasn't very pleasant either. your legs were bent while your hands cupped the cup of tea perfectly. you looked at him in silence, seeing that he was already looking at you long before that, taking note of every single expression on your face.

‘’are you nervous? i can leave if you want.’’ he broke the silence, sounding genuinely concerned that you were feeling insecure or uncomfortable in his presence. that was the last thing he would want to make you feel.

‘’no, i'm just…’’ you said, shaking your head and watching him leave the cup of tea on the coffee table in front of you. but you couldn't lie. and even if you did, he wouldn't believe it. ‘’yeah, i'm nervous. i never... brought a professor here and... i don't know, i'm not used to it.’’

‘’it's ok, darling. i’ve also never been to a student's house before.’’ he sounded honest in his response, wanting you to feel comfortable but not wanting to force you into it. you took another sip of the tea, the hot liquid running smoothly down your throat before you set your cup down next to his. ‘’but i can still leave if you want.’’

‘’i wouldn't have invited you to come if i didn't want you to stay.’’ you replied, summoning all your courage to say it without stuttering, looking at him. a weak smile appeared on his lips, and he felt safe reaching for your left hand that was resting in your lap.

you didn't refuse his touch, your hand rested in his open palm, showing the difference in size between you. his thumb brushed over your skin, making you slightly open your hand, feeling more of the contact between his calloused fingers and yours. your hand was more delicate and soft, the way he always imagined. 

your head felt full and your heart beat faster, but you tried not to tremble, enjoying this touch and the way your palms rubbed gently. 

‘’do you play the guitar?’’ you asked, breaking the silence. he nodded, too distracted by the touch of your hand, but not so much that he doesn't hear you.

‘’i take a little risk. can't say that i'm a professional though.’’ he shrugged softly. you smiled, imagining what it would be like to see him play his guitar. does he play standing up? seated? lying in his bed? does he like to play more elaborate riffs? or something more peaceful and soothing? 

‘’it would be nice to hear you play one day.’’ you commented, and he smiled at the idea. oh, he would love to play for you.

‘’yeah, sounds great. we can go to my place any day, i can play you some tunes.’’ he said. so, was he considering taking you to his flat one day? he gave a crooked smile. ‘’if you like, of course.’’

‘’i would love to.’’ you spoke softly, feeling more comfortable around him, your hand still on top of his. ‘’but... wouldn't there be anyone at home waiting for you?’’

nice shot. it was a good move to ask that. at least you would know if he had someone in his life. you would feel like crap if the answer was yes.

‘’no. i used to have, to be honest.’’ he replied, at the same time you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders, you couldn't be too relieved about it the way he spoke. ‘’but it's in the past, she's no longer part of my life and i couldn't be more relieved than that.’’

you didn't have many details about mr. turner’s romantic life, and that was as close as you could get. the only information you had was that he was divorced. the reason? well, you wouldn't dare to ask. at least not now. you were content to know that at least now, he wasn't with anyone.

you gave a small smile, your hand squeezing his for a short moment before you before you carefully approached, laying your head on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't push you away. and he didn't. he relaxed his tense shoulders, wanting you to be more comfortable. his arm went around you, the same way he did to pull you closer to protect you from the rain, but his hand fell a little further, resting on your side. he felt warmer inside.

you kept your head still, your eyes open and your breathing was shaky because you were still nervous, and he did everything he could to make you more comfortable. after all, you had the initiative. the fingers of his other hand ghosted over your face, brushing the strands of hair from your face, loving how silky they were and had a soft watermelon scent.

‘’you smell good.’’ he whispered, complimenting you in a sweet way, trying not to overwhelm you or make it worse. 

‘’thank you.’’ you whispered back, moving your head a little so your nose could get a little closer to his neck, smelling the faint scent of his perfume that was still present on the collar of his shirt. ‘’you also smell good.’’

he smiled at the compliment, even though he thinks it's a lie, since he stayed at campus all morning, smoking on certain occasions and sweating during the hours.

his hand sank into your hair, his fingertips working dedicatedly on your scalp, massaging if softly. it felt like a blessing, your eyes closed immediately at his touch. he smiled, kissing your forehead. he was loving seeing you like this, so relaxed and so serene. because of him.

‘’feels nice, huh?’’ he asked quietly, seeing you open your eyes and look at him. god, how he wishes he could kiss you now. he barely had time to weigh the pros and cons, because when he realized it, your lips pressed against his in a soft kiss.

you felt your breaths mixing, your head emptied, all you thought about was him. 

him. him. him. 

it felt wrong at first, but now, everything was so right and so desirable that you wondered why you had never worked up the courage before. his lips were so inviting, you didn’t even need to feel his tongue invading your mouth to get completely hooked by him, but you still got that taste to feel his tongue swirling on your mouth, almost intertwining with yours. 

his hand pressed harder on your head, just like the hand that was resting in your waist, savoring your curves on his hand. somehow, he felt he was committing a great sin. that he was digging himself into a bottomless hole, and what's worse: he was taking you with him.

you pulled out, sighing softly, your lips were a little pumped and rosy. you opened your eyes, looking at him expectantly. did he liked? will he pull you into another kiss? will he reject you?

‘’i’m sorry.’’ you muttered when you noticed that he stayed silent, fighting a battle against his own mind.

‘’no, ’s not your fault…’’ he whispered back, sighing heavily. ‘’it was good, sweetie.’’

good. so he liked the kiss. 

in fact, he loved the kiss. he could kiss you all day if his mind wasn't so fucked up. you were his student. you were younger than him. you had your whole life ahead of you. and he didn't want to ruin it. he wanted to say he was sorry, that this probably wouldn't work, but it was as if his words were stuck in a lump in his throat.

‘’i think i better go.’’ he finally said, once again trying not to be rude. you hid your disappointment with a weak smile, nodding. 

you felt cold when he moved his body away from yours, standing up and adjusting his clothes. he could barely look at you without feeling a little guilty.

‘’thanks for the tea.’’ he said shortly, glancing at you one last time before opening the front door and leaving. 

you looked at the door, feeling hopeless. the taste of his kiss still remained on your lips, and now, it was tattooed on your mind. you wondered what would become of the two of you now.

this was wrong. you knew that.

but was it so wrong?

[guilty-shot-au]

Okay, I have been meaning to say this for a while, because I think this is a noticeable problem in our community:

Every ask matters And yet there are NONE

Do you feel bored in this RP fandom?

Tired of browsing a rarely updating tag?

Notice how half the community is joining ask games?

Ever wonder why many OS RP blogs go almost completely inactive?

Notice how there's half a dozen boring and slow as hell arcs going on recently?

This is because many blogs get NO asks at all. Popular or not.

Even OS Game RP giants like @diginiko-asks and @nyat-a-cat (currently shadowbanned so ask @the-kerfus-machine ) can experience a complete lack of asks sent sometimes!

And we need YOU to send some to the blogs you follow!

No matter what you send, no matter if they get answered or not, having asks to answer is good for everyone!

If you find yourself constantly waiting for asks all day, without actually sending asks out yourself, you are a part of the problem!

This community thrives on interaction, not waiting!

Want to help this community? Want to improve people's days? Try sending three or more asks to random blogs a day!

Feel anxious to send asks? Nobody in this RP will do anything to you, and the characters do not reflect any of the blog runners intentions. Also, the anon option is there for a reason! Always remember that you have good intentions!

Feel like you will worsen someone's day by sending an ask? As long as you follow the rules set by the blog runner, you won't! At worst, it's a forgivable annoyance.

And if you are running an RP blog, remember: you are not obligated to reply to any asks sent, do not let this hobby cause you burnout.

"Oh, but I don't know who to ask!"

Just browse the "#OS game RP" tag, it's more effective than you might think at finding new blogs!

Check the blogs you follow, there's likely an RP blog or two you forgot about.

There's already large lists of OS game RP blogs out there, check out Mapmaker's interview list and the fifh masterpost!

"Oh, but I don't know what to ask!"

Here's some ideas:

Philosophy, hobbies, and specific preferences are simple topics to form questions in, and can tell a lot about a character!

Ask something as YOUR character! - Have a casual conversation between two different characters with someone else in a thread, share lore on the way, tell stories, and have fun!

Question some lore! - If you can ask something regarding a character's backstory, especially to fill in the potential plot holes, that can be very healthy for the writing side of running an RP blog!

A lot of blogs are actually fine with M!As, if they are simple or interesting!

Found yourself questioning or answering something interesting out of RP? Great ask!

Found something interesting in a quiz? That's a great ask idea!

Came up with something that would probably cause funny reactions? - Ask away!

Heard a silly question in general? Great! Guess who you can redirect it to!

Remember: Questions do not have to be complicated! Don't feel bad if something of yours does not get answered, because you had good intentions in the end!

But I am never going to tell you to send people random nonsense just for them to not have empty inboxes, so try to avoid:

Random memes/words - These are hard to work with and are unlikely to lead to interesting things.

Basic compliments - Most characters will probably say "thanks", unless they have a backstory for it.

Repeating jokes - No one's gonna have fun if you just send "Fifh" to Freeware entity for the 15th time without putting a unique twist on it.

Spam, NSFW, exc. - Just no.

In general, it's best to put thought in your asks.

If you have anything to state on the topic, please do so in the reblogs. I encourage you to check them.

Share this around and tell your friends to send out asks regularly!

Anyways good night, sleep deprived ramble over.

[dropthedemiurge]

Boys Be Brave [EP.5] // Translation notes

I'm back with my - I guess?? - already weekly analysis of something Gaga subs might've missed in this show. Because apparently, the silly show got deeper and I'm staying here until the very end :D

First of all, I was curious and checked whether there is anything about Kiseob's illness, and there is! There are two diagnoses:

상세불명의 심실중격결손 상세불명의 심방중격결손 Unspecified Ventricular Septal Defect, Unspecified Atrial Septal Defect

I am not a doctor definitely, but quick googling told me it's a heart defect (also called as 'a hole in the heart') which can have symptoms of heart malfunctioning. Which would! Explain even more! Why Kiseob has wrist watch that always measures his pulse and why on several occasions he was wondering why his heart was beating so fast next to Jinwoo (well, one for obvious reasons and another one is this).

And it's something you have since birth so he's been dealing with medication his entire life. Which would also explain further - after the scene with his sister - why the urge to be a people pleaser is so serious and so ingrained in him.

Another interesting language detail I noticed in this scene. Kiseob says "That's why I just agree to anything" but it doesn't translate well to english, because the verb 좋아/좋아해 can mean "I like" (eating medicine) and "I like (the idea)/I agree". So first he started lying that yes, he likes taking medicine, and that transferred to him saying that yes, he likes this, he agrees with this (whatever that is, anything he is proposed with)

"I cannot like anyone, right?" "Why not? You're a bastard with a lot of money"

This phrase references all the previous phrases that other people used to describe Kiseob, but Balgeum doesn't sense the real problem of his friend because the phrasing is general, it can also mean 'I have no chance of loving someone', and that's why Balegum thinks it's just Kiseob having low self-esteem or something. And also to him having money = being able to love, letting himself confess and date the one he loves, so of course, that's his answer. Kiseob has a lot of money, why wouldn't he confess to Jinwoo if he likes him?

But Kiseob can't because he doesn't even know his own feelings, and everyone around tells him he doesn't have the ability to love someone.

"Giving me (toilet paper) as if I moved to a new house"

Now, I cannot be the only one thinking years ago why the hell Koreans give each other huge packages of toilet paper when they visit someone xD But this is also a cultural thing!

When your friends move to a new house, you are supposed to come with gifts and usually with very practical ones, like toilet paper (very common gift). Rich friends can give you coffee machines or humidifiers or something like that. In my country, when you visit friends (not moving houses but still), you usually bring some desserts or food to have with tea. So for some countries, toilet paper is a norm :D

Balgeum has been living in his small apartment for a long time but it's the first time Inho visits his house so he's giving it a gesture of respect (but still an awkward one).

[Interrupting my broadcast to scream about cuteness and awkwardness of Balgeum x Inho AAAAAHHHHH Now back to the schedule]

...No, we will definitely focus on scribbling over Jung Kiseob's name for 100th time, absolutely distracted from any historical knowledge going in the background ^^

Oh! By the way! I remember being surprised that, apparently, some people on social media were uncomfortable with Kiseob seemingly 'feminizing' himself to be likeable by Jinwoo. Let me tell you that no, Kiseob doesn't do that at all!

There is nothing truly that indicated that he wants to be a ideal girl for Jinwoo (who has non-gendered perfect type list as I mentioned in my previous translation notes post!). He doesn't even use typical school-girl aegyo on Jinwoo (aka acting cute), maybe a tiny bit but it's not typical and it's not usually in his language at all. He talks gently and softly a lot! But he doesn't add typical cuteness in the way he talks (like there's no pouting, mumbling words and ending sentences with -ung).

I talked about dress = one-piece = jumper suit being the same in Korean but Kiseob literally only follows what Jinwoo wrote about a person he likes (not girl). As I described it, "he's using loopholes in Jinwoo's specific list in a true himbo way" :D He doesn't really do anything girly and doesn't pretend to be a girl as I can sense.

And I don't think I need to clarify another time, but falling in love during first snow/first sight is one of Jinwoo's list. Which Kiseob already fulfilled but he doesn't know that, and he just saw Jinwoo being with Hyejin witnessing first snow, which was the last straw for him to admit his failure and give up pursuing Jinwoo.

By the way, Koreans really think the first snowfall is a romantic event, like there are saying you'll fall in love with/be happy dating with someone you'll be with during first snow^^ It comes up in many Kdramas.

[alexlikesairconditioninh]

Geo x reader

Regarding SOL

You became friends with the group after crowe brought you in, at first you and geo didn't have anything going on, but somehow, he developed feelings— and it seems like he isnt the only one.

NOT PROOFREAD (this is under the assumption that geo knows about hyugos crimes)

The first meeting;

Geo wanted to get close to you, but he honestly struggled. So he opted for just being by your side and helping you out. He heard of solivan brugmansia all too well, afterall the rumors regarding him are very well known to those that heard of him.

But, did he care? No, not really. A rumor about some random student he didn’t interact with didn’t matter to him, besides, people spread false rummors around constantly. He wasn't intrested in finding out the truth behind the rummors. Until, he had realized you acquainted yourself with him.

It was after class, you and your friends were out in the hallway pondering where to hang out. Before you spot hyugo and sol. Youre unsure wether to not to bother them as they seem deep in conversation. However it seems hyugo could feel your eyes on him. His eyes locked with yours, and you take that as an opportunity to wave at him. Thus, he waves at you in return. Sol notices and his demeanor changes, a smile tugs on his lips and he gives you a dreamy look. A blush faintly noticeable on his face.

Geo looks away at his phone to seek out the subject of your attention— hes surprised, and certainly not pleased.

His brother.

Were you friends his brother? Out of all people, hyugo? And that guy— why is he looking at you like that? You dont seem to have any special feelings towards him, youre waving to him like you would anyone else. That begs the question, what are you to him?

He goes in your direction to get your attention. he taps you on the shoulder, and just like how its supposed to be, your attention is on him now.

"Huh?" you asked, curious as to why he uncharacteristically sought your attention. While you didn't know much about geo, there was this weird feeling emanating from him.

He takes a quick glance at his brother and that black-haired boy with him, and hes surprised to see the tall male with a deathly glare in his eyes, targeted at him— and also his friends. His eyes were ugly, blood red. Is that why hyugo befriended him? Because blood is somthing hes used to, right? Whatever it was, he immediately took a disliking to that man.

"brit wanted your input". He focused his attention back to you.

"O-oh yeah! How about the garden? I have a key for there." Geo gave a pleased look.

"Lets go tell her then". And with that the two of you turn your backs to sol and hyugo, heading closer to the group. Geo takes one last good look at the two boys. Unfortunately for him, he accidentally makes eye contact with his brother.

"OH MY GOD" Hyugo moves towards you and geo.

"SUBARU" eyes littered with excitement hyugo approaches him

"Shit..." geo begrudgingly accepts his fate.

—————

It seemed Britney, jess and deryl were the most amused at the scene hyugo had caused. They were pestering geo while hyugo took that as an opportunity, as sol's wingman.

"Oh- sunny and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out wit-"

"[name], cmon, Britney's waiting" geo interrupts

"Oh yeah!- uh" you look back to hyugo, and sol, eagerly awaiting your answer, hoping you leave that purple haired prick and spend time with him instead. "Sorry, im hanging out with geo and our friends, uhm, ill talk to you guys later!". You frown, and wave bye to them as you head for your friends.

Later, in the garden, you sit next to geo. Curious of his relationship with hyugo, after all they are brothers and you’re friends with them both! isn’t that nice?

“You’re hyugos brother? what’s he lik-“

“He’s not my brother, forget what he said in the hallway, I don’t want to associate myself with him.” He interrupts, shooting you a glare before his gaze softens. “He’s…” he pauses, recollecting his thoughts. “He’s just dangerous to be around.”

“How?” he looks away as you ask.

“Things you don’t know, he gets into shady shit” he redirects his gaze back to yours, “[name], for your own sake, and safety, don’t get involved with him… or his friend.”

“Solivan?” You question at the mention of sol

“Brugmansia?” If his memory is serving him right, then he’s not good news.

“Yeah that’s his-“

“Especially him, both of them, stay away from them.” He thinks back to the hallway and the look in sol’s eyes. One of putrid hate and murder. Maybe, those rumors were true”

“That’s hard to do, I’m in a class with them— although hyugo never attends, and I’m sols partner for an art project.”

“Then don’t make conversation with him, only do what needs to be done for the art project, once it’s done, never talk to him again— or hyugo” he instructs you, for now at least. He’s thinking about what strings he could pull to change your art class for a different period, one without sol or hyugo. If he had to play dirty to keep you, and his friends safe, he’d play dirty as hell.

“Okay.”

I don’t wanna go too deep because I wanna wait for days 3&4 for more lore and info, so I’ll probably wait and do other stuff

[sumerianlanguage]

Silim! I was wondering what some of the basic verbs would be in Sumerian, e.g: 'to be', 'to have', 'to do', etc.

Hello! This is a more complicated answer than you may have expected. As with many languages, the most common & frequently-used verbs are also the most irregular - think of how irregular "be/is/are/were/been", "do/does/did/done", and "go/went/gone" are in English.

Of these core verbs, the simplest in Sumerian is tuku "to have, hold, possess, get", which only has two roots - tuku in the past and tukutuku in the present. Example: Ngae dub ibtukutukun "I have a tablet."

There is no perfect match for "to do" in Sumerian, but the verb aka "to act, take action" covers a lot of the same semantic space. It's used in a lot of phrasal verbs, like kurum aka "to inspect" (i.e. "to do an inspection"), or sagaz aka "to do a robbery, to commit a murder". It's basically regular, appearing as ak or aka in all tenses, but in certain participles appears as just k- (as in kede "for the purpose of taking action.") Example: Zae ana ibakan? "What are you doing? What action are you taking?"

The verb "to say, speak" is also both common and irregular in Sumerian, with three different roots: dug is the dictionary entry, but is only used in the past-tense singular; in the plural or present tense it's e, and in all non-finite forms (like participles) it's di. (Aka and dug are the only verbs in Sumerian with a dedicated participle root.) Example: Ngae iben "I'm saying it", Ngae dug "I said it", Dide "for saying".

The verb for "to go" takes this one step further, in having four separate roots, the only verb in Sumerian with this many. In singular past it's ngen, plural past is ere, singular present is du and plural present is sub. So: Ngenen "I went", Erenden "we went", Dun "I go", Subenden "we go".

And finally there's "to be", which barely operates as a verb at all. Instead, it acts like a set of suffixes at the end of a sentence - so -men "I am", -(a)m "it is", etc. It also works only in linking two nouns/pronouns, as in Ngae lugalmen "I am the king", Lugal is'habam "The king is a villain." In English we often use "to be" to connect a noun to an adjective, as in "The king is beautiful", but in Sumerian such a construction would use a dedicated verb like sag "(to be) beautiful". Lugal sage is literally, "The king beautifuls".

I hope that's helpful! If you'd like any more example sentences translated using one or more of these verbs, let me know.

[brokenpieces-72]

Mothers n Monsters

With Mother's Day coming up I figured I would include some wholesomeness involving the Hybrid 141. The following is inspired by @bluegiragi 's Hybrid au and includes @diejager 's reader character Hunter.

Mother's Day is something you are still new to since it was a holiday your biological parents didn't bother with. When you were in the program some of the other hybrids found mother figures in their retainers and mentors.

When it gets brought up in conversation and you learn more you start to wonder who exactly your mother is. Johnny's mom is definitely in there since she took you in. Hunter, you consider a parent because of how they've taken care of you in many ways, and not just you but the entirety of the 141. The last one you think of is Laswell since she'd been talking to you quite a bit to get information back to the program and keep you safe.

The question is... what do you do for each of them?

You ask Johnny for help with Mother's Day with his mother. Johnny often goes into whatever city is nearby and sends a few souvenirs to his mom, whether it's some trinkets, ingredients or even some alcohol. With it, he writes a letter, and you write one too. When the package arrives his mother smiles seeing the usual letter from her son, saying he's happy and grateful to have someone waiting for him to come home every day. What she isn't expecting is a second letter from you, and the adoption papers fully signed. In the letter, you tell her how happy you are to have a family not just on base but one waiting for you in Scotland. You've written about so many of the things you've done and all the things you're excited to do. You thank he for everything, letting you stay with them during the holidays, the extra clothes, and for becoming your new mother. She smiles reading through both letters, before finally looking inside the care package, seeing more than just knickknacks and the bottle of alcohol. You've left some drawings for her as well, of flowers you'd found and places you'd been.

Hunter is a bit harder. They're the kind of person who will say, "I don't need/want anything". You don't know what to get them so once again, you go around asking for help. Of course, you go to Johnny first, and he's a little confused at first. To his knowledge, Hunter doesn't have kids but when you explain your reasons that Hunter is kind of like a mom, he understands a bit better. Johnny has to think about it as well. He suggests coffee, as does Kyle. It's not a bad idea. You go to Price and ask him, and honestly he isn't sure himself. He settles with your help in the infirmary is probably enough. Next, you ask Simon. He also isn't sure but if he had to guess, probably less work needed to be done in the infirmary. Horangi straight up shrugs, not sure how to answer the question, though he figures that a massage or a few nights off would be a pleasant luxury. Konig did actually plan on getting Hunter something small for Hunter, not necessarily as a Mother's Day gift, but as a small thank you. A couple of chocolates couldn't hurt. You get Alejandro's input and it's one you can agree with, which is ensuring any and all prep work and inventory is completed ahead of time.

Rudolfo gives you a great idea though, the one you ask him for help with. Like Hunter, Rudolfo is human so he knows the drawbacks of being a human among many hybrids. You get one of those mugs, but make a custom label for it, and a bag of Hunter's favourite coffee and tea. For the next few days, you go to the other soldiers in the medbay to ask for their help in getting inventory and prep work done ahead of time, and they show you how to do all of it. When Hunter wakes up on Mother's Day they stretch, get out all of the sleepiness, and head over to the infirmary to get to work. When they get to the coffee machine they find the small gift and a small note. The note says, "Happy Mother's Day Hunter, I've gotten the prep work done in the infirmary the night before so you can have the morning to yourself. Enjoy." Hunter looks at the label on the mug and it says "The Beast".

Finally, there was Laswell, and once again you were a little stumped. You didn't know what she liked. Price is your go-to for this question, and he isn't entirely sure himself. He too, doesn't entirely understand the whole mom perception until you explain it. Not sure what else to suggest, he suggests you ask Laswell yourself.

Laswell comes to see you. These visits have become a bit more regular, to ensure the program has no reason to take you back. When you sit with her and go over the usual questions of, how are you, are you eating well, is everything going well on base, etc, you ask her what she would want for Mother's Day. The question catches her off guard a bit.

"Mother's Day? Spirit I'm not a mother." Laswell clarifies.

"You kind of are." You say. Laswell decides to humour you.

"How?" She asks.

"You always make sure we're okay on base, and have everything we need. You watch over us on missions, you come by to check in with me and make sure I'm okay. You've stood up for me before. When I saw my mother, and told you, you immediately called the program to tell them off for not telling us sooner." You explain. Laswell consider it for a moment and she gives you a smile. She didn't think of it like that, and honestly, she figured it was just part of the job and not much else.

"I think hearing all of that is enough for me." She tells you. "Thank you."

Note: Hey just wanted to chime in and wish y'all a good Mother's Day. I hope you're all doing well, and remember to take care of yourselves.

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 26

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September 13th, 2022

“Alright, cut! That was a good one so that’s a wrap for today.” 

Hearing those words was like music to Chris’ ears. He’d been on set since before the sun had risen in the sweltering Atlanta heat and he was ready to call it a day. Chris only stayed to chat with his co-stars for a moment before walking off the set, ready for a shower and quiet evening at his rental with Dodger, but he would soon find out he was in for anything but. 

Chris had made some headway through his plans when he stepped out of his set trailer, his costume long gone and instead dressed in loose shorts and a tee-shirt. He called goodbyes to everyone as he headed to the parking lot, figuring Josh and Dodger had already gone home, but soon he was stopped in his tracks. 

“Chris! Hey, hold on,” he heard Josh call, turning to find his long-time friend – and assistant – jogging over to him with Dodger by his side. 

Chris paused, letting Josh catch up to him. He could see the rest of the cast slowly making their way off set, either to the wardrobe trailer or to their own trailers, and the line of cars waiting to take them all home. “I thought you already left for the day?” He asked Josh, surprised to see him, but with a small grin as he reached down and greeted the excited, and tired, dog. 

“No, I took Dodger on a longer walk but your phone has been blowing up. Jamie keeps trying to call you and asked me to have you call him back as soon as you can,” his friend explained quickly with a serious tone.

Chris pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, unsure why Jamie, of all people, was trying to reach out to him right now. He’d kept in loose contact with Mark and Jamie since Nat moved, occasionally texting them but mainly just keeping up with them through social media and Nat. “Jamie? I wonder what that’s about?” He asked, knowing this was out of the blue. 

“I don’t know but here’s your phone,” Josh told him, handing the phone over. “Let me know later if anything is up.” 

“I will, thanks Josh,” he said with a tight grin, pocketing the 

Chris could feel the anxiety building in him as he took Dodger’s leash from Josh, thanking him again before going to the car service that the production provided and climbing into the back with Dodger sitting down on the bench seat right next to him. He clicked on Jamie’s number, returning his call as his leg bounced with anxiousness as the phone kept ringing and ringing until it went to voicemail. 

Although Chris’ brain loved to torture him with all the what if’s, he thought that this maybe was a good sign. If there truly was something urgent or earth shattering that he was so desperate to get a hold of Chris, he would have kept his phone on him and answered his call. Chris almost wanted to laugh to himself now as he relaxed in his seat on the drive back to his rental, thinking about the quirky best friends of Nat, knowing that he probably would be getting a call about something ridiculous that would make him erupt in laughter, but also remembered just how long it had been since he’d gotten those funny calls from Nat or either of her best friends, knowing that things had changed since she moved. 

He tried not to worry about it as he got to his rental and climbed in the shower, happy relax after the long day, but he had just climbed out and changed into his sweatpants and a comfy tee-shirt when his phone ran from where it sat on the bed next to his sweet pooch who was curled up. Chris grabbed the phone and put it on speaker, greeting his friend with, “Hey man, how are you? It’s been a while.” 

“It has been, but um, Chris are you on set?” Jamie asked, his voice muffled as he moved around on the other end of the call.

Chris’ brows furrowed and his hand froze on Dodger’s side, noting the urgency in Jamie’s voice. “No, I’m done for the day. I just got back to my rental… why?” He asked, his shoulder tense with anxiety as Jamie hesitated. 

The other man let out a shuddering sigh before he confessed, “I need to talk to you.” 

Chris shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t sound good,” he murmured. 

“It’s not,” Jamie agreed, his voice turning sad and sympathetic. Jamie took a deep breath before he explained, “I was in San Francisco today and Chris… Nat is not doing well.” 

If Chris had been nervous before, it was nothing compared to the fear that flooded his body at that simple explanation. He wanted to not believe it, wanted to call Jamie a liar, that this wasn’t his Nat they were talking about. “What? What do you mean?” He finally asked, his voice unsteady and fearful. 

Jamie’s voice was low, sad, and defeated when he told him, “She’s not okay, Chris.” 

“Jamie, I need you to tell me what’s going on. I don’t understand,” Chris all but demanded him, unable to stop his brain from spiraling. Nat was…. Nat. Resilient, flexible, and strong, with a stubborn streak that rivaled his own. It was his last concern that she was ever going to be anything but okay. She’d rolled with every last one of his wild ideas, schedules, and asks of her for the last year, and he couldn’t see where anything changed to push Jamie to make this call. 

“She’s incredibly depressed, Chris. She’s super skinny, she doesn’t eat much and I found out that basically none of the office there in San Francisco hardly even know her. They said she just comes in and works all day in her office and goes to meetings and doesn’t say much and then goes home,” Jamie explained, listing off every reason that caused Chris’ heart to practically shatter. He couldn’t believe everything he’d missed, everything she’d been hiding from not only him, but her family and friends as well. His heart began to race anxiously as Jamie continued, “Yesterday night I stayed with her and by the time we went out to dinner and got back to her apartment she was practically falling asleep. She has no energy and looks like she’s going to burst into tears at any moment.” 

Chris’ mind raced as he still tried to pinpoint exactly where and when everything went south for her, knowing that he hadn’t seen all of that when he visited in early July. Sure, she’d been overworking herself, but that was a losing battle Chris had been trying to fight with her for almost a year now. All he knew was Nat being a near workaholic, and he figured with the move, she had been throwing herself into the only thing she was familiar with up there. “What’s going on? Is it something with her job? Or did something happen? She hasn’t said a word to me,” he finally answered, clearing the lump in his throat away. 

“I don’t know. I tried to talk to her and she wouldn’t say anything… you know how stubborn Nat can be,” Jamie explained with a sigh, sounding just as frustrated and concerned as Chris felt. 

Chris’ mind was still moving faster than he could catch up with, and he frustratedly admitted to the other man, “I just can’t believe she hasn’t said a word of this.” 

“I don’t know why she hasn’t but Chris, but I’m really worried about her. Things are not good and I don’t think anybody knows,” Jamie explained, sighing as he paused. “Everyone came in early this morning for a meeting so I’m going to send them all home early so maybe call her in a little while? My flight for LA is in a couple hours so she’ll be alone.” 

Chris nodded, taking note of the time on the alarm clock next to him. “I will,” he promised, knowing Jamie knew that already. 

“Chris... She’s not herself. She needs help so don’t take no for an answer, okay?” Jamie gently suggested, with more muffled sounds filtering through the call from the office in California. Chris listened intently, but his attention was split as Dodger whined nervously, looking up at his owner anxiously.  

Chris smiled sadly to himself, reaching his hand down to pet Dodger reassuringly. “I won’t. Thanks for telling me, Jamie,” he thanked the man, not knowing what he would’ve done had he not known the truth. 

As they hung up the call, Chris tried to pass the time between then and when he could call Nat in any way – turning on CNN, only to not pay attention to it. Texting Eric, asking if Nat had said if anything was wrong, only to hear “She hasn’t said anything to me, everything’s sounded okay.” That only made Chris more worried, knowing how close Nat was to Eric. She was so close to him, in a way that made Chris only hope to one day have that relationship with a child of his own. 

But it seemed like they were all in the dark, and once forty-five minutes had passed, Chris raced to open his texts with Nat. There still had been nothing since early that morning, when she liked his text about when he’d be on set that day. But he pushed down the hurt at that and instead hit the FaceTime button and called her, wanting to see her for this. 

He was thankful when Nat answered, but instead of being greeted with her face, he could only  see a ceiling. “Nattie, are you at home?” He asked, getting to the point almost immediately. He couldn’t beat around the bush with this, not when he felt like he was about to break down at any minute as he pictured everything Jamie had told him. 

Nat’s brows were furrowed when she adjusted the camera so he could see her, and he let out a sigh as he finally looked at her. He’d seen her in fleeting calls and random pictures over the last few months, but he’d never been able to see the change in her until today. The weight loss, evident in her face, the light, nearly all gone from her eyes, the way her once-fitted shirt now hung off of her shoulders, and the bags under her eyes… the ones he knew weren’t there the last time he saw her. It all hurt, scared, and alarmed him, but most of all, he felt frustrated with himself that he was too stupid to see past all reassurances to notice all these things months ago. “Yeah, why?” She brushed him off, a single brow raising. 

“What’s going on Nat?” He asked her point blank, eyes moving over hers as he stared at his phone. He could even see the way her hair was thrown up, messily, with strands falling out of her bun, slicked back against her scalp in a way that told him she hadn’t been taking care of herself there either. And he knew it wasn’t by choice. She was exhausted, something she had told him repeatedly in the previous months. He’d always brushed her off, feeling it was just her not handling the move great. But now he saw the truth, he saw it in every shift of her eyes, the slimness of her wrist as she tucked her hair behind her ear, how heavy the undereye bags were…. He hated himself most of all for missing this, letting it get to this point. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jamie called me and told me that you’re not doing well. He said you’re depressed and that he’s really worried about you,” he explained, his voice almost clinical to disguise the sheer panic he was feeling at everything. 

Nat waved her hand, her voice small as she told him, “That’s just Jamie. You know he’s the dad of the group and he’s just worried because it’s been a couple months since I’ve seen him.” 

“Nat, if you’re struggling, you can talk to me,” Chris tried to reason with her, feeling more anxious with every dismissive comment she made. Dodger shifted against his leg, rolling onto his back as he drifted to sleep, and Chris watched Nat carefully, hoping her walls would finally go down. 

“I’m fine, it’s just different settling in here is all,” she whispered, shrugging as she glanced away from the camera. 

“It’s been almost five months though,” Chris pointed out as he arched an eyebrow. “Did it take you that long to settle in when you moved to LA?” 

She huffed out a breath, stubbornly telling him, “That was different because I met Jamie and Mark right away. You said it yourself that I just need to give it time.” 

“Is it this job? Is that what this is or is it something else? Do you miss LA?” He questioned, practically grappling at straws here. He didn’t want to push her too far, but he had to get to the bottom of this now. Nothing good would come from throwing his hands up and walking away, not when she was hurting as much as Jamie suggested. This had to get out of her system now, for both of their sakes. 

“No, I want to be here. This is the dream job. This is what I worked toward so I’m going to do it,” she explained, but he didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe her back in April, and he would never hold that over her head, but he’d lost her somewhere between then and now. Everyone had, it seemed, but the only thing he was sure about now was that Nat was convincing herself everything would get better as she clung to her work like a lifeboat. “I’m the one who wanted this promotion. It’s not that. I’m fine, Chris.” 

“Nattie, you’re lying to me. I know you’re lying,” he clarified, his voice firm as he ignored her attempts to interrupt. He looked at her dead-on, eyebrows raised as he firmly stated, “You’re lying to Jamie. You’re lying to Eric. You’re lying to me and I think you’re lying to yourself.” 

He just sat there staring at the screen as he watched panic settle on Nat’s face. Chris wasn’t even aware just how true those words were. Nat had been lying to herself for so long, ignoring everything other than putting her nose to the grindstone and ignoring her emotions. He watched as tears glossed over her eyes but he wanted to push her a little more, he wanted to get her to fully open up and he gently went on, “We’re just all worried about you. I love you Nattie and I want you to tell me the truth.” 

Chris saw her face on the screen seemingly frozen for a moment before he watched her last defenses crumble and the tears start flowing down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped and a hand went up to rest on her face as her body shook with her sobs. He hated to see her this way, but wanted her to be open and honest, even if his heart had to break as he watched her fall to pieces. 

“I don’t even know how. I don’t know what to do,” she admitted through gasping breaths, her chest shuddering as the emotions finally came to the surface. The tears poured out of her eyes furiously, and Chris finally – and sadly – saw Nat for the first time in what felt like months. Her guard, walls, and defenses were all down, and she was finally ready to be honest with someone. 

“Just talk to me, baby,” he pleaded, desperation replacing the fear and anxiety from earlier. His heart was shattered as he watched her fall apart, wanting nothing more to pull her into his arms and tell her they’d get her through this. But he couldn’t. She was alone, truly alone, in San Francisco while he was stuck in Atlanta, with a busy schedule for the rest of the week. 

“I hate it here, Chris. I hate it so much. I hate this job and I don’t feel like anyone likes me and I have no friends and I don’t know how to do half of what I’m doing and so then I have to go home and work even more just to get caught up and I miss you so much and feel like I’m never going to see you again,” she spoke, her voice moving so quickly that she occasionally stumbled over her words. 

He watched with a frown, feeling helpless as he asked, “Nattie, why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you tell me this was going on?” 

“...I tried… but you’ve been so busy,” she whispered, a hand moving to wipe her face. “And I just didn’t know how.” 

“Nat, this is just a job. If you hate it, that’s okay,” he told her, a frown on his lips. He knew it wouldn’t happen overnight or in an instant, but he was trying to get her to take this role off a pedestal and put it back on the ground. At the end of the day, it was a job, just like the film role he had right now. Was it a great opportunity for anyone to get offered it? Of course. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to change her mind, to realize it wasn’t right for her, or to walk away from it. But she needed to get there herself first. 

“You don’t understand, Chris,” she began, shaking her head as she took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t have prepared himself for what was coming when she added, “This was my dream job. This has always been the sign that I'd made it. That everything my dad worked for truly paid off. That I wasn’t the screw up little sister… that I wasn’t just a joke. And now I have it, and I hate it and I can’t seem to make it work. I failed at my dream.” 

His eyes shut and his heart was done for it as she shared that insecurity, and he whispered, “Oh Nattie.” 

Chris wanted to reassure her, wanted to remind her that this was just a job. That this didn’t prove anything and sometimes losing a dream makes room for something new but he knew that none of that would help in this moment. Right now all he could see was the love of his life on the other end of this call completely heartbroken and crying her eyes out and he felt that there was nothing he could do about it. 

“I just can’t do this anymore, Chris. I can’t hardly get out of bed in the morning anymore,” her voice crackled as she dissolved into tears once more. He felt as if his heart was being squeezed when he watched her crumble on the other side of the screen and all he wanted to do was to be able to just take this all away. 

“Nattie, baby I want you to listen to me,” his own voice was laced with emotion but he tried to speak with assurance as he told her, “I have a couple more days on set before I have the weekend off but then I’m going to come out, okay? Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call your dad and see if he could fly down there tomorrow and be with you until I get there.” 

“He can’t, he has to work more because a bunch of people quit,” Nat muttered before seeming to slip back into her indifference that came with her depression and just shrugged, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be okay.” 

Chris just shook his head, knowing that he wasn’t going to let her keep going this way and stated, “No, this is what got us into this position in the first place. I can’t sleep knowing you’re like this, baby. I’m going to figure something out.” 

“I don’t want you to have to do that just because I’m a mess. I just need to suck it up,” she muttered again while looking down at something he couldn’t see. 

“Natalie Marton, there is nothing in this world more precious to me than you. I don’t care if I have to drop out of this film to come be with you, I’ll do it,” he said without a second thought. This was his girl. His Nattie. The person he wanted to be his forever and he’d be damned if he let anything come between them or him being able to help her. “Just stop trying to be so strong for just a minute and let me help you.” 

Chris watched her sit there for a moment, tears still falling out of her eyes before she just nodded before he kept on, “It’s going to be okay, honey. I love you and it’s going to be okay.” 

He watched her weakly nod before he followed his instructions to get in bed and try to relax but he couldn’t do that himself. There was no way he’d be relaxing knowing that Nat was on the other side of the country, completely heartbroken and beat down. He couldn’t sit still after the call ended, and he definitely couldn’t have gone to bed after all that. Not when Nat was sitting alone, miserable, and had finally admitted what she’d been dancing around for months. 

Chris had seen a few texts pop up on his phone during the call from Eric, the messages verging on both worried and concerned, and felt that he at least owed her father some explanation after reaching out earlier. When Eric declined his call, he immediately texted Chris back, explaining that he was working and couldn’t talk but could text. While it was reassuring to Chris that he wasn’t the only one who’d been left in the dark about all of this, he felt bad for them when Eric said he couldn’t even go down to visit and help Nat out with everything this week due to a ferry driver shortage in Washington. There was no one to cover his hours and no way this emergency request off would be granted, and Chris’ brain began thinking through everything. 

Emily would understand. He’d known her and John for years, and was friends with them both. She’d been an amazing costar so far, and he’d hate walking away…. But this was for Nat. He didn’t have any immediate obligations with Netflix beyond this film, and even if he burned this bridge, it was one bridge. 

But the more he thought about it, the more he considered the strain he’d put not only his friends on the production under, but the hundreds of staff and crew on the film…. He just wasn’t sure. As he did in every situation he faced like this, he dialed his Ma’s number, hoping she’d be able to guide him in the right direction, or tell him he was being stupid and of course he should call his agent to tell him he had to leave. 

After he caught Lisa up to speed on everything, almost too fast for how chaotic the last few hours had felt, he sighed. “I’m just so fucking worried, Ma,” he told her, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve never seen her like this and when I talked to her it just… it sounded bad.” 

“My poor Nattie,” Lisa sympathized with the woman that she’d come to love so dearly over the course of her dating Chris. 

“I was going to fly out there Saturday morning once I’m done filming but I don’t know…” Chris truly couldn’t figure out the answer to all of this, knowing that either decision he made would hurt someone. But with Eric unable to go, Nat’s sisters having their own children and obligations, Mark and Jamie both working, and Nat having missed out on having a mom, he just didn’t see any other solution for how to help her get through this. He reached out to rub a hand across Dodger’s soft fur, needing that bit of comfort himself before telling his mother, “I’m thinking about dropping out of Pain Hustlers so I can just go out there now.” 

“Is it that bad, Chris?” 

“It’s pretty bad,” he honestly told her. Just thinking about what Nat looked like on that screen, every bit of joy and happiness that made Nat, Nat was completely gone. She was broken and Chris wanted to be there to help put her back together. “Ma, it just fuckin’ broke my heart to see her like that. And Eric can’t go because he’s working doubles because they’re already down people.” 

Without hesitation, Lisa presented her own solution, “Chris, let me go out there. I could fly out early in the morning,” 

“I wasn’t asking you to do that,” he wanted to clarify, not wanting her to feel obligated to fix all of this. 

“I know you weren’t, but I want to. I love Nattie and I’m worried about her too and I hate knowing that she’s out there all alone and dealing with all of this by herself,” she seemed to put his own feelings into words. 

A long sigh poured out of him as he ran a hand through his hair anxiously, “That’s why I’m thinking it might be better if I just drop out of this film because even when I fly out on Saturday, I’ll have to come back Tuesday morning.” He knew that he could help for the weekend, but didn’t see how this could be solved in just a few days. There was nothing more important to him than Nat and her well-being and didn’t want anything to stand in the way of him being there for her since he had missed out on doing that the past few months. 

“Honey, we both know what a big hit that will be if you drop out,” Lisa tried to bring in the reality of his obligations back up before reminding him, “I know you’re worried about Nat, but it’s going to be okay. Let’s just take this one step at a time. I’ll go out there tomorrow and then you can come on Saturday and we’ll figure all of this out, okay?” 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ma.”  

And those words were even more true than he realized over the coming days. Knowing that Nat was being taken care of by his mother was the only way that he was able to stay working in Atlanta and having the realistic updates from Lisa allowed him to have the full picture of what really was going on. It brought him so much comfort knowing that Lisa was taking her to work, bringing her lunch and was with her in the lonely evenings but it still wasn’t the same as him being there himself. 

He wanted to be able to look in her eyes and hold her to know that she really was there and assure her that it would be okay, even though he didn’t feel it himself. Chris wanted to be with her so much that it hurt and the second that he was done on set that Friday night, he couldn’t wait until the following morning to fly to her and chartered a flight to take him to San Francisco then. 

Chris had texted his mom to tell her that he was coming but found out that even then, Nat had already gone to bed. He knew firsthand how much anxiety and depression could exhaust your body and he was glad she was getting rest. When finally he landed in San Francisco, he got a car to take him to the small apartment where he stepped inside and shared a long hug with his mother. There was so much to talk about between the two of them but in this moment, all that mattered was his Nattie. He needed to have his own eyes on her and quietly let go of his mother to walk down the tiny hallway and open the door to her room. 

There she was, fast asleep underneath a pile of blankets but even underneath the bulky fabric, she still looked so tiny. His heart just hurt seeing her this way but there also was a piece of him that felt more at peace than he had this entire week, knowing that he was finally able to be with her. He quietly took off his shoes and jacket, leaving them on a chair before gently climbing into bed next to her and resting a hand on her back. 

Even in the dim light, he could see her puffy eyes flutter open and without a word, they filled with tears as her arms latched around his neck like a vice. He held her tightly, breathing in her scent as his own tears started falling down his cheeks as they clung to one another in a way they never had before. Chris knew that there still was so much ahead of them, so much to be sorted out and fixed, so much fear and uncertainty, but none of that seemed to matter in this moment because he was here with her and that’s all he wanted. 

A/N: This was the final completed chapter we had from last year. While we have a halfish chapter written, we probably will not have the time to actually finish it. Let us know what you guys would prefer - a half chapter and brief synopsis of the end, a summary only (no chapter), or something else.

[bloody-peach]

Straight to Video (Hazbin Hotel: StaticMoth x F!Reader smut fic)

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Now Playing: Get You Closer, Traumfrau, Government Hooker (d00nik remix) [slowed], She's My Collar (slowed and reverb) [PLEASE listen to any or all of these while reading this, with headphones preferably, you will thank me later]

Goodie bag: threesome (m x f x m), sex tape, voyeurism, masturbation (male), exhibitionism, girl on girl, foreplay, lingerie, oral sex (giving & receiving, M & F), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, colored cum, flavored cum, double penetration, Spanish pet names, hypnosis kink, bondage, bukkake, creampie, Jacob's Ladder, ahegao [let me know if i missed anything!]

A/N: Hey! I fixed the fic! Enjoy! Have some links for visuals:

Your lingerie outfit (same set-up, but the color is a red/blue combo): X

The set: X

Lily: X

Nadia: X

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @moths-and-mantids @neonvehk @pinkhimecat and other StaticMoth fans!

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“Hey, who was that bitch that writes for me?” Valentino asked. He was laying on the couch in Vox's office, bored out of his mind. “Which one?” Vox asked, at his desk, working though time slots for shows on his station. Valentino gestured with his hand, a cigarette between his fingers as he spoke, “You know, the one we hired who wore that cute pink dress.” Vox instantly recognized the image. “Y/N?” he asked. Val leaned his head back over the arm rest to look at Vox. “Yeah, that one. What’s she up to? Tell her to come over, maybe we can have some fun with her.” Vox sighed as he called her up from the main screen on his desk.

Valentino was always talking about her, even though he couldn’t even remember her name. They met her when she applied for a writing job at Vox’s studio. He looked over her writing and determined that it was more suited for Valentino’s business. To be fair, by how her body looked, she seemed more suited to be in front of the camera instead of behind the scenes. He couldn’t deny imagining what a cock would look like between those breasts or deep in her ass, and how cute she’d look with cum covering her face and how her mouth would look wrapped around a cock. No wonder Val immediately accepted her application. But then again, her scripts were pretty good too. The scenarios she could come up with and the detailed descriptions of the setting, plot, and characters were truly a godsend for Val. Vox also couldn’t deny that he found Y/N adorable, the way she flustered when she spoke to him, and how she always dressed in the cutest outfits. There were times where she was shy, but there were also times where she could be sassy, witty, and straight to the point, a side that Vox loved. And even then, he could tell from the look in her eyes that there was another side of her, a whole other woman just begging to be let out.

Maybe this was the time.

You were working on scripts at home when you heard a call coming from the TV. You had your TV set up so you could get video calls from anyone whenever you were needed, and it was very convenient since you always left your phone somewhere you could never remember. You set your laptop down and answered the call, smiling when you saw Vox and Val’s faces. “Hey, what’s up? Wait, lemme guess. You want me to work on another script?” Vox chuckled, saying, “Oh, Y/N. You know how to get to the point. I love that about you.” Valentino rolled his eyes, taking a sip from a glass of red wine that a servant brought to him. Vox continued, “We need you to come in for a special project. Valentino here has an idea for a new adult film series, and we need someone with your skills to write it.” He gestured to Valentino. “What do you think?” he asked the moth man. Valentino smiled, saying, “Yes, we need you to do the writing, but also…you’ll be the star of the show.” He crossed his arms as he continued. “I want everyone to know your face, pastelito. You are quite the sight to look at, after all.” Vox chuckled, shaking his head. Vox focused back on Y/N, assuring her, “As usual, Valentino has some great ideas, Y/N. It’s going to be a huge hit. Honestly, I don’t blame him for wanting you to be the star. I still remember when I interviewed you on my show, and you’re a natural in front of the camera. With your writing skills, this will be a smash hit all across Hell. What do you say?”

You were left blushing, flattered that they thought you were good enough for one of Valentino’s films. Just the thought of performing in front of so many people, admiring you and your body. Your flustered state was noticeable in your voice as you smiled and answered, “Oh my…well, sure, I don’t mind. When should I head on over?” Valentino perked up, clapping his hands together. “That’s the spirit, mi reina! You’re the best, Y/N!” He grinned, then gave Vox a victorious look. Vox nodded, a small smile on his face. “Excellent! Could you be here tomorrow morning? We have a few concepts to go over, and we want to hit the ground running.” Vox hesitated for a moment then chuckled nervously, saying, “Oh, and we may need to do a, uh, ‘casting call’ of sorts. To find the perfect co-star. Valentino has some…specific ideas about who he wants.” Valentino leaned back, sipping his wine. He added, “And if you could wear something…revealing? It’ll help us visualize. I want this to be the best it can be. We’ll have Velvette call you sometime today so you two can work out an outfit.” He batted his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette. The smoke formed a perfect heart, which he blew towards Y/N, encircling her face when it hit their screen. You blushed red, secretly getting aroused at the idea. “Sure thing. Just tell me what to do when I get there and I’ll do it. See you then, love you!”

Vox watched as Y/N hung up the call, a smile growing on his face. He turned to Val, saying, “She loves it when you tell her what to do. Fuck, that’s adorable.” Valentino chuckled, shaking his head then saying, “Of course, mi amor. You know I can't resist the obedient type.” Valentino took another sip of his wine, swirling it around in the glass. “She’s going to be perfect for this role. I can already see the box covers,” Valentino said, already lost in thought. That was when there was a call coming from the screen. It was Y/N again. When it was answered, her face was flushed and she was so shy, avoiding eye contact. “Um…yeah…I have an idea for a costar, or costars. Do you think maybe..you and Val would be willing to join me? I’d be totally down for that, but if you guys don’t want that, it’s okay. Just an idea.”

Vox’s screen froze for a moment, his eyes wide, his screen glitching to his BSOD for a millisecond. He looked at Valentino, who was equally surprised. They didn’t have to trick you, you were asking for it. The moth demon gave a sly grin as he said, “Well, now that’s an interesting idea.” He took another drag of his cigarette and blew another heart, but then put a full heart on the inside, both more elaborate. “We’d be honored, Y/N. Honestly, I was hoping you’d ask that,” Valentino purred. The look in his eyes showed that he was already undressing her in his mind. Vox cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “O-Of course, Y/N. We’ll do whatever it takes to make this the best it can be. Remember, any other ideas you have, let us know,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. You smiled, happy that your request was accepted. “Perfect! I’m so happy you agree! I’m down for any scenario you want. The only other thing I request is no hitting or choking. Abuse porn is not my thing. I’ll leave you to it, see ya tomorrow. Bye!” you said. The last thing you did before hanging up was blow a kiss to the both of them.

Vox couldn’t help but feel a slight blush appear on his cheeks. Valentino, however, pouted a bit. “How disappointing. I was really looking forward to a good slap or two.” He sighed and took a sip of his wine. Vox turned to Valentino and said, “Hey, she’s already willing to let us fuck her and she’ll do whatever we tell her. I think her request is reasonable enough.” Val shrugged, accepting defeat. Vox stretched his arms and said, “Ah man, I am so looking forward to tomorrow.” Valentino chuckled and took one last drag of his cigarette, blowing a heart and then an arrow, shooting through the heart. “Me too..”

The next morning, you headed over to the studio, excited while also aroused. You wore a long but stylish coat to hide the outfit you were wearing underneath. You reached the main room and knocked on the door before entering it, seeing Vox browsing through his tablet while Valentino was pacing back and forth, a cigarette in his mouth. “Hey, I’m here!” you cheerfully announced. The sound of your voice caused the boys to turn and smile, Valentino reaching you first. “Ah, perfect timing, Y/N!” He said, taking a drag of the cigarette, the reddish-pink smoke drifting around you like a snake coiling around its prey. Vox quickly finished his work on the tablet, before putting it away and walking up to you with a smile on his face. “Morning, darling. Let’s get started, shall we?” he said as he gestured towards the bed. Valentino flicked his cigarette into an ashtray, making a tiny heart shape with the ash. “Hold it, Voxy. I think Y/N needs to show us what she’s going to wear for the shoot,” he said. He then leaned close to you, saying in a seductive voice, “What do you have for us, sweetheart?” You blushed, but you cleared your throat and said, “Well..Velvette helped me with this one..I had it custom made yesterday.” The men sat in their respective chairs as you took off the coat and revealed what you were wearing: a very revealing lingerie set, colored in red and blue, with small bows covering your nipples and with matching crotchless panties, a bow on the front of them. The lingerie left very little to the imagination, due to the lack of fabric.

The instance they saw it, they had different reactions. Valentino's eyes widened in surprise and desire as he leaned forward in his chair, while Vox had an almost bodily reaction, his body tensing up and him having to grip the armrest tightly to keep him from cumming in his pants. You blushed from being so exposed, but felt so turned on as well. Valentino was the one to break the silence, standing up, gently grabbing your chin, and purring as his accent became more pronounced, “Oh, mi hermosa princesa .. You truly look like an angel fallen from heaven. What a divine blessing..” He turned to his boyfriend, saying, “What do you think, Voxy?” Vox’s eyes roamed hungrily over your body, taking in every curve and contour. You truly did look like a fallen angel, a beauty rejected by God and gifted to them personally. He gulped and tried to recover from the shock as he wiped the drool from his mouth. “That’s…quite the ensemble you have there. Very fitting for our project,” he admitted, swallowing thickly. He let out a deep breath, feeling his cock throb in his pants and a chill go up his spine as he let out a shaky breath. He then stood up from his chair, walking over to you. “Come on. Let’s see how you’ll look in our film.” His hand reached out, gently guiding you towards the bed. Valentino followed suit, his eyes never leaving your body as he walked with them. “Yes, show us how you move in that thing. I know you’re just itching to have our hands on you,” he growled, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

You looked at the set up, seeing the cameras aimed at the bed. The bed was large enough for five people, the black and red silk bedding reflecting in the harsh spotlights. The black curtains behind it absorbed the lights from the spotlight, leaving the bed and anything on it in the foreground. You could feel the plush carpeting under your feet, soft to the touch. You got on the bed and laid on your back, your arms over your head to show off your entire body. The men could see that you were already a bit aroused, some of your juices lightly soaking the edges of the crotchless section of your panties, making your pussy glisten under the lights. Valentino’s eyes widened at the sight of your arousal, his wings twitching in excitement. He took a step closer, inhaling deeply. “Oh, Peachy, you’re so wet for us. It’s intoxicating,” he said, his voice thick with lust. Vox cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure, or whatever was left of it. “I see we’ve made an impression on you already. That’s a good sign,” Vox said, his gaze never leaving your body.

Vox grabbed a camera and looked through the viewfinder, almost drooling at the sight. “Now, let’s try a few different positions to see which one suits the scene best.” He walked around the bed, examining you from different angles. “Spread your legs a bit more, darling. We need to see how the lighting hits you,” Vox said. You nodded and spread your legs, showing that from the lack of fabric on the panties, your pussy was shaven completely smooth. Your pussy lips started to twitch slightly, your arousal growing by the minute. Vox moved the camera towards her face and she became shy, having to turn her face away as your face flushed. Valentino’s eyes narrowed as he smiled, his wings twitching again. “Oh, Y/N, eres hermosa. I can’t wait to touch you and make you scream my name,” he whispered into her ear, his voice filled with desire. Vox noticed your smooth pussy and he couldn’t help but lick his lips as he smiled. “That’s perfect, darling. Now, let’s see how you look from above,” he said, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself above you, camera still in hand. He noticed you avoiding the camera, and a spark of concern flickered in his mind. He moved the camera aside and asked in a slightly concerned voice, “You okay, Y/N?” You opened your eyes and said, “Yeah…I’m just..a bit shy…since it’s you guys.” Vox smiled warmly, “You look so cute, all flushed and embarrassed.” Valentino smiled as he agreed with his lover, “She is, and she’s all ours, mi amor.” She may have looked cute, but they couldn’t film a porno if their star couldn’t even face the camera. Luckily, Vox knew what to do in moments like these. Sometimes, the girls would need a boost of confidence to help them through filming, so Vox would come in and use his hypnosis to help them out. It wasn’t as intense as his usual hypnosis, anyone under it was still aware afterwards. They just felt more ready for any situation, including having sex in front of a camera. Today would be no different. Vox gently cupped your cheek and turned you to face him, saying softly, “Hey, hey, look at me.” You opened your eyes and looked at him. Vox activated his hypnotic eye and smiled, saying, “You can handle this, right?” You felt something influencing your thoughts, your shyness slowly start to fade away. You felt a boost of confidence deep in your mind and you were able to look at him more straight forward. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a bit more confident. “I can handle it..” Vox smiled, saying, “That’s the spirit, darling. I have no doubt you’ll do great in this project.” He then leaned in and kissed you, his lips brushing against yours. His tongue slid into your mouth, tasting your desire.

Vox broke the kiss, saying, “Now, don’t worry, babe. We may be in charge here, but we’ll take good care of you.” Valentino smirked, watching them. “It’s true, sweetheart,” Val chimed in. “We’ll make sure you enjoy every single moment of it.” Valentino took a drag of a cigarette he lit and blew it towards your way, the scent easing you into a more calm state. Vox got off the bed and backed away to stand next to Valentino, sitting the camera back on its tripod. “Oh, this movie will get everyone talking…now, let’s begin,” Valentino said. With that, he snapped his fingers and summoned two of his girls to come forward, women you recognized from the studio. They were both the same height, one was blonde with crystal blue eyes and the other a redhead with emerald green eyes. Both were of similar build, slim build with large and round breasts, wearing cute lingerie. “Y/N, you remember Lily and Nadia? I know how much you like them, so I brought them in to help us with the production. I’m sure you won’t mind playing with them for our film,” Val spoke, a chuckle in his voice as he recalled the look of awe on your face on that day. The girls had silk ropes in their hands and they gently took your hands and wrists, tying them to the bedposts, leaving only enough slack for you to move your arms slightly. ‘Must be part of the script,’ you thought. Valentino smiled and said, “Perfect! Go ahead, ladies. She’s all yours.” With a flip of a switch, Vox turned on the cameras and the girls got to work. The girls got on the bed, their hands trailing down your body, teasingly rubbing your nipples and caressing your stomach. “You look so cute, Y/N,” Nadia murmured, her breath hot against your ear. Lily leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck, whispering, “I bet you taste amazing.”

You could feel the girls’ hands roaming all over your body, their fingers and palms brushing along your sensitive areas, all of it causing a moan to escape your lips. Valentino walked up to the side of the bed, his hand cupping your cheek to turn you towards him. “That’s a good girl,” he purred, his Spanish accent thickening. “Now, let’s see how you react to this.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, tangling with yours in a hot and sensual dance, a drop of pink saliva dripping down your chin. Meanwhile, Vox stood behind the camera, watching everything unfold, a smirk across his face. One of the girls, Nadia, trailed her tongue down your stomach, leaving a trail of saliva on your skin. Once Nadia got between your legs, she cooed, “Aww, even your pussy is cute.” With that, Nadia proceed to eat you out, which caused you to break the kiss to moan and arch your back in pleasure. Valentino grinned, admiring your reaction to Nadia’s skills. “That’s it, baby,” he purred. “Let go and enjoy yourself.”

Meanwhile, Lily moved up to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while her free hand tweaked and pinched the other. “You taste so good,” she murmured, her breath hot against your sensitive flesh. As you moaned from the pleasure you were receiving, you saw Valentino take his clothes off and show his hard cock. You marveled at the sight, admiring its thickness and its lavender hue that faded to a bright pink towards the head. He walked closer and took hold of your head with one hand while barely brushing the tip of his cock on your lips. You could already taste his pre-cum smeared on your lips, the taste of sour watermelon on your tongue igniting your hunger. When Valentino pulled back to test your need, he smiled as he saw you stick your tongue out just enough to barely touch the tip as you licked at the pre-cum. “Such an eager little thing… Now, open your mouth for me, mi dulce ,” Valentino said in a low and seductive voice. Valentino then brought his cock closer to you, opening your mouth as instructed, and watched as it slid so easily inside. He could feel you immediately starting to suck it, causing him to groan, a pleasurable chill going up his spine. “God, you're good, baby… Go on… Go on and take it..” he said, his voice soft with desire. “I can’t wait to fuck you..”

Vox watched, kicking his pants aside. “She’s incredible,” he said, stroking his own hard cock. “I knew she’d be perfect for this project.” The girls continued to tease and pleasure you, Nadia eating you out and fingering you. Your moans mixed with Valentino’s groans, filling the room with the sounds of your pleasure. “You’re gonna make us cum so hard, I can already tell,” Valentino said, his hips moving slowly. You sucked hungrily on his cock as you moaned from the girls’ actions. Vox walked closer to get a good look, admiring the view as he kept stroking his cock. He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him. “She’s so into it,” he groaned out, his hand moving faster. “I better get to join in soon, it’s really getting hard to resist.”

Valentino thrust into your mouth, his hips moving in time with Nadia’s fingers as they pumped inside you. “That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Take it all in.” The girls continued their ministrations, their hands and tongues keeping the pleasure flowing. “Oh, she’s really getting off to this. Look how wet she is,” Nadia said as she moved her head out of the way and spread your soaked pussy, showing it to the camera. “I can’t wait to see her cum,” Nadia said before she continued her duties. Your moans filled the room, your body arching with pleasure as you took Valentino deeper into your throat and Nadia flicked your clit with her tongue. Every sound and movement was captured by the cameras, destined to be immortalized on film.

Valentino groaned, his hips moving faster. “Fuuuuck..” he said, his voice thick with lust. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” Vox felt that same sentiment, his hand moving faster on his cock. Your orgasm was like a tidal wave, your body shaking with pleasure. Your muffled moans echoed through the room, the vibrations sending Valentino in a frenzy, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he came. Vox came at the same time, his cum landing on your belly and breasts. You swallowed all of Valentino’s cum greedily, not missing a drop. When he finally pulled out, a few shots of Valentino’s cum landed on your face and breasts, mixing with Vox’s in the process.

Vox looked at the aftermath of Valentino’s fun with you, the man’s cock glistening with your saliva and his pink-colored cum. “Damn, Val,” he said, his voice showing he was impressed. “You really outdone yourself this time.” Valentino smirked and chuckled, “Thank you, mi amor. But I think it’s your turn with our little princesa .” Val snapped his fingers, signaling Lily and Nadia to leave. Once the two girls left, Vox walked to the foot of the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling them up straight as he held your ankles, a devilish smirk on his face as his cock rested on your mound. “I can’t wait to see how you take this,” Vox said, his voice dripping with lust. You felt a mix of desire and slight concern as you saw Vox’s cock. It looked even bigger than Valentino’s, his cock a deep black, but with an electric blue color towards the head, along with a Jacob’s Ladder down the underside of the shaft, which was brushing along your clit. “T..That’s so big..h..how will it even fit..?” you asked, but your hips were already trying to get his cock inside you. Vox’s screen flickered with anticipation as he watched your failed attempts, finding you adorable. He smiled, his eyes filled with desire. “Don’t worry, baby girl,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

He positioned his cock to prod against your pussy and he slowly pushed into you, his cock stretching you in the most pleasurable way. “Oh, fuck..You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hips moving slowly at first. Valentino watched from the sidelines, letting the two take the spotlight for a bit. “She’s amazing, isn’t she? She’s taking our cocks like a pro. And here we were, making her write shit while she was ripe for the picking.” Val purred. You moaned, your body adjusting to the invasion. Your hips moved in time with Vox’s, your face contorted in desire. “That’s it, baby,” Vox said, his pace picking up as he went deeper. “Let’s see how much more you can take.” You moaned at each thrust, “Ahh…ohh..mm…Vox…f…feels so good..ohh…aahh..” You could feel the Jacob’s Ladder rubbing along your walls, stimulating you with a mix of pleasure and pain. Vox gripped your hips and groaned as his hips moved faster. “You’re so fucking tight, babe,” he said, his voice a mix of breaths and moans. “Ahh…I could fuck you all day,” Vox said as his head tilted back.

Valentino watched, his cock hard in his hand. “This is perfect,” he said, his eyes never leaving the scene. “She’s enjoying every second of it.” The two men’s cum was still on your body, an erotic masterpiece captured forever on film as it dripped down your body. Your beauty was enhanced by the state you were in - bound and fucked, you were nothing short of breathtaking. Valentino got up and undid your wrists, setting you free. This caused you to use one of your hands to stroke Val’s cock and your other hand to help spread your pussy open so Vox could get deeper. “Ahh.. Ohh… Mmmm..” you moaned. Valentino smirked, chuckling then saying as he groped your breast, “Good girl. You sure know how to make us feel good, don’t you?” Vox groaned as he pulled you into his arms and held you as he fell to his knees on the bed, his hips moving faster, “Gahh…fuck…I don’t think I’ll be able to last much longer..” Val was surprised to hear this. “Really? Already? But you just started,” the moth man said, his eyebrows raised. Vox looked at his boyfriend and said, “It’s just too good, man.” Val smirked, now curious on how your pussy would feel around his own cock.

It wasn’t too long until you cried out, “Ahh..! V..Vox..! D..Don’t stop! I..I’m gonna cum! Please..cum in me! I..I need it..!” Vox groaned, the head of his cock hitting your cervix. “Oh, you’re gonna get it, baby,” he said. “I’m gonna fill you up.” Your moans were muffled as you buried your face in Vox’s neck. Your nails dug into his back, your hips moving in time with his. “Yeah..fuck me harder..almost there,” you cried. “She’s so fucking hot. I’m fucking her next,” Val said as he reached his orgasm, his cum landing on the ground. Vox’s orgasm hit, his cock pulsating inside you. He filled you up to the point of leaking onto the bed, his electric blue cum coating and dripping from your pussy. As yourr bodies relaxed and Vox let you fall onto the bed, he pulled his cock out of you and let out a few more shots of cum on your belly. You saw this and were curious on the taste, so you wiped some off with your finger and brought it to your lips, licking your finger clean. You smiled, tasting sour blue raspberry, which complemented Val’s cum deliciously. Vox looked at you with a satisfied smile on his face and his eyes half-closed in bliss, saying, “You’re perfect, baby girl..” You smiled at Vox before noticing Val walking up to you, his shadow casting over you and his wings unfurled in arousal. “My turn,” he said with a smirk. “You’ll definitely love what I got in mind with you..”

Val picked you up and sat on the bed, his back against the headboard and you in his lap, your back resting on his chest. He let his cock rest against your blue and pink stained belly and your hips were still moving slightly, trying to get as much pleasure as possible. It was obvious that you had reached the point in your arousal where the slightest touch on your pussy and clit would send electric shocks throughout your body, and the men were acutely aware of this. You tilted your head up to look at Val, begging, “Hurry up..please…give it to me..” Valentino chuckled, his eyes sparkling with lust. “Slow down, mi querida. I want to savor this moment,” he said, his voice soft. He reached down and grabbed your breasts, playing with your nipples. This caused you to whimper and moan softly. “So sensitive,” he growled with lust. “Now can you spread your legs for me, mi dulce ?” He leaned to your ear and whispered, “Be a good girl and let me claim what’s mine,” which caused a chill to go down your spine. You tried to spread your legs, but they were already starting to grow weak from the strong orgasms, so you could barely do so. Valentino and Vox chuckled at how cute you looked as you tried your hardest. “Here, let Papi help you,” Val said as he let his second pair of hands spread your legs and hold them open. Valentino positioned his cock to rub against your entrance, teasing you. “You ready for me, princesa? ” he asked, his voice low and seductive. You tried to move your hips to get him inside you, but he held a strong grip on your legs. “Yes..please…I need it..” You begged, your voice laced with need and desire. Valentino thrust into you until he reached the hilt, his cock stretching you out. “Fuck yeah, baby,” he groaned. “Take it.”

Val proceeded to thrust into you, his cock hitting your g-spot just right. “You’re so tight, so perfect,” Val growled. Your head tilted back as you cried out in pleasure, “Ahhh..ohh..! Yes..! So…good..!” Valentino grinned, his eyes wild with desire. “I knew you’d love it,” he said, his hips moving faster. “You’re so good at taking my cock.” Your moans filled the room, your body shaking with pleasure. Your face was composed of a blissful smile and eyes that showed that you were in pure ecstasy. You looked perfect, completely taken by pleasure. Vox watched through the camera, making sure to zoom in on your face and slowly cascading down your body to the action. “This is going to be a hit,” he said, his eyes never leaving the scene. Valentino’s pace increased, his thrusts becoming more aggressive. “Oh fuck, I’m close,” he said softly. “Now you get to feel my cum fill you, mi reina. ” When he said that, your orgasm rocked your body, causing you to arch your entire body, crying out in pleasure. “Gahh..! V…Val..! Don’t stop..!” He didn’t. He filled you with his cum, the pink color mixing with the blue creating a soft purple color oozing out of you.

Once your orgasms left, Vox got back on the bed and you could see that his cock was ready to go again. That’s when you got an idea and you lifted your head to look at Val, asking, “Um..Val..? Could you..please..fuck my ass? I wanna know what it feels like to take two at once.” Valentino smirked devilishly and chuckled, his arms wrapping around you. “Okay, baby,” he said. “Since you’ve been a good girl.” He pulled out, his cock coated in a mix of his, Vox’s, and your cum. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said. With that, he entered your ass, his cock stretching you in a new way. As you gasped from the sensation then let out a pleasured sigh, Vox positioned himself, his cock throbbing with anticipation. “This is going to be amazing, I can already feel it,” The techno man said. Vox thrust into your pussy, his cock hitting you deep. The sensation of being filled in both holes caused you to cry out as you moved your hips, “Y-Yes..! More..!” Val let out a groan as he bit his bottom lip, moving his hips and thrusting into you. “Oh, fuck…you’re so fucking tight..” Vox’s pace increased, his thrusts matching Val’s intensity. “You’re taking us so well,” he panted, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock inside you. “You’re so fucking addictive..” Your eyes started to roll back in pleasure, your breasts bouncing, your face a picture of pure bliss as you smiled wide and stuck your tongue out. “Oh yeah…fuck me like that,” you cried. They continued to fuck you, their cocks hitting all the right spots. Valentino’s cock rubbed against your insides, and Vox’s cock slammed against your g-spot. You could feel your orgasm building, getting closer with each powerful thrust. “Ohhhh fuck..! I..It’s so good..! I..I can barely think..!” Valentino chuckled, saying, “Oh, you’re going to cum for us, baby. I can feel it.” Vox started to chase his orgasm, his thrusts increasing. “Oh yeah..you’re so close, baby.” Your body shook, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train, your moans turned into screams. “Oh fuck..! I..I’m cumming!!” At the same time, Valentino and Vox filled both of your holes to the point of flooding and dripping onto the bed.

Once you all relaxed, Vox gently lifted your head and kissed you deeply. You returned the kiss, your tongue dancing with his. Vox soon broke the kiss, saying, “That was great,” he said, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re amazing, Y/N.” Valentino smiled and leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. You’re completely covered in our cum.” You looked at Val, a chuckle in your voice as you spoke with playful sarcasm, “Gosh, I wonder why..” Valentino laughed and carefully pulled out of you, Vox following suit. “You’re such a perfect slut for us, Y/N,” Val said as he stood up. You blushed, your face filled with both embarrassment and pride. “Now, look alive, sunshine. We have cameras in the showers too, remember?” Val said as he grabbed your chin and tilted your head to look at him. You nodded, your body still buzzing from pleasure. You followed them to the showers, your mind already thinking about the next scene.

~~~♡♡♡~~~