#every time i see this painting it makes me unhappy

[britneyshakespeare]

I feel bad for Margaret of York that this portrait is always used to represent her

fuck ass proportions!!!

[cheolhub]

ALL MINE — XU MINGHAO ࿐

summary. minghao is yours and you are his... his only.

wc. 3.5k

warnings. jealous!hao <3 f!nger!ng, oral (f. receiving), a lottt of possessiveness, kinda mean dom!hao, sub!reader lots of teasing, unprotected s2x, creamp!e, pet names, other members having a crush on u— MINORS DNI 18+

note. happy me weekend ^^ enjoy this fic of my beloved (or don’t, ur choice) reblogs and feedback r so greatly appreciated <3 also @toruro ily

minghao doesn’t like sharing. he hates it. especially when it comes to you. you’re his, for his eyes only. it’s the only reason why he refuses to bring you to hang out with his other friends. seokmin can’t keep his eyes off you, mingyu latches onto you like a puppy in love, jeonghan teases you and makes you giggle– a sound that wouldn’t be as infuriating if it wasn’t caused by another man. 

“i wanna see them, too, hao,” you pout after he tells you he’s going out with some of the members. 

for some reason, minghao feels his stomach churn. why do you want to see them so badly?

he doesn’t want to be controlling, not in the slightest, but he feels his blood boil every time his loser friends try to make advances on you. it’s not your fault you’re a doll, of course, but that’s all the more reason to keep you to himself. 

he sighs, “it’s just dinner, baby, chan and vernon wanted to try this new restaurant and mingyu invited me–”

“still not hearing an excuse as to why i can’t go?” you interrupt, furrowing your eyebrows. “c’mon hao, i haven’t seen them in weeks ‘cause you’ve been gatekeeping them.” you whine from the bed, watching him mess with his hair in front of the mirror. 

if only you knew how ironic this was. 

eventually, he gives up and allows you to tag along and it’s very apparent how unhappy he is about it. you can tell with his stoic expression and how quiet he is on the drive there. you’re partially worried as to why he was so insistent on getting to stay home, but those worries fade once you see chan, vernon, and mingyu sitting at a table waiting for the two of you. 

minghao’s arm wraps around your waist as soon as the small group notices you making your way over. you look up at him confused at his sudden switch in behavior, but ultimately decide against saying anything.

“Y/N!” mingyu cheers, standing from his chair quickly to greet you with a bear hug.

you beam, giggling as he pulls you from minghao’s death grip just to put you in another, “hi, gyu!” you attempt to say, but it’s muffled into his large chest.

when he finally lets go to greet your boyfriend, you look over to vernon and chan and greet them as well, “hi channie, hi vernon,” you smile at them sweetly and they can’t help but smile back while greeting you, both of their cheeks heating up. 

you soon feel minghao’s touch on your skin again, and all of a sudden you’re closer to him than you were before. you look up at him for the second time, a look of concern painting your features, “hao?” you murmur. 

he ignores your call, “sit at the end next to chan, love,” he tells you instead. he can’t have mingyu slobbering all over his girl. 

mingyu protests sitting back in his seat, but minghao isn’t having it. he gently pushes you to the empty seat at the end of the table while he takes the empty one next to mingyu. 

dinner goes well. for you at least, and it’s hell for minghao. he’s usually so patient– it takes so much to get him worked up, but with every giggle that leaves your mouth and every single look the boys send your way, he feels the temperature of his blood rise. 

the last straw was chan offering to take you to see a new movie– as if minghao would let that slide. 

before you could respond to the question, minghao scoffs loudly, “yeah, no.”

he doesn’t want to be that boyfriend. he doesn’t want to forbid you from hanging out with anyone. especially not his best friends. in fact, he should be happy that all of his friends love you, but that’s not what really pisses him off. it’s the fact that most of his friends want you that has him fuming. 

he abruptly stands from his chair, pulling out his wallet to throw a few bills on the table, “baby, i don’t feel that great, do you mind if we leave early?” his voice pleading as he looks down at you with a frown. 

you take in his expression and you instantly feel bad. “yeah, ‘s okay, we can go.” you murmur, standing to your feet. “bye everyone,” your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, yet you do so anyway at their confused faces before taking minghao’s hand. 

he says his goodbyes and pulls you out of the restaurant, hurrying to the car.

you’re not sure what to say as you notice his tight grip on the steering wheel. you don’t want to ask if he’s angry because he very obviously is. you say the only other thing you think will help, “hao… ‘m sorry,”

he immediately softens at your voice, knuckles returning to their original color as he eases up. “what? why are you sorry, love?”

you frown, “well, i know you didn’t want me to come and i get it… some people don’t wanna mix their love life with their friends ‘cause it gets messy.” you ramble in one breath. “i don’t wanna cause any problems–”

“baby, stop, i could never be mad at you, are you kidding?” he turns his head from the road and glances at you for a slight second. you catch a glimpse of his face and you can tell he’s being dead serious. “Y/N… i know you don’t see it, but my friends are attracted to you.”

“what?” you sputter incredulously. “no they aren’t!”

he rolls his eyes, “they most certainly are. i can’t blame them, though, you’re beautiful, but…” he mumbles as you beam at him. 

“but?” you question, a tiny, hopeful lilt in your voice.

“but… you’re mine.” he states roughly, feeling his anger bubble up again. “you’re mine and it pisses me off that they think they can have you,” he nearly growls. “they don’t deserve you.”

he was jealous? it made a bit of sense, you think to yourself, but the possessive way he spoke of you… that was new. 

you’re not sure what turns you on the most about the profound concept, but it does. you feel your face burn and your stomach swirl in anticipation. you feel your ego boost and the words come out of your mouth before you can comprehend. “and you do?” you say teasingly. “deserve me, i mean?”

“oh, sweetheart,” he croons, a small smirk playing on his lips. “of course i do.”

minghao knows he’s the best for you. he knows it in the way you never want to leave his side. he knows it in the way he’s made you smile every single day the two of you have been together. he knows it in the way he makes you scream and cry and shake while you cum for him every night. 

he has no problem proving it to you when you get home, pushing you against the cold door and instantaneously pressing his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. the way you let out a gaspy moan of surprise has his cock twitching as if it’s begging to be inside of you already. you relish in the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to invite him in deeper. his arms move to pull you into him, letting your tits press against his chest. 

you don’t really remember how he got you to your room- you can recall the slight stumbling and the way he tightly gripped your body- but you could honestly care less. the only thing you care about is him and the burning desire in your body to just be one with him. the clothing he impatiently shreds off your body don’t matter as long as he fucks you soon. 

you whimper softly as he shoves you onto the bed before removing his own clothes. you watch him strip and, god, you feel so fucking lucky. the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing while your arousal soaks through your panties– the only piece of clothing he left on your body. 

you feel like you might be able to keep your composure for a bit longer before he slips his cock from his boxers. this time, you moan, “minghao!” your pussy drools and drools and it just won’t stop. his length is so pretty– it’s long and flushed a pretty pink color at the tip. you understand now that you don’t want him. you need him.

“what is it, love?” he sends you a faux pout, hand languidly stroking himself up and down. 

“please,” you whine. 

his head cocks to the side as he feigns innocence. “please what, baby? you have to tell me what you want.”

“just…show me ‘m yours… show me, please.” you exhale, biting your lip as soon as the words exit your mouth. 

he doesn’t react for a second, but then you see his hand halt and the mocking pout is replaced with a smile. not the endearing kind of smile that he usually sends your way, no, this was different. this smile was sinful… unholy even. 

he coos gingerly. “oh? you want me to fuck you?” the condescending tone is masked with that syrupy sweet voice that has your stomach doing backflips. you feel so small under his sadistic gaze and you would hate it if it didn’t turn you on so much. “want me to fuck you till all you can think about is your hao making you feel good?”

you let out a tiny gasp before sending him a pretty pout. your bottom lip juts out while you eagerly nod your head at him. 

“say it.” he demands while dipping into the mattress, his hand ghosting up your leg causing goosebumps to arise on your heated skin. 

“yes…” you whisper as his hand gets closer and closer to your ruined panties. 

clearly unsatisfied with your answer, he reels back. “no.” he says gruffly, shaking his head. “say it. all of it.”

you whine again, growing desperate, “yes! yes, hao, want you to fuck me stupid– please? please fuck me, wanna be yours, only yours,” you buck your hips slightly in hopes that he’ll finally give you what you’ve been craving. 

it feels like you’ve been waiting a century for him to respond, your mind going to your wildest thoughts. thoughts of him pumping you full of his cum, marking your skin so bad that (even with all the makeup in the world) you couldn’t hide them, fucking you till you see stars– but as soon as you feel his hands tug at your panties, you come back to earth. 

“god– fuck, baby,” he groans as he sees your slick cunt. a string of your arousal clings to your panties as he tries to pull the soiled material off. “who’s got you this wet, hm?”

as if he didn’t fucking know. 

“you, baby, only you.” you gasp, body heating at the fact that he’s about to touch you. “hao, please, can’t take the teasing ju– shit!”

minghao’s two fingers plunge into your sopping heat, instantly curling inside of your gummy walls. his fingers are soaked immediately and you know because you can feel your wetness beginning to seep from your hole every time he pulls them out.  

his fingers, his hands– they’re so much bigger than yours. it’s incomparable. the way he can fill you with just his two fingers while three of yours don’t do the same has your head spinning. 

when he curls his fingers in that spot, you mewl and he knows to keep going. he hits your g-spot over and over and over till you’re clamping around his fingers, ready to explode. 

“gonna cum for me, pretty?” he pants, extremely turned on by the sight of you twitching and jerking just because of two of his fingers. “gonna let go and soak my fingers, right? ‘cause you’re mine?”

“mhm!” you whimper, nodding your head, unable to give him the verbal response.

his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the bud while relentlessly finger fucking you into oblivion. you gasp, moaning out his name over and over till it dies on the tip of your tongue.

your thighs tremble and before you know it, you’re cumming all over his fingers on a high pitched squeal. your pussy tightens, halting his movements and you shake while grinding on his hands to ride out your orgasm. 

“fuck, you’re gorgeous, look so pretty like this,” he nearly moans, pulling his fingers out of you. “can you give me more?”

“y-yes!” you exclaim, stuttering since you’re still recovering from your euphoric high. “please, more. i wan’ more.”

he hums, hooking his arms under your knees, eyes lust-ridden as he looks at you, “what do you want now, love? my mouth or my cock?”

you ponder for a minute, debating on the options. you want to say both because god only knows how his cock fills you so nicely. how it always hits all the right places that turn you into a whimpering mess for him. his mouth, though, is heaven-sent. the way he’ll tongue at your hole and his nose bumps your clit gets you so messy, something you both love. 

meekly, you ask, “can i have both?”  

he tsks, but he can’t hide the smile on his face, “greedy girl…”

he doesn’t wait for your reply, immediately positioning himself in between your legs to eat you out. he presses a tiny kiss to the inside of your thigh and your heart warms at the domestic gesture. even though he’s done it a million times before, you’ll never get over the fuzzy feeling it gives you. 

when his mouth wraps around your sensitive clit, you inhale sharply, holding it in your lungs. he moans at the taste of your arousal and cum mixing on his tongue. 

his delicate noises send shockwaves through your entire body and your hands can’t help but fly to his head, fingers threading through the silky hair. when his mouth moves to shove his tongue into your leaky hole, you fully choke on a gasp. 

“hngg, baby,” you cry softly, arching your back and subtly grinding into his face. the grip he has on your legs tightens as he tirelessly sucks and slurps on your arousal. with your eyes screwed shut, you throw your head back and moan, “fuck, l-like that!”

he hums again, “pussy’s s’good,” he mumbles into your cunt. “tell me how you feel.” 

the vibrations of his words prove to be too much as they make you whine again. “so so so good, mouth feels so good, hao, love it so much!” you babble, words slightly rushed and slurred. “fuh-fuck, and you, hao– i love you so much. only you.”

he chuckles against your heat, digging his fingernails into the plush skin of your thighs. your stomach churns as your eyes shut close. you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm and you fear your brain may turn to mush. 

when you open your eyes again you notice he’s looking up at you, stars in his own like he’s completely enamored of you. his tongue drags up your slit slowly before he reaches your puffy, swollen clit. he groans against you when your grip in his hair tightens, tugging harshly at his scalp.

he flicks his tongue against the bud, loving the way your thighs tremble in his hands. you whine and try to buck your hips against his mouth for more. your attempts at grinding against his face prove to be futile when he pins you down and detaches his mouth from your needy bud. 

“no no, baby, keep going!” you whine, trying to push his head back, but he shakes your hands off his head. you pout, “gonna make me cry, hao, please keep going,”

he smirks, “then cry, baby, don’t stop on my account.” he says, untangling from your legs. “you were the one who said you wanted both, did you not?”

you whine again, “i did, but i wanted to cum!”

“i think i spoil you too much, love– you just came, no? don’t tell me you forgot already,”

“you don’t spoil me enough, hao,” you huff with a frown. “i didn’t forget, i just wanted to cum again….”

“and you will if you’re a good girl,” he says, hands grabbing at the backs of your knees to push your legs toward your chest. “now are you gonna stop being a brat and let me fuck you, or do you still have more you wanna complain about?”

you shake your head, “i’ll be good…”

“that’s my girl.” he coos, aligning his cock with your hole with a big smile on his face. you gasp feeling the tip press against your aching cunt, but before he continues, he whispers, “now tell me one more time just how bad you want my cock.”

you curse under your breath, obliging with rushed words. “hao, i want it so bad– you know i want it, please don’t tease. i wanna feel you.” you plead. 

minghao smiles brightly at you, head spinning at your words. he loves the conformation, loves knowing that he has you wrapped around his fingers. he loves knowing you’re all his to fuck and tease forever. 

and so he pushes into your tight cunt, letting the tip stretch you open before cautiously filling you up with his cock. you sob, velvety walls wrapping him up into a tense hug as you clench around him.  

“fuck,” he moans, dragging out the word as he bottoms out. the head of his cock reaches deep, scraping against your spongy sweet spot. “baby, fuck, you’re so tight.”

you moan, clenching him tighter. “just fuck me.”

he grunts at the demand, pulling out and slamming into you roughly, “d’ya forget your manners, sweetheart? my cock has you so stupid you forgot how to say please?” he nearly spits as he begins to set his pace. 

you choke on your words, throwing your head on to the pillow and arching your back. “s-sorry.” you mewl out and it seems as if the apology makes his speed pick up. with every passing second, you feel him fuck into you faster and faster. the room quickly fills with your joint moans and the sound of his balls slapping against your sloppy pussy. 

he’s quiet for a while, just moaning and grunting, but all of a sudden you hear him growl and feel his thrusts get sharper– deeper. “look at me, baby.” he says breathily. 

your eyes crack open and you're met with minghao hovering over you, face close to yours. his breath fans across your face and he stares at you intimately. his gaze is so hard and lust-ridden that you almost feel yourself melt into a puddle under him. 

his lips ghost against yours, “think anyone could ever fuck you like this?”

“n-no, god, never,” you whine, feeling your brain empty with the way his hips slam against yours vigorously. 

he groans, cock twitching at your response. “that’s right. you know why?”

you probably would know the answer if you didn’t feel like you were ascending into another dimension, so you dumbly ask, “w-why?”

he punctuates his words with hard thrusts, the tip of his cock now fully hitting your spot with rigor and precision. “because you’re mine. all fucking mine.”

you cry, body jolting with every thrust into that spot. “fuck, hao! i’m gonna cum again, please don’t stop.”

he moans out your name, giving you more and more, “yeah? gonna cum for me? am i making you feel good?”

you sob loudly, nodding your head and letting your eyes close, “y-yes! uh-huh, gonna cum just for you– makin’ me feel so good, hao, fuck,”

you can nearly taste your orgasm, feeling your stomach tighten and your pussy clench tightly around your lover's length. it quickly bubbles up in the pit of your tummy and when you hear him breathily demand, “cum for me, pretty baby,” there’s nothing you can do to stop your release. 

you cum, coating his cock in honeyed arousal as you shake and tremble under him. the moans that leave your mouth are so pretty and minghao feels himself going crazy. you’re all his. only his. he’s beyond lucky that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. 

it has his cock twitching, and without warning, he’s pressing his cock all the way inside of you, spraying your walls with his warm release. he lets out a soft whimper when you clamp around him even tighter, keeping him trapped between your worn, messy walls. 

“hao,” you whine mindlessly, body still twitching under his. 

“baby,” he replies back, panting out the pet name. 

you swallow a whimper, mumbling out, “thank you… for showing me ‘m all yours.”

his heart squeezes in his chest and he chuckles at your words, “anytime, my love.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

taglist🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol

[baxndaid]

human vox

x reader 📺⛽🎤

an ; request more vox pls i love him, most of this is just me yapping

The year was 1952 and you worked in the upcoming film and TV industry. While it was just a small job reading through scripts to find typos or getting coffee for the more important figures, it was a job nonetheless and you enjoyed it.

A new show had quickly skyrocketed in popularity since its debut, a game show where you would have to answer questions in order to win the, most likely branded, items. Something like a washing machine or a supply of toothpaste. If the producers felt generous that day however, the prizes would rise in value, the show once giving away a brand new sleek black Fiat 1900. While the simple yet new and exciting premise of the show might’ve drawn viewers in, the host of the show made them stay. He was charming and handsome, he always dressed the part with a dapper suit and his hair was always done perfectly. Whenever he spoke, it was like the whole stage brightened up a bit, at least, that’s what you thought. His stage name was Vox, you never really liked that name - too sharp and aggressive, you thought. His real name was Vince, and you liked it better, though you’d never tell him that. You hardly ever had any interactions with the man other than handing him the script that the sponsors wanted him to yap about. He was charming, and you liked him - unfortunately it was just a pipe dream. You didn’t bother chasing after him considering you were just a small time employee while he was the face of the whole show, thousands of American women had their eyes on him especially when they turned their black and white TVs on between 5-6PM.

Fortunately for you, the producers had caught a glimpse of you backstage and wanted to spice up the show a bit. It was getting boring, other than the host himself there was nobody else the audience could attach themselves to. So, naturally, the best idea would be to introduce a beautiful woman, who was smart and shy - the “role model” if you will. You fit the bill, and how could you say no? You would be beloved by every household for your wholesome nature, (and especially loved by all the men in unhappy marriages and liked looking at the young women on screen.) And if you won? you could keep the winnings.

And you would win, because the show was now rigged in your favor.

Simply put, they wanted to paint you as the underdog, the vulnerable lady who simply wanted a chance to make some money. So when you would answer every question, even the ridiculous ones, correctly, the audience would gasp in disbelief at your amazing hidden knowledge and then tune into the next episode to see more of you and Vox. The truth was, the only thing hidden was Vox sliding you the answers to each question onto your desk. It was genius, really, the producers seemed to love the idea and so did Vox. Anything for ratings. You were still a little apprehensive, but you couldn’t back down after already signing the contract.

After winning one episode and becoming around $10,000 richer, Vox strategically pulled you in for a hug and gave you a polite kiss on the cheek to congratulate you for your “victory” in front of the camera. He was an amazing actor, you thought as he said his goodbyes to the audience and the cameras stopped rolling. Maybe he should ditch this studio and try his luck in Hollywood.

Once the room was no longer focused on Vox, he turned to you, his smile less big and forced and a lot more casual, “That was your first taste of show business, how’d you find it? Pretty nifty eh?” He prodded you with his elbow gently.

“Yeah, it was um- different… to what I usually do.”

“Oh yeah, forgot you worked here prior.” He looked at you up and down as he pulled a cigarette and lighter out from his pocket, “Say, since you and I are going to be working with each other from now on, why don’t we blow this antsville and I’ll buy you a drink?”

As he waited for your answer he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. You were surprised and albeit excited by his offer, but you decided not to go out drinking with a famous guy in the middle of the afternoon. Something something responsible adult.

"A drink? Oh, I don't know about that sir... It's rather late."

He scoffed and exhaled, a puff of smoke engulfed you as you coughed. "Don't be such a square." He looked at your face again whilst bringing the stick up to his lips once more, "And don't call me sir, makes me seem old. Call me Vince," He paused, "Or Vox, I don't really give a rats ass."

You nodded and took a small step away from him in a pathetic attempt to get away from the smoke. He smirked.

"I take it you don't smoke?"

You shook your head

"Look at you, I'm not surprised." He took another draw of his cigarette, "So, about that drink?"

You were going to be honest, you couldn't say no. He was so unbelievably pushy that it was practically impossible to turn him down without feeling like shit afterwards. He was THE Vox, America's beloved host! How dare you even think of saying no. So here you were, in his luxurious house, sat on his couch that probably cost more than your entire living room, and with a glass of expensive scotch in hand that he generously poured you.

He returned with his own glass and sat down next to you, laying his free arm behind your head. He took a sip, his gaze never leaving yours,

"You're a pretty thing, can't believe you haven't been casted already, or snatched up by some of the big dogs like Vogue." He said, a smile plastered on his face. "I think you and I will get along just fine."

_____

As he predicted, you and Vox did indeed get on well, normally chatting (gossiping) about who knows what in his dressing room after work. He had told you about his old job as a TV salesmen, and how he has this weird hatred for radios. Something about them being outdated and boring. You never understood. He learnt a lot about you too, your past relationships, your family, your favourite animals - you two grew close and he relished in the idea of getting even closer. The network had given you another job since you could only appear on Vox's show so many times. It was a higher paying job but not all that stressful since you now had someone to talk to about it.

The press had caught wind of your friendship and naturally began to speculate on it. You won his gameshow 3 times now, maybe you simply slept with him in order to get the answers? Maybe it was luck? Are you two truly just friends or are you dating? Or just putting on a show?

Vox loved it, he loved your flushed face whenever you'd read the title of a gossip paper involving you and your new friend, he loved touching you a little more intimately whenever you two were hanging out in public, and he especially enjoyed kissing your hand or cheek under the guise of being a gentleman in front of any fans that just so happened to meet them out and about. Luckily for you, these rumours went nowhere and remained as simple speculation. Did he want you? yes, he couldn't even deny it. You were funny and understanding, even when he wasn't in a good mood. You knew so much about him and he knew so much about you - the fact that you were gorgeous was just a plus. Additionally, you were fantastic for his public image; a darling little thing like you attached to his hip just fuelled his already massive ego since he loved showing you off. The only problem was - you were as dense as a brick. He often got a little frustrated since his flirtatious efforts were fruitless; you couldn't tell if he was being for real or just acting for publicities sake, so you opted on just ignoring his romantic (and sexual) remarks towards you.

And don't think for a second that you'll be getting a real soppy confession from him either. He would buy you expensive clothes and take you out to fancy dinners, he would hold your hand while you crossed the street together and he would cuss anybody out if they were pissing you off. His feelings for you would be confirmed by him sloppily kissing you on his desk one random afternoon after a few drinks and tears; maybe not the most romantic way to say "I love you" but it was close enough for him and close enough for you too.

[janovavalen]

✧UNLOCKING MORE OF HER || percy jackson x fem!reader

part one!

part two!

part three!

part four!

part five!

summary: percy jackson’s first days on camp were hell to say the least—fist day and he got bullied, but when he sneaks away to be alone he finds an interesting girl in the forest.

word count: 3013!

warnings: small curses (literally like one word and it’s not really a curse but it’s considered one) reader is daughter of athena, sister of annabeth, horrid flirting, reader lowkey not felling percy for the first half’s of this story line.

a/n: guys, i def think im like dragging this out to be a slow burn to like don’t hate me HEHEHEHAHAHA

when the day had just begun, percy was so nicely and beautifully woken up with his clothes being thrown into the wet mud by clarisse and her goons. they snickered as they threw us and made sure to twist their feet that laid upon them.

‘oh grate..yeah thanks for the painting on the shirt guys i’ll be sure to give you creds whenever someone asks where i got it’ percy pinter down at the first where his shirt laid that was once orange and was not poopoo brown.

clarisse seemed to be unhappy with the fact he wasn’t shaking in his boots and made her way over to him, shoving him into the mud right where his shirt was painted. grunting as he his the floor, percy looked up at the three of them.

‘dont think you're such a big deal just because you claimed you slayed the minotaur…i still don’t believe you did.’ she smirked down at him as percy kept his quiet, his eyes trained to look up at her.

sneaking she went to signal her followers to do more to his face—perhaps throw mud on it until they heard a stern voice speak behind them.

‘clarisse!’ she shouted.

percy pushed his led up with his arms that laid behind him in the mud, seeing it was y/n he felt the weight of the world set upon his shoulders. his face filled with red from the embarrassment that was unfolding. it just had to be her?

he wouldn’t mind criticism from grover or luke…or even annabeth? but y/n?

looking as she made eye contact with him, percy turned his head with embarrassment and she felt herself feeling a bit of pity for him. sighing with her eyes closed she folded her arms over her chest, her signature pose.

‘don’t you have places to be? other than pushing someone that’s not even your age into the mud to make yourself feel better at the fact nobody has paid attention to you since he git here? jealous are you?’ y/n looked clarisse up and down who scoffed and angrily as she bit the inside of her cheek.

‘let’s go.’ she demanded her goons who stood behind her. they shoved themselves past y/n who moved her shoulder before any of them could check her.

y/n turned to make sure they fully left them, she didn’t have the time to be pushed into the mud this morning unlike percy who shamefully laid down into the mud, accepting his fate.

y/n walked over to percy who looked up through his eyelashes and she looked down at him with only her eyes.

‘aren’t you going to get up? or are you going to sit there and look sad.’ she mumbled as percy looked around and scrambled his way up to eyes hight with y/n who stayed connected to his own.

‘i was going to get up…right when you walked in actually…’

she looked at his clothes as face before straightening her back and head. what percy didn’t expect was for her to reach out and rub the dry splatter of mud on his cheek that he failed to notice was there. his eyes followed her soft hand that rubbed at the hardened dirt. she looked at the rest of his face before humming to herself.

she didn’t say anything else to him, all she did was turn around and walk away from where percy stood. he was purely shocked, but nonetheless. he watched her walk away back to wherever she was really going.

that must have been a sign…it had to be a sign, today he would learn at least one thing about y/n.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as percy swung his sword at luke who dodged and turned, percy grew to accept the fact that every time they dueled it was a never ending repeat of who will win and who will be shamefully walking away to their cabin.

if nobody could tell the one winning would obviously be luke…the one going back to his cabin, would be percy.

‘come on! you can do it—‘

‘no no i can’t!’ percy grunted as he dodged some of luke’s attacks, occasionally getting a good swing in on luke here and there.

‘yes you can! we’ve been doing this since you got here, come on!’ luke encouraged as he pushed his sword over percy’s. the two of them coming into contact as he twisted the sword making it look easy.

percy may get lucky just now? maybe it will finally happen—

‘luke!’ she called out.

percy immediately looked away from luke who saw this as an opportunity and swung his sword at percy making him stumble and fall.

landing right on his back, percy blinked in surprise as he exhaled.

‘oh!’ luke laughed. making his way over to percy who laid on the ground.

‘never take your eyes off of your opponent’ he mumbled to percy who rolled his eyes. luke laughed and pulled out his hand to help percy up who accepted the help and let out a small thanks.

just then he remembered who was actually there. his eyes turning to her immediately, y/n stood, looking at the two boys who looked at her waiting for her to speak.

‘uhm…sorry to interrupt your bonding, but luke your needed at cabin five. some teens are disagreeing and there’s a small fight bound to happen’ y/n warned luke who stood there and rolled his eyes at the immaturity shining though.

‘right…uhm—thanks for telling me n/n’ he placed his sword into its holder on his hip and started to walk but before he fully left he stumbled over to y/n, his hand on her shoulder.

‘oh and please y/n, take him to the bows and train him. i was supposed to but y’know…’ luke gave her a pleading look as she went to intervene but soon gave up when luke looked into her eyes for a bit longer.

percy watched the two of them, his eyes trained on luke’s hand that didn’t leave y/n’s shoulder. he felt his hand flatten against his jeans as he looked up and down at the two of them before clearing his throat.

y/n turned to luke who looked away into the distance as she sighed in defeat.

‘fine…but if this is a thing, i promise—‘

‘i’ll never see the light of day again. i know i know, you're the best!’ luke shouted as he hurried to cabin five.

percy looked at y/n who shook her head at luke.

she wore something more casual as of right now than he saw her in earlier. when he saw her last, she wore more loose pants and a sweatshirt. but now she wore washed out blue jean shorts and the casual orange camp shirt that said camp half blood on it.

her shoes were high top converse like his own, her hair in a half up half down like annabeth’s and her usual necklace full of earned beads to show off. clearing his throat once more in the awkwardness of him just looking at her, unbeknownst to percy, y/n did the same.

‘so—‘ just before he could say anything else she turned her heel and began walking. percy took this as a small sigh and hurried his walk to be right behind her.

‘uh-uhm, i just wanted to thank you for earlier, when you told clarisse and her goons off’ percy looked over at y/n who turned her head a bit to hid the small snicker that failed to be held within her—he succeeded at seeing another emotion from y/n other than serious, dark and mysterious.

‘yeah it’s whatever…don’t mention it’ she mumbled while they cut their way through small groups of people who stood and talked or groups of people who walked by.

‘yeah but i feel like i need to…and i still wanted to thank you for helping me out of the forest the other night? you never let me—‘

‘i’m serious…percy.’ she turned her face to him, her footsteps stopping as she turned her head to him. their eyes connecting, blue meeting (e/c) as she held their eye contact—‘don’t mention it’ y/n finished.

percy nodded his head as the two of them continued to walk their way to the bows and arrows.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘pick your bow, and get down arrows. get enough so that if and when you fail, you’ll have some to back it up’ y/n spoke boldly ad the two of them stood alone.

luke so happened to pick a day when most of the cabins would be doing other training other than bows and arrows. y/n and percy had the small place alone.

no others. just them alone. together.

‘i won’t fail—���

‘they all say that’ she shrugged her shoulders as percy rolled his eyes and grabbed the arrows with his bow in hand.

once he got himself ready with the bow gripped in his hand and the arrow in his other.

y/n stood next to him, her figure not to far from his.

‘arms up’ she instructed. percy did just that. his eyes staying focused but his mindset focused on her—he didn’t know what it was but he found it a bit difficult to work properly and concentrate with her near him.

‘place the arrow on the bow and aim for the middle, if you can’t that’s fine, but i would be impressed if you ca make it into the middle’ she folded her arms over her chest like always as she waited for percy to shoot his shot at the red dot sitting on the target in front of him.

breathing out he looked to his backside where he was and mumbled—‘what if i can’t make it into the middle like you want?’ he asked. worried for her answer but ready for it.

she bit her lip a bit to make sure her answer was right. quaking up her eyebrows as she shrugged she began to speak—‘there are no what if’s…there are just doing. don't be worried about what others want from you. do what you want.’

she looked at him in his eyes as he looked down into the grass.

what could she possibly mean? how did that even answer his question…to be fair it answered some of it but not all of it. could her response be related to how she feels? could this be his opportunity to learn something about her?

‘okay…right’ he mumbled. she looked ahead while waiting for him to take his shot. percy prepared himself before pulling back his arms and shooting the arrow.

it flew into the air…it flew straight. could he get it? could this be his moment to empress y/n?

watching anxiously as time seem to slow he watched his arrow go straight, straight and soon straight into the dirt that laid behind the standing target.

‘hm…’ y/n mumbled making percy turn to her.

‘i almost had that! it must be the wind—‘

‘there is no wind today…it’s perfectly sunny, no clouds’ y/n looked up at the sky, prompting percy to do the same who of course did as he saw she was right. not a cloud in sight.

‘i—i wasn’t ready’

‘there’s more arrows…make yourself ready. there might come a time where your put up to something and you need to be ready’ she told him.

percy frowned his eyebrows once more and looked at her as he let his arms drop to his side—‘okay, what is up with you and these instagram superhero quotes or something? why do you keep telling me these things?’

‘telling you what things?’ she tilted her head a bit while looking at percy who scoffed.

‘might come a time, need to be ready?there are no what if’s—who says that?’

‘…me?’ she frowned, her eyes bows.

‘obviously you but why? why do you keep telling me these things?’ percy waited for a answer as he was only met with a small smile from y/n.

she walked her way over to him and fixed the beads on his necklace that laid atop his shirt.

‘your beads are in the wrong order…ones chipped?’ she changed the subject, of course. but she was talking, and that’s all the mattered in the moment.

‘i fell—‘

‘you were pushed?’

‘same thing.’ percy mumbled. y/n scoffed a bit while patting his heads over his neck.

‘you can get a new one y’know? if you're not happy with that one’ she looked him in the eyes before he nervously looked away and back at her.

‘i’m okay with it, it’s not like they’re gold or something’ y/n blinked at his response and hummed.

percy couldn’t help but look down at her own beads and saw the fact she had plenty…probably more than annabeth and luke. she had one that looked rare, the rest like the others. her and her shared at least two of them. he still had some time to go.

‘i tell you these things because somebody wasn’t there to tell me…we’re the same age i know, but that doesn't mean anything. i can still tell people things i wished were told to me’ she mumbled.

percy felt his eyes soften at her words and his hands loosen around the arrow that was once tight in his hand.

she wished someone told her the things he’d been telling here? could they be more similar in ways he didn’t know? just then it hit him. he learned something small about y/n. one down plenty to go.

‘wait—weren’t you supposed to train me today? i don’t think i’m well with an arrow yet, and i hear you're pretty good?’ percy tried to make y/n stay after seeing she tried to make her leave.

y/n had her back turned before she turned his way and looked him up and down—‘i couldn’t stay for long, i have others to train…i’ll train you tomorrow morning, i’ll tell luke he can have you in the evening. you better be ready, i don’t go easy’ she told while turning away from percy who stood his spot in the middle of the grass.

she wanted to see him tomorrow.

well…not like that. it’s for training but she didn’t have to offer it, but she did. so? this could mean something.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘it has to mean something right?’ percy stressed to grover who groaned while he threw his head back into the bed.

percy’s thoughts raced over and over, could she want to see him? did she want to see him? did she possibly want to know about him just as much as he felt the need to know about her? was this a prank? because if so it wasn’t funny.

after percy had found himself useless in forgetting about it at lunch he rushed us way to grover who had happened to be in his cabin resting. reading a book, with his pajamas on. his day was peaceful until percy threw himself into his cabin like a mad man.

he had been talking to grover about y/n for the past thirty minutes now, non stop.

‘i don’t know…maybe?’

‘but what if it doesn’t mean anything and she’s truly just trying to be a good friend right? wait….do you think she thinks of me as a friend?’ percy had a whole new possibility pop into his head.

‘maybe?’ grover mumbled while holding his head in his hands.

‘maybe? grover! maybe isn’t a answer right now, i really need your help and expertise! you know her right? your like twenty something so you definitely know her, how did she become your friend? how long did it take?’

‘like…two years? i don’t know, she’s reserved and very secretive, very stealthy too’

‘i know, it’s almost like she’s always around without me knowing which is kind of cool and kind of scary’ grover smiled and nodded at this before percy once more continued his speech.

‘but you didn’t answer my other question? how did she become your friend?’

grover wittingly looked up into the ceiling before letting out a breath as he thought.

‘uhm…i don’t know? i just…one day i guess she called me g for the first time as my nickname then after that she started to talks to me a lot more and joke with me?’

‘so, she didn’t really have a way to become your friend she just did?’

‘yeah i guess?’ grover shrugged as percy threw his head back into the bed, his hands over his eyes.

‘this isn’t helping at all grover!’ he whined into his hands as grover laughed and shrugged once more.

‘dude i don’t know im sorry! did you talk to luke?’

‘of course i did, he basically said the same things you're saying…’ percy sat up with a helpless look on his face.

grover felt himself feeling a bit bad and being unhelpful to percy and helping him understand probably one of the most hardest things to understand which was y/n.

grover let an idea pop into his head—

‘listen…she likes (f/f) and (f/c) try like…showing it off as you eat it at breakfast tomorrow and wear your one (f/c) jacket tomorrow, that might get a bit of her attention.’ grover explained while percy nodded.

‘—and if it doesn’t talk to her as you guys train, talk about new york, she’s always wanted to go. talk about anything that she might like…try to make tomorrow about her and maybe you might get five steps into her three hundred doors of being officially her friend’

grover explained slowly and lowly to percy who absorbed everything that he was being told. remembering everything he nodded his what and smiled a bit at grover.

‘thanks grove’ you really do help when you want’ percy teased him as he rolled his eyes—‘i help all the time don’t act like i don’t’ percy laughed making grover do the same.

taglist:

@ifilwtmfc

[bruciemilf]

Now I’m thinking of Alpha Martha scooping in like “is anybody going to love and cherish that omega” and not waiting for an answer. She uses every Wayne gala to flaunt her Omega and later, pup in Carmine’s face. The only reason she hasn’t killed him yet is that seeing his rage and sad plans to get Thomas back is amusing and if it ever comes down to that Thomas deserves the honors.

Gosh, I’m starting to fall in love with that concept. Just imagine stern browed, lethally beautiful Captain Martha Kane, infamously known for her service in the military.

She reeks of bloodied snow, and sweet pomegranate with a note of petrichor. Of gunpowder, grainy and dark and rich, and of something so alluringly nameless Thomas can’t shake off.

The rumors about her hawk like gaze aren’t just rainwater.

Her look is made of storms and winter and Thomas shivers when he sees her for the first time, walking aimlessly around Gotham’s museum. His mother’s museum.

Carmine’s now, legally.

She stops just besides him, — she’s tiny, for an alpha, and he’s big for an omega, and for a moment, Thomas feels vindicated. So they had anomalies, too. Good. They earned it.

“Beautiful.”

She’s referring to the exhibit they’re admiring together. She has to be. Thomas stays quiet.

“What’s your opinion about it? I’ve visited her hundreds of times and I just can’t understand it. Not correctly, I think.”

He scoffs, but otherwise, the silence continues to expand.

Of course no Alpha understands The Good Omega.

Right above them, exposed almost proudly, imprisoned behind a thin layer of glass with rose gold framing, with delicate ivory marbled in, The Good Omega displays an omega women kneeling by her alpha.

It’s not intricate, or complex in composition. It translates well, and it’s just detailed enough.

Her mouth is sewn shut.

It’s a blood painting.

“She used to be an artist, I believe, “ Martha continues, with just the barest twitch of discomfort in her face, but she doesn’t allow her attention to shift. “I thought maybe you’d have a better perspective about it.”

“I’m not allowed to speak to you. As you well know.”

She pauses for a bit. “I apologize. You have no collar on. Your alpha didn’t pick one yet?”

He hums. “He can collar me when I’m in the ground.”

Oddly enough, that answer satisfies her. Pomegranate blossoms on his tongue.

“It’s freedom,” he continues, not really caring about customs. He already defies them daily. “It means freedom.”

Martha listens, but she huffs, half confused, half incredulous. “That doesn’t look like freedom to me. “

“That’s because you’re used to it,” He grits, turning his own gaze on her. He’s been told he smells horrible when he’s angry. He hopes this tiny, beautiful alpha chokes on it.

“Suffering is the only freedom omegas have. It forces you to look, to awknolege. There’s no exits The freedom of existing, that’s all we got.” He scoffs, not even noticing she’s clingy to every little sound.

“ Enjoy it while you can. Its going in the junkyard next week.”

“The junkyard?” She echoes, almost offended by the idea, but the casual insult. “Who’d throw away something like this, omega? It’s too valuable. “

Omega.

Thomas wants to purr and he rages, almost.

His smile is nasty, and full of teeth, and he’s grown to love how alphas cringe at the sight of it. Not this one, thought. This little beast stares at it like it’s living art.

“The same people you fight for. Thank you for your service, alpha.”

Thomas turns, not bothering to bow, excuse himself, or make a respectful exit. One good thing about being a rich omega is that he follows no rules his alpha doesn’t specify.

Nowhere did Carmine say he wasn’t allowed to ditch gorgeous alphas.

—

“You’re back rather early, Madame,” Alfred greets her with a kiss on one of her brow, soft as anything, his like tea, blueberry and dark chocolate scent hugging her deeply.

He takes a whiff of her, frowns, both in intrigue and concern. “…Why do you smell like unhappy omega?”

“Alfred,” She says, “I want to retire. Would you be a darling and contact my lawyer?”

“Oh, thank heavens. Anything else?”

Martha’s gaze bleeds blue, her thighs buzzing with the sneer of Thomas’ anger still, “Can you ask him if I can legally kidnap a taken omega?”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can Jay read me to sleep pls? Family holidays mean I need comfort

Same. This fucking blows. Here's not that, but some Jason anyway.

"Stephanie," Dick said taking a head count of the assembled ladies in the party, "where is Y/N? We seem to be missing one particularly charming beauty-"

"Is she not-" Stephanie looked around the crush and bit her lip, "Oh dear."

Dick traded looks with Tim as Cass glanced at Jason who's Jaw had tensed as he scanned the crowd. "What happened?"

"She must have stepped away for a moment. She said she wasn't feeling well and Miss Vivian and Mr. Graham- you know how very proud they are of their library-"

Jason felt his heart kick up a notch. The Library. Right next to the room where a bunch of lecherous old fools and idiotic young dandies would be drowning their common sense and their manners at the gaming tables with appalling amounts of alcohol. And you were by yourself?

That would never do. Before he could think, or even grab one of his sisters to drag with him, he's gone. Not entirely sure how or why he feels like you need to be protected but. Hell if he's going to let some old codger ruin you and then make you out to be a scheming little harlot.

He wound his way up the stairs and through the hall, forcing himself not to run. But the relief that washed over him when he realized you were still alone- it was short-lived.

"Y/N?" he called softly. The room was dim but for a the moon and the streetlamp's light coming through the window. "Are you-"

"I'm quite alright, I just- I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I'll rejoin the party in a moment."

Jason edged closer the the sound of your voice, leaving the door ajar and took a deep breath. You didn't sound alright. You sounded desperately unhappy. And it needled. "Jason," he corrected, gently.

"I-I don't think-"

"I think," he said, forcing himself to keep his tone light as he worked toward your voice, "That my sisters will never stop scolding me if I don't give you permission to just call me Jason." You'd tucked yourself in a dark little corner, obviously intending to have a little cry, a sulk, or maybe just... a moment's peace but. He couldn't feel bad about interrupting you.

Not when you looked so much like a painting. Three weeks since he'd seen you. And all he could think about was how lovely you would look with a garnet necklace. And some less gentlemanly part of his brain added 'and nothing else'. Making him grateful for the darkness in the room so you couldn't see him blush.

"If you're sure-"

"Quite sure," he said, kneeling in front of your chair and offering a fresh handkerchief. "Don't cry, wildflower," he said, "Whatever it is-"

"It seems like every time we talk all I do is cry or faint," you murmur.

"Sometimes you make very funny jokes," he said. "Did someone ruin your slippers? Do I need to send Stephanie after them?"

"No I-" You break off and shake your head, "It's not serious. I shouldn't trouble you with it I just. I guess I'm being foolish-"

Before he could stop himself Jason gripped your free hand and bent his head to kiss it, "If you were being foolish you'd be crying in front of everyone and causing a scene," he said. He didn't add that you were foolish to be alone. Not now. Not when he was so close and the room was so quiet you hardly needed to do more than whisper. "Tell me?"

"I-it's going to sound so terrible."

"I promise it won't." Last night he'd tracked a murder suspect. And the night before he'd had to question a grieving widow.

"I- my Aunt and Uncle have decided that I'm to pay them back for my room and board. Which means that at the end of this Season I'll have no money and I just- what else is there?"

And when you start to cry in earnest, hiding your face in your hands, trying to make yourself smaller for comfort, Jason feels his heart twist. "Don't cry," he pleaded. "What else is there? Wildflower-" He stopped and pulled your hands from your face, tilting your chin up carefully and as he wiped your face, he couldn;t help it.

The air was thick. So heavy and full of the scent of your perfume that if he didn't do something- anything- Before he knew it his lips were claiming yours.

Not as tenderly as he wanted. Or as chastely. But when you squeak in surprise and then... melt. He can't stop. He just can't. You taste exactly as good as you smell. And your lips- like ripe, sweet fruit. All he can do is keep going.

And it's not untl he hears a crash that anything else registers at all.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Ghost watches you put your makeup on in the morning.

SFW, Extreme Fluff, Light Angst, Light Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Softness, Makeup, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Self-Indulgent, Ghost and Reader are In Love, Drabble

WC: 1k~

Another drabble, just because I'm writing fluff for a different WIP and I'm trying to work out some kinks. Also, I think Ghost needs some more peaceful content every now and again from me, I be making him unhappy as hell in my other stuff.

Masterlist

"You're staring again."

Simon blinks, that familiar silk-soaked voice of yours pulling him back into the morning. He sits up from where he'd still been lying in bed, the covers sprawled across him as though he'd just woken up from a battle deep within his sleep. It's had him moving rather sluggishly since waking, though that had been no complaint by any means.

It only meant he had an excuse to spend some more time with you before work; and right now, you'd been doing a hobby of yours he's come to really enjoy watching.

You stand firmly in front of the dresser on your side of the bed, irises glued to your mirror, and a deadly grip on your liquid black eyeliner. Your eyes had been the last part of your look needing to be completed, and you'd be dammed if you fucked it up now.

You bring the pen to the corner of your eye, with the kind of precision Simon has only seen outdone by the steadiest hands belonging only to his well-trained comrades. And even then you gave them a run for their money.

With the spiritual guidance of a painter, you gently line the ink to your skin, curving it back and forth from below your brow to back towards your eyelid, until you've outlined a sharp winged look at the corners of your eyes, filling them in.

They look perfect once complete. Though, when you stare at yourself in the mirror a few seconds too long, you frown, dissatisfied.

You lift your hand up and start using your pinkie nail to scrap the parts of eyeliner you'd begun to hate. Your attention remains here primarily, though you've never had issues multitasking.

"Still staring, Si'," you comment, having felt his gaze on you since you first put your foundation on. It's hard not to notice his eyes on you, given the weight that often came with them. A weight you'd happily hold.

"Wha', I can't enjoy the view?" He jokes, no doubt feeling just a bit more awake when he sees it's made you smile.

You look down at Simon, finally setting all your makeup back down on the dresser, wide-eyed with genuine concern, "Do I look OK?"

A small, crooked smile forms on his tattered lips as he chuckles to himself. Yes, you already knew what he was going to say, or what he wanted to say: you don't need the makeup. You could have your face completely done up or covered in mud, he would still love you. He would always love you.

Though he knew now, that's not the answer you were looking for. It took a while for him to understand that; he'd yet to understand the craftsmanship that truly came with applying makeup. However, seeing how happy you looked at the end of every makeup session all but spelled out the answer you'd really been looking for.

It wasn't about looking pretty or hiding, or even due to some superficial beliefs about womanhood or whatnot. You just really liked to do your makeup. And Simon just really loves to see you happy.

If this was something that made you smile, then it would always be a welcome thing to have around.

Simon sits up on the bed, letting his sturdy legs swing over the edge and his feet touch the soft carpet below. He reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you in so he could take a closer look at your work, the man still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Once comfortably boxed in by both his legs and arms, you let out a happy sigh, your gaze at eye level with him even as he still sat. Up close, with the dawn's light gently painting over his scarred skin, drawn by years of old stories he's only scarcely shared word of, he looked rather shy.

Every so often, when you traced over his skin while lying in bed, he'd oblige you with a story -- some heart-wrenching tale that only made you feel that much more endeared by him.

Sometimes he joked about wanting to wear makeup himself and cover all these ghastly sights on him. That way he didn't feel so vulnerable when your eyes would see them in all its miserable glory.

But you do what you have done since seeing them. You bring your touch to his skin, letting your fingers trace his scars' outlines and grooves, mending past traumas with your present-day love.

You look at Simon patiently, resting your hands against his broad shoulders. "Did the eyeliner fuck up the whole look?" You ask.

Simon's dark eyes bounce about your face, taking in the blush, the lipstick, the glitter and highlight, your brows, and then your eyes... His gaze sits still there, and any longer and you just might have started to feel yourself lean in.

"Hold on," his voice booms out suddenly, before he's brought his thumb to the corner of your cheek. A small bit of your mascara had dotted you, though he made sure to be as careful as possible with removing it for you. He hadn't wanted to mess up your hard work. "There you go."

He lowers his hand, taking another look at you. His expression softens, a smile forming. "Beautiful."

You smile, and it's everything and more he needed to start his day off with. Simon takes your hands, before pulling you even closer, until he's felt your lips take his sweetly.

It had been his favorite thing to start his mornings out like this, with just being able to hold you close to him, the sensation feeling as necessary as oxygen itself most days. When he'd kiss you, he only made up for that need by stealing your own breath away, his lips wrapped with yours like a sincere promise.

You cup your hands over his face, kissing him as you've felt his strong arms begin to wrap around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It squeezes the air from you and makes you laugh in his arms, as you pull back from your kiss.

That's when your eyes go wide and you start to giggle. "Oops."

Your lipstick was now completely smeared over the man's mouth, rubbing off on his chin as though you'd just given him a newly colored five-o'clock shadow.

Immediately, Simon knows what's been done, as you're a repeat offender of this. He gives you a quizzical look and smirks. "How do I look?" He asks.

You lean back in, letting your lips feather over his.

"Beautiful."

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 5

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, panic attack, blood, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this one, I may have gotten a wee bit carried away, though

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You try not to make your displeasure obvious as you scowl at your reflection in the full-length mirror; fighting the urge to tug at the neckline of the black dress currently hugging every inch of your body. “This is too much, it has to be.” You complain and Josie gives you a sharp look from where she’s smoothing the bottom of the dress.

“Oh sweetie, if you think this is too much, they’re going to eat you alive.”

“They?”

“Javy’s little fan club,” she says, giving you a knowing look before grimacing. You match the gesture, trying once again to reconcile with your reflection in the mirror. You don’t look like yourself. That much is clear. Your hair is down and Josie’s pinned back sections in some style that she promises will flatter your face but you don’t quite see it. You fight another grimace as you glance at your chest. The dress is low cut, perhaps not enough to be truly risqué but you tend to favor higher, more modest necklines. Still, you’ve never had your breasts on display like this and it takes all your self-control not to cover your chest. You remind yourself that you’re not you tonight. Tonight you’re a pawn in a game, a commodity that’s being traded in exchange for keeping your job. You take a shaky breath as you glance at your painted face. It’s caked in makeup much thicker than you normally wear. Your lips are painted a sinful ruby red that makes you feel more dirty than beautiful. Your nails are painted to match and you grip your wrist tightly to keep from picking at the fresh paint.

“Hey,” you’re torn from your self-scrutiny by Josie and she’s looking at you, concerned. “Roadie, are you okay?” Her voice is a lot softer and you’re about to ask why she’s so concerned when you catch the sparkle of unshed tears in your eyes in the mirror. You swallow hard, willing them away before they ruin your makeup that Josie’s worked so hard on. You nod, not trusting your voice as you feel a lump form in your throat. “Hey, hey it’s okay,” Josie stands up then and pulls you into a hug. “I know it’s hard, sweetie, I know.” She rubs soothing circles into your back as you tremble in her arms before she speaks up, voice thick with regret. “I hate that you’re so unhappy. I’m so sorry I even suggested this.” You shake your head against her shoulder.

“I-it was my choice. You didn’t force me to do anything.” You take a shaking breath and hate how wet it feels as you feel a pressure in your nose as the tears rise unbidden to your eyes again. You squeeze your eyes shut to keep them in and picture your class. Your students that you love so much. This is for them. You can do this. “I can do this.” You say and while your voice still shakes you feel Josie squeeze you in solidarity.

She pulls back to look at you, a sad smile on her face. “Tell you what? Get through this and we’ll have a girls' night this weekend. Just stay in, hang out on the couch, and watch a movie in our pajamas.” You give her a weak smile at the thought of that. You’d do anything to be in your pajamas right now. You heave a sigh, avoiding your reflection in the mirror as you head for the door.

***

You regret everything. Sure, the dress makes you feel exposed. Sure, the makeup makes you feel cheap. But none of those are even close to the horror show that’s proving to be these heels. You wobble across the lobby of Javy’s apartment building, terror keeping you in its clutches as you stumble to the nearest chair. You dig your freshly manicured into the back, struggling to rearrange your ankles into an upright position.

“Roadie?” You look up from where you’re glaring holes into the back of the chair to see Javy staring at you with concern. You give him a lopsided smile as you do your best to right yourself. “You look beautiful,” he says and you feel your cheeks heat at the offhand compliment as you try to wipe your sweaty palms off on the dress that’s not an absorbent material at all. You straighten to the best of your ability and head towards him, shoes forgotten and the sudden movement combined with the deathtraps on your feet immediately throws you off balance and you stumble with a squeak of surprise. Warm hands wrap around your bare arms, righting you and you find yourself face to face with warm brown eyes as you instinctively brace your hands against Javy’s broad chest. Your lips are barely a breath away from his and his eyes are as wide as yours. You feel his body heat radiating off his skin and warming you to your very bones.

“Hi,” you breathe the words against his mouth and you’re not sure if you hallucinate the way his gaze flicks to your full red lips, parted in surprise.

“Hi,” he breathes back and you swallow, sucking in the air he’s released like it’s a lifeline, the only thing keeping you upright. You’re instantly aware of his hands on your arms and you stumble backward, his hands not moving an inch as you feel them strain against you as he carefully helps you balance on your heels. You glare down at the traitorous footwear and you hear Javy chuckle softly and it coaxes your gaze to his. He squeezes your arms in his grip gently, a playful smile on his lips even as his eyes betray his concern. “Meep, what on earth are you doing in those shoes?” You scowl at him even as your heart hammers against your ribs.

“Josie insisted on them,” you grumble before muttering under your breath, “even if I can’t walk five steps in them.”

“Does Josie have some vested interest in you spraining an ankle that I should know about?” He asks as he loosens his grip on you, hands still hovering above your skin in case he needs to intervene again. You realize then that your hands are fisted in the silky fabric of his dress shirt and you loosen them, cheeks heating as you tentatively release the material, shifting your weight back to your feet.

“Not that I know of, but I can ask,” you answer, rambling as you focus on staying upright. Your legs wobble like a baby deer and Javy regards you thoughtfully before he shifts, removing his hands from your arms before offering you one of his.

“Here, hold onto me, I’ll help keep you balanced.” You hesitate before linking your arm with his and he pulls you close, tucking you into his side and practically holding you up against him.

“Oh,” you whisper in surprise and he chuckles at your reaction.

“I’ve got you, Roadie.” He says and you’re surprised to find that you believe him. You let him lead you across the lobby and you find that your legs don’t shake nearly as much with him to support you.

When you get to the doors an attendant is waiting with a fancy sports car idling in the drive. Javy takes the keys from him and you try your best to ignore the way his gaze brazenly moves over you, his eyes feeling almost greasy in the way they linger on various parts of your body. You feel dirty and you haven’t even done anything. Nausea churns your stomach and you’re struggling to fight it down when Javy’s firm voice cuts through your thoughts. “Jonathan, if you don’t get your filthy eyes off my girlfriend, I know plenty of people that would kill for your job.” His voice is full of barely-concealed rage but it doesn’t frighten you. You feel gratitude fill your veins as Jonathan sputters, face going crimson as he averts his gaze, chagrined. He murmurs a half-hearted apology to Javy but Javy shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.” He dips his chin towards you.

Jonathan’s face somehow manages to go even more red as he turns to face you, gaze darting everywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” You’re too shaken to do more than nod in acknowledgment and then Javy’s leading you around to the passenger side of the sleek black sports car. He helps you in before going back around to the driver's seat.

The two of you fall silent as he pulls out of the driveway of the apartment building and you shift in the low seat of the sports car. Javy’s grip on the wheel is as firm as the line that his lips are pressed in. You’re rearranging the unfamiliar fabric of your dress when you unconsciously give into your earlier temptation to tug at the neckline of your dress, willing the fabric to magically stretch to cover the exposed skin at the top of your chest that makes your stomach twist in knots. When the car stops at a red light, Javy slides his suit jacket off and then tosses it gently into your lap and you blink at him, surprised. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road but you guess he feels the weight of your stare.

“You can cover up if you want to.” He explains and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You take the jacket and fight the shame warring with your discomfort as you slide the jacket over your shoulders. It’s big, fair enough considering how broad Javy’s shoulders are but that’s lost on you as you’re suddenly enveloped by the heady scent of his cologne. The sharp, spicy notes cut through the musk and tickle your nose.

“Doesn’t this ruin the whole point of the dress?” You say after what you’re sure has been way too long as you come back to your senses.

Javy’s brow furrows, his fingers tightening on the wheel, angry at something you can’t see. “I would argue it sells the whole ruse even more. There’s nothing more intimate than my girl wearing my jacket.” You suppress the need to point out that you’re sure that there are plenty of things more intimate than that but you suppose he’s right and you do feel more comfortable now that you’re safely covered by the fabric.

***

Javy has half a mind to throttle Josie Fitch the next time he sees her. He sneaks a look at you when he stops at the next light. You seem content in the silence that stretches between the two of you and if he’s honest it’s the most relaxed that he’s seen you all day and he selfishly wants to let that last as long as possible. What was Josie thinking dressing you up like that? Sure, you look beautiful. He tries not to think too hard about the way you’d knocked the breath clear from his lungs when he first saw you in the lobby. There’s nothing indecent about the dress, it’s elegant and perfect for the restaurant he’s picked out for tonight. It hugs your curves perfectly, and he can’t help but feel his mouth go dry at the memory of the way the neckline accentuates your breasts, teasing him with just the skin at the tops and a peek at your cleavage. Your makeup just serves to underscore your natural beauty but the bold red lip is a little much.

None of that matters, though, when he can see how clearly uncomfortable you are. You look like an innocent lamb trussed up for slaughter. It makes rage run cold through his veins. The point of dressing up like this should be to bolster your confidence not tear it to shreds and his heart clenches as he sees you squirm, uncomfortable in your own skin. You’re naturally skittish and nervous but this is different. Even when you’ve picked at the hem of your blouses or dresses in the past it was more of a nervous tick, a side effect of being forced to exist. This is different. What was Josie thinking, suggesting this? He manages to fight down his anger, not wanting it to seep into his words for you to misconstrue before he speaks.

“Roadie,” he says, choosing his words carefully, and out of the corner of his eye he sees you turn to him. “I think you should get some new dresses. Some that YOU’RE comfortable in.” He chances a glance at you and you're staring at him, perfect lips parted in soft surprise that matches your wide eyes. He fights the urge to smile. It’s his favorite look on you and it makes him want to pull the car over and kiss it off you. The car behind him honks, jolting him back to the present and he collects his thoughts. “Nat could go with you if you want? She’s been hounding me about getting to spend some time with you. I promise you she’s not pushy.” You’re silent for a moment before you finally speak up.

“That would be nice,” he hears you hesitate and waits patiently for you to continue. “Are you sure it’s okay?” He’s about to ask you to clarify but you continue. “I mean aren’t I supposed to dress a certain way?” He feels his stomach twist with rage and disgust.

“Meep, you never have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.” He fights to keep his voice even. “You’re my fake girlfriend, not a doll.”

***

You wonder if you’re imagining the way Javy is vehemently defending your sense of comfort. All that disappears, though, when the words “fake girlfriend” pass his lips. It’s like he’s doused you with a bucket of ice water. You stiffen as you remember why you’re really here. Javy sweetness mixed with the headiness from being ensconced in his jacket and scent almost had you forgetting that this is just an elaborate act. When you get to the restaurant there’ll be a crowd of reporters that Zam sent anonymous tips, waiting to capture exclusive photos of you and Javy. You’re just here to play a part. You have to smile, pretend to hide from the cameras, and seem absolutely completely in love with Javy Machado. All in a good night’s work, right?

You realize that Javy’s waiting for you to answer but the moment is broken and you’re back down in reality. You heave a heavy sigh. “As nice as that is, I can’t exactly afford to get a whole new wardrobe right now, especially the kind of clothes I need for these sorts of events.” You’re on a teacher’s salary after all, and you spend any extra money on your art.

Javy doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s fair, I’ll pay for them.” Your jaw drops and your eyes bug out of your head. “Call it a part of the agreement. It’s not your fault that your demands don’t come with a dress code so I’ll take care of the clothes and whatever else you need. I’ll give Nat my credit card.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you stammer, still wrapping your head around his cavalier attitude towards this whole situation.

“You didn’t. I offered.”

“Well, I don’t accept!” You squawk indignantly.

“I wasn’t asking, Beautiful.” Your argument is cut short as Javy pulls up to the valet booth of the restaurant and you glance out the window at the soft mood lighting glinting out the windows of the impressive-looking building.

He folds himself out of the car that’s honestly too small for a hockey player but you have a feeling size didn’t factor much into the purchasing decision. Your door clicks open and Javy holds out his hand to you. You make sure to swing your legs out first and plant them firmly before you give Javy your hand and let him pull you to your feet. He links your arm in his immediately, steadying you as he guides you around the car. His body is shielding yours at first so you don’t notice them but then the flashing of lenses almost blinds you as the press that’s been camped waiting for the two of you start to cross the small space to the door of the restaurant. You curl instinctively away from the cameras and into Javy and he just pulls you close. You almost miss the quick tap of his fingers against your wrist before he presses his lips to the top of your head. You feel warmth spread through your body from the point of contact and you suppress a shudder.

Javy doesn’t seem keen on pandering to the press beyond your presence and the chaste kiss and he ushers you through the door of the restaurant. The inside is warm and elegant and you’re suddenly glad that you’re dressed like you are. The hostess guides the two of you across the dining room and Javy politely asks that she not seat the two of you by any windows and you feel a rush of gratitude at his thoughtfulness even if it feels counterproductive to the goal of the night. Javy pulls out your chair for you and you take a seat, pulling Javy’s jacket tighter around your shoulders in the cool air of the restaurant. You busy yourself with the money to distract from the nerves gnawing at your stomach.

“It’s just dinner.” You look up when Javy speaks up. He’s gazing at you over the top of his menu. “Just think about it that way. It’s just dinner. I’m not asking you to sit in my lap and feed me chocolate cake. We’re just two people getting dinner.” Despite your skepticism, you can feel Javy’s voice somehow easing your anxiety. “Oh but I do have one request," he says and you flick your eyes back up to his, a question hidden in them and he gives you a firm look. “Order whatever you want. There’s no one in here that you have to prove anything to.” You feel your cheeks heat and you’re saved from having to answer by a waitress coming to take your drink order. Javy greets her before turning back to you. “What kind of wine do you like? Or do you prefer cocktails?”

You squirm uncomfortably as you ponder the words you need to say. Glancing at the prices on the drink menu solidifies your resolve, however. “I, uh, I don’t drink.” You murmur, not taking your eyes off Javy as you manage to get the words out. To his credit, Javy just nods before ordering water for both of you. “You didn’t have to do that,” you blurt once the waitress has made her way back to the kitchen. “I don’t mind if you drink, you don’t have to have water for my sake.” Javy just arches an eyebrow at you as he arranges his napkin in his lap.

“Meep, I’m driving. I wasn’t planning to drink.” You feel your cheeks heat.

“Oh, right.” You stammer lamely and he gives you a soft smile.

“But thanks for letting me know you don’t drink.” He says and you cock your head to the side, confused. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally make you uncomfortable by ordering you something you’re not going to be comfortable drinking.”

“Well that and it definitely saves money.” You remark before your cheeks heat more as you realize the man across from you is in a completely different tax bracket than you. “Sorry, I just, uh, I forgot.”

Javy gives you a casual shrug. “I wasn’t born into this, Beautiful, believe it or not, I do remember what money means.”

“Oh,” you stammer, embarrassed all over again.

“After my first year in the NHL, I bought my mom a new house,” he says and the smile on his face is wistful and you can see he’s lost in the memory. “She gave up a lot for me to be able to play hockey. It’s an expensive sport that we didn’t necessarily have the money to be able to afford, but she found a way to make it work. I wanted to be able to thank her for that. It’s not always the case with sports, you know? That the investment pays off. I just got lucky enough that I got to go from being the most expensive kid in my family to being the one who can take care of everyone else. It feels good, like it wasn’t all for nothing, you know?” You nod along, content to listen to Javy talk. Everything he’s saying feels genuine and you can’t help the curiosity that tickles your brain.

“You said you’re from Louisiana, right?” Javy nods. “How’d you start playing hockey then?” He chuckles at that.

“Hockey’s not the most welcome sport in Louisiana, that’s true. There’s only one minor league that’s still holding on these days, but back when I was growing up there were a few and my uncle took me and my sisters to a game once when we visited him for the weekend. I fell in love with the sport instantly, much to my mom’s disappointment. My uncle, though, saw how excited I was about it so he started to take me to the mall to skate and then he found local rinks that had open skates, and he kept taking me to games. He would go to the library and read books and watch old games to try to figure out how he could train me without having to pay for lessons. I guess it worked because then he helped my mom get me into a tryout for some fancy middle school that had a hockey team and I got in on a hockey scholarship. Once I had my foot in the door I didn’t want to lose my chance. Thankfully I was able to use gear provided by the school for a while but once I got to high school I got odd jobs so I could afford the gear I needed to play. All the other guys on my team all had second rec leagues that they played for outside school on top of the school teams but that’s all I had so I put all my effort in there, hoping I’d get scouted to play in college. I got a scouting offer from the University of Arizona my senior year of high school and ended up going there on a full-ride and now I’m here.” He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without my mom and uncle. I’ll always be thankful for what they did for me.”

“You’re still close with them, then?” You ask and his expression clouds. “My uncle passed away from cancer when I was in college. He never married, never had kids of his own.”

“Javy, I'm so sorry.” You swallow hard, but you’re interrupted by the waitress coming back to take your orders. You take a long sip of your water while Javy orders before you order without looking at the menu. You’d been committing it to memory all afternoon since Javy texted you the name and you immediately checked out the menu online. Once the waitress retreats again you speak. “Do you miss him?” You ask tentatively.

He nods. “He was the closest thing I had to a dad. Mine was never in the picture. Neither my mom nor my uncle ever talked about him either so I just stopped asking. Plus, I had my uncle and that was enough. I just wish he’d been able to see me make it, you know? I would have loved to have him there at the draft and then at my first NHL game. He gives you a wistful smile as he sips his water. But I’m still close with my mom and my sisters, so I’m grateful to have that.” You nod in understanding.

“Do they live here or are they back in Louisiana?”

“They’re back in New Orleans, but I try to get back home to them in the off-season and they come to visit sometimes during the season. Sometimes they’ll come to the away games in Dallas with Jake’s folks.

“You and Jake are close, right? I saw the photo of you guys in college.” You clarify. Javy’s face lights up and it makes you pause and you watch the joy and fondness fill his eyes.

“He’s my best friend,” Javy says with a laugh. “We were teammates and roommates in college. He’s basically my brother at this point.”

“Have you been on the same teams since then?” You ask and Javy shakes his head, a melancholy smile twisting his lips.

“We were at first, we both got drafted to the Coyotes and everything was perfect. Sure it's nerve-wracking to finally be in the NHL and playing at a professional level but it never felt that way with Jake there. It felt like we were still in college like nothing had changed at all, and that was good for our game, you know? We played like it was natural because it really felt like it was. Jake’s always been the star, though,” you see sadness creep into his eyes and your heart aches in response. “He was improving at an insane rate, and people could tell. Jake’s a natural leader, though, and he was always trying to pull me up to his level. It’s what makes him such a good captain. And then he outgrew us, and got traded to Dallas.” Javy shakes his head. “I never blamed him for taking his shot. Professional hockey takes a lot out of you and without a good support system it can crush you if you’re not careful. Jake got the chance to go home, or as close as he could get to it, and man if I could have a chance like that I probably would have gone too.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.” You say and he turns to you like he’s just remembered you’re there.

“It doesn’t,” he says, trailing off. It’s quiet between the two of you for a long moment before he speaks again. “Eventually I got traded to, and I went to San Jose and it wasn’t terrible. I dragged Nat out to California with me and we had our fun. But when I got the offer to come to San Diego, to start something new, it felt like it was time to go.”

“And you’d get to play with Jake again,” you pipe up and Javy laughs before shaking his head.

“I had no idea Jake was coming to San Diego when I signed the contract.” You blink, surprised. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“So Jake followed you?” Javy has a sad look in his eyes as he shakes his head again.

“Not quite that either.” He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I forgot.” Your brow furrows in confusion. “That you don’t know everything.” He clarifies. “Most of it is public knowledge at this point so I just assume everyone knows already.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying again to smooth your sweaty palms over the nonabsorbent fabric of your dress and then settling for playing with your fingers.

“No, no you don’t have to apologize.” He waves you off with a firm shake of his head. “It’s nice, not having someone know every single thing about me before I tell them. I think I forgot what that’s like.”

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks heat as the waitress arrives with your food.

***

Dinner passes without incident and you slowly feel yourself getting used to Javy. He seems to be content doing most of the talking and you’re content to listen. The food is delicious and about halfway through the meal a jazz band strikes up some soft music providing a cozy backdrop. You notice Javy tapping his toes under the table. “Do you like jazz?” You ask.

“Beautiful, I’m from New Orleans, I LOVE jazz. More than love, it’s in my blood, mon amour.” You flush under the terms of endearment that normally you’d blame on alcohol except for the fact that Javy’s continued to join you by drinking water all night.

“I didn’t want to assume,” you whisper and he smiles, widely.

“Well, you assumed correctly. Come. Dance with me, Beautiful.” Javy extends his hand to you and your eyes go wide like a deer in the headlights.

“I-I can’t,” you stammer and Javy shakes his head, insistent. “Javy there’s no one else dancing,” you insist, glancing around the room at the other groups dining around you. Sure there’s a small space in front of the band that could serve as a dance floor if necessary but no one seems keen on utilizing it.

“Come on, Beautiful. Dance with me.” Javy says again, standing from the table and your eyes widen in terror.

“I told you, Javy, I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I can’t in these shoes.”

“So take them off,” you give him a look of pure horror.

“Javy, PLEASE. Please don’t make me.” You beg, terror gripping your nerves and you see something you can’t identify pass across Javy’s face before he nods and stands up straight.

“I’ll let you off the hook tonight, Beautiful, but I’ll get you to dance with me yet.” With that, he turns away from the table and your heart sinks in fear. Is he leaving? Without you? Certainly not, he hasn’t paid the bill yet. You reach out without thinking but Javy’s already moving across the room over to where the band is playing. You see him lean over to speak with them before he slips one of the microphones arranged around the musicians out of its stand and moves into the center of the would-be dance floor as the band starts playing again.

“I'm just a gigolo. Everywhere I go, people know the part I'm playing.” Javy begins to croon into the microphone and you notice a few patrons look up from their dinner as your face flushes even hotter. He’s not a bad singer, rough and unrefined but it suits the light jazz tune. “Paid for every dance, selling each romance. Oh, what they're saying. There will come day when youth will pass away. What will they say about me? When the end comes I know, they'll say just a gigolo. Life goes on without me.”

Your face heats as you process the words he’s singing. His expression is part sultry and part fun as he delivers the words.

After he repeats the verse he’s just sung the tune starts to pick up. “'Cause I ain't got nobody. Nobody cares for me. 'Cause nobody cares for me. I'm so sad and lonely. Sad and lonely, sad and lonely. Won't some sweet mama come and take a chance with me? 'Cause I ain't so bad.” He scats slightly as he sings and you can’t help the way your lips part slightly in surprised admiration. He reaches a hand in your direction, urging you to join him as the music transitions into a more instrumental section. The jazz is in full swing now and you feel the music as well as Javy calling to you in a way you’ve never experienced before. The sad lyrics contrasted with the upbeat tune fill your heart with a familiar melancholy that’s usually reserved for quiet nights alone spent working on your art and you think maybe that’s what makes you stand on wobbly feet and carefully make your way to where Javy’s swaying with the microphone and crooning and scatting into it. His eyes light up when he sees you coming and makes sure to meet you at the edge of the dance floor before gently taking your weight off your unsteady feet as he eases you into his arms.

He’s ditched the microphone at some point and a member of the band has taken up the vocals but he croons the words into your ear as he gently sways with you. He makes sure to keep the steps simple enough for you to keep up in your heels. Suddenly you’re at your senior prom all over again, in Andrew’s arms instead of Javy’s and then you’re tripping over your feet as your daydream bursts and you're grabbing at Javy’s silky shirt for purchase as his arms shift to keep you from falling.

“Easy, Meep, you okay?” He says and you see him searching your face. You nod, not trusting your voice until you clear your throat.

“I think I’m all danced out.” You whisper and he nods, gently guiding you back to the table where a giant slice of chocolate cake is waiting for the two of you.

“Here, Meep, eat some cake.” He says as he pulls out your chair for you. You nod absently, and while on any other day, you’d probably have loved the decadent desert but it tastes like dirt in your mouth as try to finish it quickly. “Meep, are you okay?” You don’t answer as you try not to empty your entire water glass in one go. “Roadie,” Javy says, reaching a hand out to touch your arm but you flinch away from the touch and he instantly pulls away, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I’m sorry, I just. I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m ready to go home.” You whisper, head down and eyes focussed on your worrying hands.

“Okay. Okay, let’s get you home then.” You hear Javy flag down the waitress and pay the bill before he’s gently pulling your chair out and helping you to your feet, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders. “Meep,” he whispers to you as the two of you make your way to the door. “There’s going to be paparazzi outside, I’ll do the best to get us through there as fast as possible but I want you to have a heads up. I’m going to kiss you so they can get their shot and get out of our way, okay?” You nod, numbly, struggling considerably to plaster what you hope is an amorous smile on your face.

Javy doesn’t look convinced but he tucks you into his side nonetheless. Even Javy’s warning doesn’t fully prepare you for the onslaught of flashing lights when you exit the restaurant and you curl into Javy and he pulls you closer in response. He guides you to the car that’s been pulled up and he opens the door, tapping your wrist three times quickly before he kisses you. You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of kissing him but the door bumps your leg and you stumble. You throw your arms around Javy’s neck to catch yourself accidentally deepening the kiss and Javy slides a warm hand to hold your back against him before he pulls away, a concerned look in his eyes as he helps you fold yourself into the cramped interior of the car.

You tug Javy’s jacket further around you as you wait for Javy to come around to the driver’s side, trying to fold into yourself but as you tug the fabric closer, the scent of his cologne floods your nose, but this time it feels like a smokey snake, forcing itself down your throat and choking you. You shove it away, pushing the fabric down your shoulders as the night air chills your skin, urging you to pull the jacket back up. Instead, you wrap your arms around yourself as Javy opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. Your eyes are locked on the console in front of you as you will the drive to be over as you hear the rumble of the engine coming to life.

“Meep?” You hear Javy calling out to you, concern in his voice as he pulls away from the restaurant. You don’t answer as you climb deeper into yourself. “Roadie?” His voice calls again but it sounds farther away this time. You still don’t answer, tugging on your arms, trying to get smaller and smaller as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to escape the moving car. You don’t realize the car has stopped until you feel the hands on your arms. Javy’s calling your name but you don’t answer. He must lean closer because your throat is once again violated by the scent of his cologne and you’re moving on instinct as you shove him away. You’re moving like you’re fighting through water as you shove at the seatbelt and fumble with the door to the car as you struggle to get out.

As the night air whips your hair around, you stumble, colliding with a cement partition. The salty air is like a shock to your system and your eyes shoot open as you come face to face with the blackness of the ocean. Your hands shoot forward to grab the partition before you can topple over it and you sink to the asphalt as the adrenaline leaves your body like it's been punched out alongside your breath. You don’t register Javy calling for you until he’s crouched in front of you, your terror reflected in his eyes, his hands shaking in time with yours as they cup your cheeks, searching your face. The world comes back into focus and you hear the rush of cars mere feet away on the highway as you realize Javy’s parked on the shoulder.

“Hey, hey, Roadie you okay?” Javy’s voice is shaking along with the rest of him. You nod, or at least you try to. Before you can stop him, he’s pulling you against him and you can feel the thunder of his heart through your chests pressed together. He releases you as quickly as he hugs you like it’s the product of an instinct he couldn’t suppress and then he’s taking more measured yet still shaky breaths.

“Javy?” you don’t recognize the voice that comes out of your mouth. He looks up and his deep brown eyes bore into you with a kind of cautious curiosity. “Can you take me home, please?” That seems to sober him up and he stands, offering you a hand to pull you up after him. You take it after pausing to fumble with your outfit for a moment. When you stand on your feet, you feel more stable than you have all night. Javy starts to lead you back to the car but you pause, turning back to the roiling ocean behind you and you toss the heels over the edge of the partition. The asphalt is rough under your feet but you feel grounded.

***

Javy can’t help the pride that slips onto his face as he watches you toss Josie Fitch’s overpriced deathtraps over the edge of the highway, down into the ocean below. His heart stopped when you’d practically dashed out of the parked car but from the terror he’d just seen in your eyes it seemed like maybe even you hadn’t been aware of your actions. Something in the restaurant had set you off, he just can’t figure out what. You’d been alright since you’d gotten settled there, you’d even worked up the courage to dance with him, and then just as quickly as it had come, some kind of invisible wall had gone up in your eyes and you’d shut him out.

He knows he shouldn’t care but he wants to know why. More than he’s wanted to know anything in his life before. He carefully leads you back to the car, worrying about your bare feet on this disgusting stretch of shoulder but you don’t seem concerned. You seem to have come back to yourself but you’re silent as he helps you fold yourself back into the car before he crouches down beside you. You give him a puzzled look as he holds out a hand to you so he reaches gently out for your feet. You start in surprise when his fingers brush your bare ankle but don’t pull away so he wraps his fingers around the soft skin and gently eases your foot into his grip. He examines the bottom, looking for any sort of injury, sweeping at the dusty skin, brushing aside dirt and small pebbles of asphalt clinging to your skin. Your first foot seems fine so he moves on to the other one. His lips pinch into a thin line as he reveals the underside and his eyes catch on a tiny piece of glass stuck in your skin. “Shit,” he mutters and you shift above him.

“What?” He hates how weak and scared your voice sounds.

“Easy, Beautiful, stay still for me for a second?” He looks up in time to see you nod. He shifts to reach for the glove compartment, popping it open. He pulls out a leather case and a pair of socks. Jake’s always so insistent on impromptu bowling outings that he keeps an extra pair of socks in all three of his cars. The leather case is from Nat’s insistence on being prepared for emergencies and for the first time he’s glad for her insistence as he unzips it. He takes out the first aid kid, first ripping open an alcohol swab and cleaning the area around the glass before he pinches it between his fingers and tugs it free. Your foot twitches as he hears the hiss of your breath. He tosses the offending shard somewhere behind him as he looks up just in time to see your teeth digging into the plump skin of your lower lip and liquid dancing at your lash line as your eyes meet his. “This will sting for just a second, okay?” He asks and you nod as he rips open another swab and swipes over the cut that’s starting to dribble blood. You hiss again and then he’s putting a bandaid over the cut. He rubs the top of your foot gently. “There we go, Meep, all done.” He reaches for the socks then, and gently eases one over each of your bare feet. Their slightly too big but it’s endearing. He stands then, wiping his hands on his pants. “Let’s get you home, Meep.” You nod silently.

***

Your foot throbs slightly in the background of your mind as you lean your head against the window. Javy’s socks are too big and a little scratchy but you don’t mind. You know throwing your shoes was stupid but Javy hasn’t said anything about it. You’re exhausted from the panic attack and the adrenaline of almost taking the tumble off the side of the road. You just want to be home. You don’t notice that you’ve drifted off until Javy’s gently shaking your shoulder to let you know that you’re here. But when you blink awake blearily you realize you aren’t at Javy’s apartment where you parked your car but instead, you’re in front of your apartment building. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you’re suddenly very aware of the stark difference between your dumpy suburban complex and Javy’s sleek luxury apartment building.

“I texted Josie and asked for your address and she said she’d pick you up tomorrow morning and drop you off at my place to pick up your car tomorrow,” Javy explains and you nod numbly.

“Thanks,” the word falls lamely off your lips. Javy climbs out of the car and comes around to help you out on your side. You give him an awkward tight-lipped smile as you fumble in the tiny clutch Josie lent you for your keys. “I’ve got it from here,” you assure him as you start to step away from him towards your building. The idea of Javy seeing your apartment right now is mortifying.

“Beautiful, if you think I’m not walking you to your door, you have another thing coming.” You’re exhausted so maybe that’s why your walls fall away as your brow tightens in irritation.

“I said I’m fine.” You frown slightly at him and he just crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re hurt, you’re actively limping,” you glance down to see where your posture has shifted instinctively to favor your uninjured foot, “and it’s late. I’m walking you to your door. Either you can let me help or I can carry you, your choice.”

Your jaw drops at his brazen threat. “You don’t know what unit I live in.” You cross your arms across your chest and tilt your chin out, letting your anxiety and exhaustion channel into stubbornness.

“I’ll take that bet,” Javy says, grinning lazily at you. “Come on, Meep, let’s just go.”

“Fine,” you mutter and lead the way to your door, refusing Javy’s offer of a hand to steady you, favoring the railing of the stairs as you climb up to your floor. When you reach your door, you make sure to unlock it in front of Javy before you turn to him. “Goodnight, Javy. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” He nods, accepting your clear lack of an invitation to come in.

“See you, Roadie.” You watch him walk back down the hallway towards the stairs before you duck inside and lock the door behind you.

A/N: That was a LOADED chapter, but octopus soup day is up next!!! The song Javy sang was Just a Gigolo/ I Ain’t Got Nobody by Louis Prima, I was thinking about it one day and thought it would be a hilarious addition to the fic.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Godly Intervention

You guys have voted and picked.

THE LORE!

So here we are. With lore :3

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Get in here @spotaus

*---------------*

Reaper glances around for a moment as he searches Outertale. Trying to not be seen by any universe goers. He should be somewhere here...

Reaper makes sure to stay out of sight. best to not spread panic when he is seen in public.

Luckily this shouldn't be too hard.

Error is very predictable with where he hangs out.

The only reason it took Reaper this long to do this is because he is busy and at work.

He floats to the next asteroid and spots the one he had been looking for. He goes over and sees Error just tugged away between the rocks as he works on something in his hands. it looks like a beanie but it is rather small. It is very unlike Error to make somethign the wrong size when he sets his mind to it.

Error doens't even look up "No i don't know where the paint drinker is."

Reaper crosses his arms as he floats next to him "I am not looking for Ink. I was looking for you."

Error hums and keeps looking at his knitting "Will congrats. you found me. I am busy."

Reaper leans against the rock "This is not something that can wait Error."

Error sitll does not looking up "I am not in the mood for more god lessons Reaper."

Reaper just watches the other and speaks "I know you are hiding him."

Error's hand spasms before he continues knitting. One of the loop is now not the right size but Error ignores it "I don't know what you are talking about."

Reaper sighs "Error I know your magic. I know you put a wall of some sort around an universe. And I have seen the code change in other universes as well. I know you moved stuff around. You aren't nearly as sneaky as you think you are." and he glares at him "Which is why i am here. You need to be more careful."

Error actually stops and shoots him a curious glance "What?"

Reaper just stares at him "You need to be more careful and clean your tracks better. Your magic is very obvious and it is bond to get noticed by other gods." he gives him a look "And Fate and Balance both will be deeply unhappy if they find out."Balance had not been happy when it became obvious that Dream, and so assumingly Nightmare, picked something outside her domain.

Fate hadn't minded much until it became clear that by their picks both of them could change the endings of certain stories.

Long and short of it. Both are deeply unhappy with the twins. But Dream had managed to find his inner punk and just told them he doens't see how that is his issue anymore as he doesn't work for or with either of them.

Again. Fate and Blance are very unhappy. Especially if they find out that Error of all gods knew where Ngihtmare has been hiding this whole time.

Error keeps frowning at him and looks to the side "How did you figure out?"

Reaper sighs as he rubs his neck "As i said. I felt your traces of magic all around. but i didn't know why. Then I saw a viewing window and could hear Killer shouting for Nightmare about dinner. I left before i learned more." plausable deniability. Makes it easier to lie to gods as long as a part of your answer is still the truth.

Error curses and nods "Fuck yeah. I will keep an eye on my windows... Not used to having people come by."

Reaper nods "You are lucky that Ink has the memory os a sponge."

Error snorts "please. If i was lucky he would ahve a working memory and i would havne't to remind him of the importance of destroying every few weeks... or our fucking truce for that matter." he glares into the distance.

Reaper sighs "Look. All I am saying. Stay safe and try to be more cautious. If Fate and Balance find out you are in trouble."

Error laughs "hah! Not like it matters. They hate me anyway."

reaper shoots him a serious look "They can seriously hurt you Error. your domain is connected to theirs."

Error shrugs "euh. They didn't care enough to stop the war between Ink and me. Why care about this?"

Reaper knows why. The two hate losing. and the twins finding a way to sneak out of their overwhelming domain? Yeah, they see that as losing.

Reaper sighs as he turns. He did what he came here for "I just figured you should know."

Error frowns "How much did you see? through the window?"

Reaper tilts his skull. strange but sure. "I saw nothing. just heard Killer calling for nightmare. I left right after that."

Error sighs in relieve and nods "good... Why are you even helping me?"

Reaper gives error a look before shrugging "You and Geno are friends." which is the loosest way to describe their situation and weird soul split kinda brother situation.

Error snorts loudly as he shakes his own skull "Your crush on him is hilarious by the way." he looks back to his knitting thing and starts to undo some of the work to get to the out of order loop. "And you call me obvious." Error snorts to himself.

Reaper glares at him "Just be less obvious." and he quickly leaves.

Sigh.

he will catch both of them for more god explanation and training later. He needs to do stuff.

*---------------*

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[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Seventeen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, smut, dubcon, hair pulling, dirty talk, subby Tom, but also dommy Tom

— WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Evil though he was, she rewarded him later that night.

They were done with work and sore from it, their flesh aching from the sitting and standing and the autumn chill that beat against them as they walked toward her home. They soothed each other in bed, their nightclothes forgotten, and nestled on soft pillows beneath her ridiculous floral duvet while a mournful opera in low volumes played in the background. They had only wine for dinner. Her body was sapless and her skin cold, but her lips were painted royal scarlet from the wine, more tempting than any of her lipsticks could make it. Not that Tom had many opportunities to see them, as they lingered on his own in kiss after kiss, straying to his cheeks and chin, and every time she’d pull away he’d pull her in again.

“You are a very naughty boy,” she purred, smiling.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Have you?”

“Often.”

“I wonder why…”

“You don’t want to know.”

Her kisses stilled and she paused in thought above him. Her hands rested gently, lazily, around his jaw as she fixed him with a warning glare.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly.

“How do you know what I think you meant?” she asked with a dangerous smile.

The faint light from the lamp far on the desk behind her drew long shadows from her lashes. It gave her a wild and innocent look. He wanted to see it for a while longer.

“It’s not so hard,” said Tom. “You’re as transparent as shed snakeskin.”

She chuckled and rested her chin on his chest. “Who do you think you’re sweet-talking?”

“I think I’m sweet-talking you. Is it working?”

“Only because you’re so pretty,” she said with a smile.

Tom laughed. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, but this time it didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. Perhaps it was because she said it to tease him rather than flatter, or because she was on his body, in his arms, keeping him warm.

“So what did you mean?” she asked.

His smile mellowed to a lazy curling of the lips, and he whiled away a few silent moments curling a lock of her hair around his finger as he debated with himself whether to tell her the truth… That he’d killed people before. Just as he suspected she did or had a hand in doing when he sent Clement to her. But then, if he said it, maybe it would awaken too unhappy feelings in her and ruin their quiet, pleasant evening.

“Something that you would not like,” he said with a brush of his fingers across her cheekbone. “But which would comfort you, I think.”

She frowned and a pensive pout bloomed on her lips. “I hate it when you speak in riddles.”

Tom cocked a brow.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to make a joke of it, honest,” she giggled.

“Mhm…”

She bit her lip to stop her laughter. “Still, I hope one day you’ll tell me,” she said, tracing the edges of his lips with her finger as if she could charm them to open and reveal his secrets. “Maybe when you will think me most in need of comfort.”

“Maybe.”

“In fact, I feel myself in need of comforting right now…”

“Is that so?”

“And maybe, if you will stop brooding…”

“I think I’ve given you enough comfort for today.”

“I see,” she pouted, her eyes tracing his face like a caress. “So you would like me to return the favour now?”

Tom held her gaze, a small smile taking its place back on his lips. He kept himself a little distant but his hand was laying heavily over her waist.

“But you don’t want to ask for it,” she guessed.

He kept his silence, but let his lazy smile tell all. She understood.

He’d surmised long ago that she had her own pride and it took a bit of breaking through his prejudice of muggles to recognise that, in fact, she had reasons to be proud. And almost as soon as he noticed that about her — perhaps it happened when he overheard her holding her own against her mother on the telephone, or working diligently with clients at the shop, or getting ready in the morning as best as her few belongings could allow — he remembered several witches and wizards, like Mr. Burke or the ignorant Hepzibah Smith, who in contrast were revolting to look at, repulsive to converse with, and filled with arrogance, but had no pride because they had nothing to be proud of. No accomplishments, no talents, nor any respect and reverence for the beautiful magical things they were guardians of. It chilled Tom to think it, but the woman in his arms deserved more of that beauty and magic than many of those who, through an accident of fate, were born to it.

Before he lost sight of the moment he leaned in to kiss her and distract himself. She smiled and he felt it on his cheeks. He pulled her closer slid his other arm beneath the duvet to feel her skin, caress her sides, and refresh his body’s memory of her. That they both wore nothing greatly helped. She hummed in pleasure and reached down, her fingers, hot and quick like licks of flame, dragging down his chest with a little detour here and there to tease him before settling on his waist and curling on his narrow hips.

“You’re not too tired?” he asked.

“Do you want to stop?”

“… No.”

“Then no, I’m not,” she smiled.

He felt her legs uncoil from where they were crossed on top of his and she straddled him. Her hand gently held his head, fingers threading through his hair until her nails just lightly scraped against his scalp. Tom had never felt more feline or more inclined to purr. He closed his eyes and sighed against her lips as her body brushed against his back and forth, letting him taste the shape of her breasts, the delicate bones of her hips, and the softness of her core. One kiss melted into another and with growing urgency Tom gripped her thighs, supporting her in her sweet movements and parting her legs a little wider until they came to rest on either side of him. His fingers reached closer to her mound and he was happy to tease both her and himself with the promise of more. She gasped, then giggled against his lips when she felt what he too felt — the tip of his cock reaching up toward her. She looked into his eyes while canting her hips down and brushed the length of her slit across his sensitive head.

“You want to?” he whispered.

They never had before. It was only hands and fingers and a good deal of tongue. She didn’t answer but held her gaze fixed on his dark eyes as she raised her hips. It made Tom think, for a moment, that she would lift herself off of him completely, but instead, she lowered herself back down on him just low enough for her wet and throbbing folds to touch his cock in one long, slow caress. Her clit caught on the skin that hugged his tip and she bit her lip and whimpered, head tilting back with a shiver before she brought her eyes back onto his. His fingers curled into the flesh of her thighs.

“Please,” he whispered with all the urgency of a demand.

“Will you be a good boy?”

“No,” he answered petulantly.

She tutted and shook her head. “I suppose I have to be good for both of us, then.”

She leaned down and peppered kisses on his parted lips, nibbling at them and soothing them in turn, letting him taste her wine-sweet breath, and Tom, distractedly, didn’t even realise it when she’d lowered herself further, enveloping his tip. He gasped into her mouth as he felt his most sensitive part be taken into her warm and tight and infinitely soft grasp, further and further until something in him cracked and all his muscles tensed.

“S-slower,” he begged, his eyes closed tightly with a frown.

His nails cut into her flesh and he breathed in through clenched teeth, but above him she giggled breathlessly, leaving small kisses all over his face. She didn’t seem to care at all that she’d nearly ended him — and she called him evil…

Moving slowly, her body consumed his shaft until she reached the end. She whined and closed her eyes, absorbing the whole feeling and letting it take over all of her, then she licked her lips and moved just slightly, teasing him, pressing down just hard enough for him to feel her folds brush against his sac before parting with a sticky suckling sound.

“Tom,” she whispered shakily, burying her face into his neck. He could feel the heat of it, the blush that bloomed across her cheeks.

“What is it, my naughty girl?” he grinned.

“No,” she sighed, “you’re the naughty one. I’m good.”

Tom chuckled. “Oh, are you now?”

It amazed him how she had the nerve to turn shy now of all times. He dragged his nails across her back and it made her shiver even harder. He was glad to know that she enjoyed a little pain, just in case he had to punish her sometime.

“Show me, then,” he said. “Be good for me…”

She whined and braced her hands above his shoulders, nuzzling her heated face into his skin. He could feel it when her thighs tensed, and when she lifted herself only to come lower again, and again, and again. Tom groaned and arched his hips higher, his cock chasing her soft clasp, rubbing the weakest part of himself against the sweetest part of her. Drunk with her scent and taste and little noises, his head fell backwards heavily against the pillow, neck arched in supplication, and through panting breaths, he whispered her name. She laid kisses all over the top of his chest, her motions rushed and frantic, tickling his skin with her nipples. He could feel himself start dripping preacum into her, the beginnings of a wave of pleasure, and for a moment he felt almost embarrassed, but it was washed away with a desperate desire to take her. He finally had her and it hurt his pride to realise he genuinely wanted more.

“Harder,” he demanded, his arms pulling her legs further apart.

“Not yet,” she said between kisses.

“I won’t ask again…” he hissed. He wasn’t in the mood to play around.

“No.”

Tom huffed and gripped her tighter, and with a push of his leg against the too-soft mattress rolled her over on her back. He caught himself quickly, looming above her, and grabbed her by the arms to hold her still. She stared up at him in shock, her lips parted, gasping, and her first attempt to push him off her only shoved his member deeper.

“Wha— Oh… Fuck, Tom…”

“Like that?” he purred, thrusting down into her a little harder. He could feel the tip of her cervix and wanted so badly to batter against it. “Don’t deny me again.”

“You don’t tell me what to do…” she said, although he could already tell she struggled to keep her voice from trembling.

Even if it wasn’t Tom’s intention, he loved to see her vulnerable. He’d already figured out she enjoyed it when he took control. She closed her eyes as she centred herself, but then she looked up at him, glaring really, and with a viciously quick movement reached up to grab onto his hair.

Tom’s eyes narrowed and his teeth flashed. “Ah!” he yelped, “let go!”

But her legs came up around him and he felt her body curl. With each thrust of his, low and heavy and deep, her hips came up to meet him. If not for the punishing grip on his hair, he would’ve thought she liked it. The skin of his stomach stuck to hers, linked by beads of sweat, and when Tom started pumping into her harder his heavy sac slapped her lips.

“You let go!” she said.

“No.”

“Tom, damn it…”

“Sit still,” he hissed. “Just take it. Let me…”

She muttered a few useless curses and struggled against him but he could tell from how her eyes closed and her head tilted to the side that she was addled with pleasure. Her core sucked at him, her deepest muscles clenching. With an angling of his hips, Tom tried to reach that part of her that he knew would drive her mad.

“Aaah! Tom…”

“Right there?” he smirked, hitting that spot with sadistic precision.

Her grip on him went limp and her body arched, cries spilling from her lips, pushed out of her by him. His skin ran cold as the thought of a thousand hexes crossed his mind, things he could do to punish her for presuming she could toy with him, tell him what to do in their… what was it? For a moment he called it a “relationship”, but that was just what she was supposed to think. Nonetheless, he could not bring himself to hex her. At least, not yet. He sighed and moved a hand around to cup her breast, plucking at its tip while his hips worked to a rhythm of their own. He battered at the entrance to her womb as if he could find there the immortality he longed for. Her body grew more heated, slippery, her voice more frail with every moan.

“Be a good girl, now,” he sighed, his breath cooling her skin, “let go for me…”

“I c-can’t,” she whimpered, frowning from the overstimulation.

“Yes, you can. Don’t lie.”

“Tom… Tom, please…”

He replaced his fingers with his mouth and plucked at her nipple while his hand instead slid down between them. She nearly jumped when his cold fingers reached her clit, but Tom’s body held her down. He flicked the excited little nub while pumping harder into her, and were it not for her thighs tightening around his hips he would have thought, from hearing how she cried out, that she didn’t like it. Tom grinned around her flesh when he felt her start to tighten, her voice getting whiny and weak. He fixed his teeth around her bud and sunk deeper into her, and after only a few more teasing thrusts he felt her close impossibly around him. She screamed and yelped beneath him, her orgasm ravaging her tired body while she stayed completely under his control. Tom groaned and felt his flesh run suddenly hot. He groaned, his body stilled, and like the crack of a whip his loins convulsed and twitched and spilt everything they had in her.

“Oh fuck!” he cursed, lips loose around her nipple.

His body arched without his will, curling over hers, and his hips pushed a few more thrusts inside her as if he could go deeper still. She clenched tight around his cock, her channel flexing greedily to pull out everything he had. He spilt a shameful amount into her and she was soon overflowing until it came trickling down around his sac. When he was done he still felt his member twitching a little, kicking up into her.

Her grip around his hair had loosened, her body melting into a warm and pleased little puddle. Tom pulled away with a parting kiss to her nub and was embarrassed to see his spittle all around her breast and feel it on his cheeks. He felt like a drooling beast and nearly blushed, but then he looked up at her face again. Her eyes were closed, that angry frown all gone, and her swollen lips were curled in a sweet smile. She only frowned again when he tried to pull out of her.

“Mmmm… Don’t!” she complained without opening her eyes, her legs holding tight to him.

Tom would’ve laughed if he had the strength. “You know I have to…”

“No you don’t,” she said, her eyes parting into two thin slits that gazed down lovingly at him. “Stay here, forever.”

“I could’ve sworn you didn’t like me,” he said, arching a brow.

“You can be a brat… And you annoy me… But I like this.”

Tom chuckled and relaxed his body on top of her, holding himself up on his elbows while his cock took its place once more deep inside her. She wiggled pleasantly beneath him, as comfy as a bird in a nest, and sighed. If he weren’t still dizzy with pleasure, his skin tingling with flame, loins still throbbing to the same beat as her own, he might’ve been revolted by the feeling of his cock nestling in that sticky, damp mess — his and hers combined. But as it was, he couldn’t feel more perfect. He raised a hand up to her cheek and held it, thumb brushing gently across the flushed and tear-stained skin.

“I don’t like being played with,” he said in place of an apology.

“Oh?” she chuckled. “You were quite playful at work today.”

“You invited me.”

“We nearly got caught by Sister Silvia.”

“You enjoyed it,” he smirked.

She sighed and shook her head. Her legs stretched out alongside his and they lay tangled up together. Gingerly, he took his hand away from where it rested on her mound and brought it up a little higher, right above her womb. Then, with his lips in a half-kiss against her throat, he murmured one of the simpler contraceptive spells he could remember.

“I wish you weren’t mean to me sometimes,” she whispered, her hand coming gently up again to lay in his hair. “You scare me when you get so mean.”

“If you wouldn’t give me a reason to —” said Tom, then frowned and buried his face in her neck, ashamed. He’d just sounded like Mrs. Cole after giving him a lashing. “I just get vexed sometimes. You vex me, to be precise.”

“Do I?” she smiled. “It’s not my intention. I just… don’t know how to be around you. I don’t think I’ve met someone like you before.”

“I know,” he said. “But maybe try a little harder, and you might just tempt me not to leave.”

Immediately upon saying that, her body, though motionless, froze. It was exactly the reaction he’d anticipated.

Tom eased the tension in his arms and legs and pulled himself off her, rolling carefully to the side and pulling the blanket up to their necks, tucking them both in. He groaned at how difficult it was — to separate from her, to leave her soft warm body that still clung to his so tight. It did little to distract her from the panic the mere threat of his leaving caused, and her eyes traced him as they would a thief or traitor.

“You didn’t think I’d stay forever, did you?” he continued.

“I don’t know, I —”

“Would you?”

“Tom, what do you mean?”

“Leave,” he said, a smile hiding his deceit. “With me.”

II

She turned on her side and curled up facing him. Her aches and sores and all her tender parts were far from her mind now, even if the simple act of shifting made her hurt deliciously. She reached toward his hand that rested on the pillow and pressed her cheek to it. The drunkenness of pleasure was all but washed out of her mind by fear, despair, a looming dread, and she was desperate for any sign of tenderness from him. Tom could be so soothing when he wanted to, his hands so soft, his skin so cool, his motions smooth and silky… He reminded her of some fabled forest creature or a mystical thing that rose from rivers to answer mortal wishes. In short, he was like a dream. And she hated that he threatened her with waking up.

“I can’t go with you, Tom,” she said.

“Why not? What keeps you here?”

“Well, everything…”

He scoffed, his eyes much darker in the shadows, and yet his body, as if disconnected from his mind, stayed just the same — beside her, touching her, his thumb brushing her cheek.

“You lie,” he said. His forehead came to rest against her own, and she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

She finally felt safe enough to wrap her arms around his waist again and curl her leg over his own.

“What am I lying about, you cruel beast?” she whispered, her lips so near his mouth. Her hand slid to his hair again and scraped him gently in that way she knew he liked.

“This life. Everything about it,” he said, his eyes half-closed in pleasure but his tone quite serious. “Don’t you think it pointless? Doesn’t it make you… lose your mind sometimes?”

“But it’s… it’s not that pointless, is it? Besides, I like my job.”

“You do?” he chuckled, almost a laugh.

“Well, maybe not the job itself, but… I like the work. I like the quiet of the shop, the books, the look of them, the smell… I even like the customers we get.”

“What is there to like about it?” he scoffed, and she felt his frown on her own skin. His eyes, of such an intense dark they seemed almost red, looked into her own and through her. She wondered what he was looking for when he got like that… “Slaving away the better part of your day, and some nights besides. Coming home exhausted and capable of little more than the oblivion of sleep. Working for a crude and disgusting old fool who you know is taking advantage of you, and underpaying you, and making you do things you find reprehensible — and for what? For the privilege of working in a run-down building among books that will never be yours?”

His words taken on their own were cruel, but he spoke them without any meanness toward her. If anything, he sounded… outraged. And tired, so so tired.

His eyes lost that faraway look and found their focus again, returning to hers.

She cupped his cheek and held his face. “What troubles you?” she whispered.

“I thought I just described it in great detail.”

“But it’s just… another way to live. There are worse fates.”

“And there are better ones, too.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “but none that are available to me.”

The sharp look in his eyes told her something his lips didn’t and around her waist she felt his grip tightening.

“Yes there is,” he said, “and what path is not open, you should break open.”

She knew what he was talking about, of course, even if she was too scared to think it. “I wish I could be as good at it as you are…”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he said with a faint smile. It was incredible how that simple shifting of the features changed his face and brought back to her attention just how plush his lips were.

“I wish you’d kiss me,” she said instead.

He clicked his tongue, displeased with her, but leaned in anyway and pressed his mouth to hers in something very gentle. She purred happily, even if it was too brief for her liking.

“And I wish you’d show me the loyalty you show to your employment,” he said before she even finished licking her lips.

“Tom,” she grumbled, “I have a whole life here. My work, this flat, even my friends… I can’t just leave for —”

“For me?”

“For the unknown.”

His eyes narrowed. He must have heard in what she said a criticism of how little he revealed about himself.

“Besides,” she continued, her face still pillowed in his palm, “what do you mean about me doing reprehensible things?”

“Well, haven’t you?”

“I did not!”

“I don’t mean the things we did together,” said Tom with eerie calm. “But has the Baron never asked you to do anything… illegal?”

She felt her heart begin to thump and her limbs grew cold. He couldn’t be referring to that French boy… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed to say, slowly curling in on herself.

A slow song on the radio filled the lengthy pause that grew between them.

“Now who’s being secretive?” Tom whispered. He pulled her to his chest and rested his head over hers, covering her as if he could shield her from the world. “Just know,” he added, “that I would never judge you. No matter what horrible things that old madman made you do, no matter how stained your soul becomes…”

“Thank you, Tom,” she chuckled, noticing just then that her throat was closing up with unshed tears.

“The only thing I will judge you for, however,” he said with a smile, “is weakness.”

“Well,” she laughed, “I have plenty of that too.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he said, and she felt him shaking his head. “Vexing…”

She closed her eyes against his chest, her lashes tickling his skin, and held on tighter. Here he was, hot and cold and distant and intense, asking her to leave her life for him and rending her heart straight in two. He was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen, but he was a whole world onto himself, a braided briar of knowledge and pleasure and suffering shared — which was a good deal better than suffering alone. He was tempting.

“Stop talking,” she sighed, her hand sliding from his hair down his thin long back, and lower to his hips. “Stop lying.”

Tom took a deep breath in, and let it hiss out slowly. “Alright,” he said at length. “Then how about we forget about your duty, and mine, and live the way we wish to? We can act like those wealthy snobs who have no cares in the world. Perhaps we can even learn a thing or two.”

She buried her giggles in his chest. “You certainly know how to make an appealing proposition.”

“Good,” he said. “I should make more of them.”

“I wish you would.”

He stroked her hair and smoothed it down from the mess it had become during their lovemaking. “Why don’t we go to the opera?”

She paused in thought. Tom never struck her as the artistic type, and he merely tolerated it whenever she put on a record or turned on the radio.

“You don’t want something more modern? You… you didn’t like the jazz we went to?”

She couldn’t see it, but could feel Tom scoff. “Come now, we’re better than that.”

If she weren’t so tired, she might have laughed. “You really want to go?”

“Why not?” he said, his soft hand settling on her naked back. “If you were lucky and I were lucky and we were born to wealthy families, that’s where we would go for ‘fun’. So why not try?”

“But I know nothing of the opera…”

“That’s alright,” said Tom, sounding a little too satisfied about it, “I have the perfect one in mind.”

[roseadleyn]

CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO MORE YANDERE CASSIS FICS

i would never abandon you guys after you sent asks like these

i'm sorry if this took too long. i'm still busy and this took me time, i do hope it was worth the wait though!! enjoy <33

WHY DO I STILL FUCKING MISS YOU? || Cassis Pedelian.

tw: hints of abuse, sexual implications, said sexual implictions are dubcon, obsession, reader is on the breaking point and falls off of said breaking point

this is cassis after the timeskip

'Sweetheart.' His voice is like honey, sweet and rich and deep, but in your dazed and hazy state, all it does is pull at your sanity even more. 'I need to go.'

You hadn't slept.

How could you? How could you do anything except stare, and stare, and stare into blind nothingness, with hot, stinging eyes, because you were in the embrace of a man who claimed to love you, yet he isolated you from your life and the world and everyone you ever knew, and locked you up in dark, dark rooms where you were all alone, and did such unforgivable, terrible things to you? How could you sleep?

Your captor's hands ruffled your hair. You knew he had seen your state of unhappy consciousness, and you knew he was waiting for a reply.

The thing was... as messed up as it was... you didn't want him to leave. If Cassis left for the day like he usually did, it meant you would be doing nothing the entire day, just lying there in silk and lace, waiting for him like some kind of toy. When he was here — and when you actually behaved — it was at least a relief to have another human being in the same room, someone who ran their hands through your hair and rubbed your tired, weary shoulders, someone who talked and even told you stories about his day. You had read almost every book in the household, and there was only so much painting you could do, and because he had taken you to his own palace, you couldn't even see his family —

'Angel?' You could practically hear the smile in his tone, prompting you, warning you, to say something. To say what he wanted to hear.

You made your decision. Letting out a shuddering breath, you inched closer into his embrace. 'Stay.'

Cassis moved the hair away from your eyes. 'Yeah? You want me to stay?'

You nodded, tears forming at the thought of another day of just roaming your way too big home, doing absolutely nothing with your time and — no, wait — it was not your home. It was his home. This was just your house. Yes. That was it. 'Please.'

Cassis kissed your forehead. 'Are you sure?'

You reach pale, trembling hands around his shoulders and look up at him with wide, sleepless eyes. 'If you go… no… please…'

You didn't like this, but he really was all you had now. It was him, and it had been him for so long, and it was still going to be him, in the future, as far as you could see. Was it really wrong? Was it wrong to miss him when he left? Was it wrong to feel joy when he returned? Was it wrong to let him pull you close and wrap you in his cashmere sweaters that were way too big on you? Was it wrong to love him when he kissed you breathless?

No. It couldn't be. Cassis was good to you; you could talk to him. You could make it okay. He had never… never hurt you… even those long, long hours spent in the darkness of the room… he hadn't hurt you, he'd done it because — because you broke his heart first. How could you reject him so, when he loved you so much that it destroys him?

'So… you'll stay?' You ask, and your voice is both hopeful and heartbroken.

Well, if he heard the break in your voice, he chose to ignore it. He smiled, and that damned smile of his was pretty enough to make you tear up all over again. 'Of course. I would never leave you.'

That was all you needed, and you let Cassis hold you, kiss you, murmur praise in his low, calming voice into your ears, run his hands over your body and underneath your nightgown, to the place that still made you tremble — except this time, you did little to stop him.

You thought about how, a few months ago, you would've fought back against him — fought back against him fiercely and passionately, fought back like your very survival was on the line, only for Cassis to bring you down, calm you down, drag you back to the bed and remind you of who amongst you two was stronger, smarter, infinitely more capable, of to whom your pretty body and mind forever belonged to.

And as Cassis withdraws his hands — though still keeping them wrapped tightly around you — you thought about how you used to take every possible chance to escape. Windows, doors, basement trapdoors, even butter knives that you'd desperately try to fend Cassis off with. Nothing had ever worked. It only made things worse for you.

And as the pale, silken white curtains turn blue and pink and rose gold with the sunrise, and the entire room seems to glow in the silence, you thought about how beautiful Cassis is. He's divine, with pretty eyes of molten gold, and pale, pearly hair, and a smile so heavenly that it almost — almost — doesn't even suit him with what he did to you.

And as Cassis's sleeping form entangled itself with your much smaller, much softer one, you thought about was how much you used to fear Cassis, and yet — if Cassis were to leave you, then…

Well, you're not very sure about what you'd do, but… it might just break you.

tagging ; @mysticmeena, @writerig, @loekas, @loekas, @ykassu, @dion-s-lawyer, @that-one-pretty-bitch, @yourlocalintrovertt, @orlic1a, @hmerus, @cerisearan, @dxmoness, @salvatvre, @d10nsaint, @meow-meow-potato, @parkykwho, @izumi-astra-123, @ithil-lucien, and @palaceofghosts.

[allycat75]

Screaming into a void time (another long one, sorry)...

Ok, I have tolerated these shenanigans with the Boston bonehead and his merry band of clout chasers and liars, watching his soul decay while everyone (including me) debated whether he was married or not, how many ceremonies they had, how they traveled and where they lived (and was it even their ugly-ass house in MA or NY) but I have to lay down some cold hard truths for our anxiety riddled pothead.

Your decisions, forced or not, have led you to this horrid point. Your only choices may have been between a turd sandwich and a giant douche (thanks, South Park) but you made that choice. And something tells me you didn't just come to this point out of nowhere. There were probably a string of missed lessons along the way that painted you into such a corner.

I know you may be fragile right now but you need to hear this as I suspect you are not hearing it from your loser friends or listening to the ones who do have your best interest at heart.

You are teetering on the ragged edge, my friend. I just saw the first trailer for Pain Hustlers and I can see why they released it only a week and a half before it is in the theaters- because Netflix wants to bury it. Another in a long line of duds your team should have been adept at steering you clear from. You better hope the strike last long enough to where Red One has to be postponed until next year, otherwise you will pull off the hat trick of working your ass off on three movies that have showcased how little anyone cares (you or the audience). I could be wrong about Red One, but this was filmed during your fugue state where the real Chris disappeared and was replaced with a stoned automaton who had no problem selling out everything he believed in. Not conducive to the best creative energy.

Well, buddy, it is time to wake up. You are aware of what is going on in the world, right? You used to have a website that cared about this stuff. Too bad you couldn't use this time off from the strike to pour into that instead of pretending to get married to a woman you refuse to touch or even sit near, breadcrumming two weddings by leveraging the poor boundaries you have established with your family and friends and giving the worst interview to GQ, making you look like a tone deaf, moronic, pretentious asshole.

You need to separate yourself from these racist, anti-semites NOW. While some outside the fandom are starting to notice, it will catch on like a house on fire if you aren't careful. Remember how easy it was for the fandom to find out all this shit about them last year? And now look at what is going on outside. Hamas is a terrorist organization who wants nothing more than to have Jews exterminated from the planet. And here in the US, we have someone vying to be Speaker of the House (second in line for the Presidency) who describes himself as "David Duke without the baggage"; you remember David Duke, right? You used to stand up to him before you were made to look like a fucking joke).

There is no such thing as a little bit racist, or a little bit antisemetic, and for all intents and purposes, you married one, with all her "baggage". Certificate or no certificate; pictures or no pictures. This isn't one of those things that you can claim plausible deniability. You are in it. And if you think your privlege can save you, maybe it can, but I doubt it. It may not have happened yet, but the Sword of Damocles is hanging just above your head.

It comes down to the difference between intent and impact. No one really believes this has been your intent, but that matters little to those impacted by your actions. I know you have "cyclical unhappiness" when you think about the small stuff too much, but too bad. There is no way to take yourself out of the equation. You are not a used car lot balloon, who frantically moves every which way until the air is let out and deflates into nothing. You are a grown human being and like all of us, have a responsibility to understand your place in the universe. Otherwise, you are just stepping over bodies with such carelessness- the teacher in Portugal who only thought she was supporting a charity, your friends trying to promote one of your crappy movies, only to have it derailed by your drama backstage, fans getting harassed and even receiving death threats for speaking the truth we see with our own eyes. You may not be doing these things with your own hands, but that does not absolve your responsibility.

As I said before, this is your time to wake up. Coming clean with pure heart and honesty is the only solution at this point. If you wait too long or dig your heals in, like we have seen before, it will be too late. Do you think Jinx will want to partner with an antisemite loving dog dad? What studio will hire you, even for your one movie a year? Based on your crappy decision making skills, I have a feeling any pottery you sell will be break even with the amount of pot you smoke. So invest wisely and I hope your accountants are more trustworthy than the rest of the people you have surrounded yourself with.

Now, I am actually a very kind person who for some reason is still rooting for you. I still think there is a good person buried deep in there. These are rare and may be why I can't give up just yet.

You have the con this weekend. I know you can't promote Captain America, but think back to what he stood for. You even referenced him and how you aimed to be more like him in that god forsaken GQ video. So do it, you dummy! You will feel much better when your soul is unburdened. Then follow the advise I and many others have given before:

Get a good therapist and do the work

Decide if you really want to act or not; if so, take some classes to shake the cobwebs off; If not, are you going to be ok giving up the perks?

Don't use weed as a crutch

Establish clear boundaries with family and friends

Remove relationships (personal and professional) that are no longer serving you or even doing you harm

Listen to what your head and the universe is telling you

Do not get into a relationship until you have an idea of who you are and at least get to the "like" stage

To quote Florence and the Machine (Wish That You Were Here):

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

[breyito]

Sacrifice AU:

Inspired by this post by @homoquartz

An idea that I had following this line of thought (not that realistically would happen in the show, of course, but as a fanfic idea) was...

What if Edwin feels that Charles is so terribly unhappy, so obviously mourning for his lost life and a future (probably with Crystal, true or not) he will never have as a ghost, so he tries to find a way to make it happen.

He researches in every free moment he has (which are more and more, as Charles spends more and more time in the living world, with Crystal and/or Niko), and he finds it. Finds the obscure ritual to bring back a ghost.

The main problem is, it requires the essense/energy or several souls. And Edwin could never destroy other souls for a selfish reason, not even to make Charles happy.

But. Then he remembers.

Remembers Esther telling him (proving to him) that his soul, tempered by the fire and suffering of Hell, is stronger than others. Much stronger. Per her words, no other ghost she tried her machine on could survive a full minute of its torture, when Edwin survived for hours.

So he does what he is an expert at. He comes up with a plan and follows through with it, no matter how painful, exhausting, endless it seems at the moment. For Charles' happiness, it will be worth it. (He's so tired)

So, every time they close a big case and the others leave to celebrate; at least twice a month, he goes back to Port Townsend. He goes back to that house haunted by painful memories. Sits in front of the place where Niko died and connects the especialized conteiner to store the energy. Bites into a piece of metal and turns it on.

Just a few minutes. Maybe half an hour, if he knows he'll be able to recover in solitude after. (One full hour, once, when they couldn't save their client's daughter and Charles had gone with Crystal to help her grieve. Completely understandable, but still...it hurts, bruises something tender inside him. And experience has shown him that physical pain can sometimes dull other kinds of pain; so he remains sitting in the machine and screams and cries, and tries to forget any other hurt except the one that has a purpose. He's so tired.)

Sometimes he sees Monty watching the house, and waves at him through the window. Travelling by mirror, Edwin doesn't really need to leave the building, so cats aren't a problem. He still places a repellant barrier, just in case. He doesn't need either crow nor cat to know what he's doing.

It takes several months before he has enough energy stored. He's sure that with the last pieces of his soul powering the ritual, it can be completed. He's so tired. He's nearly done.

(He knows that it will be quite a shock for Charles to realize he's not present anymore; but he'll have a whole new life that will be so full and joyful and beautiful that Edwin will be a fondly remembered memory in no time at all.)

He plans to do it on a lunar eclipse, to boost the power of the spell. He has collected all materials, studied all the chants, painted all the runes. Everything is ready, he just needs to wait for the date. He's so tired. He gets more and more anxious the longer he has to wait, because he craves the realese of that damned machine, the way he doesn't feel weak for crying when he's there because it is real pain, not something intangible and useless. (He knows he can't use it again, because he's almost leaking energy already, and if he spills any more he's not confident he will have enough for the ritual). He gets twitchy, snappish, mean. Sometimes he vibrates through objects in a way he hasn't done in decades. He's so tired.

The others, finally, notice. (Why now, he thinks desperately, why now that I am so close? Mortal life, complete oblivion...everything is so close and now you choose to see me?). They try to talk to Edwin about it, but of course he brushes them off or simply leaves if they are too insistent. Charles is worried sick because he's never seen a ghost flicker and vibrate like that...not unless they were cursed or ill or about to dissapear. Edwin looks weaker every day, dimmer.

They aren't the only ones who noticed, tho. Monty has been weary since he saw Edwin reading Esther's books. When he finally manages to squeeze through the barrier, months and months after it was first placed there, he's horrified at the sight of the ghost boy crying on the floor, that terrible machine slowly powering down. He resolves to wait until the next time Edwin shows up, to try and get an explanation, get him to stop.

But Edwin doesn't come back. After three weeks, Monty breaks into the house and finds all kinds of papers that lay out the plan, the ritual, the cost. The moment he sees 'then, sweet oblivion' as an anotation on the ritual page, he gets into action. Grabbing everything he can with his claws, he marches to the Cat King. Thomas has to transform him back into a human to get the full picture, but they immediately decide to head to London and either shake some sense into Edwin by exposing the truth to Charles, or kick Charles' ass for going along with Edwin's plan (the Cat Kind doesn't discard having to do both, to be honest).

They manage to get to the office, but of course, Edwin isn't there. It's the day of the eclipse, and after they show the evidence to Charles (and manage to get him out of his down spiral of self hatred) they start frantically searching for him. Crystal reading the papers doesn't help; she only gets flashes of his pain and helplesness, his shaky hands scribbling out ideas.

Finally, after some inane comment that makes things click, they head to St. Hilarion's. (It was so obvious, in retrospect: of course Edwin would choose to bring back Charles to life in the place where he died). They search all the school buildings, desperate, because he's not in the attic. Why is he not in the attic?

He's on the lake. Frozen still, the snowy surface is a perfect canvas. Pearly tear drops fall and shatter upon impact as Edwin moves, placing the rune painted stones in the exact spots where they go.

The sky beings to darken as Charles bursts from the trees, screaming for him to stop. He runs with all his might towards the shore, but it's in vain.

Edwin has always been the fastest out of the two of them.

(A cricket bat smashes against the ice, enchantments woven through the wood making the surface crack. Fissures expand quickly, but the magic is still in the air, the enormous amounts of energy feeling like lightning before the rain.

Is it too late?)

[vodika-vibes]

I want to say that Neyo would be aggressive lover. Jealous, overbearing, controlling, etc.

I bring this up in the hopes of possibly getting a fic for that man. Maybe fucking behind the 79's bar after the F!reader dances or talks to another clone far to comfortably.

-G

More Than You Know

Summary: A night of dancing at 79s ends early when your boyfriend, who recently returned from his deployment, catches you dancing with one of his brothers.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1120

Warnings: Smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Honestly, I had the hardest time writing this morning, nothing was giving me inspiration, so I hope you like it even if it's not what you were expecting.

When Neyo, your boyfriend, asked you to commit to him and him alone, you knew what you were getting into. You knew that you were signing up for long months alone, only able to talk to him via comm, and you knew that you wouldn’t always know where he was.

You agreed anyway.

Your friends think you’re insane. If you were going to pick a clone, you should at least pick one that’s always around, not one that is deployed all of the time.

But Neyo is Neyo and you’re pretty sure you love him.

And he’s at least fond enough of you that he makes time to comm you every day. 

It’s enough for you.

It’s not for your friends.

Which brings you to now, your friends dragged you to 79s and pushed you at the first person who looked interested in dancing. Honestly, you’re not much of a dancer, but in some cases, it’s better to give in to your friends' nagging rather than trying to fight them.

He’s a good dancer, even if he’s not the person you want to be dancing with. You’re pretty sure that Neyo would call him a shiny since he doesn’t have any paint on his armor.

So maybe you’re taking pity on him too.

He seems to be having a good time, so you’re surprised when your dance partner blanches grey and hurries away. 

You’re much less surprised when a strong arm hooks around your waist and you’re spun around to look up at the unimpressed face of Neyo. Unimpressed and very unhappy.

“Neyo!” In comparison to his dour expression, your entire face lights up when you see him, “You’re back!”

Some of the ice in his gaze thaws when he sees just how excited you are to see him, “You weren’t at home.”

“My friends don’t like you, you know that. But if I had known that you were returning—” You babble, not out of nerves, but because you can’t help but talk a lot when he’s around.

“So you decided to dance with a shiny?”

“Well, less decided and more that I was shoved at him,” You admit, your hand reaching up to touch a new scar on his cheek, “But you’re here now! So I can dance with you!”

Neyo searches your face for a moment, and then his gaze slides to the side. You’re not sure what he’s looking at, but a small smirk lifts his lips, “I don’t know, ad’ika,” He almost purrs as his grip on your hip tightens in a way that has your breath stuttering from excitement, “You were dancing with someone else. Maybe you need to be reminded why you picked me.”

You flash him a curious look, pretty sure that you know what he’s implying, but also knowing Neyo well enough by now to know that he’s not about to try anything on the dancefloor.

In his opinion, the only person allowed to see you anything other than fully dressed is himself, barring some very specific circumstances.

He leans in and catches your lips in a promising kiss that sends delighted chills down your spine. “Neyo,” You sigh his name, helpless in the face of the man you love more than anything in this galaxy or any other.

His smirk becomes slightly smug, directed at someone over your shoulder rather than at you. Then, effortlessly, he guides you off the dancefloor and down a dimmed hallway.

A dimmed and largely empty hallway.

For a moment, you think he’s going to start tugging your clothes out of the way here, in the hallway.

But really, you should have known better, as he guides you into an unlocked storage room, and then quickly locks the door and jams something against it so it can’t be opened until he wants to open it.

There’s not a lot of light in the storage room, but there’s enough that you can see the look on his face. It’s both possessive and needy, and you can’t help but fling your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss.

Neyo easily takes control of the kiss and walks you backward until your back bumps against the cool wall. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He breathes against your lips.

You whine, “Missed you,”

He smirks at you and roughly nips your lower lip, pulling another whine from your lips, “Prove it. Turn around, pull up your skirt, and take off your panties.”

Immediately you do as he asks, easing your underwear down your legs and over your feet, and then turning and hiking your skirt up so he has access to your ass and pussy.

Neyo’s hand lands heavily on your ass, pulling a gasp from you. And then that gasp morphs into a moan as his strong fingers dip between your thighs to roughly circle your clit.

“You’re already so wet,” Neyo muses as he adds pressure to your clit as he rubs quick little circles around the sensitive nub, “Did you get wet while dancing with my brother?” He asks.

You rapidly shake your head in the negative.

He growls and bites down on your neck, roughly enough that you know that there is already a bruise, “Use your words.”

“It’s you,” You gasp, “Only you. Only ever you, please Neyo.”

He chuckles and kisses the bruise with surprising tenderness, “Do you need my cock, ad’ika?”

“Yes—” You gasp as you clench around nothing.

“Maybe I should fill you will my cum,” He murmurs as he shifts so that his finger pushes deep inside you suddenly, “Let it leak out of you while we’re still here. Make sure that your friends,” There’s something acidic in his voice when he says the word, “know that you are mine.”

“Neyo,” His name is a whine, “I need you. Please, please?” You have no shame when it comes to him, and you both know it.

He kisses your shoulder, and then your neck, “You have me, ad’ika. I’m right here.” His voice sounds almost soft, even as he keeps up the rough way that he’s fingering you.

Blindly, you reach behind you and thread your fingers through his curls, holding onto him in an attempt to keep him close.

“Once you cum for me, ad’ika, we can go home.” Neyo promises, “And I’ll spend all night reminding you why you’re mine.” He presses himself firmly against your back, his lips moving to your ears as he starts murmuring all of the things that he’s going to do with you as soon as he has you alone.

And, even in the throes of bliss, on the verge of your orgasm, you still can’t wait.

After all, you love him.

[https-furina]

"your order is complete!" this order is for @nervocat:

"Thought I'd put in something for your event hehe :33 What about Neuvillette with a small latte and foam? I'm curious to see what you come up with.. 👀 (Sorry if I did anything wrong.. this is actually my first request for anyone 😭😭. I'll also probably read this when I'm back if you're done with it by then, but take your time!!)"

neuvillette + gn!reader | platonic, modern!au | 1.1k words notes. uuuuu nervo... this man would give the best hugs convince me otherwise... this is actually the second time i’ve ever wrote for him <3

thirsty? see our café menu before you order! | order receipts

throughout your whole life, there has always been only one man by your side. you never seemed to have any qualms with each other, fitting together like slotted puzzle pieces and sometimes your friendship even stood against the tides that was your families bombarding you with "you'd look so good together!" that you would both simply groan and roll your eyes in response to; his older sister furina was exceptionally good at bring this up every time you came over for dinner when you was kids.

as you grew older however the two of you grew in distance, finally entering that adult world you dreamt so much about when you hid together in forts made of blankets and pillows, snacking on your stash of sugar. neuvillette got into law school, making him much busier than you and you'd opted for art school, much more interested in the creation of theatrical props and stages. going to two completely different schools put a halt on how much time you could spend with each other.

it's the middle of winter and finally your schedules have cleared up enough to allow you both to meet under the roof of a local café, the large glass windows slightly steamed due to the temperature difference outside but the warm, golden lights creating the most comforting environment that you would never need to gaze beyond what is around you. the smell of coffee and freshly baked treats is strong and slightly overpowering but nonetheless a welcoming difference from the paints and glue you suffered with daily.

you've always claimed you wasn't heavily attached to your childhood best friend but the moment your eyes catch sight of the tall male entering the building, his long silvery hair tied back in a loose ponytail because it gets in his way - but heaven forbid you suggest he cuts it - and a pair of slim glasses perched on his nose, you raise to your feet so quick you go dizzy for a few seconds. the static wears off to reveal him stood before you, undoing the buttons of his trench coat and unwrapping that familiar scarf from around his neck; ah yes, it's the one you brought him last christmas.

his violet eyes glance at you, a pleasant smile decorating his pale face as he hangs his coat on the back of his chair before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into the fluff of his sweater. he's warm, dressed appropriately for the weather as always and you relax under his touch, your arms looped around his waist and you rest your head against his chest. this hug was very much overdue and with the stress of exams, it's exactly what you both needed.

"have you ordered yet?" his deep voice rumbles suddenly over the sounds of cups clinking and idle chatter. you shake your head in response, reluctantly pulling away from the broad-shouldered male and he lets out a content hum, pulling his wallet out of his coat pocket, "what do you want? my treat today."

a slither of a smile creeps onto your face as you settle back into your chair, unwilling to argue against the male as you tell him your preferred order. there's a mild grin on his face, your order hasn't changed at all since you were younger and you almost wish you could retort sarcastically but he says nothing, leaving to go to the counter. part of you feels willed to follow him, unhappy with the concept of him paying but you knew just how stubborn neuvillette could be, a small sigh escaping your lips as you take the moment to admire the dark oak aesthetic inside the café.

neuvillette returns shortly after holding a tray in his black leather gloved hands, placing it on the table as you flash him a thankful smile. he settles opposite you, unstrapping his aforementioned gloves as you focus on your drink, taking a sip of it happily and closing your eyes for a split second.

"how's law school been treating you?" you find yourself asking him the dreaded question first, your eyes watching how his minorly calloused hands open his bottle of water and you can't help but think he really hasn't changed a bit since you were kids, always much preferring water to any other drink people tried to shove his way. neuvillette almost groans, raising the bottle to his lips as he takes a small sip.

"i have so much material to revise at all times, this is the first time i've been out of my accommodation in a while," he admits with a taut frown pulled onto his face. he was always one to prefer the outdoors, granted the weather had to be nice, "and it is as ever dull outside as some of my lecturers are to listen to."

you can't help but laugh at his words, picturing just how boring law professors must be. perhaps you would fall asleep if you had to listen to their drawl but neuvillette was extremely academic so you imagine that despite this complaint of his, he listens intently in every class just like he did in high school. you have faith he'll pass law school with flying colours.

"what about art school?" it's his turn to ask about your academics, tilting his head in curiosity as he looks over at you and you wonder if this setting seems a little too formal for you both, "i've seen some of your works on instagram."

"the local high school's drama class is doing romeo and juliet for their annual play and they've hired us to design the set. we're being graded on it but people in my class keep re-enacting scenes whenever we finish a prop." you groan, resting your chin in your hand as you attempt to look outside through the window to your left, it's still fogged up but it was an attempt nonetheless. neuvillette lets out a deep chuckle.

"think of it as quality control," he comments playfully with a small smile etched onto his otherwise sincere face, it draws a smile onto your face too at your best friend's words, "they're just checking the authenticity of your works before they're used for the real thing."

despite months of not seeing each other after years of being inseparable, everything seems just the way the pair of you had left it, leaving you content and fuzzy inside at finally being able to spend time together again. even though the two of you have definitely matured a little, those two toddlers cuddled up and sharing a beanbag in the library are still very much present and as the stress of exams, revision and all nighters designing stage sets wash away, you both come to realise just how much you needed to see each other again.

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[lopposting]

yet another theory on carlo's death, more of a quick one though.

something that was brewing in the back of my head for a while that I cut from the other post, I deliberated for a while on whether or not it was worth posting.

[TW for content under the "keep reading" cut. I have also tagged as much. Keep safe, and read at your own discretion!]

reiterating from a previous post, a really interesting detail:

Carlo looks SO unhappy in almost every single appearance he makes.

When we look closely at his expression in the painting, it's not just a sullen expression. at first I thought he was staring back defiantly, which I still think is true; but the more I look closely at it, the more actually sad he looks (remembering that the mom may have died around this time)

and in the sand memories, in one he is a distressed child asking for his father, in the next two he is practically despondent (head in knees). He is extremely withdrawn.

more ways the story casts doubt over the bad ending

the final shot is of him smiling, which we're supposed to see as uncanny. like almost the antithesis of who we saw carlo is supposed to be.

So, again, from the earlier post that I cut: I started to think that we're only shown the stalker memory because this is the moment that lead to Carlo's actual death.

Why is him being rejected by the stalker so important?

What exactly about that moment lead to his death?

Then I had a sudden idea.

Did Carlo commit suicide after being rejected?

Suicide theory

After feeling orphaned through abandonment by his father, and losing his dreams of ever becoming a great stalker; [and perhaps contracting a disease that would guarantee a painful, slow, and lonely death] Maybe that was kind of the final straw for a clearly troubled young man?

And then the nameless puppet (carlo) attempting to destroy his "own" heart -  the act of self-destruction?

Getting real dark here... 

but maybe THIS is actually why Carlo’s full memories and ego couldn’t be resurfaced? Because ultimately, he chose to die?

[although, technically sophia chose to die as well]

and if Carlo did indeed take his own life, how would he have done it?

...

To be honest, I ended up feeling like this theory wasn't super valid, but it is still kind of interesting to me, from like a thematic viewpoint. Again, there's also Sophia and the idea of her being "kept alive against her own will", and then the parallel with "Carlo" in the box.

and then also him saying "I don't care if an old man like that kicks the bucket" [in the korean script] which is dually interpretable as, "That old geezer... couldn't be bothered (with death)[죽어도 상관 안 해]", as in "I wouldn't care if *HE* died" or "he wouldn't care if *I* died". [it's "죽어도 to die (if) - 상관 to care - 안 해 does not" in korean, to be clear.]

Also, there's why carlo's death is even such a mystery in the first place, it's like the story itself is so hush-hush about it, when ultimately - it doesn't matter. they could've just said it was the disease and be done with it. maybe because it involves something kind of taboo? IDONTKNOW