#call me egotistical but like situations match you get me

[im-sorry-what-ii]

something so so asfajnkakgnadk about finding the town you grew up in on queering the map and reading the single post from there, placed directly in the middle of your school

[prettyboykatsuki]

take it from me | barou shouei ft. isagi yoichi

✮ tags ; gender neutral / fem!reader + afab!reader (reader is referred to as girlfriend but uses they/them pronouns), cucking, petnames (baby, beautiful), fingering, dry-humping, breeding (mentions of getting someone pregnant and kids etc.), 18+ 

✮ wc ; 2.7k 

✮ synopsis ; barou doesn’t like anything isagi has planned for him, but he never backs down from a fight either. 

✮ a/n ; a fic a beloved anon commissioner has allowed me to post! also... if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a fic with isagi cucking someone... i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice right

It’s easy to get on Barou’s nerves. 

But it’s hard to get under his skin. 

Very hard. Harder than most people actually understand, because people get a kick out of riling him up. They often get upset when he realizes and stops being mad at all. Surface level frustration is commonplace for Barou, but that skin deep stuff is hard to come by.  And whatever does get him truly angry is usually justifiable, understandable. Strangers don’t make this distinction about him but he knows it to be true. 

It’s rare, unusual - to get under his skin so fucking consistently. 

But Isagi always does. 

That shitty little egoist has a talent for bothering him with his antics. Every person who’s ever told Barou off for being egotistical doesn’t know shit about shit. They don’t know the kind of egoism Isagi bears, the kind that’s subtle until it isn’t. Until it’s in your face at your lowest, opportunistic and evil. 

He’s fine off the field. Almost innocent when they sit around together for a drink. Off the field, he blushes when he gets any advances and doesn’t carry that same energy. But Barou knows better, can’t let his guard down because when everyone is distracted it slips. Barou sees the way Isagi looks. Plans. Manipulates for what he wants. He should’ve been able to guess that Isagi’s bet on their last match was a ploy to get something he wanted. 

But Isagi knows in what way he can push Barou’s buttons. So after carefully placed insults and pushes, a bet was made. 

If Isagi’s team won their next match, he got to fuck Barou’s girlfriend. In front of him. 

Of course his first answer was fuck no. Barou’s not stupid, wasn’t planning on giving that shitty little brat an inch because Barou knew he’d take a mile. Isagi, though, got under his skin. Pushed and pushed, making digs about Barou being worried about you. Isagi knows that Barou is confident in his soccer, as much as he is in his feelings - but Barou can’t let up to that kind of push. Can’t allow Isagi to think for even a minute he can’t satisfy you. In a fit of anger, Barou says he’ll agree if you do. 

And to his surprise, you do - but you’re demure about it. Not that you need anyone but Barou, you assure, but you do want to support his confidence in himself. Sweet thing like you always are, gentle with batted lashes and a hand on his chest. 

Barou loves you, would’ve said fuck no again if you showed even the slightest bit of hesitation. Instead, you looked up at him with clear eyes and a gentle smile. 

Fine. Barou agrees to play Isagi’s shitty game. He’ll win the next match and it’ll be over.

Except, he doesn’t win.

It’s a close match, but Isagi’s team manages to get one goal in - Isagi himself striking it into the net. As soon as it’s called, only seconds before the last buzzer goes off, Isagi looks at Barou directly. Grins as he scores, smiles like Japan’s sweetheart when everything is over. 

Barou wouldn’t go as far as describing his feelings as dread. Dread implies that he’s lacking confidence. It’s more like he was pissed. Pissed that Isagi got his way, pissed that the match was so fucking close, pissed as he was relaying the news to you on the way home. A nightmare of a situation - ultimately. 

But Barou is a man of his word. 

And as man of his word, Barou puts you three in a groupchat with Isagi. There’s some hoopla about getting to know each other. Barou can appreciate Isagi’s efforts to make you comfortable, despite knowing it’s bare minimum. There’s something real about his approach, his desire. Isagi wants to fuck you as you, as much as he does because you’re Barou’s girlfriend. He just wants you, and Barou isn’t entirely sure what to make of that. 

He isn’t sure if that makes his fuck-up worse or better. But he’s here now, and there’s nothing he can do. 

He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands. He’s supposed to just watch, and he has some qualms about jacking off while you’re being fucked by someone else. It’s weirder to be in his position though, to just sit and look on as Isagi lays hands on you. 

Barou loathes knowing Isagi’s preferences, loathes even more that they have similar tastes. You’re wearing white lace and thin straps and mascara that isn’t waterproof per request. You're beautiful in a way that Barou knows to be normal for you, but still feels impressed by. 

And Isagi is there. 

While Barou is looking at you, eyes fixated on your silhouette - your expression is turned to Isagi. Bright eyes, fluttery lashes, lips that are parted and pouty. Your hands are clamped up at your sides, thighs trembling. You’re nervous, it’s written all over your face. Isagi is hovering over you - speaking in quiet whispers until you smile or laugh. He gets you comfortable with the way he talks, much faster than Barou could’ve in a situation like this. He’s a people person, notably. Barou can’t hear what Isagi is telling you so secretively. 

But it must have something to do with him, given the way you glance over at him and Isagi turns your face gently back his way. He’s not a participant here, not playing on the field. He’s a fly on the wall, a watcher - a passive one, and he isn’t sure if it’s too early or not to be pissed. 

“Shouei,” You whisper despite Isagi’s efforts to make you forget him. Barou stills “It'll be okay.” 

Barou breathes out at you, softening his features. Isagi’s touch on your body doesn’t make him lunge out of his seat this time. 

Isagi kisses you when Barou is looking. From where he’s sitting, he can see it clearly. You crane your neck up like you usually do when you kiss, and Isagi has a hand around the side of your face. He doesn’t know what to think, what to feel - so he focuses on you. 

Your lips part, and Isagi puts his tongue in your mouth. Puts his tongue in and nips, laps at the gloss of your mouth until you give in. Your hands clasp around the end of Isagi’s shirt, a flash of innocence. 

It’s an explicit way to kiss, lewd. Suggestive. Barou thinks this is intentional. He can’t wrap his head around why Isagi would want to fuck you dirty other than his own preferences. But there’s more to it. So much more underneath the surface of his desire that makes Barou want to get up and punch his lights out. 

But he doesn’t. He keeps his hands tucked at his side, and watches as you squirm. There’s something dirty about the desperation in your every gesture. Isagi keeps kissing you as he slowly undoes you. 

He starts with kissing your jaw after thoroughly making your head blank. Isagi lets his lips trail over the corner of your mouth, the angle of your jaw, the space where your shoulder meets your neck. There’s no romance laced in it, only lust. Your face twists with each bite and his hands make quick work out of touching you in every place other than where you need. He breaks you apart in careful, calculated moves. Exploits all your sensitivities. His hands squeeze the softness of your chest, groaning at the way it feels in between his fingers. 

He teases your nipples, flicking and rubbing them until you’re wiggling away from the feeling. He licks and bites at the tender flesh, sucking harsh enough to make a wet sound. 

Barou busies himself with counting all the differences, and measures his own touch up to it. How different it is. The way Isagi is touching you lacks delicacy, finesse. 

There are a few moments where you pause, glancing at him to say something. But when Isagi touches you, you can’t get the words out. His groping isn’t very romantic. 

But you like it, don’t you? You do.  It’s in your face. In your blissed out eyes, and the subtle flutters of your tummy and the legs wrapped around Isagi’s waist when he humps you. Ruts the hard shape of his cock against your clothed, wet cunt and makes you whimper like you’ve been hit. He’s groping you like he’s only known sex from dirty magazines or porn on DVD, but you like it. You’re so engrossed in the feeling that every word you have for him dies in your mouth, gets washed away by your desire. 

Isagi makes a show out of humping you, once you both get into it. The two of you break apart only briefly. He peels his shirt back as he sits up on his knees, pulls his pants down enough to just be in his boxers. He lets his hard cock rest against your pussy, still in his boxers. Gripping your thighs, he thrusts - slow and deliberate until the tip pushes into your swollen clit. You cry out, your hands still fisted and trembling around your size. Isagi narrates this time, loud enough for Barou to hear. The sound of his voice grates on Barou’s nerves. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” He punctuates, laughing - harshly at that “Do you like when I’m a little mean?” 

Your hands curl, and you clam up - but Isagi doesn’t let you shy away. Instead he keeps thrusting his hips over and over, gripping your jaw to make you look up at him. Your eyes are blown so wide, wetness pooling at your lashes as the sensation drives you over. Barou would’ve touched you by now, but Isagi does not. 

“That brute is a gentleman to you, huh. I’m a little surprised.”  Isagi says conversationally, making Barou’s whole body tense. “But you look like you need to be fucked a little mean. I almost want to make you cry.” 

Barou goes to interject, he wants too - but you moan. And Isagi laughs at you again. 

“Is that what you want? Hm? Want me to fuck you?” 

“Hngh, please.” Your voice nearly breaks as you whimper “Wan’ you to fuck me.” 

Shit. Barou is hard. 

Isagi grins “That’s what I like to hear,” 

Isagi moves, pulling himself away from you. He lifts your legs to take your panties off, and tosses them somewhere carelessly before sitting back. He spreads your legs, coating his middle fingers with saliva before positioning himself. 

He hovers over as he lets his fingers dip down to your cunt, brushing over your swollen clit. He ignores your cry out from neglect. You wrap your arms around his neck as he keeps himself upright with free hand, kissing you softly as he starts to finger you. He doesn’t give you room to breathe, doesn’t let you pull away as his fingers start to stretch you open. You mewl at his ministrations, paw at him and kiss him desperately. There’s such a whiny quality to your moaning, one that Barou has only ever heard in bits and pieces before this.  

He watches as one finger scissors you open then another. You take it well, don’t complain even Isagi takes his sweet time pressing up against your soft spot. Once you’re all stretched and light headed, he kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“Now you’re ready for me,” Isagi mumbles, looking you over “Gonna fuck you nice and full, yeah? Wanna let him see you?” 

Dazed, you nod. Barou goes to ask what he fucking means by that, but the words never make it out. He watches instead, as Isagi maneuvers you to roll onto your side. 

While Isagi comes to lay behind you. The angle you’re at gives Barou a perfect front view of your body, down the smallest details. He can see the traces of saliva left on your skin, the soft indents of marks. Everything stops, his breath hitching as he gets an eye full of your face. Sheer bliss on your features, shining with a sheen of sweat. Your eyes are glossed over, glassy. 

Before Barou can think at all, he finds a hand at his waist - rubbing his cock through the fabric of his pants. Isagi’s arm circles around your middle as his chin rests on your shoulder. You pick your leg up to give him easier access to you. 

Barou watches intently as Isagi’s cock pushes against your entrance. Your tight hole stretches around the swollen tip as your voice starts to tremble. Isagi curses behind you, quiet as he eases himself inside. He fills you up deliberately, inch by inch pushing into your hot cunt until he’s all the way bottomed out. Your eyes are nearly rolled back into your head from bliss, mouth agape and drooling. Isagi lets his hand travel down to your clit, his middle finger rubbing soft circles into the bundle of nerves. He bottoms out with a deep sigh. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” Isagi groans, pulling out before pushing in again in one thrust “Makes me wanna cum in you so bad, fuck.” 

Barou can see how much the words affect you. Isagi must feel it. 

“Shit, you want that, huh?” He laughs, breathless and entertained by your desire. He fucks up into you now, starts his pace off slow - the sound of your pussy filling up the room “Want me to cum in you instead of pull out? Give you a baby?”

You gasp, shudder at the prospect. Isagi is fucking you raw, where Barou is almost always using condoms. He should be pissed beyond what he thought possible, and some part of him is. But another part of him, even quieter, is fixated on the pure pleasure you’re getting out of it. Out of being fucked raw by someone who’s basically a stranger. 

Isagi, ever the egoist, sees the opportunity and runs with it. He fucks into you harder, gives it to you deeper with a vicious smile. 

“I’ll knock you up, beautiful. Want it so bad, of course I’ll fuck it right into you,” Isagi croons, his voice edging on sadistic but mostly saccharine sweet “Hear that, Barou? Aren’t you lucky, ‘m giving your girlfriend a winner's baby. Maybe you could teach ‘em to play soccer.” 

Barou feels his own irritation bubble into his throat - but he can’t be fully angry when you look the way you do. When your whole body tenses and trembles every time Isagi thrusts his cock into you, like you’re practically begging for him to breed you full. No matter what Isagi does, it’s not like Barou could ever be agitated with you, and god - you look like you feel good. 

Your voice is choked out as Barou watches you get tipped over the edge. He feels his own cock twitch from neglect, but refuses to let himself go any further. Despite how painful it is to not touch himself. You reach for the sheets as your eyes go wide, fluttering back into your skull. 

“Gonna cum, Isagi, Isagi” Your voice is hoarse and trembling “S-somethin’ gonna come out.” 

Isagi keeps pace, fucking you how you need. 

“Let’s cum together, yeah? Cum with me so your pussy can swallow up all of it, make sure you’re bred nice and full.” 

You nod dumbly and hold it in despite yourself, and Barou watches you as you make a mess. Watches all of your arousal drip and stain the sheets as Isagi fucks you, how you’re so wet you nearly push him out. You bite your lip and take his cock like it’s nothing, his grip on your waist nearly bruising. Your shoulders sag with relief as he finally gets close. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” He warns, then a little softer “Let’s cum together? Cum with beautiful.” 

Barou watches you as you. You cum and you cum hard, hard enough that your eyes squeeze shut and your whole body tightens before breaking out into trembles. You’re convulsing as you pull away from his cock, a wet rush spilling as you finish. Isagi groans as you squirt all over him and the sheets, the mess of his seed mixing as you lay down. 

You nearly collapse into the bed beneath you, trembling as Isagi kisses your shoulder. Then for the first time, he looks over to acknowledge him. 

“It’d be rude to give them just one right?” Isagi says, giving Barou a cocky glance “Don’t hold it in so much.” 

“Fuck you,” Barou curses, groaning. 

It’s gonna be a long, long night. 

[countlessrealities]

@technodromes sent: In that case I Ship bingo Krang Rick's way (or Subprime? Bishop? whoever you vibe more with lol) Ship bingo

[[ respectively: Krang, Subprime, Bishop ]]

[[ Rick and Krang would butt heads so much and no one can convince me that they wouldn't xD At the same time, Krang is probably also the one among the Technodrome crew who'd be more open to make science talk with Rick and that would be very appreciated because it's rare for him to find someone who can keep up with him and who's not a Rick. [[ That said, Rick also has the "bad" habit of trying to work out tension / frustration through agressive flirting with beings he feels some level of connection / compatibility with, so that will definitely play a role in the way he acts towards Krang. Not at first, but the more time they spend together (and quarrelling), the more evident it will become. [[ On another note, I could see them eventually becoming sincerely friendly too...assuming that they can get past the fact that they both have massive egos xD but they have a few similarities psychologically speaking too, 'cause under Rick's arrogance too there's a lot of self-loathing that probably match (if not surpasses) Krang's lack of self-esteem. ]]

[[ Speaking of egos and megalomania, I see a possible relationship (of any kind) between Rick and Subprime involving a certain level of hostility, no matter what. Unlike Krang, Subprime doesn't strike me as the type who'd go soft, not even on someone who can prove himself to be an equal. It sounds more the kind of situation that could spark up a rivalry. Even if I think that they might come to have some begrudging respect for each other (which, of course, they might never admit). [[ But even there...tension, tension, tension. And well, Rick's self-proclaimed archnemesis is one of his (non-human) exes, who is royalty, arrogant, prideful and egotist, but also smart, confident and powerful xD That should say everything. Rick kind of has a type when it comes to this sort of relationships. [[ In general, I think they'd make a fun duo in general, and they could easily fit that "enemies / rivals (/ reluctant allies) with benefits" trope xD ]]

[[ Last but not least, Bishop! Honestly, he and Rick have the potential of being almost wholesome...compared to the other two, at least xD Rick is a jerk, so poor Bishop will have to face a lot of teasing, but Rick is also pretty quick to start calling someone a "friend" as long as they stick around in spite of the mess of a man he is, put up with his antics, are open to give him the time of their day and keep him entertained. Bishop has the potential to do all that. [[ Also, I think that Rick would be great at teaching Bishop all about humans and how to interact with other social species in general, even if his teachings methods would be rather...unconventional. He'd drag him to alien nightclubs, rave parties, in the middle of a shooting between rival galactic drug dealers...depending on the mood. And he'd totally try to get him high and drunk (...I kinda feel bad for poor Bishop). [[ All in all, they'd be a much lighter and fun duo, and they would probably have Morty tagging along more often (unrelated but I think that Morty would like Bishop a lot better than the others xD). ]]

[csmeaner]

Bro you cannot sit there and tell you think ANY of the admins in Scarfoxes have the brain cells OR mental capacity to remember a single fucking image posted almost a year prior to their design being created and sold. That’s being way too generous with Staff’s capabilities. Those cunts can’t even remember shit from a day ago let alone almost an entire fucking YEAR. I don’t believe even for a second that Dragon-Eternal ripped off that design and that’s not me defending staff. They’re too fucking stupid to retain any memory of something that long.

Someone on the bulletin pointed out that Laneycore wasn’t even active in the discord, and I checked the post history and they were right. If that ripoff Mikufox was being posted constantly or they had more art of that fire form then I could see it being an inspiration or ripoff but with the current circumstances? Hell no. Staff isn’t that good and Laney’s accusations of Dragon saving the image when it was posted are ludicrous. Who the hell does Laney think they are that someone would be assed enough to right click and save one shitty piece of art from them? Oh, Dragon-Eternal reacted to it at the time? Uh oh! Guess staff isn’t allowed to react to any image posted ever because it means they’re STEALING IT.

How far up your own fucking ass does your head have to be to think like that? And claiming that their fox is that popular, well-known, and liked like it isn’t a fucking ripoff design? Because Chuchy apparently has no creativity and had to rip off other sources themself and then shits on others for potentially doing the same thing? I’ve never heard of OR seen Laneycore before this fiasco and tbh I blocked them after reading through the bulletin and their comments because they seem like an annoying egotistical cunt. I also didn’t see many people talking about their fox in the discord outside of Laneycore themself, and haven’t seen it talked about anywhere else I frequent either so really, how popular is it actually? Seems like Laney’s status as a popular artist (if they even are one?) has gone to their head.

I know the entire point of the vent/callout was the staff’s unprofessionalism but Laney has no solid proof in their case that Dragon ACTUALLY ripped off their art piece for that design. The accusations they came in with were fucking ridiculous for not having proof to back it up and even a good moderation team would struggle in that situation. And looking at the two designs myself I’m sorry to say that I don’t see the issue. Two designs using green fire is hardly enough grounds to call plagiarism or copying when the coloration and elements in both pieces don’t even match up. Nothing about the two designs is similar other than the appearance of the color of the fire, and even that’s different when you look at the hex codes. I also don’t understand why Laneycore waited over a month to complain and why they didn’t go to Dragon with their issue first since Dragon was the artist of the piece.

Both parties behaved poorly here. I will never side with SF staff, but I can’t side with Laneycore here either because they’re also in the wrong. Demanding an entire palette change or hue shift just because a piece has similar colors to your own art is WAY too entitled and nobody gets away with that shit when they try it. Nobody owns a palette or a theme or idea, and ragging on staff because they handled your proofless accusations poorly is stupid as fuck. Nobody was going to come out of this situation a winner.

Fuck SF staff, especially with Dragon’s vague ass counter journal and every other time the SF staff have done shit to piss people off (DARCI), but really fuck Laneycore too. All of them can eat shit.

post related (links to updated post even tho i think this one was made before it was edited)

what happens when an insufferable force meets a dismissive object. like you can't even root for anyone in this im just happy this is a huge blow to scarfox in general

[havoc-bloom]

*slams table* Hello again! Hope you're having a great day! So I'm back here with another madcom romantic match but this time... Itsa me!

Madcom me is this! (Made on this: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1473460 )

I made a playlist that's basically me lol: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4UrHlLZeU0w39qGtwMTWrK?si=zlIe-OabTLOyel6lAVDIpg&utm_source=copy-link

I'm 5'4 ish, could be considered a gremlin bc I'm on the chaotic evil side. I'm afab genderfluid and asexual! (Though there's me being constantly thirsty aha-)

The glasses are tinted, my eyesight isn't that bad but I wanna see so.

Here's my personality:

It's either I'm a flirty egotistical asshole or the therapist friend. When you first meet me I'm like, extremely quiet since anxiety. If I like you enough I turn into a leech. I'm annoying you every moment I can, and I like insulting ppl as jokes, though I'll only do it if they're okay with it. I'm neurodivergent so whenever I get overstimulated I'll run around and flail my arms, why? Hot men or music lol.

I also got a buncha scars bc I'm a clumsy idiot :D

Funfacts!:

I make alot of noises, as in squeaks when I'm flustered or surprised, wehs and whas when I'm caught off guard and I would literally meow when I'm simpin(awooga madcom main 4)

My sense of humor is sexual jokes or self-deprication jokes

I am not afraid to hide a body if my bff wants me to 🥰

75% of the time my brain is empty and it's just the dvd logo bouncing around. Which can mean words go in one ear and out the other.

Random storytimes:

"Yea so one time I got lost at the supermarket then the mafia kidnapped me so I'm here now."

"Lmao nice one time my dad left to get milk"

"I wanted a doughnut now I got depression lol"

I got horrible memory and added with my horrible focus it leads into me just bein stupid lol

I'm a simp, Sanford's moobs uwu

I draw too, when I got bored

I hate ants. And when there's too much noise(i.e someone breathin too loudly)

Lmao I'm dyslexic watch me struggle to form sentences

I'm not afraid to kick ass in a skirt, infact it's a power move

Watch me make random dick jokes even tho Ion even have one

I kinda have fangs, 10/10 would chew on things.

Funfact! My love language, but touch me without warning I will freeze up :p

I can be considered the mom friend, if I catch Deimos smokin my foot is up his ass /j. It's the asian genes it turns me into an asian mom, I'll curse you out in vietnamese and cut you fruit later

I have a habit of callin people pet names, like Hun and sweetie, it came from nowhere and me being flirty is just me being friendly but I get crushes too easily. I'll get over it in 3 days tho(i hope)

Have a great day, drink water and take rests!

Hey! Thanks for the ask friend! This one was super fun to write :3

You're paired with...

2BDamned!

Huzzah, a man of quality! Therapist buddies together :)

Scolds you for making self-deprecating jokes then immediately makes a self-deprecating joke and it becomes a cycle.

He knows a little bit of a lot of languages, likes to make sure he's prepared for any situation, so the first time you yell at him in Vietnamese is a ROLLERCOASTER.

He doesn't get nearly enough rest, please get him to sleep even for just a few hours-

Tries his best to help you through the dyslexia, he has it too he's just adapted to it surprisingly well so he'll do his best to aid you with that

"I'm gonna bite it." "No, don't bite it-" *insert you gnawing on a tree branch* "...Why do I bother?"

BOTH OF U + SANFORD TRYNA GET DEIMOS OFF SMOKING BUT HE WON'T STOP >:(

He also hates loud noises, mostly he finds them annoying tho cause he's tryna work

Kills all the ants for u :)

Tends to all your wounds from bumping into stuff and whatnot.

*wrapping your hand w/ a bandage* "What happened this time?" "I slammed my hand in the door..." "Reasonable."

If you call him any sort of pet name he'll melt to the ground like sugar in water, it's adorable :>

Enjoy ur sleep-deprived therapist friend bf :]

[galactic-pirates]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Time Will Tell - aka the Soulmate AU. I love this because it was a self-challenge and I'm pleased how it came out. Also egotistically other people seem to like this one and that gives me such a warm fuzzy feeling.

In the mid-19th century three children are born with two timers, a rare trio match. The reality of the timers on their arms subtly shape their lives, and the way it binds them together is as much a curse as a blessing. Can they build a future? Only Time Will Tell... Sanctuary (James/John/Helen)

and the Sins of Atlantis - aka the most self-indulgent fic I think I've ever written. Honestly I'm my own intended audience for this. I just enjoy it.

In 1923 oddities are reported near Caerleon in Wales, attracting the attention of the then librarian and guardian - James Watson and Helen Magnus. Accompanied by Nikola Tesla they are caught by the anomaly and find themselves in 2018. Working with the current team of librarians, it seems the situation will soon be resolved, but with magic it’s rarely that easy especially when Jenkins is hiding something. Sanctuary/The Librarians (James/John/Helen, Eve/Flynn, Jenkins/OMC)

and the Guardian's Dilemma - aka Ezekiel finally gets recognition. It feels like he's often turned the joke like 'call yourself a librarian' as he doesn't know obscure history. But he has his own skill sets, he's competent and has such a good heart. This acknowledges that.

Flynn was gone - fact. The library needed a librarian to tether with - fact. Eve was no stranger to making the hard call but this decision would have ramifications for centuries. They’d always been a team up until now and whomever she picked would be elevated above the others. It didn’t feel right, it should have been Flynn, but Flynn was gone. Cassandra, Stone or Ezekiel? It was an impossible decision but one she had to make. She had to choose one of them - it was the Guardian’s Dilemma. The Librarians

Across the Stars - aka a little Star Wars fusion. It's Star Wars, enough said really. Mashing stuff up like that makes me happy.

The clone wars are in full swing. Darkness is casting a shadow over the galaxy, and only the Jedi's faith in the force keeps them from despair. It is a dark time for the Republic. Jedi Knight Belle French is about to go into battle on Balmorra, when her instincts lead her away from the war, towards her former Master - Rum Gold. Once Upon a Time (Rumbelle)

Between Two Fires - aka my Alias inspired space oneshot. I only hint at the world but believe me it's been developed a lot more. Greatness from small beginnings, a quote and I'm not too sure about how great it will be but one day I will write my interplanetary war with spies and vigilantes and jaded officers. One day. Anyway it makes me absurdly fond of this little origin.

Captain Julian Gold, a decorated hero of the Frontlands Defense Force was once married to Lacey Beaumont. They had been happy but then she had died. Shortly after her death Gold discovered the truth. She wasn’t really Lacey Beaumont, she was Belle French and she was from Avonlea. Five years later there is a twitch on the border line. Gold follows the trail, stunned to find himself face to face with his supposedly dead wife - Belle. Once Upon a Time (Rumbelle)

[writteninscarlet]

🖤 ;; @americashielded

send 🖤 and my character will answer about yours. ;; accepting

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

"I couldn't ever deny the fact that Steve is attractive," she mused, before giving a roll of her shoulders. A small shrug. "He is attractive, he has good looks and keeps himself clean and together. He may not be overly prideful in his appearance, but I can always appreciate someone who puts in some effort to not be a slob. And his attractiveness, to me, is certainly accentuated by his personality - good looks only get you so far, but he has a good personality to match."

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

"Steve has a lot of different sides to him," she began, a slight smile on her face. "And whilst I wouldn't call him an actor, I think he probably knows well how to react in different situations. But overall? I think he is a good man. Sometimes I know exactly how he will react, and at other times I cannot tell. Sometimes he can be annoying and bossy, but I would never doubt that his heart is in the right place." The smile was certainly there now, and affectionate and warm enough. "Yes, a good man, and not someone I would want to go up against - I think he can be very tough when he wants to be."

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

"I'm... not entirely sure I like the phrase tap that," she murmured dryly, a little scrunching up of her nose. But then Wanda relaxed, amused look on her features. "He's a friend, and a teammate. To do something like this could jeopardise that, no? But to take that aside - he is charming, and smart. He is well put together. I am comfortable with him. He is, to put it in one word, amazing. So if we are being truthful and taking awkwardness of going to that stage out of it, then yes, I would have sex with him."

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

"As teammates or just as two individual people, I completely trust him. And would like to think of us as good friends. I feel... one can never really know everything about another person," she gave a soft shrug, "but I would like to know about him. And I feel happy to be able to call him a friend."

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

"Of course, we met on opposite sides first of all. In that sense I didn;t actually much care either way for him, not on first meeting him. He was never anyone I personally disliked, we were just on opposite sides" She gave a little grin, almost a smirk, then said, "So first impressions? Not ideal. But perhaps we had a NEW first impression when we were on the same side." For her sake, she'd think of it that way. It was nice to have a fresh start. "He can annoying and bossy, can I say that again? He can be. But I think nearly everyone that meets him can tell he... he is good. And I wanted to trust him from the start. Or, at least perhaps to get to know him better." She tapped a slender finger on her chin, thinking for a moment about it. "He seemed a bit square at the start rather than cool, but easily seemed a dependable person."

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

"I don't think I would want him out of my life. He is dependable. He's someone I trust. He's someone I enjoy having around." Truthfully, her feelings for him grew all the time. He was someone that grew on you, wasn't he? "I like Steve, a lot." A LOT.

[allegra-writes]

"Call it Magic"

Prologue: Unfitted

Billy Russo x Reader

Teen and up (for now)

Warnings: Language, brief depiction of war setting, self esteem issues. I'll be honest here, this turned out angstier than intended.

Series summary: Single dad Billy Russo doesn't feel qualified for parenthood, so he hatches a plan to get his baby girl the perfect mom. Needless to say, he isn't looking for a love match... but that's exactly what he is going to get.

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

"Come on, dude! You can't do this to me…" Billy knew his case was weak, his plea a useless, unconvincing hail Mary. Frank had already made his mind up, and Billy knew he was as unmovable and unyielding as a monolith. He usually loved that about his friend, made him the most reliable business associate a man could have, but right then, he thought it was the bane of his existence. 

"No dice, Bill. You knew monday was Amy's last day, she gave you her two weeks notice a month ago" Frank's tone was stern on the other side of the line, "You also knew it was my day off, and I was taking my kids to Liberty Island today, yet you made no other arrangements or called the agency for a replacement-"

"I can't just leave Lily with anyone, you know that!"

"Yes, I do, that's why I told you to start interviewing people weeks ago, but as usual, you didn't listen to me" Not for the first time, Billy felt a pang of jealousy at his friend's firm but not angry or threatening voice, his "dad voice" that Billy, try as he might, was afraid he would never perfect. "Look, Maria loves the kid, and so do I, you know that, Bill. But we already looked her four days this week. We won't babysit for you without notice every time you fail to arrange something else. I made plans to spend time with my family today, Bill, you should do the same from time to time" 

"Frankie, wait, just-" Billy could do nothing but curse as the line went dead. 

It wasn't a matter of self awareness, Billy was man enough to admit to himself he was a selfish son of a bitch too egotistical and clueless to be a father, and that he had been abusing his much more experienced and fitted friend (and his family's) kindness. But that was exactly it, he wasn’t suited to be a father, especially to a little girl as sensitive as his Lily, his sweet baby who didn't deserve all the suffering she had to go through at such a young age, didn't deserve to be as traumatized as she had been… He had often wondered if he had made the right choice, taking her for himself, denying her the chance to maybe, just maybe, fall into the hands of a nice, normal family like Frank's, but so far his little girl seemed cursed as him by the Russo luck, and all he had been able to think as the social worker explained her situation to him was that no child of his would grow up in the system. No, Billy Russo was going to give his daughter the best childhood money could buy.

Only lately, it had started to look like money wouldn't be enough. Amy had been a great help, she had, and Billy wasn't sure how he was going to cope without her, she had been the only one to get his shy, quiet baby out of her shell, but still, the girl only took care of Lily during the day. Between his daughter's night terrors and his own fears waking him up in the middle of the night, demanding him to check to make sure his baby girl was safely tucked in her crib, he hardly even got to sleep anymore. Not to mention sex was nothing but a distant memory now, bar hoping and hook ups were not something he could spend his nights doing anymore. All in all, Billy thought he was entitled to a child free day or two. A day to focus solely on Anvil or, heck, on himself. A day he wasn’t daddy, a day he could be just Billy again. 

He was about to learn the dangers of getting exactly what you wished for, as he turned back around after Frank had hung up on him, to find his two year old daughter gone.

Never in his entire life, having walked through hell and back, having fought in two different wars, having found himself trapped behind enemy lines, pinned down by enemy fire with no back up, no escape plan, watching his team fall one by one like flies while a hail of bullets rained on him, had he felt such debilitating, bone wrecking, marrow deep fear as in that moment he realized Lily wasn't there anymore. And he wasn't a fatalistic man, he was cold blooded and calculating, he was logical, he was a fucking first lieutenant for the United States of fucking America, God dammit, but in five seconds a thousand horrible, horrifying, nauseating worst case scenarios flashed through his adrenaline fuelled brain and his baby was so small, so precious, so fragile, so fucking helpless and he knew, he knew better than anyone the awful, fucked up things bad people could do to children and he'd eat led before letting anything like that happen to his baby. 

In five seconds flat he had already visually scanned the cafeteria, so he knew Lily wasn't anywhere in the open space. Less than a handful of companies had access to the 39th floor lounge, so anyone in or out needed to have his badge scanned, which meant anyone in or out could be easily identified, and the fact that it was his company the one in charge of the air tight security there in Fisk Tower… Well, let's just say if anyone took his daughter, they would not be able to take her very far. He was already dialing his head of security number -it was time saving that it coincidentally was the last person he had spoken to- when he heard it. It was muffled by the distance and glass, but the sound was so rare and so precious, he could have recognized it anywhere: Lily's laughter. 

There, about twenty yards away from where he was standing, inside the wood paneled walls of the posh coffee shop dominating the patio, his timid, almost mute baby girl was laughing, loud and uproarious, babbling away at the woman holding her in her arms as if they were long time friends. 

If Billy Russo had believed in souls, he would have recognized the way his knees went weak as the moment his returned to his body when he saw his daughter, safe and happy and in no danger of any kind. He would have realized that was exactly what took control of his body as his legs carried him on their, seemingly, own accord through the patio and into the high end Cafe. If he had believed in destiny, he would have identified the fatidical moment his dark eyes met the woman's holding his daughter for what it was. 

But he didn't, so he chalked up the way his heart skipped a beat to adrenaline and the peculiar, fluttering feeling in his stomach to stress related heartburn.

"Papa!" Lily made grabby hands for him, almost throwing herself off the stranger's arms, as soon as she saw him, but her big, so uncharacteristic smile was still firmly in place on her little face, and she appeared unharmed. Billy told himself that was the only reason he didn't strangled the woman holding her immediately on sight. 

"Mister Russo?" Well, at least she had the good sense to appeared abashed, cheeks darkening with embarrassment, maybe even fear, as she took in the frantic, worried look in his eyes and dishelved state. "Y-you're Lily's father?" 

Billy didn't reply, couldn't reply through the knot in his throat, as he took his daughter from her in a way probably a little more forceful than necessary. 

"I'm sorry, is everything alright, Mister Russo?"

"Stay away from my daughter!" He barked, startling both the woman and Lily, whose face instantly scrunched up in displeasure, lovely smile gone, eyes filling with tears in front of him, because of him.

God, he was such a shitty parent! 

It was too much for him after so much tension, especially as he realized every eye in the store was starting at him, probably judging him after witnessing how he had left his daughter alone, lost her and then made her cry. 

After witnessing what a failure of a father he was. 

Feeling his own eyes fill with moisture, he turned around and left without a word, before those people could see him make an even bigger fool of himself. 

To be continued...

This fic is dedicated to @marvelmusing and her amazing CEO!Billy fics and edits that were a big inspiration for this version of Billy, and to @ammarantas because her darklina florist x tattoo artist au kept me awake in the middle of the night, picturing how Billy would have reacted had he been in Aleksander's place and I just couldn't shake it off until, well, this happened.

[oworiio]

non con w/ kisaki <3? welcome to tumblr cant wait for ur other writings btw

impure

summary: it was only a nice gesture, but now your vision is blurry and things seem so, distant. . . characters: tetta kisaki x reader content: 18+ mdni, dub/non-con, drugged sex, breeding.

a/n: first rq!! kinda scared..!! this is kind of rushed so bare with me :(

"One more for me and her over here!" your co-worker calls out to the bartender, grabbing their purse "I'mma go to the restroom I'll be back quick, besides," They sharply nod their head behind you, "I think he wants your attention (Y/N)." You turn your head, quickly glaring at the man— who's making intense eye contact with you. "Go for it, He isn't even ugly (Y/N)." They wink, leaving their seat to the back of the dinky bar you're at.

'I mean they're right, he isn't that bad looking', You think turning back giving him a quick smile— Giving the bartender a faint 'Thanks' before grabbing your drink, walking up the man.

 "Hey." you gave him another smile setting your drink down as you adopt the seat beside him. "Hello." the man replies. "So, you've seen me looking at you, huh?" he picks up his glass downing it fairly quickly. " 'Tender, one for me and the woman." he declares— a slight smug forming in the corner of his mouth "The special."

"Oh no! It's fine, uh my co-worker actually bought me a drink already," You hold up your drink, "See?" 

You could swear you saw his eye twitch a little, "I insist."

'That was oddly stern. . .' You willingly accept his alcohol, "Oh- um, My name is (Y/N) by the way, you?" 

"Kisaki. Tetta Kisaki." He slides your drink to you, "Hope ya' like sweet drinks." Kisaki smiles devilishly, wide and white plastered his face as he watches you take a sip of it. His smile makes you hitch a bit, maybe he's just bad at smiling? Who are you to assume something's gonna happen?

He turns to his side grabbing his drink to join you— cocking his head; mentally searching your body, "What do you do for work, (Y/N)?" 

"Oh I'm just an office worker." 

"Oh? you' into business?"

"No no, it's just-" 

"You know I have a business myself," He curtly cuts you off—pushing his glasses up. "Really?" 

He nods, "Mm."

—

Has time flew by? You don't know. You feel like you've been here for hours, No 10 minutes? No 30 minutes? Has it even been minutes? You can't tell, Kisaki has been mindlessly rambling about business and his work, shit you can't even understand or even care to understand. Things have slowly become muffled and blurry.

"Ki-saki" you call out in a whisper, Things are rapidly becoming unclear and faint, what the fuck is happening to you?

—

"Wake up, wake the fuck up already." A familiar voice being thinly heard as you return to consciousness— his hand wavering your face. "Jesus fuck, finally."

It's Kisaki, wait wait what happened to the bar? where the hell are you? You look beside you, you're on top of a building.. when the hell did you get here? And why were you bound up with a folding gag on your mouth? 

Things were finally making sense. Tetta Kisaki drugged you. Your realization and awareness quickly makes your breathing erratic, tears flowing from your face as you cry. Tetta Kisaki drugged you. 

"You've finally woken up" Kisaki smiles, squatting down to meet you as he holds and caresses your face softly, "It's been an hour." He strikes your face with no remorse, making your ears ring, returning back to cup your now red cheek.

"Pleafs, let mpf go!" You pleads becoming completely muffled as you sob— face feeling extremely tingly and burning.

"I'm sorry, but no." Kisaki scoffs, "You're lucky you're so beautiful that I didn't want anyone else to have you." his tone is soft— giving you an oddly gentle smile, "After you've been nothing but a fucking bitch to me." 

What? you've been nothing but nice to him? Is it because you didn't accept his drink at first? Is that why you're in this situation? Oh god.

"Usually, if whores like you are that impolite they get gang raped, and killed shortly after." He says, flat and cold as if saying something that wild is completely casual. "Mm, but you're different I guess." His warm smile returns as his hands slowly progresses down your shirt, harshly unbuttoning your blouse exposing your lacy bra— causing you to completely shut down and weep into the damp covering; Kisaki's eyes widen with a quiet gasp, "Such a naughty bra (Y/N)." 

He quickly moves on, forcefully spreading your legs causing your pencil skirt to ride up and unintentionally revealing your matching panties under your pantyhose. "It's like you're begging for me," He chuckles, "How'd you know I'm a fan of pantyhose (Y/N)?" 

His question catches you off guard until he vigorously rips a huge opening on your crotch as he licks his lips, pulling your panties to the side to reveal your slit, "Such a pretty pussy..." he murmurs rubbing his calloused around your folds, momentarily touching your clit making you inhale sharply, "Oh? Is this the special spot (Y/N)?" his voice in a low grown as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and savoring the little taste making his two fingers moist before returning to your pussy, as his uninvited fingers barge inside your hole. Cruelly sliding in and out, curling and scissoring your walls, you couldn't help but moan into the rag and making his fingers wet with your lewd juices

 "You're getting a kick out of this aren't you?" His laugh echos over and over again inside the big room, making a pit in your stomach form more and more. Oh god why does your body have to betray you? Kisaki moves over yanking the gag out of your mouth, "I wanna hear you, tell me how good it feels." his request being ignored as you focused on trying to conceal your moans. No response pisses Kisaki off, removing his fingers to suddenly slap your pussy, He tuts, "Fine. I'll just fuck it out of you instead." 

Your eyes widen as you realize he was not joking, The sound of his belt unclasping with his pants unzipping, his cock is out in the open, you don't get a clear image of it since your tears plus the drugs hindered your sight, but it was a decent size. The shamefully say the least. He took no time in trying to prepare you, you've lost that privilege. He positions himself on top of you, pushing your legs all the way to your chest, fully mounting you as he wiggles his tip all over your pussy to find your hole, and when he does he takes no chance of going slow. All in in one go.

Kisaki groans as all of his inches effortlessly get swallowed by your cunt, "Fuck, it's tight." He whispers, "Keep grippin' my cock like that and I'll cum inside you." You couldn't help it. He was so.. thick. 

As he recollects himself as he begins to move, pleasure engulfing both you and him with each thrust becoming more and more intense as he picked up the speed and strength, you let out uncontrolled weeping moans. You could almost feel Kisaki's egotistical smile as he hears your mewls, letting out some of his sighs and groans with you. "I'll, fuck- ask again, tell me how good my dick feels (Y/N). Tell me." His voice breaks down a bit unable to keep his fierce tone, moving his hand to your throat when he's ignored again, gripping it as he violently thrusts and bucks his hips inside of you, "Tell me now!" He raises his voice a bit more this time, losing grip he moves his hand to push your face onto the ground as he frantically fucks you, he's close.

The movements making you feel brain dead, you finally comply, "Yes... it's- so good, Kisaki.." Your shameful moans make you stutter, as you're close as well. Hearing you finally obey, Kisaki groans as his frenzied movements blow up as his seed spurts inside of your womb, still stroking making sure you're filled to the brim with not chance of spilling his sperm. 

"Good girl."

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?

[goldafterglow]

dissolve me (repost)

(deleted this post on accident, reblog of original here)

Summary: We find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. Except the Tootsie Pop is Horacio Carrillo.

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Word Count: 5k+ (look away)

Warnings: angst, fluff, gory metaphors (I use figurative language to mask the scent of flaming trash)

A/N: This is literally the first thing I’ve written in like 3 years so you have to be nice to me. Please give me feedback!! But it has to be exclusively positive or I will spontaneously combust!!!

Horacio is cold.

It’s a little past midnight and the Sun has been asleep for hours by now, but not Bogota. Instead, the city moves in slow motion, the weight of slumber heavy on its creatures as the few visible stars shush the agitated crickets. Somehow, even despite the Sun’s absence, it’s influence still blankets the trees. It accumulates, even. The hot radiation permeates the lungs of taxis and buildings, but the cool darkness brings life into the air as water begins to materialize on the sides of newspaper stands and underneath Horacio’s shirt. His clothes stick to him so tight (more than usual) that he thinks he may be drowning under the moon. He can taste the ocean on his tongue and the sensation is only relieved as he steps off the pavement and onto the tile of the rundown convenience store. The building, heavily air conditioned, makes each drop of sweat feel like icicles pricking into his fried red skin, but his body still burns from the residual heat.

Somehow, Horacio still maintains that icey core in his chest. So even as he makes a beeline for the refrigerated-goods, yes. Horacio is cold.

He exists as a green-sheet ghost walking through the aisles of the grocery store, barely conscious at 2 am as he searches for some goddamn milk. He knows he works too hard, knows his life is concrete and bricks screeching against his steel heart. Every morning he walks on glass to enter his office, and every morning he forces his feet to bleed. What else is there for him? His body has been adorned with splinters and cuts for so long now, so what’s a few more? Each night, he drags his body flat across the floor, just trying to make it out the door. Trying to escape an office that chews him up and spits him out, saliva covered and filthy.

But fuck if he just wants some milk.

So he makes this small trip before he heads home. Once he finds the dairy, his heavy eyes hoist themselves upwards, to the second-to-topmost shelf in the refrigerator. The last carton of fat free milk -  dairy-flavored water - that he’ll chug the next morning. But just as his hardened fingertips reach for it, they meet something else; a third wheel to this toxic milk-Horacio romance that is ruining his plans for what might as well be the best morning he’s had in the past three milk-free days. His mind, once fuzzy from the sleepy grey clouds filling his lenses like cataracts, now feels a sharp jolt of electricity soar through it as his machine body is activated and his surroundings suddenly become clearer, laser vision kicking in. His senses are now sharper and his guard is completely up. His nerves begin racing as the data from his hands shoots straight to his brain to get integrated and that thing he’s feeling is...warm? Shit, no it’s hot. It fucking burns his skin and immediately he pulls back because his motherboard is screaming at him that he’s in danger.

His head shoots up and his eyes dart to the side as he turns to look, expecting a raging bonfire or boiling cast iron, but instead he sees a human. A sweet, candy person that looks almost surprised as he does, but with softer features and kinder eyes. He smells the caramel seeping out of your pores and it stings his olfactory nerves but perhaps he wants to smell it again so it can fill his lungs and then let it harden inside of his cold body. So that it can stay within him forever.

“Disculpame,” you say, remorse dripping out of your golden mouth and if his ears were in control, he’d beg you to say it again. Say anything. He recognizes your accent. Not a Columbian, but a gringo. His brain reminds his heart that hey, we don’t like selfish, egotistical gringos. His heart doesn’t listen.

“Go ahead,” he says, and shit he sounds horrible. He sounds fucked up, and it’s probably because he is fucked up. He talks like toothpicks and needles, but it’s okay because he got to speak to you and he’s never spoken to an angel before.

He notices how you relax a little at the sound of his English, and he feels that heat spread at the beautiful notion that he did that all by himself.

“No really, I don’t need it,” you insist, a small smile gracing your lips. “You’re very sweet for offering, though.” Huh?

Horacio Carrillo is not sweet. He doesn’t taste like sugar or chocolate or berries. Horacio is bitter gourd, burnt toast and that shitty part at the end of the banana that no one wants. Copper and hot tar oozing down taste buds and burning the frail pink dots along the way. Straight black coffee that’s tear-inducingly retched. Pepto Bismol and whatever the fuck is inside of those plastic pill capsules. Raw beef festering with E. coli and flies, a rotting corpse under a wake of vultures, the creepy old man that sits next to you on the train, mace burning your shivering eyes while you collapse to your shredded knees onto a floor of thumbtacks.

Horacio Carrillo is not sweet. But you said he was, and you are oh so persuasive. That’s when he felt the first one. Crack.

His mind goes into overdrive as panic sets in - what was that sound? What just broke? What crevice of his mind just ripped a little and how can he staple it back shut? He feels the slimey pus of his emotions begin to seep out of the opening a little, and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. He wants to put his guard back up and regain control of this situation the way he’s been trained to do by offering you the carton and then leaving; defying your orders and following his own.

But who is he to refuse you?

“Thank you,” he says, and he’s just noticed that your hand is back at your side and your eyes shine a little brighter as your smile widens at his defeat. That was me, too. But then you’re turning around and leaving, messy bun flopping up and down as you walk towards the cash register and his heart is furious. It’s pounding in his ribcage like a ravenous shark caged in glass, telling him to not let you get away because it wants to burn in your soft flames and turn to ash in your fingers, but he stays planted. Watches you walk away and take that gentle radiating heat with you, leaving him just as hard and frozen as he was before he’d ever let you poke around into his soul. Suddenly he understands why you’d burned him so bad; doesn’t even the lightest match make that violent sizzling sound when it touches ice? But he can’t deny that you had melted him, just a little bit, and he can’t deny that he likes being a little watery.

He sees you again just a few days later. It’s a Sunday morning and Bogota is now wide awake. Pastel streaks fly down the streets as manifestations of yellow taxis, dusty red cars, and pale blue cyclers bring the canvas of the city to life. Horacio decides to be adventurous, introduce true exploration and child-like color into his monochrome world, and walk to the cafe near his street. A truly exhilarating touch, if he did say so himself.

Except he hadn’t prepared himself for the anarchy that would occur within him when he saw you again. The girl that was awake at 2 am and offered him white calcium water in a carton and called him sweet. You’re wearing one of those pink dresses that you just know is sleeveless, but a light denim jacket guards your shoulders and he can’t help but wonder what would happen if he just tugged on your collar a little bit, exposed some of your delicate skin and traced his fingers over it. Just closed his eyes and leaned down to brush his lips over - shit, fuck. What is he thinking? His eyes don’t know where to look, his heart doesn’t know how to beat, his lungs don’t know how to take in air. What do you do when you see a pretty thing in a pretty sundress? Certainly not function. Horacio wasn’t doing that at all. So he did the next best thing: sit at a table and watch you. That’s the next best thing, right?

He watches as you smile at the young man taking your order, talking to him like you know him, care about him. All you were doing was listing the ingredients you wanted in your drink, but your bright eyes twinkle with a sort of endearment that he isn’t used to. Like you were happy.

He is in awe of you. Horacio has worked so hard to stay numb, to feel nothing but that rusty scrape of motivation that made him do his job. But you made it look so easy to gush, to overflow and spill your delight with life onto everyone around you until that tired, overworked teenager behind the register was smiling too as he said “next!”

You turn your head to find a table once you pick up your order and panic settles into Horacio’s bones again as he reflexively turns his head away from you, but your keen eyes spot him. Oh, how you must pity him. The poor, miserable apparition from the grocery store. He feels that radiating heat begin to grow as you approach him at his table, so he pretends to not notice you. Pretends he’s numb as you thaw him into a dripping mess of thin ice and water.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask him, nodding to the other chair in front of him with a cup of coffee in your supple hands. Horacio’s tactful eyes scan the cafe once more; there’s other seats in the building, other men and women for you to pity. He’s been chosen. And he just can’t resist you, is too weak to deny himself that addicting sugary sweetness that you’re coated in because he’s not sure he’ll ever feel so soft again and he wants to savor it.

Horacio looks up at you, clearing his throat as he takes the kind of breath that you can feel as the air fills his lungs. He’s priming his voice to talk to you because this time, he wants to make it count.

“No,” he says. Fuck. In that moment, he couldn't remember having talked before. Has he ever spoken? Certainly not, or he’d know how to do it. But you don’t seem to mind his cold tone as you take the seat in front of you, and those damned eyes of yours are blinding to look at but god, who needs pupils anyway?

He can tell you’re curious about him. You want to pick him apart scab by scab and take him apart into individual fibers until you get to that soft mushy center that is Horacio Carrillo. You want to see him naked and open, but that’s not something Horacio can give you. How could he? He’s taken that weak, inferior soul within him and crushed it under concrete and plaster of paris, secured it with walls and steel and barbed wire until the protective layers become so extensive that even if someone could get through them all, why the fuck would they want to? It wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“You know, I’ve never been here before,” you say, taking a sip of your drink, and he hums, knowing that’s how people interact but not quite knowing what is going on with him. You’re just saying things, just want him to talk back. You’re trying to have a real conversation with him, and he doesn’t understand why, but maybe for just once in his life he doesn’t need to fucking understand everything.

“Then what brings you here?” he asks, and slowly he begins to regain a little feeling inside him. Not enough that it unleashes his pain, but enough that he can feel that ice water slosh around inside him easily. A gentle flow of slush that mixes with your amber and makes him feel like a person.

“A student of mine recommended it to me,” you explain, and he’s starting to put together a little picture of who you are in his mind. 

“You teach?” he asks, probing you for your life. He wants to study your mind, hear the music that leaves your mouth when you speak. You nod thoughtfully, and he can tell he’s mentioned something you enjoy. He learns that you teach at a local university and hears about just how passionate you are about what you teach. His dark eyes begin to fill with that precious light you possess as you tell him about your students and how though you’re new to Bogotá, you already love it. But that doesn’t surprise him so much; somehow he just knows that you’ve got plenty of love to go around.

“Well now you know what business I have in a grocery store at 2 am,” you conclude after you tell him about your late nights grading subpar papers, curiosity twinkling in your eyes like fairy lights in the dark. “What about you?” It isn’t until the focus is back on himself that he notes the smile that graces his features. A real smile. He smiles not out of diplomacy but because right now, he’s happy. He’s high on you and serotonin and he’d let you ruin him if you wanted to. But your question troubles him. He can’t really tell you why; he can’t bear to take his ugly, black, acrylic life and stain your lavender and daffodil backdrop. So he tells you the bare minimum: that he’s a colonel and leads a special ops unit called the Search Bloc. He leaves out the blood that paints his eyes everyday, forgets to mention the agony he’s felt and inflicted on others.

“Your drink isn’t ready yet?” you question, like a sudden realization has just hit you. Your kind features are furrowed into slight confusion, and Horacio wants to let a black sky swallow him into his own misery because he forgot to order something.

“I didn’t get anything,” he admits, face starting to glow light pink as his foolishness begins to manifest on his hardened features. You don’t look confused anymore; you’re curious again. Forever wondering about the enigma in front of you, except he’s no mystery; he’s a labyrinth. Full of questions and doubt without one single answer, and once you enter you can’t ever escape.

“Then what does a colonel do at a humble cafe?” you ask. And all of the sudden, for a man that makes a living out of repeatedly evading death, he wants to evaporate into the beige, worn tile beneath the teal cushion of his seat because the answer to that question will surely ruin the delicate, blushed bubble around the two of you. But you’ve incapacitated him with your stupid fucking pretty eyes so much so that you must be the enemy in this story. He can escape gunpoint, rouse himself from a concussion, but he hasn’t got a single clue how to regain his quick wit and pistol mind in the face of something much more sinister: a pretty girl.

“I-” he starts, but all of the sudden his throat won’t cooperate because his mind is helpless to lie to you but his body is resisting. His body rejects that frozen, dreadful state of nothing that it’s normally kept in. You’ve spread the warmth of fuzzy blankets and blissful vertigo throughout his stomach and his body wants to stay warm. “I was just…” he coughs, hard, willing his esophagus to heed his commands, “...I was watching you.” Horacio is flustered now, completely out of his element as he feels his blood seep to the topmost layers of his skin, exposing his embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he adds almost immediately, his eyes wide as he tries to avert his flushed features from your careful gaze. “I know that’s weird. I didn’t mean to-”

“Horacio,” you interrupt. Say it again. Say my name again. “It’s okay. Actually, it’s kinda cute.” Crack. That steel fortress that he thought was so impenetrable was beginning to soften into something moldable, pliable only to your hands so you could transform him from a wall to a rose.

Horacio lets out a soft chuckle, biting his lip so hard he almost can’t feel his teeth digging into his own chapped flesh. His pink cheeks are full and for the first time in so long his eyes glimmer with life and adoration.

“I don’t want to be too forward and scare you away,” he says, a little nervous but so much more giddy, “but could I see you again?” You giggle, a beautiful melody that floods his ears and softens his brow.

“Yes, Horacio, I’d really like that,” you agree, and he can’t help but feel like he’s not in a cafe but somewhere in the cosmos as a compliant planet orbiting a bright, burning star. Somewhere far more heavenly and celestial than this godforsaken planet. He watches you glance up at the grandfather clock situated against the wall behind him and then back at him. “I need to get going, but take this.” You pull a pen out of your small bag and scribble a string of digits onto your coffee cup, holding the marked cardboard out to him. He’s slow to take it from your hands; he doesn’t want to keep you here, but at the same time he very much does. He allows himself to brush his fingers against yours again, like they had the night before, so that your potent you-flavored syrup can inject into his bloodstream and fill his capillaries. 

As you stand to leave, he can tell you have one last lingering thought itching at your brow. “For the record, you couldn’t scare me away,” you assure with a smile that borders on teasing. “You’re just not scary.” And he watches you walk away, leaving him completely and utterly dumbfounded as to who you had just spoken to because it certainly wasn’t Horacio Carrillo, world class murderer and notoriously inhuman interrogator. Crack.

That next Friday, Horacio sees you again. He shakes as he knocks on your door, roses trembling in his fingers as you swing the door open. He knows the bouquet resting under his chin is pathetic, an overused display of affection, but it makes you gush as you take them from hands and bring them to your own wondrous features and let that stupid cheesy token fill your lungs with its scent. 

He takes you to a restaurant like a proper gentleman, not that he gave a single shit where he was as long as it was with you. You put him far too out of his element for him to get creative with his date idea, so instead he pulls every last cliche out of the book and piles it on you. He holds the door open for you and pulls your chair out and orders wine for you because he doesn’t have a clue how to tell you that you turn him into sugar bubbles floating on warm cocoa but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to show you.

So evening after evening he finds himself leaving work just a little earlier each day. He spends less time in poorly lit grocery stores and more time loitering at the open farmer’s market under the real sun, perusing lazily amongst the various produce and trinkets because why not? He starts wearing pink and stripes and maybe a polka-dot shirt because he starts to realize that the world has so much beauty in it and all things beautiful remind him of you. He waits a little longer to shave his face so he can hear that ethereal symphony of giggles play from your throat when he uses his scruff to scratch against your soft shoulder. You start showing up in his life in places that you don’t even exist and filling his odd corners with a pretty white glow.

He lets little things bring him joy; your tongue wetting your lips when you’re deciding where to eat for the night, your neck craning to look up at him from the couch when he walks through your door, the way the stacks of student papers that rest on your kitchen island are always different sizes.  Your tongue tapping his skin when you lay a lingering kiss to his face. Your lipgloss sticking to his tricep when you don’t feel like getting up to kiss his lips, leaving a shimmer on his skin that he never wipes away. Your feather fingers sweeping his torso and turning his skin to cotton candy. The fumes of pencil lead and your perfume choking his lungs when he buries his face into your neck and breathes you in. And every fucking time you call him cute, adorable, pretty, beautiful, baby. All of those forbidden words that you dare to use in vain, courageously sacrilegious considering how he worships you, create more little cracks inside of him.

Horacio may not know how to communicate, but he knows you. He knows which compliments make you turn the reddest. He gets you your favorite artists’ CDs imported from America. He shows up at your door with your favorite pastry from your new favorite cafe. He hugs you from behind and peppers kisses down the column of your throat because it makes you giggle. He flutters his fingers where you’re ticklish until you’re so overstimulated that tears form. He cooks meals for you, insisting that all you can do to help is sit on the counter and look pretty for him. He kisses you deeply, so hard and intimate that the two of you are breathing the same air and taste the same. He does everything he can to make you smile for him because in return he gets called a “beautiful boy” and “my sweet soldier” and an “angel,” all words that send him beyond the stars and spin his head like a top until all he can think to do is giggle.

Passed weeks turn into a month, a month becomes two, and before he knows it he’s twice the man he used to be with you filling in half of him. Horacio is still, however, a man adorned with flaws. And with each moment that you occupy, he starts to really collect cracks. The powerful resolve that keeps him from ever admitting that he’s absolutely gone for you becomes compromised because you are powerful. Without even trying, your soft voice is like a wrecking ball to his defenses, breaking him down as you probe into what you call the “pretty parts” of him that he hides. But you don’t have the first clue what he’s hiding.

Horacio is not a man without emotions. He gets angry and frustrated, but those kinds of emotions sit at his surface, above his armed fortress. He can let them all out in his work through stony grimaces and raised voices and guns and fists. But he also feels sorrow, regret, shame. So much shame. These emotions are unsightly black and blue dents in the soft, fragile mush that sits at the very core of him. Under his walls are wounds still wide open and full of splinters, gushing blood and pus, septic and untreated. And they fucking hurt. So he gathers them all together along with his love, his adoration and sweetness, and ices them over, freezes them away and covers them in layer after layer of concrete until he can barely even remember that they’re there.

But he’s starting to feel again.

His fondness for you is explosive and wild, greedy for your affection. But he’s afraid. He knows you adore him, because you are brave. You can speak your feelings into existence and not feel like something inside you has fractured. But Horacio is a coward. He can’t say he loves you, he can’t love you. He knows that if he did, his filthy rotting core would be unleashed and he’d feel an agony worse than anything he’s ever subjected anyone to. But you’re leaving him full of cracks, making him weak and vulnerable in the security of your arms, and he doesn’t think you could hold all of him together if he was truly unleashed. He thinks you might realize how much of a lost cause he is and leave him on the side of the road to bleed out.

The last crack you leave in him is so small, you don’t even notice.

He sits next to you on your couch, your head tucked into his neck as a shitty telenovela radiates through the thick glass of your TV set. Neither of you say anything because you don’t need to be talking to feel comfortable with each other, so you don’t notice how he hasn’t glanced at the TV in 15 minutes. He can’t take his eyes off of you, hermosa, the puny glow of Rodrigo telling Lucia that “it’s not what it looks like” barely doing your face justice. He notices each pore on your face, the curve of your jaw and the bridge of your nose forming sweeping lines that sculpt your face, and he knows he is so utterly fucked. He knows he’s so dangerously in love with you.

He only blinks when you yawn softly, those lines contorting as you scrunch your face. He relaxes a little as you move to sit up, leaning forward to grab the remote from the coffee table and blindly turning the TV off as the preview for the next episode plays. He fills to the brim with amazement as you stretch your back, letting out a gentle squeal. Now it’s just that antique lamp on the edge of your couch illuminating the room, and it’s still not enough light. Nothing is ever bright enough when you’re there to rival it.

“It’s late, baby,” you whisper, a sleepy rasp scraping your voice a little as you look up at him with a rosy smile. You reach up to run a hand through his dark hair, taking care to let your fingers caress his scalp. “You can stay if you want,” you offer, as he’s stayed the night before. “I sleep better with you anyway.” Crack.

“Cariño,” he breathes, his features turning pained as his lip begins to quiver like never before. “Cariño I love you.”

Horacio crumbles in your hands.

Like a mound of brown sugar after it’s poured, the dome losing its form as it slowly collapses, grains dragging over each other as they sink to the bottom of the bowl and the dome is destroyed. No longer held together by tight, sticky molasses and instead a helpless, feeble puddle too broken down to be considered a shape anymore. Just a pathetic sea of lost particles, helpless in putting itself back together. He falls apart right in front of you.

He feels tears that are years old begin to flow down his cheeks, falling off his chin and onto the baby blue cloth of his too-tight shirt. He is completely unprotected, every last defense around that shapeless, dark flesh inside him falling to dust as you hold it in your kind hands. Your arms are quick to wrap around his head, bringing his face to your chest where he is safe. He’s never been more raw and vulnerable in his life, and yet he’s never felt more secure.

He bares his soul to you. He chokes on his words as he gushes his dried, brown blood onto your cotton skin and you soak up every ounce of him. He tells you he is ashamed, that he is remorseful, that he is afraid. And you listen, skin absorbing him in until you’ve got him enveloped in your big, beautiful heart. And whereas every touch used to break him down, your fingertips are now healing him, building him back up and reshaping him into something better than what he was. He can feel his scars begin to heal and the pain begin to dull as an intense awe for you overcomes him.

He knows you can’t just fix him with your fairy dust overnight. He knows he will need time to restore himself from beast to man. But fuck if he doesn’t want to do it with you, can’t do it without you.

You’ve led him towards your bed, undressing him slowly because you know that he just needs to breathe and feel the air cool his irritated skin. Once you’re both down to your underclothes, you’re careful in letting him onto the mattress. You sit down first, leaning back against the pillow, and then you sweetly tug on his arm to join you. He dives into your body head first, face nosing into your neck as his big arms wrap around your midsection. You reach for your softest blanket, enveloping the two of you in the added warm as his breaths begin to even out against your chest. He feels you wrap your arms around his head again, for the second time reminding him that he is safe.

He can feel his emotions getting the best of himself again as you whisper sweet nothings into his hair, telling him how strong and brave he is, how beautiful his soul is now that he’s really showing it to you. His muscles melt into you as you take those fragments of him and begin to piece them back together, filling the cracks you’d made with your marshmallow fluff and liquid gold.

He feels warm again as you call him your “baby,” and this time he doesn’t try to run away from it. He embraces it, leans into it. He was being protected by bones and bricks, but now it’s by honeycomb and delicate flesh. Horacio finally starts to feel like he’s beautiful because you’re letting him borrow yours. And as long as you’ll have him, he’s willing to share.

[miraculouswolf99]

Breaking Into The Watchtower Part 1

Miraculous Ladybug-DC Universe crossovers are some of my favorite fanfictions. They are just a good match. I especially love ones where the Justice League either ignores the Paris situation or one of the League members gets the messages for help and doesn’t believe them. Mostly, it’s the Flash, Guy Gardner, Green Lantern, or Booster Gold.

In this story, some of the miraculous have changed hands for my story. There will be new holders and different holders for old miraculous. All of my OC characters will also be included. Nathaniel has the fox, Marc has the turtle, Rose has the horse, Juleka has the tiger, and Alix will have the bunny.

*****

“This is most definitely not something that I would ever have thought that I would ever do,” White Wolf says.

“We are magical teenagers that use the power of mini gods and mystical jewelry,” Beautifly says. “Your statement pretty much sums up every day of our lives.”

“Trust me, I never thought that I would be doing anything like this before I met Plagg,” Cat Noir said.

“At least I can cross this off my bucket list,” Ladybug giggled.

“Why is the name of the Olympian gods would this be on your bucket list,” White Wolf looked at the teen hero weirdly.

“I put it on after they started to ignore our cries for help,” Ladybug crossed her arms. “Or, when it was made obvious that they were ignoring us, at least.”

“How much sleep have you gotten lately,” Beautifly asks. “You only get this sassy when you haven’t slept in about two days.”

“I remember going to sleep on Wednesday,” Ladybug put her hand on her chin as she started thinking.

“Uh… It’s Saturday,” White Wolf deadpanned.

“Oh,” was all Ladybug could say.

“If you don’t go right to sleep after we get back, I am sending Plagg over to destroy every device you have to make sure you are not distracted and can finally sleep,” Cat Noir threatened.

“But what if there is an akuma,” Ladybug protested.

“Then we will have to make sure that Cat Noir saves his power so that he can Cataclysm the moth when it comes out of the akumatized object,” White Wolf says.

“And the damage,” Ladybug continued to protest.

“We will get to that when we get there,” White Wolf said.

“You are sometimes too selfless for your own good,” Beautifly shook her head.

“Yeah, she tends to be like that,” Cat Noir chuckled. “Why do you think I force myself between her and the villains we face when she tries to protect me because she will take the hit for me. But she needs to be the one that the attack does not hit because she is the one that purifies the akuma.”

“We are a very colorful crew,” Beautifly giggled.

“Says the butterfly girl whose hero outfit is almost entirely black,” White Wolf said.

“Not my fault that Flutter is a monarch butterfly kwami,” Beautifly shrugged.

“I certainly wish that I had some color on my suit,” Cat Noir says. “While the black makes my eyes pop, the color doesn’t match my personality at all. Why couldn’t Plagg be a tabby cat or a white cat?”

“Because he is the literal god of bad luck and nobody thinks of either of those two other kinds of cats when bad luck comes to mind,” Ladybug stated. “Deal with it, Chaton.”

“Yeah, you really need some sleep before you become permanently sassy,” Beautifly says.

“I blame Hawkmoth and his never-ending late-night akumas,” White Wolf stated. “My ears are still ringing from that banshee akuma he created last week.”

“And talk about unoriginal,” Cat Noir rolled his eyes. “Scream Queen was probably the most obvious choice of name in the history of villain names.”

“Even more so than that Poison Ivy woman in Gotham,” Beautifly asked.

“Well, she could have called herself Mother Nature,” Cat Noir shrugged.

“Point made,” Beautifly said.

The four then looked at the rest of their teams preparing themselves for what was going to be done. The Greek hero team had stayed the same throughout the three years of fighting, but the French team had changed. Their current members were Vulpix, Emerald Turtle, Queen Bee, Viperion, Lady Unicorn, King Monkey, Ryuko, Shadow Cat, and Bunnix. The last two being the newest members of the hero team. The Greek team was Gladiator with the grizzly bear miraculous, Tigress with the leopard miraculous, and Ocean Mage with the mermaid miraculous. The last one being the only person to be currently using a magical creature miraculous on the planet.

All of the heroes were getting ready in their own ways. Ryuko, Ocean Mage, and Viperion were meditating. King Monkey, Bunnix, Tigress, and Gladiator were all getting themselves hyped up for the mission. Queen Bee was trying to find a way to take off her gloves to file her nails. Vulpix and Emerald Shell were cuddling, comforting each other, and probably trying really hard not to start making out. The same could be said about Shadow Cat and Lady Unicorn. Those four were always the more timid ones of the group, even though all of them were amazing heroes.

“Alright, does everyone remember their parts of the plan,” Ladybug asked them, snapping them out of their trances.

“I will make sure that everything goes smoothly and no one truly gets hurt,” Viperion says.

“White Wolf, Lady Unicorn, and I take out our biggest worries to being discovered before we are ready,” Bunnix added.

“The rest of us force them into a position where they have to listen to us,” Gladiator said.

The rest of the team nodded in agreement. Some of them were still looking nervous about what they were about to do.

“Are you sure doing this is the right thing to do,” Lady Unicorn asked. “We could get into serious trouble for this.”

“We wouldn’t be doing this at all if they stopped ignoring us,” Tigress crossed her arms. “Even with all these miraculous being active, Hawmoth’s akumas are getting more and more dangerous.”

“He is also akumatizing more dangerous people like con artists, martial artists, and policemen,” Ocean Mage says. “What’s to stop him from going all Scarlet Moth and sending his moths to a prison if he gets desperate enough?”

“That is why we need their help,” Ladybug said. “If contacting them through official means does not help, then we must do what we have to.”

“I just hope that we don’t get labeled as criminals for this,” Beautifly said.

-----------------------------

If there was one thing that Robin currently was, it was bored. He had to stop himself from yawning as he sat in another long and boring meeting of the Justice League.

One would think that a young hero like him would not be a part of one of these meetings. But this was less of a war room and more of a meeting between all heroes to discuss general things involving heroes in general and not entirely league business. It was always the same things being discussed in these meetings. Egotistical politicians trying to control the league, villains breaking out of prison again, as well as discussing potential new members of the League and the Young Justice team.

Other than Robin, the rest of the Bat-family was there as well. Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Oracle, Spoiler, Orphan, Batwing, and even Batwoman. The Super family was also there. Superman, Supergirl, Superboy, and the former Superboy that now called himself Krypton. Robin smirked at how Conner had finally broken the trend of having “Super” in his hero name. He may be a clone, he knew that both Kara and Jon both adored him. The other young heroes that were there were Red Arrow, Artemis, Aqualad, Tempest, Miss. Martian, Beast Boy, Starfire, Zatanna, Kid Flash, and Impulse.

And other than Batman and Superman, there were also the mentors of the other young heroes as well. Green Arrow, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Dr.Fate, and the Flash. The other adult heroes in the room were Hawkman, Hawkwoman, Wonder Woman, Sparton, Black Canary, Red Tornado, all three Green Lanterns, Black Lightning, Captain Marvel, Captain Atom, the Atom, and Katanna.

As Robin looked around, he noticed that he was not the only bored-looking young hero. The entire Bat-family looked to be wanting to be anywhere else, especially since they lived in a city where a crime was committed every five seconds. But the other heroes that looked bored were Superboy, Krypton, Red Arrow, Aqualad, and Beast Boy. They were all probably like him. They were excited to be part of league meetings until it was discovered that there was a lot more politics involved than actual hero work.

“Does anyone have anything else that they would like to add,” Superman asked the room.

“How about we talk about actually saving people instead of dealing with politicians,” Nightwing muttered, making the Bat-family hide their snickers.

“Especially that psycho Lex Luthor,” Krypton muttered from his place next to Nightwing.

“Well, if that is all…” Superman was about to wrap up the meeting.

“Wait,” Zatanna shot up from her seat, her hands on her head. “I sense something.”

All the younger heroes were all now thinking how something interesting was finally going to happen during one of these meetings. But the heroes were also all reaching for their weapons if they had them.

“What is it,” Wonder Woman asked the magician, her hand on her sword.

“There is an incoming magical…” Zatanna was cut off.

A bright blue portal opened up right under her feet. She fell in before she could finish her warning. The portal closed right after she fell into it.

“What in the world,” Flash gasped.

“ZATANNA,” the members of Young Justice yelled their former team member’s name.

“Oracle,” Batman did not even have to say the entire order.

“I’m on it,” the wheelchair-bound hero immediately started typing on her holographic computer. “She’s… I can’t find her.”

“What do you mean you can’t find her,” Captain Atom demanded to know.

“It’s like she vanished into thin air,” Oracle continued typing. “She’s nowhere in the Watchtower, or on Earth, not even on my planet in our galaxy. There is no sign of Zatanna anywhere.”

“She managed to say that it was something magical that was approaching,” Wonder Woman says.

“Dr. Fate, can you do something,” Superman requested of the lord of order.

The master sorcerer stood up from his seat. While he, personally, did not care for Zatanna other than a fellow user of the mystic arts, his current host body was that of her father. So finding her will hopefully silence all the yelling that Zatara is currently doing inside of the helmet.

But before the lord of order could do anything, another portal opened up behind him. But unlike the bright blue of the first one, this portal was a ring of blue surrounding a white portal. Something had quickly reached through and Dr.Fate was instantly turned into an ice statue. An invisible figure sneaked through the portal before it closed.

This caused all the other league members and Young Justice members to all jump and, drawing their weapons or preparing their powers. They all looked around and were on guard just in case another portal opened up.

“Oracle,” Batman ordered her again.

She was typing as quickly as humanly possible.

“I can’t find anyone else in the Watchtower,” she said, still typing. “I’ve run heat scans, x-ray scans, even the program to search for invisible opponents. I still can not find anyone else in the Watchtower.”

A soft tune suddenly played throughout the room. It was like a theme song for a peaceful day in the Fall played on a flute. A ball of light soon soared to the end of the room and brightly flashed. When the flash died down, the heroes were all shocked to see a message had been written in light in the air.

“We Just Want To Talk.”

It floated there for about a minute before Superman and Maritan Manhunter flew over to the message to examine it. But the moment that one of them touched it, it vanished in a burst of orange smoke-like light.

“It was an illusion,” Nightwing was the first to realize it.

“Maybe that is how they are hiding,” Red Robin opened up his own holographic screen over his glove and started typing. “Under an illusion.”

“And if they are magical like Zatanna said, it would not be possible to detect them since the technology that can detect magic has not been invented yet,” Oracle added.

“There is no such thing as magic,” yelled out Kid Flash.

Young Justice rolled their eyes, used to the constant rants that the speedster goes on about his disbelief in magic. It certainly annoyed those like Aqualad and Tempest, who both were born in Atlantis and attended the conservatory of sorcery there. Few other magical heroes tolerated the loud-mouth. Which was why heroes like Phantom and his brother Gold Siren wanted nothing to do with the team. (Reference to my fanfictions on Wattpad, Phantom Music and Home.)

“Try to find out where the illusion came from,” Superman ordered.

“You could try looking right in front of you,” a female voice was suddenly heard.

The heroes all turned and saw three masked teenagers standing there. Two boys and a girl. 

The first boy was a redhead with his bangs covering his right eye. He had on a fox-themed skin-tight orange and white outfit with red boots, gloves, and a red jacket. He also had real fox ears and a real fox tail as well. A flute was strapped to his back.

The boy next to him had black hair with green tips, which matched his turtle-themed outfit. The outfit also had a dark green leather jacket and boots with a green shield on his back, going with the goggle-like mask over his eyes.

The girl was blond with a single black streak in her ponytail. Her outfit was definitely themed by bumblebees. But unlike the shoes of the two next to her, her shoes had a slight heal to them. Like a two-inch-high wedge heel. Around her waist was a spinning top on a string.

“What have you done to our allies,” Captain Atom demanded of them.

“They are perfectly fine,” the turtle boy informed them.

“Why should we believe you,” Robin held his katana in his hand.

“Because we need your help and harming your fellow heroes would not help our situation,” the fox boy crossed his arms.

“What could you possibly need from us,” Black Lightning’s hands sparked with his powers.

“How about for you to stop ignoring us while we have been fighting a terrorist for three years,” the bee girl yelled at them.

“We also are not lying,” the fox boy said. “We have no reason to lie when surrounded by most of the world’s heroes.”

Before they could say anything else, all three were surrounded by separate green spheres that floated them up into the air. The Green Lanterns all had their rings pointed at one of the masked teens.

“This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” the bee girl complained as she crossed her arms.

“I got captured by the original Green Lantern,” the fox boy looked to be almost fanboying inside of his sphere.

“Lucky, I got that class clown Guy Gardner,” the turtle boy almost seemed to pout.

“Hey,” Guy Gardner protested, offended.

“Why are you here, where is Zatanna, and what did you do to Dr. Fate,” Superman demanded of the three as he flew close to them.

“You know, you are a lot less threatening than you think you are,” the bee girl stated with a smirk. “By the way, whoever told you that underwear on the outside of your pants was a good choice needs to be thrown into fashion jail.”

Most of the Young Justice team had to stop themselves from laughing. Even Superboy, Supergirl, and Krypton were trying not to laugh. They had no idea who this girl was, but she was certainly sassy.

“How did you get into the Watchtower undetected,” Superman continued to demand answers from them.

“That is for us to know,” the fox boy started.

“And you to find out,” the turtle boy finished.

The smirks the three had told the league something, alright. Batman was the first to realize what it meant.

“There are more of them,” he said.

As if him saying that was their cue to come in, three more masked teens almost seemed to materialize into the room. A guy in a monkey-themed outfit hit his Ruyi Jingu Bang against the ground and then threw it into the air.

“Uproar,” he yelled.

He threw his now glowing staff into the air, the staff letting out a flash as it spun in the air. With a swift flick of her lasso, Wonder Woman grabbed the weapon before it could fall back into the monkey boy’s hand. But something else fell into his hands that they did not see.

But then came the second masked teen, who looked like he had been born of the ocean. He took out what seemed to be a hilt made out of sapphire. Water came out of the hilt as the masked boy flicked his wrist, the water forming into a whip. Before they could move, the teen whipped all of the Green Lantern’s hands at once. Pulling his whip, the masked teen caused their hands to collide together.

That was when the monkey boy threw the object that he had caught out of the air. Katana was close enough to try and slice through it with her sword, but she was intercepted by a second masked girl, this one appearing out of nowhere and seemed to have a tiger theme to her. Even if she was purple and black and not orange and black. Katana’s sword was met with a metal tiger-claw gauntlet. While they fought, a bunny-themed girl showed up and intercepted Green and Red Arrow, fighting both archers at once. Then, to the shock of the Green Lantern trio, a stuffed octopus child’s toy landed on their connected hands.

For a moment, nothing happened and they wondered why a stuffed animal had been thrown at them. But then their rings all started to malfunction at once. The rings stopped glowing and all three trapped teens were released from their bubbles. And since the rings were no longer working, the Lanterns all fell to the ground without their ability to fly.

“We’re teenagers, not stupid,” the bee girl smirked.

No longer wanting to underestimate the masked teens, the big hitters of the league all started to move toward them. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Red Tornado, and Captain Atom.

“Venom,” the bee girl shouted.

The top in her hand seemed to grow a bit in size and start glowing. As Superman flew at her, she dodged him and managed to touch him with her top. He fell to the ground and did not move from his punching pose. He was paralyzed.

“Confusion,” a female voice shouted.

Wonder Woman turned around to almost immediately be scratched on her arm by a girl in a leopard-themed outfit. The scratch on her arm glowed purple and the hero suddenly became very dizzy and could not seem to focus. She had never been drunk before, but she was sure this was probably how it felt.

Captain Atom’s hands lit up as he aimed one of his energy blasts at the masked teens. As he was just about to blast, another masked teen appeared. This one was themed by a brown-furred bear. Probably a grizzly bear.

“Roar,” a male voice yelled just as Captain Atom blasted.

The bear boy’s fist lit up gold and he punched right into the energy beam. To the surprise of the league, he was able to keep the beam at bay with a single punch.

Red Tornado was about to throw one of his twisters when he was hit on his robot head by a thrown horseshoe. It bounced and flew around like a boomerang-gone-wild until it landed back in the hand of a horse-themed girl.

All of the heroes and masked teens in the room were either fighting or dodging the attacks of another from one of the other groups.

“Enough,” a male and female voice shouted at once.

Even the Justice League froze as the voices boomed throughout the room. Standing on the other side of the room were six more masked teens. Three boys and three girls. The two that had shouted were a ladybug-themed girl and a boy with an icy wolf outfit. The boy standing next to the ladybug girl looked to be related to Catwoman while the girl next to the wolf boy was like a butterfly turned human. The last two were a snake boy and a girl that looked to be dragon-themed.

“All of you, front and center, now,” the ladybug girl ordered.

All of the animal-themed teens stopped what they were doing immediately. They put their weapons away and walked over to join the others at her sides.

Wonder Woman looked at the group for a few moments. The drunk feeling had been lifted from her and she could focus. There was something about them that was making an old memory of her’s rise to the surface. An old story that her mother used to tell her about when she had been friends with, who she had called, an adorable and wise little creature known as a kwami. A creature that she also remembered was bound to a magical object called a miraculous.

“The ladybug and black cat are active once more,” she gasped.

The league looked at the Amazon princess in shock. She actually had an idea who these teens were.

“We thought that you would be the one to recognize our magic, Wonder Woman,” the ladybug girl softly smiles.

Wonder Woman approached the group, putting her sword away as she did. And surprising the league again, she bowed to the ladybug girl and cat boy. The two of them and the wolf boy and butterfly girl bow back.

“It is an honor to meet the wielder of the ladybug miraculous,” Wonder Woman said.

“The honor is all ours, daughter of Hippolyta,” the ladybug girl says. “Tikki says to tell your mother ‘hi’ for her.”

Wonder Woman smiled at that.

“Would you care to explain exactly what is going on,” Batman ordered them, crossing his arms. “Starting with where Zatanna is and what you did to Dr. Fate and Superman.”

The bunny girl got out a pocket watch from her pocket. She checks the time.

“We can answer the first question now,” she smirked. “We’re right on time.”

She put her watch away and then threw her hands forward yelling “Burrow.” Out popped the same type of portal that Zatanna had disappeared through. And seconds after the portal was opened, out fell the magician.

“What just happened,” Zatanna immediately asked.

“The rest of your comrades will be fine somewhere between five to ten minutes,” the butterfly girl says.

“Before we go into the full explanation, do you guys have a bathroom in this place by any chance,” the leopard girl asked.

[pegasii]

⠀ ⠀ “𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐒 𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐓” aka “𝘉𝘌𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘙𝘖𝘗𝘏𝘖𝘕”.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ demi-god of combat & equine lordship

𝐌𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎. hello, i’m pollux. ur resident greek mythotty, biracial leo & sci-fi whore. i’m 23 and go by she/her. i’ve written a few diff versions of bellerophon over the years and i’m super excited to write him here. he has a few hcs already i’d like to stick to that i’ll list below but other than that he’s been rewritten a lot to fit this rp. pls don’t hesitate to message me about plotting and starting threads. my replies will likely be lowercase with dialogue bolded and i’ll use static icons or none at all. don’t feel the need to match this, it’s just what’s easiest for me since my fc doesn’t have a ton of resources that would work !!  i’m hoping to compile everything below into a carrd page instead of this post so when that’s done the link will be in the source. discord is  𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐱.#1313

ATTICUS or ATTY ( he hates to be called the latter though so be warned )

cis man, he/him, bisexual biromantic

june gemini, currently 27 years old. 5′10 ( fc is ruairi o′connor )

working at trojan horse ranch as a farrier & ranch hand

lives at hesperides villas

+ compassionate, courageous, hardworking

- haughty, stand-offish, selfish

animal lover obvi, very outdoorsy, aussie native his entire life ( from sydney, aus ), still deciding but he probably grew up on a ranch of some sort but probably learned farrier work from a parent or something. i think he moved to magnetic island at 15-16 to live with a relative bc of a messy home situation ?? haven’t decided yet. he felt different his entire life but after moving to magnetic island he started to realize something was truly off. maybe it was giving all the horse trainers a run for their money without even trying because of his ability to bond with essentially any equine, or maybe it was the dreams he’d always had of himself falling. falling from what ?? he never knew, and falling to where he also doesn’t know. he always keeps falling until he wakes up. he’s also drawn to water and finds comfort in being near it.

PETS. he has a brumby gelding named anthizo, which is greek for bloom. he’s a dark bay with no white markings and is 17 years old. he has a back injury and can’t be ridden so he spends his days in the pasture with the other horses or getting pampered by atticus.

ABILITIES.

influence equine behavior

while he can understand most animals well, he always knows exactly what horses are feeling and reassurance from him about things makes them far more cooperative than they would be with the average person.

water control & manipulation

percy jackson vibes probably but without the healing abilities or at least less so of. i think he’s controlled water subconsciously in the past without realizing too.

A COUPLE HCS.

( mind you i’m still learning who plays who. )

he’s gonna hate zeus’ reincarnation naturally. in his past life he did everything he could to prove zeus wrong and zeus punished him by making pegasus drop him and by taking pegasus to carry his lightning bolts. so naturally, atticus is not gonna like him and it’s very likely he won’t fully know why and even if they are civil he will have a natural dislike for him that he simply won’t be able to pinpoint.

he’s gonna feel a kinship towards athena because of her aide to him in his past life.

i’m not sure what his feelings will be / are of poseidon yet !!

he definitely comes across as a know-it-all at the ranch and that can manifest to him being an asshole but he just truly loves the horses and hates when people do dumb shit around them.

in his spare time he really enjoys books but only ever reads outside.

a way to win him over is probably very deep conversations, validation in not feeling alone about his dreams or abilities will help him to open up.

his competitive and egotistical nature has joined his reincarnation and when given the opportunity he’ll show it.

CONNECTIONS.

so rn literally anything, especially a roomie !!

[justa-starrynite]

Lake (Angel Reyes)

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s Bea! I’m kicking off our Fall prompts with a lovely cabin getaway with Angel. Hope you all like this first installment! You are all amazing! I also decided to combine a request I received months ago. 

(I know, I suck, I’m really trying to get through the requests, I promise)

Anyways, enjoy this cabin getaway with Angel!

154 “there’s only one bed” 184 “can I touch you?” 186 “no strings attached”

Request by anon

Warnings: Smut, a smidge of angst and fluff

CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF CREATOR!

You looked over at Angel who was driving your car up the mountain headed to Big Bear. Your best friend, Amaya, was Coco’s girlfriend and she insisted that for her birthday, the club should rent a cabin at Big Bear and spend it together. Especially with all the craziness the year has brought, they all needed a break from Santo Padre.

You and Angel were friends who had palpable sexual tension between you two.

You two flirt all the time and there was no mistaking that you two were attracted to one another. But you two chose to remain friends since there was no reason to ruin such a good thing. If you two never crossed the line, you never had to worry about ruining your friendship.

Though watching the other be entertained by another person was no fun whatsoever.

You knew it was only a matter of time before the tension would break. In the last few months, you and Angel have been playing the one up game, seeing who would break first. During the last club party, Angel almost broke, but he decided to walk away, which surprised every one.

For a moment, you thought that this thing between you two would fade especially when he met the charamstic rebel leader Adelita, but Angel seemed to always drift back to you. A line was never crossed, but with each day that passed you found yourself falling for the eldest Reyes no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

You’ve been the best of friends since you came to Santo Padre at twenty-two years old, getting ready to embark on your new journey for nursing school.

You two met through Coco, who was your brother’s friend from the army. From there, you and Angel truly hit it off and quickly became friends.

Your attraction was always there, you two just never made a move to go further.

Since your arrival, you’ve been Angel’s constant and he was afraid to fuck it up.

But this last year, it’s been hard to ignore how he felt about you.

Especially since you let your Roger in your life.

Angel despised the guy, but for some fucking reason, everyone thought he was a cool dude.

He was lame.

He was an asshole.

He was an egotistical prick.

And if everyone’s words were true, he was just like Angel.

Which was more of a reason why he fucking hated him.

And he had you.

You two were the last ones up the mountain since you had a late shift and Angel insisted on waiting for you. Thankfully, you wouldn’t miss sunset and that’s all you cared about. The California Fall weather was always a mix of scalding hot and freezing weather, or freezing by California standards. But in Big Bear, there were seasons and it was the definition of fall weather.

“Thanks for waiting for me.” You were asleep most of the four hour trip since you worked the night shift and all you wanted to do was sleep. Angel didn’t mind since he saw how tired you were. He loved watching you sleep since it was one of the times you were without worry and looked at peace.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.” Angel smirked. “Had to make sure you didn’t bail since you’ve been doing that more often lately.”

You heard that bitterness in his voice, something you’ve grown accustomed to as of late. You didn’t mean to bail on Angel, it just happened, especially since Roger would message you and you would flake on plans you already made.

You were never that person, but you and Amaya had talked. The only way you could fully let go of your feelings for Angel was either fuck him to get it out of your system or focus your attention elsewhere so you could keep the friendship.

Fucking him was out of the options, so focusing your attention won.

Though you realized that it was causing a strain between you and Angel that you never wanted to have.

“I’m sorry,” you frowned. “I don’t mean to bail on you.”

“I’m more a man of action, your apologies don’t mean anything if you keep doing it over and over again.”

“Angel, I told you, I bail on you cause of work, he just happens to be there.” Which was true, you bailed on him mostly when it was connected to work. You both worked in the hospital. Roger was a respiratory technician, while you were a nurse. You two worked side by side. And maybe the few times you did bail on Angel, you went to sleep with Roger, but you had needs and Angel frustrated you.

Sometimes masturbating didn’t get the job done.

“Right, so the one time I caught you two at your apartment you were working?” Angel gripped the steering wheel with his right hand while his left hand were hanging out of the window.

“Listen, I thought I had to come in but I looked at the schedule wrong. I already told you that.”

“So why were you with him? We had plans to celebrate that night.” It was the time Angel got his secretary patch a few months ago. You two had planned on cooking dinner and having a movie marathon, but you bailed last minute.

But you did come back to the clubhouse that night, and you saw that girl who was patching his patch in a few nights ago situated on his lap. Choosing not to stay around for that, you called Roger who brought you some food.

Unbeknownst to you, Coco had seen you, who had to tell his hermano that you saw him fuck up. Angel went to your place and found you and Roger meeting outside of your door. And the silent treatment was handed to you for two weeks before Angel broke since it was your birthday and he wasn’t going to let Roger get under your skin.

You didn’t know why Angel came that night knowing you’re supposed to be at the hospital, but you never told him that you were sent home since they didn’t need you that night.

To top it off, like how you and Angel always dealt with anything that involved your feeling, you swept in under the rug.

“I came back that night since they told me they didn’t need me. I saw you were already occupied by the blonde so I chose not to bother you.”

Angel scoffed. “Yeah, I fucking know, why’d you think I came to your place?”

“It’s fine, I get it, El Secretario needed to get his dick wet.” You smirked, but you weren’t exactly amused. You hated that blonde. After she sewed on Angel’s patch she thought she was Angel’s girl or some shit.

“You jealous baby? You know I wouldn’t mind if you wet my dick.”

“Fuck you Angel.”

“That’s the fucking idea.”

Now, you hated being alone in the car with him. But you figured this was a conversation you two were bound to have.

You were in a conundrum. You welcomed Roger’s distraction, but not at the expense of losing your friendship with Angel.

Maybe you should just fuck him, just to get it out of your system.

Years of sexual tension building and it was overflowing now.

Amaya was always in favor of you just fucking Angel.

And if what she had planned worked this weekend, it would change your relationship.

You two arrived at the cabin and were assigned the only room on the first floor that had a queen sized bed. Amaya excused that you two were the last ones up and they saved the bed for you two. You narrowed your eyes at your best friend and she merely smiled innocently.

“You did this on purpose.” You accused her as you opened your luggage.

“Me? Absolutely not. It was the only room left, there’s four bedrooms upstairs and a loft. You’re lucky you two have your own room.” Amaya smirked. “And if something happens, so be it.”

“I thought you liked Roger.”

“I sure do, but not for you. You obviously have to get Angel out of your system first. Roger deserves more than to be some rebound.”

“He’s not a rebound, if he’s a rebound it would constitute that Angel and I were dating, but we never were.” You took out a hoodie and slipped it on.

The plan was to have a barbecue and sit around the bonfire afterwards. You were excited for this.

Fall was your favorite season.

With dinner done, you all sat around the fire, exchanging funny stories and happenings over the past few years. You were sitting in between Riz and Gilly, Angel across from you. After your discussion earlier, Angel hasn’t said much to you. He made you a plate for dinner, but otherwise he didn’t say much to you.

You knew you would wave the white flag soon, but you didn’t do anything wrong. You wanted to give Roger a chance. Crossing the line wasn’t an option as far as you know and the last thing you wanted to do was change things between you two.

Angel was the only family you had besides your brother. The last thing you wanted to do was lose him.

You listened to Creeper as he animatedly spoke about some customer that was weirder that was hitting on Chucky. Chucky was seated beside him, laughing as he recalled the story.

Your eyes met Angel’s over the fire and he drank his beer, holding your gaze.

He smirked when Taza placed his hand on his arm, laughing at Creeper’s story. He had this black beanie with a black hoodie to match, grey sweatpants on his lower half. You had to refrain yourself from continuously checking him out since Angel’s dick was basically imprinted on that sinful pair of sweats. He’s worn it a handful of times around you and each time, your resolve was thinning out.

You watched as Angel threw his head back laughing at whatever Creeper was saying, his muscles flexing under the black sweatshirt. Angel has been working out as of late and he was looking damn good. Whenever you would watch him workout, since you joined him from time to time, all you could think of was how amazing would it feel to have Angel’s arms wrapped around you.

Especially with this chilly weather, his warmth would be welcomed.

Gilly watched as your eyes stayed on Angel, chuckling at your unbashful resolve at just keeping your eyes on him.

“You have plenty of pictures of Angel, just look at that so it’s less obvious.” Gilly teased you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, hitting his arm. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but not like you and that prick over there.” He nodded his head at Angel. “How many more years are you two going to dance around one another?”

“Gilly, we’re not dancing. Angel and I are just friends.”

“Right, that’s why he dislikes Roger so much.”

“Angel is allowed to not like people that has no correlation to my relationship with them.”

“But there is no reason for him to dislike Roger besides the fact he’s dating you.”

“I’m not dating Roger.”

“So what are you and Roger?” Riz interjected in the conversation, which brought everyone’s attention to you.

You looked around, not wanting to meet Angel’s gaze. “He’s just my co-worker, who I enjoy going out with.”

“We’re fucking adults sweetheart, you don’t need to spare our feelings.” Bishop looked over at Angel, a smirk spreading across El Jefe’s face as he watched Angel frown, shaking his head.

“Alright, he’s my fuck buddy, everyone has needs.” You took a swig of your Smirnoff Ice. “Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“Hmm, for someone you don’t plan on keeping around, you sure put some importance on him since you’ve been flaking on us lately.” Great, the conversation in the car was obviously not forgotten.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but my world doesn’t revolve around you Ignacio.”

“From what you’re telling us, it doesn’t revolve around that prick either. So why don’t you just drop him and stop wasting your time.”

“Again, it’s nice to have a warm body next to you at night from time to time, you should know, how’s that new girl at Vicki’s?” The new girl was a battle between you and Angel. Everyone just watched as you two hatched it out, months of annoyance and frustration that was waiting to be unleashed has finally come to a head.

“She’s alright, but you know she fails in comparison to you.” He winked at you, earning ‘ooh’s’ from you two’s unconventional family.

“Wish I can say the same about Roger.” The ‘ooh’s’ was louder this time as Angel’s look darkened.

You two were sharing a bed and it seemed that Angel has finally reached his breaking point.

After a few more drinks, you decided to go by the lake shore since the cabin Amaya rented was by the lake. It was beautiful out and without the bustling city lights, the stars shined brighter along with the moon. Shoving your hands in the one pocket of your hoodie, you looked up, enjoying the crisp air. You heard footsteps behind you and hope it was anyone but Angel. The way he looked at you for the rest the night, it was almost predatory.

Your comment about Roger not failing in comparison to him seemed to push Angel over the edge. You took your camera out, taking pictures of the moon and stars’ reflection on the calm lake waters.

You felt arms wrapped from behind you and you knew it was Angel.

No one else would touch you within the Mayans.

Not even Coco, at least not this intimate.

“You look beautiful.” He whispered into your ear, the goosebumps that ran through your body was indescribable. Angel’s voice always did things to you, and feeling his arms wrapped around you, his smell invading your space, this was going to be a long night.

You were determined to not cross that line with Angel.

Incredibly determined.

“So do you, Ignacio.” You smirked.

“There’s only one bed.” Angel didn’t bring his stuff in till after you. As soon as you two arrived he grabbed a beer and went outside to join Coco and Gilly.

“I’m well aware. It’s big enough for the both of us, not the first time we shared a bed.” You tried to play it cool, you had to.

“Yeah? It’s not big enough for you to run away baby girl.” Angel teased.

“Why would I need to run?” You turned towards Angel, moving away from his warmth which you immediately missed.

Angel was smirking and all you wanted to do was wipe it off his face. “Don’t play stupid Y/N, this shit between us? It’s been present for years. Time for us to stop worrying about what it would do to our friendship and start thinking about what it would do if we don’t address it soon.” Angel was done playing this tip toe bullshit between you two. He wanted you and he knew you wanted him. “You’re a smart girl, you know I’ve wanted you for years and I know you want me to. Let’s stop the games, fuck Ralph, fuck that blonde, I want you. One night with me and you won’t even think of another pendejo again, you’d be begging for my dick.”

“You’re a little too confident in yourself.” You knew you wanted to cross that line, but you couldn’t lose Angel if this didn’t work out. “I can’t lose you Angel, things will change and I don’t think I can handle that.” You confessed.

Angel stepped closer to you, pulling you against him. He cupped your face, softly stroking your cheek between moving his thumb across your lower lips. “You wouldn’t lose me. No strings attached, no pressure. I’ve always wondered how good you tasted.” His lips hovered over yours.

You looked up at him then to his lips. You’ve always wondered how Angel’s lips felt against yours. Whenever he bit his lips, it drove you fucking crazy.

He bit his lip, making you groan and close the distance between you two. You wrapped your arms around Angel’s neck, pulling him closer. Angel slipped his tongue in your mouth when you let out a moan when he grabbed your breast.

Before he could go any further, you pulled away, shaking your head.

“Sorry, I can’t, you mean far too much to me for me to ruin our friendship.”

You walked away from Angel and you couldn’t ignore how your heart rate picked up, and how good his lips felt against yours. Angel watched you, still confident that you would be his by the end of the night.

You two were adults, he’s played this game for years and had the same worries as you. But he knew that once you two were together, that was it for him and he was confident on keeping you by his side for the rest of his life.

You stayed up till two in the morning with Amaya, hoping by the time you go to your room, Angel would be asleep. You ended up falling asleep on the couch, the cough was far too comfy along with the warmth of the fireplace. You were only in your shorts and shirt since you couldn’t exactly sleep with sweats, it wasn’t that cold. When you woke up around four in the morning to use the bathroom, which your room conveniently had, you realized you were in your room. Angel was laying on his side of the bed.

When you did your business and brushed your teeth, you slid back under the covers, however you were more cautious now.

Things shifted between you two after that kiss and you weren’t sure where to place yourself. Cuddling was never an issue and you wouldn’t mind being wrapped in his arms, but again, things were different. That kiss was far too good and your desire for Angel grew tenfold.

This desire you wouldn’t be appeased by having sex, nope, you knew it wouldn’t.

It would make it worse.

It would have you longing for Angel.

You couldn’t stand by while he fucked around with other women.

It was better for you two to not cross the line.

Angel’s warm hand slipping under your shirt broke you from your thoughts.

“I know you felt it too.” You heard Angel say, his warm breath tickling your skin. “You can’t ignore the fact your lips perfectly fit into mine, how good it made you feel. Bet it made you fucking wet cause it made me hard as fuck baby. Even without that kiss, every time I lay my eyes on you, my pants fucking tighten cause all I can think about how good you would look under me.”

You rubbed your thighs together, his voice was already sinful, but pair that with his dirty mouth, fucking forget about it.

Whatever your stance was, it was changing, especially with how good his ringed fingers felt running your stomach, teasing the skin beneath your breast. He nipped at your ear, placing a kiss just right about it.

“I want to hear you moan my name while I stretch that tight little pussy with my dick.” You moaned, Angel’s fingers drifted down to the top of your shorts, teasing, tempting your resolve. “Can I touch you mi dulce?”

You wanted to say no, you almost fucking did, but when you turned your head to face Angel’s, seeing how beautiful he looked under the moonlight that came from the slits of the window blinds. How much he looked at you with such adoration, who gave a fuck about the line?

“Yes,” you breathed out.

Angel slid his hand inside your shorts, your legs widening immediately. You anticipated his touch, looking down at his hand. His finger ran up and down your slit, you bit back a moan.

“Fuck baby, you’re wet.” He rubbed your clit with his fingers, causing you to bite your lip. “Let me hear you, I want to know how good I’m making you feel.”

Your hand grabbed his shirt, clutching it was Angel slipped a finger inside of you. You threw your head back, Angel slipped a second finger in. He watched you with wonder in his eyes, elated that he could finally see you in this scenario. You felt yourself get wetter as Angel moved his fingers in and out of you. He turned your head with his other hand, and he kissed you. Your hips moved to meet his fingers. Pulling away slightly, your lips were close to one another, Angel smirking as he felt your walls clench his fingers.

“You close querida?”

“Angel, fuck,” you groaned as he removed his fingers. He moved the blankets so he could kneel in front of you. He took off your shorts and panties, sucking in the fingers that were inside you.

“I knew you would fucking taste amazing baby.” Angel parted your lips which you had closed, hoping the friction could help you get your high. “Look at this pussy, I’ve been fucking dreaming of this moment.” He leaned down, parting your lips with his fingers. He groaned before he began to lap at your pussy, causing your back to arch. Angel ate you like a starved man who hadn’t eaten for years. He flicked his tongue at your clit, his two fingers entering you again. “You’re already clenching me baby, you ready to cum.”

You’ve been ready to cum.

“Yes, Angel, keep going.” You pleaded as you could feel that familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach.

You came, Angel’s fingers and mouth never ceasing, and another orgasm followed close behind. Angel kneeled once again, watching as your legs shook at the aftermath of your orgasm. You took a deep breath, looking at Angel who was still clothed.

He took off his shirts, sweats and boxers. He spat on his hand, stroking his cock. You looked down at him and groaned at seeing Angel’s size.

“Of course you would be fucking big.” You always wondered about Angel's size and with the way the girls at the clubhouse boasted about him, how good he was, you weren’t even surprised.

Angel just chuckled, rubbing the head of his cock on your wet pussy. You groaned, biting your lip, trying not to be loud since you did come with the club.

“Naw, fuck that, you’re gonna be screaming my name so those mother fuckers know who you belong to.” Angel tapped his cock against your clit, making you moan out his name. He slowly slid in you, watching as his length disappeared inside of you. That stretch made you whimper, it was slightly uncomfortable due to Angel’s size. You’ve never been with anyone this well endowed, but you weren’t going to tell this egotistical prick that. “You okay? Too big for you?”

You couldn’t even respond, you just whimpered and nodded your head.

“Which one baby? You doing okay? Or am I too big for you?” He remained stationary, waiting for some confirmation. He wanted to move, your walls were clenching him and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. But that was fine, this wouldn’t be the last time.

“Angel, just please move.” You groaned. “Fuck, you’re so fucking big.”

Angel chuckled. “Ronnie isn’t big, baby? Ima tear this pussy up.” Angel was petty as fuck and would get his name wrong on purpose. Any guy you were involved with was called dick, prick or some version of their name. “You ain’t never gonna want another dick besides mine.”

You hated how much Angel was turning you on with all the talk he was doing. You’ve had one guy who was like this, but it didn’t feel like this. Also may contribute to the fact that Angel is fucking thick.

“You’re almost as big as Roger.” You knew you were being a brat, but fuck it, this was most likely a one off and you wouldn’t mind the rough sex with Angel. You wanted his hands everywhere, his marks and everything.

“Almost as big?” Angel was offended. “That’s not what your reaction tells me baby. You wanna talk shit?” He pulled out till it was only his tip that was inside before slamming back in, moving you forward. You whimpered, letting out a ‘fuck’ like a mantra as he continually pounded into you, his pace unrelenting and unforgiving. You wanted to be a brat and talk shit? Then you could take his dick like the brat that you were. “When I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging for my dick.”

And you knew he was right.

He slowed down when he felt your walls tightening up. If you wanted to be a brat, he could edge you all night.

“Angel,” you whined out his name, annoyed that he would slow down.

“What’s wrong mi dulce? You want to talk shit? Better be able to take it.” Angel increased his pace again, your walls tightening again, but he slowed down, stilling completely. “I’ve always wondered how well you would take my dick, how fucking tight you are.” He whispered into your ears, peppering you with kisses. His voice, the lower timbre that it went to, you were going insane. “You feel perfect hermosa.”

“Then are you gonna fuck me good or you’re just gonna keep teasing me?”

Angel chuckled. “You better not try and run away.” He pushed your legs back against your chest, pulling out.

He rubbed your clit, keeping your legs wide opened for him. You felt that familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach, you came, crying out in pleasure as Angel sucked your clit into his mouth. You moved away, closing your legs making Angel laugh. Your arousal was evident on his beard, he licked his lips.

He took a hold of your ankle, pulling you back towards him.

“What’s wrong baby girl? Too much for you? What I say? Not to run away right?” He was so smug. You wanted to deflate his ego, but you’ve been testing him too much.

“You’re just fucking big, this is crazy.” You let out a small laugh. He slipped inside you again, appreciating your words. “Fuck daddy, you’re stretching out my pussy again.” You’re not even sure where that came from, but you could tell Angel was a fan.

“Yeah, you like how daddy stretches his pussy baby. You ain’t never seeing Reno again, this pussy is mine, isn’t it baby girl?” Angel pounded into you, wetting his fingers as he rubbed your clit.

You gripped the sheets, meeting his hips. Angel continually praised you, his fingers unrelenting as it circled your clit. You came, eyes rolling to the back of your head, shuddering beneath Angel. This had to be the best fucking orgasm you’ve ever had and Angel had yet to come. He watched you, a moaning, panting mess as you came down from your high.

He was screwed since he would never tire of that sight. He wanted to see it over and over again. His dick was throbbing within you as your walls continued to clench around him.

“Fuck, you haven’t even cum yet.” You commented once you caught your breath.

Angel laughed. “Why is Rufus a minute man?”

“I’ve never fucked Roger.” Your admission makes the laughter emitting from Angel’s lips cease.

“What?”

“I’ve never fucked Roger. I mean, we went on like a date, but I’ve never fucked him.” You admitted, his stare was far too intimate for you.

“You interested in Riley?” It always amazed you how Angel could think of endless names for Roger and never repeat a name.

“No,” you bit your lower lip, moving away from Angel, sighing when his length slid out of you. Looking at his dick, you saw your wetness coating him.

“Wanna taste yourself?”

You turned around, getting on your knees instead. “Another time. Please put your dick back in me daddy.” You moved your ass, your chest on the mattress, exposing you to Angel.

“You’re such a good girl, even though you were acting like a fucking brat earlier.” He smacked your ass, causing you to yelp. He did it again, a moan eliciting from your lips. “Damn baby, you like being spanked.”

“Just by you.” And you didn’t usually enjoy it, but this felt different with Angel and you welcomed it. “Daddy please,” you begged.

Angel bent down, his body over yours as he whispered into your ear. “I told you, you’d be begging for my dick.” He entered you with no warning, you moaned into the mattress, gripping the sheets. Angel’s hands laid above yours, intertwining it so you both were gripping the sheets.

“You’re deeper this way.” You were going crazy. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, you were gone. “Faster daddy, please.”

“Naw baby, you were talking too much shit earlier, you’re gonna take what I give you.” He slightly increased his pace. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours daddy.”

“That’s right, it’s all mine, ain’t no other motherfucker is ever going to have this tight little pussy.” His hand squeezed yours. “Fuck, I’m close.” He stood straight, his thrust was quicker and you definitely appreciated it. You felt your climax coming again, impressed by how Angel knew how to make your body sing.

After a few more thrust, Angel came, grunting your name out. You came right after him, his name coming out as a cry of absolute pleasure from your lips. Angel pulled out, his cum coming out of your pussy, but he pushed it back inside. You moaned, as his fingers entered you, your walls were still pulsating from the aftershock of another orgasm.

“Daddy’s gonna keep you cumming this weekend preciosa.”

You and Angel cleaned up, throwing the blanket to the floor and replacing it with a blanket you had brought with you. Angel pulled you in his arms, playing with the strings of your shorts.

“No strings attached?” You broke the silence between you two.

“Whatever you want baby.” Angel knew that you were his and nothing would change that. You gave yourself to him and that was that.

But you knew no strings attached wouldn’t last, Angel didn’t think so either.

As far as you were both concerned, it was only you two in this relationship, even though you just haven’t verbalized that.

======================= 

tagged list:

@buttercup812 : @-im-fantastic-​  : @mayans-sauce​

[softboywriting]

Hard To Love | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re Nathan’s personal assistant. He’s an insufferable bastard. Both of you have unchecked tension and feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? [swearing] [sexual themes/situations] [arguments] [exhibitonism - implied] [pining] [Dominant!Nathan] [Nickname use - pet name/non derogatory] [Nathan being Nathan] [nsfw - kissing, lap sitting/grinding, heavily implied masturbation!f reader] [F!reader/Nathan]

Word Count: 7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is...well... Nathan. Insufferable, workaholic, egotistical. He is a lot to handle and doing so isn't always easy. You had a lot of breakdowns, screaming matches, some nearly coming to blows. But you didn't give up and you learned to work around him, and coax him out of moods, serve him back the same dry humor and disinterest. After finding out he had gone through four assistants, two that never made it past their first week, you knew you couldn't give up on him. There was a diamond in the rough and you were going to find it because despite all of the hard times, you care for him. He's a fucking bastard, but he's your fucking bastard.

"It's been six months." Nathan says over breakfast one morning.

You look back from where you're cleaning up the pans you used to make his vegetable omelet with soy egg substitute. His favorite. You had taken over cooking from Kyoko three months ago when she began to malfunction. You're not sure what happened, or if maybe Nathan staged the malfunction to give you more to do. You suspect the latter.

"Six months? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't count the days."

"I don't actually." You set your plate of food on the table and he reaches for one of your toasts. He has his own, well, had. He ate it already but he has egg left so he wants more toast. "I stopped months ago."

He chuckles softly. "I still don't know why you won't quit."

"Why do you want me to?"

"I don't."

"Then why do you bring it up?" You raise your eyebrows and he shoots you a look over his vitamin water. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nathan folds his hands, elbows on the table as he shakes his head. "Most people in your position, having dealt with what you have dealt with, would be itching to get as far away as possible. Surely you must be mentally unstable to stay with me, gaining some sick pleasure from our fights and shit. I almost feel bad."

He almost feels bad, as if he were to blame for nothing. Typical. "And if I am fucked up? Gonna fire me?"

"Fuck no."

You smile over your coffee. Decaf. He won't have regular in the house after he nearly went into cardiac arrest from an over abundance of caffeine. He did it to himself. Slugging back redbulls with his vodka after drinking his pre-work out mix that had far more than he needed in it. He may be a technical genius but he can be such a fucking moron.

"You like me." You tease, rubbing your barefoot on his leg under the table. "You would miss me if I left."

He snorts indignantly but does not deny your observations.

"How was the food?"

"Perfect." He sits back, foot bumping yours now, running up the side. "Don't know how you do it."

"Perfect? Wow. High praise from you." You swat his foot away with yours and he starts trying to pin it down by stepping on it. "Better than Kyoko's?"

Nathan hums. "I programmed her with cooking skills from top chefs across the internet. Technically she should be the greatest chef on the planet. So the fact that you can make me food that is better floors me."

You hook your ankle around his and he lets out a little grunt. "Cooking is an act of love. Yes you can program an AI to make things perfectly but technical skill doesn't equate to preferred taste. Come on, Nathan, you're smarter than this."

"Questioning my intelligence now?"

"Every day." You jerk your leg back as he lifts his other foot to trap it. "Cheat! You cheater! One foot only!"

Nathan lets out a boisterous laugh, head falling back, hand over his chest. "You get so worked up over that!"

You roll your eyes and stab your eggs viciously. "Fuck off Nathan."

"No need to get so mouthy."

"Mouthy." You scoff. "Rich coming from you."

He stands, catching your chin in his grasp. "I got you to break."

"You- oh God damn it." You jerk away, arm extending to shove him.

He chuckles proudly to himself. "I'll be in my lab. Find me if you need me."

"Gonna let me in today?"

"I might."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

____________________

Nathan could have the AI clean the house, but then you would run out of things to do. Honestly your job could be done by any one of his creations, humanoid or not. You don't actually need to be there at all, and yet Nathan keeps you around. For a man who is hell bent on privacy and secrecy surrounding his work, you have no idea how he has let others in. He laughs when he says that he had the men who built the complex killed after the fact. Surely it's a joke. You think. Though you've never asked, never dared to investigate the truth in his words. It's best you don't know.

The house doesn't need cleaning that often. Just laundry, dishes, some sweeping and mopping should you or Nathan track in mud after a hike. Most chores take a few hours out of one day a week. Your title is assistant and yet you don't actually assist him. Not in his work anyway. You feel like your title should be maid or housekeeper. It's fine, you really don't care because he pays you so generously that you would do whatever he needs you to.

"Kitten!" Nathan's voice comes from the intercom system built in the house. "Come to the lab, kitten."

You scowl at the nickname. He dubbed you Kitten your second day at the complex because he thought your wandering around perplexed by the maze like design of the house was akin to a new kitten trying to find its way in the world. You suppose there could be worse names he could call you, and there are ones that have come out in screaming matches, but kitten has stuck.

"Lab. Now. Come on."

"Fuck." You groan, tossing aside your book you were getting very into.

"I heard that."

"Of course you did." You lift your badge and scan the door to your room to head out into the hall. One of the AI walks by and you think her name is Lily. She's beautiful. Unfortunately her programming has failed and she cannot speak. "Hi Lily."

Lily raises her hand in greeting.

If she is out then that must mean Nathan has been working on her. You turn away from the AI and walk down the hall to the junction that splits left to Nathan's room and right to another hall that goes to the lab and test rooms. The lab door is open, the light blue on the access pad.

Nathan spins around in his chair. "Kitten, you've made it."

"As if I could get lost."

"I have something to show you."

"Do you? I thought you didn't want me involved in your work."

Nathan gives you a hard look. "Do you want to fucking see it or not?"

"I don't even know what it is."

He grabs a small item off his desk and brings it to you. "This is it. My newest AI."

You take the small flash drive from him and turn it over in your hands. "This is a new program?"

"Yes. My best work yet. I'm going to build her this week."

"Exciting."

"Please show some enthusiasm for fucks sake." He snatches the device from your hand. "I'm kind enough to share this with you, you could at least say thank you."

"I never asked."

Nathan slaps the flash drive down on the desk and stares at you. He is not used to being served his own cold attitude and he never will be. Since you started going toe to toe with him, he has been on top of his game. It's like you engage his mind beyond his massive ego. "You're insufferable."

"Likewise." You smile and he smiles back. The pissing match has ended. "I need to get groceries soon."

"You know what I like."

"Of course I do." You fold your arms over your chest and he averts his eyes for a moment. You know he's staring at your breasts, pushed up in the tank top you had chosen to wear while deep cleaning your bathroom earlier. "But what do you want?"

"Loaded question, kitten."

"Going that route today?"

"Maybe." He saunters towards you and catches your hair between his fingers. "I want... something sweet."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're craving sugar? Are you ill?"

He chuckles. "A little. Just in the head."

"Seriously."

"Yes I want something sweet. Get me some donuts." He puts his hands on his hips. "Get yourself something too."

"I always get myself stuff. Do you think I only buy your groceries?"

"It's my house, of course I think you buy my shit."

You reach out and touch his beard, fingertips gliding along his cheek. You don't miss the way his eyes flutter at your touch. "Do you need your beard oil? The conditioner stuff? Looks dry."

He grabs your hand and curls his fingers around yours. "Yes, I do. But don't touch it."

"Possessive today huh?" You smirk and he groans irritably deep in his throat. "You live for my touch."

"I live for you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Then fire me."

"No."

"Then suffer." You bring your other hand up and pat his opposite cheek. "Does physical affection bother you Nathan? Does touching another human bother you so mu-"

He backs you against the wall and pins your wrists. His face is only inches from yours, body pouring heat onto you. It sparks something deep inside and you feel heat pooling in between your legs. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He murmurs, grip tight on your skin.

"Don't you have some issues to work out?"

"Fuck you."

"You'd like to."

Nathan drops your wrists at that and retreats into the lab, the door closing and locking behind him. It drives him mad that you're not one of his AI that he can order around and do what he pleases with. You like to think that's why he keeps you around, to remind him that he's human and he needs someone that isn't an algorithm to keep him sane. Maybe he also let a little piece of you crave out a chunk of his icy cold heart.

You rub your wrists and look at the reddened skin. They might bruise. You straighten your clothes and head back to your room. You'll need to wear something more appropriate to the store. It's cold out these days.

_____________________

"Do you get lonely?" Nathan asks one evening over drinks in the lounge.

You put down your laptop and give him your attention. It's the first time he's spoken to you in two days since the wrist grabbing incident. "Lonely?"

"Yeah. Do you miss relationships? Hook ups?"

"Not really. I was never super social to begin with."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Just curious." He takes a long drink, emptying his tumbler. "Why do you think I want to fuck you?"

You feel your cheeks redden. The way he is staring at you makes your arousal rear its ugly head. Staring shouldn't turn you on. He hasn't done anything. "I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. You decommissioned Kyoko months ago, Lily doesn't have a vagina and yes I know this because you told me in a drunken stupor ages ago. So you haven't fucked anything or anyone in months."

"You think I need to fuck?"

You stand and walk over to him, knocking his knees open to stand between his legs. "Nathan, just fucking admit that you want me. That you keep me around because one day you'll grow a pair of balls and ask me to sleep with you."

His hands come up and grab your hips. He pulls you down and you straddle his lap, thin pajama pants hardly acting as a barrier between you and his cock in his gray sweats. "I keep you around because you piss me off." He grips your ass and you roll your hips against him. "You piss me off and make my blood boil like no one else."

"So you hate me?"

Nathan brings your head down to meet his. "I couldn't hate you if I tried."

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're having a moment." He grabs your hair and you snap at his nose with your teeth in response. "Behave."

You let out a moan as he begins kissing up your throat. "This was your plan all along."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No."

"Then I'll make you." His hand closes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you stop talking. "Why do you have to be so in my head? Why..." He kisses your shoulder, biting the junction between it and your neck. "Why did you have to show up?"

"You hired me." You whisper and he drops his hand from your throat in favor of sliding it up your shirt. "You selected me."

He rolls his hips up against you, biting down on your skin to elicit a yelp from you. "You're damn right I did."

You grind down against his cock and he grabs your hips to still them. You let out a soft whine from the lack of pleasure and he grips harder.

"Get up."

Your heart sinks, and you stare at him in confusion. "What?"

"Get up. We're not doing this." Nathan pushes you off of his lap and you stumble to your feet.

You straighten your clothes and walk around the coffee table to grab your laptop. You can't say you didn't expect this. It was a long shot to begin with and you initiated it so you knew he would shut it down. Still, it hurts. His rejection isn't disinterest, it's personal protection. He won't let anyone that close to his heart.

"Good night, Nathan." You mutter as you head for the doors to the inner workings of the complex.

"Night, Kitten."

_____________________

It is three days before you see Nathan again. Locking himself away isn't uncommon practice. It's a Thursday when you see him out on the deck with the punching bag. You happened to catch a glance when you were preparing breakfast as you had every day. He didn't eat with you, but you still made it for him and left it under the warmer. The plate was always gone when you came back, so at least you know he is eating.

You grab a few grapefruits from the basket on the counter and start juicing them. It'll be a nice surprise for him. You grab a cup from the cupboard and tilt the juicer to dump its contents for you. It looks good, smells tart but it is not your type of juice. Fitting for a man like Nathan. Bitter, tart and sort of hard to swallow. You rub a bit of the squeezed rinde around the top of the glass and grab the sugar dish to sprinkle some around the rim. A little sweet to lessen the bite, a representation of you in this metaphor.

"Kitten, good morning." Nathan says as you approach with his juice and a towel. "What's this?"

"Grapefruit."

He raises his eyebrows. "Fresh?"

"Yep." You hand him the glass and he inspects it suspiciously. "No poison. Promise."

A smile creeps it's way across his face as he gulps it down. He takes a moment at the end to lick the sugar clean from the rim, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. It's far more sexual than you think it should be, and it was never your intent to get this response.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." You pass him the towel and take the glass.

Nathan scrubs the towel over his face and rests it around his neck. "I'm going for a hike later."

"Okay?"

"You're going with me." He turns back to the punching bag and starts his routine back up. "Be ready at nine."

You sigh. "Alright."

_____________________

Nathan's idea of a hike and your idea of a hike vary greatly. You view a hike as wandering around the forest along trails and seeing the beauty of nature before you. Leisurely pace, breaks, maybe a snack or two and some photos for the memories. Nathan however thinks hikes are treacherous climbs up cliffs and rock jumping across rivers and streams. He goes as quick as possible as if he's trying to get somewhere and he's going to be late. It's hardly relaxing.

"Come on, why are you so slow?" Nathan barks from atop a rock some several yards ahead of you.

You're panting, legs pushed to their limit from the half an hour long uphill climb you've just endured. You have no idea how he isn't even winded.

"Fuck off Nathan!" You huff, grabbing a scrubby looking tree for support as you haul yourself up over a broken chunk of the path. A game trail, not even a proper walking path.

He laughs, his voice echoing off the cliffs surrounding you. "You can do it, Kitten! Get that little ass up here!"

You finally reach him, your lungs threatening to explode. "First of all, this isn't a hike it's a rock climbing marathon." You hold a finger up to his face threateningly. "And second, my ass isn't little."

"Oh I know." He folds his arms over his chest.

"So you stare at my ass a lot then?"

"I'm a heterosexual man. Of course I'm going to look at your ass."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the objectification."

"You're welcome."

"Can we take a break here? My legs are killing me."

Nathan stretches his arms up and back. "This is why I brought you with me."

"Why?"

"So you can get some exercise. Your stamina is shit."

You glance to the drop off below then back at him. "You wanna keep insulting me?"

"Facts are not insults."

"I will push you off this cliff, Nathan."

He steps away from the edge and closer to you. He doesn't say anything about it. Doesn't apologize for the comments about your stamina and needing to work out more. He reaches for your face, plucking something off of your cheek. "Eyelash."

"Make a wish."

"Wishes are for children." He flicks his finger off to the side.

"I wish my boss would get his head out of his ass." You smirk triumphantly. "Is that a child's wish?"

Nathan flicks his eyes up and down your face, eyes settling on the bite bruise peaking out from under your sweatshirt collar. You had forgotten about it until this very moment, when you realize he hadn't seen it yet. "Is that mine?"

"Of course. Who else has been biting me out here in the middle of nowhere?" You reach up to touch it and he shoves your hand away to pull the fabric aside for himself.

"No one else can touch you."

Heat blossoms in your stomach at his jealousy tinged words. Possessive Nathan really does it for you. But he isn't your boyfriend. He is your boss. "I'm not yours Nathan."

His fingertips ghost over the nearly healed bruise. "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you leave?"

You shove his hand off your shoulder and he gives you one of his famed deadly glares for doing something he doesn't like. "You don't want me. So I can't be yours."

"It's not that I don't want you, I can't have you." He turns and starts walking away, resuming the hike. How very like him. He says something stupidly cryptic that only makes sense to him. Whatever. You're not here for his affection and approval. You're here to be his assistant.

____________________

"I'm out of alcohol." Nathan states plainly, looking into the cupboard that usually has a few bottles of his favorite liquors. "Where is my shit?"

You look over from the fridge and smirk to yourself. "I thought you were on a detox again."

"I'm done with it. Where..." He turns and looks at you. "You didn't buy anything."

"Nope. I was told not to."

"By who?"

"You."

He purses his lips and looks around as if thinking about when he would have ever said that to you. He looks perplexed and you feel so smug. "Since when do you ever listen to me?"

You laugh softly. This is your fault now? Following his orders and not buying alcohol? Really.

"You're my boss. I usually follow your orders."

Nathan kicks the cupboard closed lightly. "Stop that."

"Stop what? Following your instructions?"

"Stop fucking with my head." He leans on the counter and takes his glasses off to dig his palms into his eyes. "You're so fucking irritating."

"Sure am." You gather some utensils from the counter that you left to dry and begin to put them away. "I live to make you suffer."

Nathan pulls his hands from his eyes and stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. It's like you're a puzzle and he's trying to see the solution. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips, mimicking his pose when he explains things to you. He doesn't fail to notice this as his eyes sweep over you in assessment and he raises his head as if challenging you. "You're only saying I'm irritating and making you suffer because you can't drink. It's been what? A week?"

"Eight days."

"A week. I'm sure you can make it another two weeks."

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope. I'm not going into town for groceries again until absolutely necessary. It's a three hour flight there and then back, remember?"

Nathan clenches the edge of the counter top with white knuckles.

"Get as pissed as you want." You lean in close and he nearly moves back. You know he won't back down from a challenge. "Maybe you'll have to face your demons sober. Maybe you'll figure your shit out."

"I didn't hire you to be my fucking therapist."

"Yet here I am."

Nathan pushes off the counter and grabs the bottle of water you set out for him before he goes off to lock himself in his lab for God knows how long. Ever since you came on to him he seems to be jumpy around you. You don't know why he won't just admit that he likes you, that he wants you. He is going to get blue balls sooner or later. Well, maybe not because he can jack off but actual sex isn't the same and you know he has a sex drive through the roof. You used to hear it at all hours of the morning before he deactivated Kyoko. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off on it a few times.

_____________________

Days and days pass without a word from Nathan. Ten is now the most you've ever gone and after five you start to wonder if he is even in the house. Maybe he went for a walk and fell in the river. Maybe he pissed off his AI again and it finally strangled him. You would have no idea because the place is so huge and quiet for the most part. Aside from living quarters the complex is soundproofed. One would think Nathan's room beside yours would be for privacy but it's not. The freak. He wants people to hear him.

At the twelfth day mark you actually begin to worry. A twenty day sober Nathan may be a new kind of animal and you're not sure if you truly want to interact. Distance makes the heart grow fond though and while he is insufferable you do care for him and wish to see his stupid smug face. It's a risk but one you need to take.

The light on the lab door is red. Locked. You raise your key card and it buzzes, remaining red. He's denied your access to the lab. Shocker. You press the com button on the wall but it doesn't connect. He's shut that off too.

You lean your head on the cool cement wall and sigh. One more day. You'll give it one more day. If he doesn't show his face you'll get the override key card that resides in the hidden box in the bathroom. You found it ages ago, by pure accident. You've never used it and he has no idea that you even know about it. But you'll do what you have to do.

______________________

Morning of the next day you find yourself in bed, looking around the soft cream colored walls. An idea comes to mind. A dirty, dirty idea. You know Nathan has cameras in every room. He's too anal about protectng his work not to. Plus he has major trust issues.

You lean over the side of the bed and pull open the nightstand drawer. Inside is a small vibrator that you brought with you when you moved in. There's another box in there too. One that was there when you opened the drawer the first night. On the top it says "For your needs, because you're only human."

Of course you opened the box out of curiosity, Nathan had said everything in the room was for you so it wasn't snooping. In the box was a dildo, some lube and a little bullet vibrator. You had never used them, finding the gift too personal and odd. Complimentary soap? Normal. Complimentary extra blankets and pillows? Thoughtful. Complimentary sex toys? Insane. Until you got to know Nathan, you thought it was the weirdest thing ever. In fact, you forgot about the box after a while as you hadn't had the urge to get off until recently. Today however, you're going to make a show of it in hopes of getting his attention.

You dump the contents of the box on the bed and pick up the dildo, wrapping your fingers around it. It's life like, fleshy and soft but firm enough for it's intended use. It's bigger than you might usually prefer but nothing you can't handle with some extra time. And you've got nothing but time. You take a glance around the room, not seeing any obvious surveillance cameras. This may be for nothing.

You make quick work of your pajamas, toss aside the blankets and prop yourself against the headboard. You decide to keep your gaze fixed on the television, imagining it's where he is watching from. You close your eyes and let your hands start to wander, doing thier thing while your mind runs wild.

Time passes slowly as you work yourself over, adjusting to the dildo and working yourself into a heated frenzy. It would be easier if you had something to watch, some porn or something. You're not intent on making yourself come, but you will if it comes to that. You just want to put on a show to draw him out. That's what you're telling yourself anyway.

The power goes out, darkening the room and thrusting you into silence. The back up system announces its engagement and the emergency lights come up red. You sit up and lean your head back against the headboard. Great. You toss the toys aside and get up, pulling on your pajamas. You go to the door, punch in the code for manual override during power failure. Nathan is such a nerd. It's not a specific number but rather the theme to Star Wars.

The door clicks open and you go out into the hall. No one in sight, not that you really expected anyone. "Nathan!" You call out, heading for the lab door. Everything is eerie red and you don't like it. "Power is out!"

No response.

"Nathan James Bateman!" You sing song as you slide your card on the lab door. It buzzes. "I know you hear me you fuck!"

"Power restored. All systems active."

The hall turns white, back to the bright daylight simulated lighting. You lift your key card up in hopes that the system turned off his lock out coding for your card. Sure enough it turns blue and the door clicks open. Relief washes over you as you step into the darkened office where his computer is set up, notes on the wall, security feeds pulled up on two of the monitors. The door to the actual lab is open and you walk through into the bright area.

"Nate?" You call out, the nickname slipping out as your voice wavers a bit when you don't see him anywhere.

"Kitten?"

You spin around and see the man you seek emerge from a doorway. It's the server closet where the breaker box is. "Hey."

"How'd you get in here?"

"The power failure reset the lock codes."

"You can leave."

"Nathan, you haven't been out in almost two weeks. I'm starting to get worried. What are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

You give him a once over. Wrinkled clothes. Disheveled beard. Hair grown out longer than you remember, still buzzed but not so close. His skin is dull and lifeless. "You look like shit."

"What's new?"

"Oh come on. You're more vain than that. What are you doing in here anyway? Why the power failure?"

"Fuck off."

"What an original come back. I've been trying to get your attention for days. The fact that it took a power outage for me to get to you is sad." You walk up to him and touch his chest, there is a little bit of dried blood smeared on his shirt. A cut on his hand most likely. "Nathan, talk to me."

Nathan pushes away from you and goes to his design table where there are blueprints laid out for an AI.

"Nathan."

"Leave." There is no venom in his tone. If anything he sounds pleading.

You decide to make a bold move and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffens, hands stilling on the table, pen falling from his fingers. "Please talk to me."

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you."

"Fine. Dinner is at six." You pause at the doorway to the office area. "Did you hear me?"

"Six."

"Good."

_____________________

Things fall back into a normal rhythm in the days following. You do your work and he does his. You eat together, go for walks, talk about his progress on the new AI. Everything seems to be back to it’s usual flow, how it always happened after big arguments or falling outs.

So while you’re sitting in the lab watching him work one day and he asks you about the dildo in the bedside table you're thrown for a loop. It’s far from his usual choice of topics and you had actually forgotten all about it. His mentioning of it brings back the memory of when you were laid out on your bed, literally masturbating to try and get his attention. Christ what a desperate move that was. Stupid.

"So have you opened it?"

"The dildo box? Yeah I've opened it." You try to remain casual as you discuss something so personal. You definitely aren’t thinking about how good it felt.

He smirks. "Used it?"

"No." A bold lie. He has no idea. He never saw you in your bedroom. At least you don't think he did. Why would he ask about it if he had? Why is he asking about it at all?

“You’re a shitty liar.” He turns around in his chair and faces you, pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. “Did you like it?”

“I haven’t used it.”

“Do you want me to bring up the video? I will.” He stands and heads to the office. “Come on, come here.”

You slide off the table and walk behind him in your shame, cheeks hot. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. Of course he was testing you. It's Nathan for fucks sake. He gestures to his rolling chair and you take a seat while he leans over the desk and clicks around on files on the desktop. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He opens a play back window and you can see the view of your room. No surprise. You try to figure out where the hell this camera is based on the angle. It seems to be the top left corner above your closet but as far as you remember there is nothing there. “Oh, there you are.”

“Nathan.”

“No, no watch.” He points to the screen as you toss and turn on the bed. He speeds up the playback as you get into the drawer and get the box out. You deliberately clear the bed, undress, get back on the bed.

You roll your eyes, looking away from the screen and he places a hand on your head and turns it back to watch. “So? I’m masturbating. Whatever. You do it too. If I wasn’t supposed to use the damn thing why did you leave it for me?”

“Oh I don’t care that you used it.” He clicks a little audio icon beside the playback screen. “I just want to know why you lied about it.”

“I am embarrassed? I don't make a habit of talking about my-”

“Nathan.” Your voice plays back on the audio coming from the video playback and you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear. “Nathan, harder please!” Of course he has audio on the fucking cameras. Of fucking course he does because why not right? It’s his house, his research facility.

Nathan looks at you over his glasses. “You’re embarrassed about talking about masturbating or you’re embarrassed that you think of me when you do it and I found out? Actually don’t answer that because this looks deliberate.” He takes a seat on the desk, blocking the view of the monitors. “Now, are you going to lie to me again, or tell me what this is about?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“Well you got it honey.” He clicks a button on the keyboard and it stops the playback.

“I wanted your attention to get you out of the fucking lab. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen you and the only way I can reach you from outside is through the cameras. So I thought, maybe there is one in my room because you’re a fucking control freak. Low and behold I was right, but it didn’t work how I planned it to.” You fold your arms over your chest and he chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me? How is any of this funny?”

“What kind of person thinks that masturbating on camera is going to get someone’s attention? No, seriously, why wouldn’t you try flash signalling the cameras in the halls? Set up a cue card with a message? Who says I’m gonna fuck myself for my bosses attention?”

You take in a deep breath and clench your jaw. He’s right, kind of. You hate it but he is. In any other situation you never would have done this. So why did you? Why did your brain go straight to exhibitionism? Because it’s Nathan and you’ve got it bad for him and you wanted him to see you. He’s got your brain just as fucked up as he has his own.

“It was wrong, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nope.” He kicks his legs hanging over the desk. “I wanna know if you liked that dildo.”

“It was fine I guess.”

“Not too much?”

“Nathan, why do you fucking care?”

He hops off the desk and shakes his head as he heads into the lab. “I’m curious is all!”

“You’re a freak!”

“And yet you still like me!”

“I’m starting to wonder why.” You push up out of the chair, close the playback on the computer and leave the office. You’re covering that stupid camera and throwing that dildo in the trash chute. You should have known he’d get some weird complex out of watching you say his fucking name while plowing yourself with a toy. In a weird way it turns you on, but it also pisses you off because he won’t actually admit that he liked it. He won’t ever admit anything.

_____________________

“Can I ask you something?” You say to Nathan as he sits beside you on the couch. You’re in the lounge together, dinner long over, watching a movie as you wind down for the evening. He’s got his arm around the back of the cushions and your legs are pulled up under you, feet pressed against his thigh. You’re close, but not too close.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Don’t be a dick for ten minutes please.”

Nathan holds his hand up in defense. “Ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Promise you won’t be a dick? For real?”

“Yes. Ask me the damn question.”

You take a deep breath, knowing what you’re about to ask is going to be rough on him. “When we were on our hikes a few weeks ago, you said it wasn’t that you don’t want me, it’s that you can’t have me. What does that mean?”

Nathan stares ahead at the movie on the tv over the fireplace. A moment passes, a moment that is too long and makes the room fill with awkward tension. You expected this.

“Gonna stay quiet for the ten minutes you aren’t going to be a dick?”

“Shut up.” He says softly, no venom in the words.

You stare at him expectantly, awaiting a better answer than just shut up. “Seriously, would you just-”

Nathan’s arm comes up from the back on the couch and his hand catches the back of your head, dragging you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. Your blood boils in the best way and you chase his lips as he pulls away. “That’s all it takes to shut you up?”

“Answer my question. Ten minutes aren’t up.”

“I can’t have you because you’re going to leave. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving Nathan.”

He scoffs. “So if I stopped paying you to be my assistant, you would stay?”

“Yes.”

"You're fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're fucked up and it's my fault."

You stare at him at a loss for words. Did he just admit fault for something? Are you hearing this correctly? Is Nathan Bateman, tech genius and egotistical maniac admitting he has done something? Holy shit.

"I did this to you. I made you stay here and endure my mood swings and drinking and all my shit. I stockholm syndrome'd you and I didn't even realize it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"Nathan, you didn't make me stay here. I chose to stay."

"Where the fuck were you going to go? Run off into the woods for days and days until you hope to find someone? What option did you have? I trapped you here. I've kept you caged in this house like an animal."

You lay your hand over his and he grabs it, threading your fingers together. "You don't think someone could actually love you, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't think someone could fall in love with you because you're insecure. You push people away, you push me away because you think it's easier than letting yourself feel something for someone."

Nathan looks pissed but he holds his tongue.

"I'm not trapped here, you aren't twisting my arm and making me stay here against my will. I know what I signed up for, I know what I signed in those contracts. I could have told you to fuck off and shove your head up your ass months ago and taken a helicopter back into the city. I could have just run away on any one of my dozen grocery runs in the last several months. But did I?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I don't fucking know."

You lay the hand not held in his, on to his cheek and turn his face to make him look at you. "Because I love you, Nathan."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You're a real son of a bitch sometimes and I want to break your nose and choke you to death every once in a while but I care. I care about you, about your work, about your life. I want to be here, I want to be a part of your life Nathan. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan gets up and you hold your joined hands tightly.

"Don't run away damn it!"

"I'm not! Would you let go!"

"I swear to fucking God if you lock yourself in that lab again I am going to get a battering ram."

He takes his glasses off and presses them into your palm. "Take these as collateral. I'll be right back."

You sit back on the couch and glare at his form as it disappears into the house. You clean his glasses carefully with the edge of your shirt and set them on the coffee table. He has to come back for them, he's as blind as a bat without them.

Nathan returns shortly with a small box. "I made these." He hands you the box and you open it as he puts his glasses back on. Inside are two black bands, rings.

"I don't understand."

"I made them because I know I can be difficult." He plucks one from the box. "They track the wearers vitals, change colors based on varying indicators, and they will work no matter how far apart they are."

"You made high tech mood rings."

He shoots you a glare. "I made them for you." He places the ring in his hand into your palm. "So you will know that I'm alright when I'm working long hours. I know I'm not the easiest to read and I don't have the easiest time expressing myself sometimes."

You put the ring on and it lights up a soft pink color. The moment Nathan slips his over his finger you can feel a soft steady pulse coming from the ring. "Is that your heartbeat?"

"Yeah." He holds his hand out and you can see his band is the same color pink. "I'll give you a breakdown on all the colors and functions later, but pink means the body is at ease."

"Do you love me? Just tell me, straight up no games."

"Yeah." He cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. "I love the shit out of you."

You break away from his kiss and press your foreheads together. "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Fire away."

"Is the dildo a mold of your dick?"

A smile spreads across his face and you already know the answer before he says it. "It is."

"You're a freak."

"And you absolutely love it."

You smile as he presses his lips to yours and pulls you over into his lap. "I guess I do."

The end

Please reblog if you read or like. Thank yo so much for reading! -A

Header by the lovey talented delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[cherripeach]

Chapter 8

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Prologue 19-20: *Mario Theme Song* *kid bangs head on desk*

Chapter Summary: Finally, a solid moment of calm.

Warnings: Curse words, jokes about death, jokes about coma

Words: 3.3k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

The three of you began your journey back to the mirror. All of you are more damaged and much more of a mess than the cottage.

Grim was satisfied with whatever he ate, so much, in fact that he was situated on your shoulder, rubbing his belly and even burping in your ear.

As tired as you are, you still could not knock Grim off of your shoulder. Petting his head, however, did put more energy back into your energy bar. You could even hear the slightest pur coming from him.

Ace and Deuce both trudged behind you back to the mirror. Ace appeared remarkably more beat up than Deuce, but neither appeared put together.

Once all three of you finally stood before the mirror door, you could breathe a sigh of relief because there was no more spooky forest anymore.

After you got into the school, you allowed Ace and Deuce to lead the group because you had no clue where the Headmaster would be located. You three went up over four flights of stairs and through like ten hallways, and you finally arrived at a set of ginormous, old, brown double doors.

The three of you stopped in front of the door, and Ace held up his hand and knocked.

When nothing was heard or no one came, all three of you walked inside.

Headmaster Crowley was sitting at his desk, slouched over a stack of paper, writing and reading from the paper in front of him. Even when you, Deuce, Ace, and Grim walked in (even though Grim was on your hip), the headmaster did not even look up at you.

It was not until Ace coughed into his hand that the headmaster’s head popped up to stare in awe at your group. He could not even put words together as he was just lost staring at the three of you. His mouth even moved some as if it was trying to find some words to say. If you could see his eyes, you were sure that they would be bulging out of his head by now.

Grim flung his arms up in the air yelling, “Hey, we went into that scary mine and got you the crystal thing. At least, say something!”

The Headmaster flew up out of his seat, “Eh!? You really went to Dwarfs' Mine to find a magic crystal?”

“Eeeh?” The three idiots and you all jumped back.

The headmaster shot a look at all four of you idiots to let him speak and then shook his head, “I really didn't think… You'd not only go but then come back with a crystal in hand. I quietly completed the paperwork for your expulsion.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” As nothing was going your way, you may as well mess more up, so you began your lecture, “I have spent all of my afternoon and most of my night babying and taking care of these three imbeciles, so they stop whining about everything. I also had to actually get them to work together to defeat a monster that is against safety standards for a principal to let the students go up against. All without a decent meal, sleep, or a shower. I look like and feel like shit and now have more bruises and scratches on my body than your number of mistakes in the last twenty-four hours.” You quited down some If I could, “And if someone doesn’t try to cooperate and help me, I’ll start sobbing right here.”

The principal was left stunned, but quickly shook it off, “I apologize for your grievances, but what do you mean by ‘monster’. And more importantly what do you mean by ‘work together’?”

‘Did he not hear a word I just said??’ Your mind would not allow you to forget this moment.

Ace popped into the conversation now, “There was a monster there!

It was super gross and crazy strong, it was awful!” He stuck his tongue out in disgust.

The headmaster placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward, “Could you explain it in more detail? And also tell me how you worked together to defeat it?”

Ace, Deuce, and you started on your long, treacherous (As Grim described it) journey and battle to get the magic crystal which was still gripped in your hand.

The handmaster let out a chuckle, “hoh hooh. A mysterious monster living in the coal mine. The four of you worked together to defeat it and bring back a magic crystal?”

Deuce and Ace could beg to differ:

Ace crossed his arms and turned away, “We didn't really work together…”

Deuce could only look at his feet, “It was more like our goals were aligned…”

The Headmaster grabbed the clothes near his heart and slowly out of his mouth came booming sobs and howls.

Grim faced you and inquired, “What's with this guy? Why is an adult bursting into tears!?”

You shook your head, “To be honest, I don’t know nor do I care. I just want to go back home.”

The Headmaster shot back up from his slouched cry to gaze at all four of you, “In all these years that I've been Headmaster… For the day to come that students from Night Raven College go hand-in-hand to face and defeat their enemy!”

Deuce gave a shout of, “What?! I did not hold this guy’s hand!”

And that just would be the only thing that Deuce cared about.

Ace was the same as he scowled at Deuce, “I would never do that, gross! But Headmaster, how old are you!?”

The Headmaster dabbed his eyes on a random tissue he pulled out of thin air, “ I am overwhelmed with emotion. This incident confirms it.” He turned to you and spoke your name, “Without a doubt, you have talent as a beast tamer.”

And with you delusions of no sleep, no water, and almost no food, you heard that completely wrong.

“Headmaster, look I’m not one to judge, but that sounds too kinky to be school appropriate.” You signed and shook your hand that was not holding Grim.

Ace and Deuce made wide eyes at you, but the Headmaster just continued on.

He threw his hands out as if he was worshiping himself, “Students of Night Raven College are budding wizards called here by the Dark Mirror. However, they are of a superior class that makes them prideful and egotistical people that have not even the slightest inkling to work with others. Making many of them selfish and centered.”

Grim’s nose wrinkled, “You're really not saying anything good.”

Crowley (Since I finally realize that he does have a name) pointed a finger at you, “You cannot use magic. But, maybe, precisely because you cannot use magic means that you could give instructions to wizards and get them to cooperate. Perhaps that mediocrity is exactly what this school needs right now.”

Ace repeated Grim’s line with furrowed eyebrows, “He’s not saying anything nice, is he?”

Your smile lifted as you locked eyes with Ace, “It’s not like there is anything nice to say about you.”

Headmaster Crowley ignored your discussion but still had a finger pointed at you, “I have no doubt that your existence is essential to the future of this academy. So says my educator-senses. Trappola, Spade. Along with rescinding your expulsion I shall give you the qualifications to attend Night Raven College as a student!“

You paused from your glare of with Ace, “Wait.. what?” Your eyes widened, but Grim’s grip on your cloak tightened.

The other two boys threw in their own remarks and confusion about the situation.

You had gained eye contact with the man for a solid five seconds just to say, “You have gotta be kiddin’ me?” before he spun around with his hands in the same position to worship himself.

He chuckled and nodded, “Yes. For I am exceedingly gracious. But, there is one condition. You cannot use magic. Becoming a wizard is out of the question. You probably will not be able to complete all your lessons. That is why, Grim. You have proven to me that you possess enough talent to become a wizard. Therefore, I shall allow the two of you to enrol together, as one student.”

Grim skirted out of your arms onto the Headmaster’s desk, “I... I can go to this academy too...? Not as a handyman, but as a student?”

Headmaster Crowley turned back around to emphasize to Grim his next lecture topic, “Yes. Provided that! You don't ever let an incident like yesterday occur again! Do we have an agreement?“

Grim snatched the Headmaster’s hand and lobbed it up and down, “Yes, yes, yes.” All before leaping into your arms with a little speckle of a tear in his eyes, “We-we can.”

You ran your hand through the fur on his head, “Yes, we can.”

He sprung up while still in your hold with his hands held high, “I did it!”

The Headmaster opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of cloth, “Well then, I shall give the symbol of your status as a student of Night Raven College, a magic crystal, to Grim.”

Crowley walked over to the two of you and wrapped the collar around Grim’s neck.

Grim began pulling on it and observing all that he could, “Whoa! A magic crystal!?”

The Headmaster bobs his head, “It is the norm for students to have their magic crystals in the form of a 'magic pen' but, you wouldn't be able to grip it in your paws, right? It's a special custom. Aaah... I pay attention to even the smallest details! Aren't I too gracious?”

Grim rocked back and forth in your arms while waving his hands and hitting your face several times, “I did it!! I'm so cool! I got my own special magic crystal collar~”

The Headmaster shook his head and turned to you, “He isn't listening at all...Do you understand? As you can see, Grim is not accustomed to human society. It's up to you to take the rein and supervise him to prevent from causing any more trouble!”

You breathed in and out, “So now you are going to force onto me more responsibilities? Let’s just make me in charge of the country while we are at it”

Ace grabbed your shoulders and cackled, “Aha! Look at you. School's just started, but you're already a supervisor?”

Deuce verbalized his findings, “I see. There's only the two of you in your dorm… so if you've been entrusted with supervising Grim, that makes you a supervisor.”

Ace’s cackle burst through his lips again, “Pufft... Isn't that unheard of? For there to be a supervisor student who is unable to use magic. Nice. It's cool. A supervisor student who is unable to use magic!”

You squinted your eyes, scrunched up your nose, and frowned your lips, “Because this is exactly what I want to do with my life. Of course, not sleep 24/7 or” You tossed the hand not holding Grim up, “Or how about something even better: a coma.”

Ace let go of you and walked around you to get behind you, only to smack your back, “Good luck, supervisor!”

You glared at Ace and murmured, “I’ll steal all of your favorite snacks. I’d say hurt you, but eating your snacks will hurt you mentally.”

Headmaster Crowley snapped his fingers, “I see, a supervisor. I do have a work request, and having a title makes it very convenient... This is wonderful! Supervisor. I entrust you with this. ...This is nicknamed the ‘ghost camera’.”

This camera or whatever was an old camera thing, but you weren’t listening. Your lack of sleep was catching up to you once your brain realized that the stress of being kicked out was gone. Your eyes began to flutter close every couple of seconds and then snap open once you brain processed what was happening. Problem was that you did not understand anything that came out of anyone’s mouth until Ace elbowed you in the ribs.

You caught the headmaster's end of a speech, “Does my graciousness know no bounds?”

You stumbled over your words, “Uh...yeah. Thanks a lot.”

Crowley sat back down, “It is already late. Let's save the detailed conversation for tomorrow.

Return to your dormitories, everyone.”

Deuce bowed to the man, “Pardon our intrusion.”

All three of you just about sprinted out of that room.

Once in the hallway, a yawn came out of your mouth.

Deuce sighed, “Haaaaaah... Expulsion rescinded... I'm beat.”

Grim was the only one of you four who did not look like they were about to pass out right now with his singing and skipping, “I start as a student of Night Raven College tomorrow! I'm gonna leave you all in the dust and take the top spot!”

Ace snorted, “You talk big for someone who is only half a full student... Anyway, it's fine.”

“We're classmates tomorrow, Supervisor, Grim.” Deuce bowed to you two.

You just bob your head at the two who started a conversation about how they have to see each other every day even if they don’t want to.

Ace rolled his eyes, turned to you, and smiled somewhat, “Alright, see you tomorrow, Supervisor.”

Grim turned to face you, “We better get back to the dorm! Tomorrow, we aren't the handyman! Finally... Finally! Our bright and shiny academy life at Night Raven College begins!”

You could only throw a thumbs up to show you were listening to Grim as you followed him to your dorm.

Once at your dorm, Grim sprinted to bed and passed out before you even made it in the room.

You went into your bathroom to check if you had any running water, and what a sight it was when you realized that you still did not have any running water.

You just had to curse that man out, “Fuck that ignorant man! When I get my hands on him, I’ll strangle the bullshit out of him!”

You huffed out and decided that getting out of this cloak was the best option to at least be more comfortable. Taking off the cloak and placing it on the bathroom counter, all you saw was what a mess you had become: you were breaking out again as acne appeared from stress and lack of care, your eye bags could probably hold weights above what your arms could, your lips were in dire need of chapstick, and your hair was probably able to be a grill with all the grease on it.

You slapped your cheeks and struggled to walk downstairs because there was no way you were going to sleep in these conditions without a shower and without proper air conditioning or food for dinner.

You dumped your poor self on the almost destroyed couch and just tried to close your eyes. You only had your eyes close for a minute when you heard a rustling outside of your dorms.

You sat up and surveyed the area making sure no one was inside as if anything important or worth stealing was inside the house, and after you saw no one inside, you checked the window closest to you. All you could see was a cult like gathering of fire flies and a tall ass figure in view.

And in your haze of delusions you went outside to greet the being.

You stepped out the door and down a couple of stairs to get a clear view of the male, and from what you could assume he was not bad on the eyes. He looked familiar, but your mind was blacking for a minute there; The horns were an odd part, but I mean there were furries here.

The male finally noticed you when you tripped down the last step and almost fell on your face, but you didn’t, so you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the male who looked like he could kill you which in your eyes is the one thing that makes a man.

The male and you finally locked eyes causing you to awkwardly smile at him while he just put on a confused face that you would see on a dog, and then, your brain connected the dots.

The horned puppy decided to start the conversation, “Child of man, why do you look sick?”

Kinda hurt, not gonna lie, but you have to hide it, “Wow, puppy, and to think I thought you liked me.”

The male’s face fell, “I never meant to offend you. Your appearance is concerning, however, and I do not want you to be facing any trouble here.”

“Nothing you can do, dude.” You shook your head, but you had an idea, “I mean, unless you can either let me borrow your shower or fix my water…” You threw in your sad eyes to make it more appealing.

The male was taken aback, “Your water is not working?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

The male gazed at your house, “I hope to be of some use to you with your troubles.”

You snorted at his response and began to walk to the house, “Well, dude, I’ve always wanted a boyfriend…” You raised your eyebrows at him.

The male’s face contorted in confusion, “I do not believe that I could offer any help at finding another for you.”

You shook your head, “You know what, let’s just go fix my water.”

You two finally entered the dorm and headed to the basement where the water tank was.

You pointed at the water tank, “I don’t know what to do. Please work your magic, magic man.”

The horned male pulled out his pen from his pocket and murmured some words only for a bright green light to appear and fly onto the water tank.

After a couple of seconds, you could hear water flowing into and out of the water tank.

You jumped onto the tall male and squeezed his neck to both hold on and show your gratitude, “You are the absolute best person I have ever met. I could just kiss you right now!”

The male stood there in your arms waiting to be let go you guess, but since you have not had a hug in more than a day you were going to take full advantage of this. You squash his neck between your arms and finally, when you heard a cough, you slowly began to let go.

“Really, thanks dude. I don't know what I would do without you.” You smiled up at the male in your appreciation.

The male bowed to you, “It was not a problem, child of man. I do not need your gratitude.”

You slapped his arm, “Oh, shut up! You are amazing and definitely need my thanks.”

The male shook his head, “It is time for me to go back home, child of man. I hope you are blessed with a great night.”

You walked with the male back upstairs and out the door. He waved goodbye and headed to two figures in the distance. One reminded you of sleep beauty as you named him.

You also found this as a great time to embarrass the horned male, “Since you fixed my water, I’ll give you a free pass for whatever you want in the future. And I mean whenever. But thanks so muchhhhhhh!” You yelled at the males with your hands cupped to your mouth.

The taller of the two other boys, the one who you did not know and was not sleeping beauty, was being held back by sleeping beauty for some reason.

You just threw your shoulders up and walked back inside ready to take a shower.

And the shower was the best one you ever had. If only you could get a change of clothes.