#for the time being and furthers his goals so he’ll grab that opportunity like another tool in his arsenal

[archduke-enver-gortash]

need to finish that gort is simultaneously great and terrible at being “religious” essay some day

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

Not The Forgiving Type

[Name] was a kind kid. He was poised to be number one until shit hit the fan. But he wasn't gonna let his dream die no matter who got in the way.

Or

The one where All Might neglects his son a little. The son eventually goes apeshit and hurts the people that wronged him on his journey to becoming the Number One Hero

Warnings: Major Character Death, Vengeance, Murder, Blood Mentions, Religious Themes/Imagery, Christianity is not portrayed in a good light, All Might is compared to God, There is no good guy, sad ending.

The thing that [Name] hates most is his smile.

Christians believe that every human was born with sin. As such, you spend every day of your life abstaining from further sins as you try to erase the red from your ledger. You’re encouraged to do acts of service, not to win the favor of God but from the kindness of your heart. Because you care about people. Yet not doing those acts of service puts you years behind if you aim to present God with a clean ledger.

[Name] was kind. It wasn’t something that came natural to him nor was it particularly easy all of the time but he made the effort. Be kind to others, the family motto. His father was like God to the people he saved. Keeping a smile on his face as if at the shine of his teeth all life’s problems would flash away. And he’d give grand speeches for no other reason than he could.

“Power” his father would say grandstanding “is for the strong to be able to protect the week” [Name]’s father had the kind of power that made the weak feel untouchable. All might would save them. They were sure of it. [Name] was sure of it too.

‘Daddy’s so strong’ [Name] thought ‘I’m gonna be strong too.’ It was a shared thought between the two actually. He was the son of the number one. The son of God. Destined to bear the weight of everyones sins. The reincarnation, who stretches himself thin for the sake of saving others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Strong should his resolve be, lest that head roll off of his shoulders.

[Name] was four when he got his quirk. Yagi was ecstatic. There was a slim chance that the boy would be born quirkless like Yagi himself and [Name]’s mother wasn’t in the picture. A one night stand who was paid off after she showed up on his doorstep with a baby. There was no way to be completely certain what would happen, but he believed. Hoping for all hope his little boy would be strong. At the proud look on his dad’s face, [Name] smiled. He would continue to make his father proud.

At the age of nine [Name] had all but mastered said quirk. He was a prodigy who’d trained with heroes like Nighteye, and Eraserhead practicing both combat and battles of quirk. Within the next year All Might finally thought [Name] was ready. And sometime after [Name]’s 10th birthday Yagi sat him down to talk about the possibility of him being the next person to wield One For All. [Name] was more than shocked to hear that his dad had been quirkless and possessed a rare, powerful quirk. In his nervousness all he could manage was a smile, a wide confident smile that masked all his hesitation and surprise.

“I’ll be the next number one hero dad” [Name] said “And i’ll make you proud”

Yagi gave his son a matching smile “You already have. And I can’t wait to see what you will do in the future my boy”

At age 13 [Name] took down his first villain. It was illegal of course, but things are easily swept under the rug when you’re the child of God. But why should he have been punished? He was doing good for the sake of good. Saving others with a smile on his face. That was the family motto. It mattered not that the streets were stained with the villain’s blood. No, he was a hero. Heroes saved the day by defeating the villain and giving hope to the people. His actions should please God.

“He’s not ready”

“He’s my son”

“And that’s why you can’t be impartial. Take a break, spend some time with [name] and teach him how to be a hero”

[Name] creeped closer to his bedroom door at the sound of the furious whispers trying to figure out who was talking about him and why. He leaned his head against the door not risking the chance that if he opened it to take a peak he could be seen or heard.

“He’s a great kid, with a powerful quirk. He cares about stopping injustice, and he gives people hope. Like I did. He’s primed to be my successor”

“All might you know I think of you as a great hero. But he’s too much like you”

‘Nighteye’ [Name] realized

“I think he spends too much time trying to be like you that he doesn’t know the true meaning of heroics. You’re right he’s a great kid but I don’t think he’s ready for the kind of responsibility that comes with One For All.”

“Who else if not him?”

Nighteye paused, and answered cautiously “I met a kid. Resembles you in looks, a little more than [Name] does. He has a strong work ethic and made his debut into class 1B at UA. His quirk isn’t exactly strong but he’s made it so. Give him a chance”

Toshinori gave a hesitant “maybe” and the conversation ended there.

Betrayal felt like a sharp stabbing sensation. Nighteye, his precious mentor doesn’t think he’s ready enough. Doesn’t want him to succeed. Wants his father to mentor another kid because he doesn’t believe in [Name]. Ouch.

The next morning, [name] is quieter. More unsure of himself as he asks his dad to stop training with Nighteye. The relationship between All Might and Nighteye is frayed and [Name] knows that. He’s the glue keeping them together so to get back at Nighteye, [Name] will sever the connection between idol and fan. He doesn’t need Nighteye, he just needs to please his dad. He’ll train on his own and become number one. Praise be to God.

Hands gliding through the air, [Name] played with a bright red colored mist that flowed through his fingers and gathered in the palms of his hands. He would flex them, some fingers pointing down, others curled inward as if he were grabbing something with that finger only. Depending on the weight of the object he moved, his arms would flex too.

In a fight his stance became wider, more sturdy almost as if actually shouldering the weight of the object. His knees bent when he planted himself into the ground, resisting the push and pull of gravity as he lifted things with a thought and a flick of his hands. He was powerful. The kind of powerful that makes you smirk at your opponent, not because you underestimate them but just because you know you’ll win. It’s a long hard road to becoming that powerful and [Name] was damned if he wasn’t going to show it. The perfect venue was coming up too. The UA Entrance Exams.

[Name] unconsciously used his quirk to stop something from landing in the koi pond he’d been walking past. “Poor fishies” [Name] thought as he grabbed the floating book. It read ‘Hero Analysis For the Future’  He casually flipped through it, silently asking for forgiveness. He’s not a snooper; he just needed a little guidance if he was going to be the best. It was a little burnt but thorough. He heard the noise of a bunch of boys walking by and he looked up. At the sight of Bakugou [Name]’s eyes flashed red. Bakugou looked away and scowled knowing he couldn’t beat the son of the Number One hero. Not yet.

“Oh [Name]-senpai you found my book”

“Izuku-kun. I came to you for advice. But also just because I wanted to see you.”

“Of course! We’re friends you can ask me anything”

“I’ve been training a lot on my own recently because I wanted to surprise my dad with my progress but pretty soon I think I’m gonna ask him to personally train me. The UA entrance exams are pretty soon. And I want to make him proud”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine! You’re a great hero already with an amazing quirk. I think he’ll be proud of you no matter what you do”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive”

“Thanks. I’ve gotta go train, my exams are way sooner than yours. You’ve still got about 10 months right?”

“You honestly think I can make it senpai?”

“I don’t know. But I like you and you’ve got the right attitude so I want to support you. Who knows maybe you’ll make history as a quirkless hero.”

[Name] smiled and bid Izuku farewell as he headed off in the opposite direction intending to train even harder to become the number one. Everything in his life was primed so he would be the best. He was Icarus chasing after the sun on his man-made wings. But he was determined not to fall, not to drown and he refused to fail even if the sun burned him up upon first contact.

[Name] passed his entrance exams and was ranked number one in the incoming first year class. His first number one. The sports festival being his next goal, and once he finally had One For All, there’d be no one to stop him. He was sure of it. And that’s what he wanted to tell his father the day Yagi came home and excitedly told him he’d met and befriended a young boy from Mustafu called Izuku Midoriya. [Name] smiled brightly happy that the two of them had met and instead promised himself to bring the topic up the next morning.

The opportunity never came considering All Might had gone missing from the house every morning before [Name] woke up and he’d come home deflated and exhausted. [Name] would just smile at the exhausted Yagi and make the two of them dinner or tuck Yagi into the bed when he’d fall asleep on the couch. It was pretty easy for a telekinetic to tuck their dad into bed without waking him. Sometimes [Name]’s eyes and hands would glow and he’d flutter his fingers near Yagi’s temple sending him sweet dreams. After about two months of this [Name] decided to confront Yagi, and he camped out on the couch that faced the front door. When Yagi tried to sneak out [Name] spoke up

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some work to do early this morning”

“Everyday for two months?”

Yagi’s eyes widened, not knowing [Name] noticed his habits. And that was a part of the problem. [Name] paid attention to everything, he was a strategist who had a degree in All Might. It was how he and Midoriya became friends in the first place and why they continued to get along so well

“I’ve been training”

“For what” [Name] asked and at the slight downturn of his father’s smile he realized he’d been asking the wrong questions. “Where?” He received silence

“Who are you training dad? And don’t lie to a mind reader”

“I’ve been training Young Midoriya”

“For his entrance exams? Why not invite me? The two of us are friends and I can teach him how to spar”

“It’s just between the two of us, no need to wear yourself thin. Focus on training for the sports festival”

“I’ve been trying to ask you to train me. This is the perfect opportunity”

“Perhaps later my boy”

The disappointment barely got a chance to sit on [Name]’s face before he smiled “Have fun dad. Tell him good luck for me, yeah?” Yagi nodded and headed out the door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. [Name] was a good kid.

[Name] returned to training alone, and cleaning up after his dad, and going to school, and listening to his dad lie, and smiling. But the feeling that he was missing something took over him and set him on edge. So he went for a walk. And who better to find than Izuku Midoriya and his dad training on a beach. [Name] reached up a hand to wave at them before realizing this is what was setting him on edge. His dad was paying more attention to his quirkless kohai than his own son. He felt another stabbing sensation similar to when Nighteye had betrayed him but this time the pain was in his chest and didn’t go away. It was accompanied by the desire to cry. And so [Name] stood there hysterical with a smile on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks. The taste of snot reaching his tongue through his teeth.

[Name] waited for them to finish training before he followed Izuku pretending to just casually bump into the boy. “Oh wow Izuku you’re shaping up. My dad says you’ve been training lately” [Name] knew the boy was horrible at lying and would probably nervously blurt out the truth between the two, and if he didn’t there was always the option of reading his mind.

“Hehe, yeah” Izuku chuckled nervously

“So what’re you training for exactly? I know you’re aiming for UA but what’s your strategy for passing the exams? Just regular old strength training?”

“Actually All Might’s been training me for something else entirely. I’ve got to go but I’ll talk about it more with you later okay?” Midoriya screamed behind him as he put some distance between the two. He was smart, smart enough not to look in [Name]’s direction anytime he lied, a strategy that kept him safe for months. All good things must come to an end.

[Name] showed up on the beach one afternoon and demanded to know what was happening. His expression was serious and his eyes glowed the moment they tried to placate him.

“I’ve been training Young Midoriya to be a hero” All Might started

“Yes I know that”  

“More accurately his successor” Midoriya finished

“Wait what” [Name] frowned

“I knew you approved of Young Midoriya becoming a hero and when I saw him save Young Bakugou from the attack I saw myself in him”

“I’M supposed to be your successor. You don’t see yourself in me? Your son?”

“Bubs-”

“Don’t Bubs me. And You!” [Name] whipped around furious, hurt in his eyes as he faced Midoriya “I told you all I ever wanted was to be like my father and make him proud. I befriended you and protected you when I could. On the day of the attack I told you I wanted to train with him and you stole him. You took him right from under me.”

“I’m sorry” Midoriya stuttered out “But you have a quirk. You don’t know what it’s like being powerless and picked on. He gave me a way out”

[Name] looked at Midoriya sympathetically, simultaneously wanting to reach out and hug the boy but also wanting to make him suffer. At [Name]’s conflicted silence Midoriya continued “Senpai, please. Can’t you just be happy for me? I’m finally getting to live my dream”

[Name] looked at him apathetically “Why would I be happy you sacrificed my dream for yours?”

“Please” they begged and oddly enough, they begged in harmony “Don’t go. Forgive us, we didn’t mean to hurt you” Their eyes were pleading almost as if they knew the second he turned his back on them, it would be the end of their relationship. [Name] got a high off of their suffering. It was the first time in months he’d truly felt happy. They got a taste of what he’d been feeling.

‘This is karma’ [Name] thought ‘God’s in his heaven and all's right with the world’ He looked at the two of them and smiled. A reassuring smile. They let out breaths they didn’t know they were holding in as he laid a hand on the side of each of their heads. “I’m sorry” he said sickeningly sweet “I’m not the forgiving type”

Neither All Might nor Midoriya had time to react before [Name]’s eyes glowed and he sent them into a nightmare where they were abandoned and lonely calling out for help only to be betrayed. [Name] walked home with his head feeling more clear than it had in weeks. He’d always thought of his father as God. And if he were God that would make [Name] Jesus.

God made Judas, and All Might made a hero out of Midoriya.

Things were awkward in [Name]’s house after that. Yagi and Izuku were still training, and so Yagi would come home to a dark house and no son to greet him. If [Name] was around when Yagi got home, he’d pretend not to notice or leave the room immediately and have his things float up to his room. Yagi knocked on his son’s door one day and though he got no response he knew [Name] was listening.

“You can still be a great hero my boy. I know you’ll do great things”

“There’s no room for me to be Number One while One For All exists”

Yagi was disheartened and walked away leaving it at that. The day of the entrance exams was coming up and Izuku would finally receive One For All. He hoped they could take it one day at a time from there, considering they’d all be attending the same school for the next few years. Midoriya went on to pass the entrance exams and earned a spot in class 1A. Yagi was ecstatic and Midoriya got a taste of what it felt like to be a hero.

The UA Sports Festival made for a grand spectacle where Izuku Midoriya had called out to the world and said “I Am Here”. He showcased an amazing power but also his poor control over said power. About a week after the festival, Izuku was attacked by villains who believed the key to his strength was in his DNA. They knew he wouldn’t sit still and let them pluck hairs, so the easiest way was to make him bleed. They ambushed him, subdued him and took him to a second location where he was bled and beaten to death. His body was found a week after his disappearance. Broken arms, legs and lacerations all over his body. The police suspected most of his injuries came from him trying to escape.

The villains couldn’t remember why they took him. The harder they tried to remember the worse their heads hurt and their eyes would glow red. Even Naomasa with his lie detector couldn’t pick up the truth. All the villains knew was that his blood was supposed to give them a boost, like some of the other illegal quirk boosters on the market. The suspects were released on bail and disappeared several hours later.

All might of course felt responsible and was weighed down with guilt. He had killed Young Midoriya through his own negligence. Heavy is the head that wore the crown. Yagi was strong enough to keep his head on his shoulders but he could not move from the position he was in.

He recalled a conversation between himself and [Name] a day or two after Midoriya’s disappearance. The boy who hadn’t smiled once since their fight on the beach gave a twisted smile as he asked “How’s your successor doing? Have they found his body yet?

Yes, All Might had done this to Young Midoriya himself. He played the part of instigator and now he was the secret keeper. He was to bear the sins of his son and himself as he prayed that unlike [Name], Young Midoriya up in heaven was of the forgiving type.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 15

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Time for Batman to regret all his life decisions!

First< Previous > Next

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“Are you sure you're ready for patrol,” Marinette presses, Marion tries not to roll his eyes once again.

“Yes Nette my ribs are perfectly fine, I can manage,” Marion pulls up his mask, hiding away in an alley not far from the hospital, “besides I need to let off some steam from yesterday,”

“Punching people is no way to deal with your emotions,” Marinette scolds, hiding the Kwamis away in her small bag.

“Of course not,” Marion makes sure the miracle box is in place before swinging his satchel over his back, “Kicking can do far more damage,”

“You don’t deserve an answer for that one,” Marinette sighs, handing over his glasses, “Just make a portal already,”

“Absolutely not,” Kaalki flies out of her bag, “I refuse to be a taxi you can easily get there on your own,”

“Kaalki, the meeting point is halfway across the city,” Marion pleads, the Kwami only turns her nose up at him, “What are we meant to do? Take an actual taxi?”

“I can't believe we’re taking a taxi to meet the Batman for patrol,” Marinette mutters, as Marion tries to hail a cab.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marion scoffs, another cab surprisingly passing up the opportunity to drive two masked figures late at night, “We’re taking a taxi to a block away from the meeting point, only amateurs give away their position like that,”

“Really not my point,” Marinette adjusts her bag strap.

“Maybe we can ask Batman if we can keep the grappling hooks?” Marion suggests, a cab pulling up to the curve.

“We’d still have to go a long way, it’s not like our suits where we get increased stamina,” Marinette opens the door, sliding into the car before it can’t leave without them, telling the driver the destination.

“Oh the days where we could get across the city in five minutes,” Marion sighs dreamily, ignoring the balding drivers' sideways glance as he pulls away.

“You mean yesterday?” Marinette teases, sitting behind the driver.

“Really? Feels like a week,” Marion leans back in the seat, cringing at the smell of cigarette smoke.

“You two heroes, rogues or villains?” The driver interrupts, sizing them up in the mirror.

“Is there a price difference?” Marion questions, quirk to his lips.

“Sure is,” The driver grunts, eyes still uncertain if there were any ill intentions.

“Do I have to guess which one?” Marion gets elbowed by Marinette.

“Stop that,” She digs her elbow in further, “We’re vigilantes passing through town, running with Batman for the time being,”

“So he’s gone and picked up new kids?” The driver snorts, finally taking his eyes off them.

“We’re not his kids,” Marinette assures, nope no more surprise parents for them thank you.

“Not more Robins? you’ve got the colors,” The driver says gruffly, sharp corner sending them both off balance.

“Unfortunately only Sparrow here wears tights,” Marion gestures to Marinette, “I just don’t fit the bill,”

“Sparrow?” The driver repeats cynically, he should have heard the ones Batman shot down.

“Yeah she has a codename, but I still can’t decide mine, any ideas,” Marion leans over the passenger seat in front of him.

“You’re asking me?” He snorts, Marinette just shakes her head.

“Always looking for public opinion,” Marion shrugs, only getting a sideways glance his way.

“Bat boy,” The driver decides, Marion stifles a laugh.

“Wow, that's terrible,” Marion doesn’t catch himself in time to stop, but adds, “No offence,”

“You’re going to have to look elsewhere for creativity, boy,” The driver shrugs, not seeming bothered by his bluntness.

“What do you think of Shelley?” Marion does get a look his way this time, grinning at it.

“Shelley?”

“Yeah as in the Shelley Starling, small, blue and orange, from Africa,” Apparently Marion's extra details do nothing to convince him.

“You want to be called Shelley?”

“Yeah can’t you just picture it, ‘Batman and Shelley save the day’,” Marion gestures to an imaginary headline.

“And you thought Bat Boy was bad,” The driver shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement, “Do whatever you want kid,”

“Can I tell Batman I got your approval?” Marion grins, leaning further into the drivers space.

“Don’t bring me into this,” His gruff tone doesn’t hide his smile as he slows to a stop, “Now get out,”

“Thank you very much sir, sorry about him,”  Marinette pushes Marion out of the car, handing over what they owed him

“Just call me Norris, see ya round, Sparrow... Shelley,” Marion beams at him, Norris shaking his head but smiling none the less.

“Bye!” Marion waves as the car drives away, “I like him, what are the chances we see him again?”

“Zero,” Marinette predicts, walking towards the meeting point.

“Where have you two been?” Batman demands more than asks the second they land on the rooftop.

“Hospital,”

“Family business,”

“....”

“Well, we’re clearly not telepathic,” Marion bumps their shoulders, moving to stand next to Batman.

“Sorry, about missing patrol, it's been… hectic the last few days,” Marinette explains, both hoping they won't pry further.

“Right... Sparrow you’re with me on a stake out,” Batman declares, turning to Marion, “You’re with Nightwing and Robin,”

“You got it,” Marion does a mocking salute, turning on his heels towards them.

As he reacquaints himself with the grappling hook, he gets the run down from Nightwing on where their patrol will go. Marion suspected it wasn't their regular patrol route as they start swinging across the city. He says hi to Oracle and Spoiler on the comms. Disappointed that Red Hood wasn't there tonight, but on the plus side he was less likely to get stabbed… or crash through another window.... or fall off a building.... or-

“There's a mugging three blocks to the east,” Oracle informs, the three of them immediately changing their route.

“We still need to decide on your codename,” Nightwing pipes up, once they start a steady pace towards the mugging.

“Not again,” Robin mutters, Marion grins catching himself in free fall.

“I have a few ideas,” And then because he can’t help himself, “Robin what do you think?”

“Tt, you should take this more seriously, so as not to seem like a complete fool,” Robin scoffs, landing perfectly on the edge of a building, a mugger holding another man at gun point just below.

“Hm, it's a bit long for a codename,” Marion drops down into the alley with them, landing on a garbage skip without a sound, “How about just Fool?”

The mugger turns around, startling at Marion and Robin blocking his exit, Robin scowls, hand twitching towards his katana. Either because of the mugger raising his gun or Marion is undecided.

“Maybe not,” Nightwing stands between the Mugger and the victim. Concerned look apparently deciding Robin’s scowl was aimed at him after all. “What were you thinking?”

If he was trying to redirect the conversation away from murder, boy did he choose a bad way to do it.

“Pterodactyl,” Marion grins as the mugger can’t decide who to point his gun at.

“Why!” Robin spins to him, catching Marion's full attention.

“I don’t know,” Marion shrugs, unconcerned with the mugger pointing at him edging forward, “Their closest living relatives are birds, right?”

“That doesn't mean-” Robin lunges forward as the mugger tries to escape.

“-You act like an immature child,” Robin insults, moving to disarm the gun, “Completely lacking professionalism, you actually sang while apprehending criminals,”

“I see it as more a testament to my skill that I can multitask,” Marion dismisses, coming up behind the mugger as Robin distracts him.

“You were almost stabbed several times,” The whites of the domino mask narrow, removing the gun from the mugger's grip.

“And yet I won without a scratch,” Marion sends back a smirk, grabbing the hand that goes to punch Robin taking the mugger off guard, Robin kicks him to the ground.

“If you like singing, how about Songbird?” Nightwing attempts to interrupt Robin’s likely plans to change his ‘without a scratch’ claim.

“I don’t know, there's a taxi driver I met who’s really attached to Shelley,” Marion tries not to give away his excitement at how perfect the name is.

“I’m sure he’ll survive,” Robin deadpans, zip tying the muggers hands as he struggles.

“Hm… sure sounds good,” Marion shrugs, almost bouncing with excitement, This is gonna be fun .

“Then I guess congratulations are in order, Songbird,” Nightwing slings an arm around him, ruffling his hair.

“You hear that?” Marion looks down at the mugger, “Now you get to tell the Police who took you down,”

“Robin?” The man asks, smug smirk on Robin's face.

Songbird steps out of Nightwing's hold. Picks up the mugger easily, as he shouts and struggles in his grasp. It takes slightly more effort to throw him into the open garbage skip next to them, letting the mugger land on the piles of trash.

“Tt, are you a complete child?” Robin scoffs, having to look up at him.

“Really? What are you like nine?” Songbird smirks at his irritation, ignoring the crook yelling.

“ No I am not ,” Robin hisses.

“Sorry, eight,” Songbird’s instincts tell him to take a few steps back, he doesn't listen.

“That wasn’t very professional,” Nightwing’s disapproval showing through his expression, Marion can’t quite shake off the feeling of a disappointed big brother.

“Hm? What? Oh!” He looks towards the mugger that's still shouting at him, whatever, professionalism was for Ladybug, “Oh no I dropped them! I was carrying them with the utmost care then I went and accidentally dropped them!”

Songbird smacks his forehead, schooling the grin off his face. In much the same way Nightwing is clearly trying to.

“I’m such a klutz- let me try and get them out,” Marion slams the lid shut with an echoing bang, “Oh no! My bad, how can I be so uncoordinated? Whatever will I do now!”

“You are strange,” Robin informs, sending out his grappling hook.

“Thank you, it’s a goal of mine,” Songbird bows, sirens can be heard in the distance now.

He double checks the victim that Nightwing has been covering. Smiling brightly at their slight smile. With a little wave he swings out the alley, following Nightwing and Robin.

After continuing on route for a while longer, stopping minor crimes they stop for a mid patrol snack.

“Number one rule don't stand on a ledge,  I have poor impulse control and I will push you,” Marion warns before they sit down on the rooftop.

“What are you a cat?” Robin scowls, in the danger zone.

“Absolutely,” Marion’s grin is feral, Robin’s scowl deepens as he comes to join them.

“What is that?” Marion gasps in horror at the boring grey brick Robin unwraps.

“An energy bar, it’s more effective than your trash,” Robin scoffs, tucking the wrapper away.

“What do ya mean,” Nightwing and Songbird mumble out through mouthfuls of baked goods.

Robin presumably rolls his eyes under the mask. Leaning in to take a bite of the energy bar. Marion slaps it out his hand.

“Hey!” Robin shouts, as it drops to the ground.

“It touched Gotham, it’s contaminated now,” Marion shrugs, giving Robin pause before he picks it back up.

“I am resistant to a few germs,” Robin says condescendingly, picking the bar back up.

“In Gotham ?” Marion stresses, making him pause again, looking consideringly at the before throwing it away.

He brings out another identical one. Marion doesn't even let him unwrap it before he makes a grab for it. Robin’s expecting it this time and jerks it out of his reach. However years with the miraculous has enhanced his reflexes, Marion’s other hand snatching it. With a little enhanced strength Marion throws it over the edge of the building into the street.

“So what I can’t eat?” Robin bites, hand moving towards his katana.

“Of course you can,” Marion holds out a macaron, “Here,”

“Absolutely not,” Robin glares, Nightwing leaning back to watch the exchange.

“It’s good,” Marion goads, shifting closer.

“I’ve had enough of Nightwing's overly sweet patrol snacks to know that is not true,” Robin scoffs, even as Marion moves close enough that he must be able to smell the treat.

“Yes but this is mine and I know for a fact it’s good enough for the gods,” Except for one particularly picky god who once made him attempt camembert macarons. Needless to say, no one else liked them.

“You overestimate yourself,” Robin scoffs, turning away from Marion, he’d bet to try and avoid the tantalising smell.

“Prove me wrong,” Marion challenges, and can tell from the shift in body language he had him.

With one last glare, Robin snatches the macaron. Regarding it skeptically.

“How do I know it’s not poisoned,”

“Oh for the love of-” Marion takes it back, breaking it in half rather than biting.

He hands one half back and eats the other. Robin doesn't take a bite before he stops chewing. Marion opens his mouth to show the mushed up food for good measure.

“Tt, disgusting,” Robin sneers, turning away to eat the last half, “... this is not,”

“Not what?” Marion teases, despite having a soft smile at Robin's expression, before it turns to a scowl.

“It is better than the trash Nightwing eats,” Robin concedes, too late, he had already given himself away.

“Hey!” Nightwing exclaims, but Marion moves quick as a cat to stuff a macaron in his left open mouth. He startles, before chewing, “... alright… never mind…. Wow,”

Marion hands Nightwing another before he has to ask, getting a downright envious look from Robin. With a smile Marion breaks another macaron in half, handing the bigger half to Robin. He takes it, biting it in half again, clearly trying to control his features to seem indifferent, and failing.

“It’s so good to see you actually enjoying something,” Nightwing pulls Robin into a hug, the latter scowling but not moving away. Marion grin widens, getting Robbin to narrow his eyes.

“What?” He demands, completely failing at being threatening while getting cuddled.

“Nothing,” Marion’s smile suggests otherwise, “Are you two brothers?”

The both startle at the question, shifting slightly away from each other. As if they were about to give away their identities.

“... yes,” Robin admits, faint blush would probably go unnoticed by someone without pseudo-night vision.

“Awe! Little D!” Nightwing brings him back into a much tighter hug, that Robin does try to get out of.

“Lets’ go,” Robin stands, blush probably visible even without night vision.

Marion grins, apparently teasing enough that Robin feels the need to defend himself. They argue and tease as they swing off into the night to resume patrol.

Marinette shifts, joints popping after being crouched for so long. Stake outs weren’t her typical affair as Ladybug but it seemed Sparrow will need to get used to them. She and Batman don’t talk, both focusing on the building below watching for activity. The silence makes the chatter on the comms all the more louder.

“We still need to decide on your codename,”

Marinette tries to hold back a laugh when Batman reaches up to turn off his comm faster than even she ever could as Ladybug. She follows suit, not wanting to burst out laughing when they were meant to be hidden. Marinette tries to stay focused on the warehouse in front of them but the architecture of nearby buildings has her itching to grab her sketchbook.

“Why did you ask me to join the stake out?” She asks Batman, before she gives into the urge to vent her designs.

“Do you honestly think he would sit still,” The avoidance of any codename doesn't go unnoticed by her.

“No he wouldn't,” She smiles, mischief dancing in her eyes, “You just didn’t want to put up with codename again did you?”

She only gets a grunt in response, making her smile widen. Before long she's bored again. That short exchange can only sustain her for so long, sitting still on a cold Gotham rooftop. This wasn’t what she wanted to do tonight, it was meant to be a way to release energy not gather it sitting still all day and night.  Marion was out in the city forgetting about his problems, letting them fall as he leapt from building to building. She was meant to be doing the same. In free fall, focusing on the next building to catch her rather than how to adjust to her new chaotic family.

“Who trained you?” Batman questions, halting Marinette's fidgeting, “Robin wouldn’t stop talking about it after your last patrol,”

That was strange. At the time he had seemed mad she took down all the gang members before he got the chance. Maybe that was just his default state.

“I was trained by master- my master I was trained by my master,” Marinette breaks herself out of her thoughts, stumbling over words.

“Was?” Batman prods, Now looking towards her, and thankfully ignoring her stuttering.

“Yeah, he… left about four years ago,” Marinette considers her words. It’s not that she didn’t trust Batman, but secret identities were so for a reason and any detail could reveal them to the worlds greatest detective.

“When did he start teaching you?” At least it didn’t seem like he was directly trying to figure out her identity, and it was nice to have a distraction. Even if it was just more talking, at least it was talking about something else.

“He never really taught us, per say, our city needed us so we stepped up,” After some hesitation on her part, but Marion had dragged her along anyway, not letting her give up for even a second, “He guided us from afar for a while until we needed to meet him,”

“You were protecting a whole city alone?” Batman's concern is not easily ignored.

“Not alone, we have each other,” Marinette corrects, plus sometimes other miraculous holders, but that would be giving away a bit too much, “We’re still protecting it, that's why we missed patrol, it’s not like we could have just quit, our home needs protection,”

It was partly true, they did leave to protect paris last time.

“.... It seems I’ve underestimated you,” Batman admits, glaring at the skyline “Clearly you are more…. Responsible than I assumed,”

You don’t know the half of it , Marinette thinks, smiling to herself. The silence they fall back into is a peaceful one. Marinette tries to ignore her thoughts, clearing her head to focus on the task at hand. She is just starting to master her thoughts when trucks pulls up, several people jumping out, working together to carry crates stacked in the trucks.

“I’ll call in the others,” Batman whispers, as more people come out to meet them, about thirty people so far with possibly more inside.

Marinette clicks her comm back on to hear the echo of Batman’s voice telling Marion's group to head their way. Within ten minutes Marion, Nightwing and Robin have joined them on the roof, studying the last of the crates being carried inside.

“We'll go in ahead, Sparrow you and your partner wait for my signal and be prepared as backup,” Batman instructs, preparing to jump across the street.

“Songbird,” Marion interrupts, Batman’s gaze snapping to him, “Decided on a codename,”

“That's… acceptable,” Batman concedes, Marion's grin growing manic.

Without another word the three bats swing across the street, crashing through the warehouse windows. She turns off the communicator so they can’t hear them but they can still hear Batman.

“I’m surprise you went with something- at least for you- normal,” Marinette doesn't take her eyes off the flashes of gunfire and shouting coming from inside, “I mean I know singing is your thing and everything, but still,”

“Dear Sister you underestimate me,” Marinette doesn't need to look at him to know what kind of face he’s making, “For you see I have a master plan, so grand it will make my name known to all,”

“And make Batman regret inviting us?” Marinette guesses, eyebrow raised.

“And make Batman regret inviting us,” Marion parrots, smile evident in his tone, “Do you have a speaker?”

Batman knocks the gun out of the nearest criminals hand. An uppercut sending them to the floor for a while. He’s right in the thick of the crowd, back to back with Nightwing, while Robin picks off those on the outer edges.

“I’m going to bring them in,” Batman alerts Nightwing, His communicator off so they don’t come in early.

“Are you sure they can handle this?” Nightwing hits his attacker over the head, disorientating them, “Red Robin will be here soon, there's no need to put rookie’s at risk,”

“They are very capable,” Batman defends in both senses, blocking the oncoming punch.

If Sparrow was telling the truth, which he was sure she was, they had single handedly been protecting an entire city for years. Even if it wasn’t as crime ridden as Gotham it was clear from what little they have said that there is something more going on, perhaps a few villains. What is worse is how young they are. Not even Robin, who has been training all his life, was allowed to patrol by himself. From the sounds of it they could have very well been protecting an entire city single handedly at his age. They could certainly handle a thirty something gang members.

“Sparrow, Songbird, now,” Batman flicks on his communicator, getting confirmation.

Not a hint of fear at the prospect of barging into a heavily armed base. They certainly didn’t seem cocky, confident yes, but they have the skill to back it up. Despite everything, they knew how to take the job seriously and are responsible enough to treat it with care and respect.

The sound of glass shattering is almost drowned out by the sudden blast of music. Eerily familiar tune to a pirate movie Dick had once insisted they all watch together.

“Captain Jack Sparrow is here!” Sparrow hits the ground, landing a punch on the way down.

“Yo-ho Yo-ho A pirate's life for me!” Songbird… sings… of course. As he swings into the room disappearing into a cluster of criminals, not that anyone could mistake where he was as he keeps singing at the top of his lungs. "We pillage we plunder we rifle and loot!"

Batman pauses to watch like many other criminals. "Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Allies are standing, as confused as enemies at the strange scene. "We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot!"

Gunfire is drawn to Songbird, grinning ear to ear. "Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Batman catches Sparrow's eye, getting a cheeky grin and saluting in response.

“Um…” Nightwing trails off, taking down a thug that had the wherewithal to attack them as most criminals head towards the new… disruption.

“No Nightwing, not now,” Batman grits out, Nightwing backs off to go help Songbird who was getting surrounded. And. Still. Singing.

Batman just stands in the middle of the remaining crowd surrounding him. Absentmindedly taking down anyone who attacks him. Gaze practically locked on the two.

This behaviour... is completely unbecoming of any hero or vigilante.

Sparrow takes down a criminal with a flip that immediately had Nightwing next to her. Chatting as they continued the fight, seemingly experimenting with different styles with the others instructions. With all the criminals around him down he slowly approaches the few remaining that surrounded Songbird and Robin. The latter of which was telling him to stop singing to no avail.

"Um... whats going on here?" Batman doesn't jump at the sudden appearance of Red Robin no matter how much it caught him off guard, he must be more distracted than he thought.

“Just like you to show up when all the hard work’s done,” Robin sneers over at Red Robin.

“I wasn't the one that called for backup,” Red Robin says cooly, “Couldn’t you handle a few thugs?”

“Of course I can your presence here is unwanted as always,” Robin snaps, even as Red Robin takes down the last remaining criminal.

“Oh you two are definitely brothers,” Songbird grins, cutting off Red Robin's retort.

“Tt You are completely- How do you even come to such a inane conclusion,” Robin surprisingly falters, Songbird grinning wider.

“So you’re not?” Songbird pesters, not waiting for further denial, “Cause you seem to really like each other,"

They both start arguing with Songbird. The latter just listening and adding provocation whenever necessary. Easing them both into a teasing atmosphere, playfully more than hurtfully sending out insults.

Nightwing was now showing Sparrow a particular kick flip. All the criminals around them wisely staying still if they were conscious. The two stop to laugh wherever the others say something particularly ludicrous.

Batman watches them, training his years of discipline to keep a smile from tugging on his lips.

I suppose it can be a good thing.

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month

[linastudyblrsblog]

Burnout, unfortunately, is everywhere. If you haven’t experienced it personally, you probably know someone who has self-diagnosed.

 Defined by the World Health Organization as a syndrome “conceptualized as resulted from chronic workplace stress,” it causes exhaustion, “feelings of negativism or cynicism,” and reduced efficacy. That’s a big umbrella, and the condition has become something of a catch-all for chronic, modern-day stress. 

Here are 11 of our favorites to help you create your own escape plan:

1. Figure out which kind of burnout you have.

The Association for Psychological Science found that burnout comes in three different types, and each one needs a different solution:

1. Overload: The frenetic employee who works toward success until exhaustion, is most closely related to emotional venting. These individuals might try to cope with their stress by complaining about the organizational hierarchy at work, feeling as though it imposes limits on their goals and ambitions. That coping strategy, unsurprisingly, seems to lead to a stress overload and a tendency to throw in the towel.

2. Lack of Development: Most closely associated with an avoidance coping strategy. These under-challenged workers tend to manage stress by distancing themselves from work, a strategy that leads to depersonalization and cynicism — a harbinger for burning out and packing up shop.

3. Neglect: Seems to stem from a coping strategy based on giving up in the face of stress. Even though these individuals want to achieve a certain goal, they lack the motivation to plow through barriers to get to it

2. Cut down and start saying “no.”

Every “yes” you say adds another thing on your plate and takes more energy away from you, and your creativity:

If you take on too many commitments, start saying ‘no’. If you have too many ideas, execute a few and put the rest in a folder labeled ‘backburner’. If you suffer from information overload, start blocking off downtime or focused worktime in your schedule (here are some tools that may help). Answer email at set times. Switch your phone off, or even leave it behind. The world won’t end. I promise.

3.  Give up on getting motivated.

With real burnout mode, you’re too exhausted to stay positive. So don’t:

When you’re mired in negative emotions about work, resist the urge to try to stamp them out. Instead, get a little distance — step away from your desk, focus on your breath for a few seconds — and then just feel the negativity, without trying to banish it. Then take action alongside the emotion. Usually, the negative feelings will soon dissipate. Even if they don’t, you’ll be a step closer to a meaningful achievement.

4.  Treat the disease, not the symptoms. 

For real recovery and prevention to happen, you need to find the real, deeper issue behind why you’re burnt out:

Instead of overreacting to the blip, step back from it, see it as an incident instead of an indictment, and then examine it like Sherlock Holmes looking for clues.

For example, you could ask yourself: What happened before the slip? Did I encounter a specific trigger event such as a last-minute client request? Was there an unusual circumstance such as sickness? When did I first notice the reversion in my behavior? Is some part of this routine unsustainable and if so, how could I adjust it to make it more realistic?

5.  Make downtime a daily ritual.

To help relieve pressure, schedule daily blocks of downtime to refuel your brain and well-being. It can be anything from meditation to a nap, a walk, or simply turning off the wifi for a while:

When it comes to scheduling, we will need to allocate blocks of time for deep thinking. Maybe you will carve out a 1-2 hour block on your calendar every day for taking a walk or grabbing a cup of coffee and just pondering some of those bigger things. I can even imagine a day when homes and apartments have a special switch that shuts down wi-fi and data access during dinner or at night – just to provide a temporary pause from the constant flow of status updates and other communications…

There is no better mental escape from our tech-charged world than the act of meditation. If only for 15 minutes, the ability to steer your mind away from constant stimulation is downright liberating. There are various kinds of meditation. Some forms require you to think about nothing and completely clear your mind. (This is quite hard, at least for me.) Other forms of meditation are about focusing on one specific thing – often your breath, or a mantra that you repeat in your head (or out loud) for 10-15 minutes…

If you can’t adopt meditation, you might also try clearing your mind the old fashioned way – by sleeping. The legendary energy expert and bestselling author Tony Schwartz takes a 20-minute nap every day. Even if it’s a few hours before he presents to a packed audience, he’ll take a short nap.

6.  Stop being a perfectionist; start satisficing.

Trying to maximize every task and squeeze every drop of productivity out of your creative work is a recipe for exhaustion and procrastination. Set yourself boundaries for acceptable work and stick to them:

Consistently sacrificing your health, your well being, your relationships, and your sanity for the sake of living up to impossible standards will lead to some dangerous behaviors and, ironically, a great deal of procrastination. Instead of saying, “I’ll stay up until this is done,” say, “I’ll work until X time and then I’m stopping. I may end up needing to ask for an extension or complete less than perfect work. But that’s OK. I’m worth it.” Making sleep, exercise, and downtime a regular part of your life plays an essential role in a lasting, productive creative career.

7.  Track your progress every day.

Keeping track allows you to see exactly how much is on your plate, not only day-to-day, but consistently over time:

Disappointing feedback can be painful at first – research shows that failure and losses can hurt twice as much as the pleasure of equivalent gains. But if you discover you’re off course, reliable feedback shows you by how much, and you then have the opportunity to take remedial action and to plot a new training regime or writing schedule. The temporary pain of negative feedback is nothing compared with the crushing experience of project failure. Better to discover that you’re behind and need to start writing an hour earlier each day, than to have your book contract rescinded further down the line because you’ve failed to deliver.

8.  Change location often.

Entrepreneurs or freelancers can be especially prone to burnout. Joel Runyon plays “workstation popcorn,” in which he groups tasks by location and then switches, in order to keep work manageable, provide himself frequent breaks, and spend his time efficiently:

You find yourself spending hours at your computer, dutifully “working” but getting very little done. You finish each day with the dreaded feeling that you’re behind, and that you’re only falling farther and farther behind. You’re buried below an ever-growing to-do list. There’s a feeling of dread that tomorrow is coming, and that it’s bringing with it even more work that you probably won’t be able to get ahead on.

List out everything you need to do today. Try to be as specific as you can…Next, break that list into three sections. Step 1: Go to cafe [or desk, a different table in your office, etc.] #1. Step 2: Start working on item group #1…Once you finish all the tasks in group #1, get up and move. Close your tabs, pack your bags, and physically move your butt to your next spot. If you can, walk or bike to your next stop…When you get to the next cafe [or spot], start on the next action item group, and repeat…

When you’ve completed everything on your to-do list for the day, you are done working. Relax, kick back, and live your life. Don’t take work home with you because that won’t help you get more done – it will just wear you out.

9.  Don’t overload what downtime you do get.

Vacations themselves can cause, or worsen burnout, with high-stress situations, expectations, and sleep interruption. Use it to help in recovery from burnout instead: 

Make a flexible itinerary a priority. [A] study from Radboud University found that effective vacations give you the choice and freedom to choose what you want to do. That means two things: Try to avoid structuring your vacation around an unbreakable schedule, and plan on going somewhere that has multiple options to pick from depending on the weather, your level of energy, or your budget.

10. Write yourself fan mail.

Seth Godin uses self-fan mail as a way to keep motivated instead of burning out on a project that seems far from completion:

I define non-clinical anxiety as, “experiencing failure in advance.” If you’re busy enacting a future that hasn’t happened yet, and amplifying the worst possible outcomes, it’s no wonder it’s difficult to ship that work. With disappointment, I note that our culture doesn’t have an easily found word for the opposite. For experiencing success in advance. For visualizing the best possible outcomes before they happen. Will your book get a great testimonial? Write it out. Will your talk move someone in the audience to change and to let you know about it? What did they say? Will this new product gain shelf space at the local market? Take a picture. Writing yourself fan mail in advance, and picturing the change you’ve announced you’re trying, to make is an effective way to push yourself to build something that actually generates that action.

  11. Break projects into bite-sized pieces.

Taking a task on in one entire lump can be exhausting and provide little room for rest in between. Breaking up your projects into set chunks with their own deadlines provides a much healthier, and easier, way of completing a large project:

The default take on deadlines is typically to consider them to be cumbersome and stressful. Yet, from another perspective, a deadline can be viewed as a huge benefit to any project. Without the urgency of a hard deadline pushing a project to completion, it’s easy for you, your team, or your client to lose focus. We’ve all worked on agonizing projects where the timeline just bleeds on and on, merely because the flexibility is there…

It turns out that the manner in which a task is presented to someone – or the way in which you present it to your brain – has a significant impact on how motivated you will be to take action. A study led by researcher Sean McCrea at the University of Konstanz in Germany recently found that people are much more likely to tackle a concrete task than an abstract task… It seems to me like the difference between being handed a map versus following the step-by-step instructions of a GPS device. Not everyone can read a map, but everyone can follow the directions. By breaking your project down into smaller, well-described tasks, the way forward becomes clear and it’s easy to take action.

[emachinescat]

New chapter! :)

Title: A Remedy to Cure All Ills, Part Four | Story: The Power of Three | Fandom: Merlin

Summary: While Arthur visits Merlin in the dungeons, Morgana confronts Edwin herself. Merlin is faced with a terrible choice.

Characters: Merlin, Morgana, Arthur, Edwin, Uther

Words: 5,308

TW: None

AO3 Tags: Friendship, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Magic Revealed

Full Story can be read here.

Full chapter here or on AO3!

Arthur wasn’t there when Merlin was arrested and brought to his father.  He didn’t want to risk his father getting suspicious and thought it best to make himself scarce.  Instead, he let himself into the dungeons and sequestered himself away on a stool in the corner to wait for Merlin’s arrival.

Nearly an hour later, the door swung open and three figures appeared, the one in the middle being held by the others.  Arthur watched from the shadows as the guards shoved Merlin into the same cell Gwen had been held in.  One followed him in and shackled his wrists to the chains in the floor.  Metal squealed and clanged as they locked him in, and then they retreated up the stairs.  Arthur had no idea if they’d seen him waiting there, nor did he care.  There were more important matters to deal with.

Arthur grabbed a torch from a wall sconce and hurried over to the cell, where Merlin was just picking himself up, more than a little ruffled.  Arthur noticed with fury when he turned around that there was a red handprint standing out starkly on his left cheek.

“Merlin!  Did my father–”

Merlin waved him off, coming as close to the bars as the chains would allow.  “No, one of the guards was a bit too enthusiastic when they were arresting me.  Apparently, I was impertinent.”  He gave Arthur a strained half-smile.

Normally, Arthur would have made a snide comment about how Merlin’s impertinence didn’t surprise him at all and that he wasn’t aware that Merlin could be anything but, but instead he demanded, “Which guard?  Who was it?”

Merlin shrugged, uncomfortable.  “It doesn’t matter.  We have far more important things to worry about.”

Arthur knew he was right and tried to quell the sudden protective energy that had consumed him.  Since when had he cared so much about what happened to Merlin?  The answer was fairly simple and hard to swallow: Almost since Merlin set foot into Camelot.   He drove Arthur mad, never did what he was told, and his very presence was illegal – and yet, absurdly, he had swiftly become an irreplaceable part of Arthur’s life, no matter how many times the prince threatened to replace him.

As quickly as he could, he told Merlin all that had happened – about Edwin blackmailing Gaius and then somehow finding out that he had told him and Morgana, and how the king had believed Edwin over them.  Merlin was fidgeting nervously, the chains clanking, by the time Arthur had finished.  A dark look brewed in his eyes.  Arthur understood it for what it was – Merlin felt betrayed, and rightly so.  Not only had Edwin pretended to be his friend and then turned against him in an instant, but he was also another sorcerer who had come to Camelot for evil instead of good.

“Right,” Arthur transitioned, clapping his hands together once.  “Can you magic yourself out of the chains?”

Merlin looked puzzled.  “I can, but why?”

Arthur regarded him blankly.  “So you can escape.  Or do you fancy being executed at first light?”

Merlin winced.  “If I escape, that will either just prove that,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “that I do have magic, or your father will think you helped me escape like you did Lancelot, and then you’ll be in trouble.”

“So you’re just going to die for being a sorcerer so that no one will know that you are actually a sorcerer?”

Merlin scoffed.  “Not if I can help it, not anytime soon, anyway.  We have to find a way to prove that Edwin is lying and that he’s plotting to kill the king.”

“I agree,” Arthur said slowly, “and Morgana’s already tailing him, trying to catch him in the act or find some sort of proof that he’s using dark magic.”

Merlin furrowed his brow.  “You said that your father plans to retire Gaius.  Did he say when?”

Arthur thought back.  “Immediately,” he responded apologetically.  “But at least he’s not being implicated by Edwin’s accusations against you – what?”  He broke off at the look on Merlin’s face.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Merlin demanded.  “If he’s taking Gaius’s place today, then he’ll set his plan into motion now.  He’s going to kill your father tonight!”

Dread poured over the prince like cold water.  “What – no – you think he’s going to try now, after he’s just been accused?  Even if my father sided with him, that’s too brash–”

“Don’t you see?” Merlin asked desperately.  “He doesn’t care about the little details like that.  If he’s as bitter and vengeful as you say, then he’s going to take the first opportunity he gets to take his revenge.  And anyway, do you really want to risk it?”

Arthur felt a sudden, strange swell of gratitude toward Merlin, paired with something akin to affection.  It was an unusual, almost uncomfortable feeling, but it came with the realization that Merlin had nothing at all to gain from stopping the king’s death.  In fact, he would gain more from letting him die.  But because Uther was Arthur’s father, and because he cared about Arthur, he was doing everything he could to save the life of a man who would see him dead – who had just sentenced him to hang an hour ago!

“What should we do, then?”

Merlin responded with a question.  “Did you say that Morgana was following him?”

“Yes.”  His eyes widened.  “If he’s really as desperate as you believe, and he’s already this close to his goal, then he won’t hesitate to hurt her to get to my father.  If he sees her–”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold.  Without uttering a single word, he’d cracked the shackles off of his wrists and nearly blew the cell door off its hinges.  Arthur dove to the side just in time to avoid being bludgeoned.

“ Merlin!”

“Oops.”

Arthur had gone from being grateful for the loyalty of his manservant to wanting to strangle him in seconds.  “What happened to breaking out causing us more trouble in the long run?”

“If Edwin is acting tonight, we don’t have time to play it safe,” Merlin answered, rubbing his raw wrists.  “If you and Morgana are going to face Edwin to save your father, you’re going to need someone with magic.  You’re going to need me.”

Arthur scoffed.  “I’ve faced sorcerers in battle before and won, Mer lin.  Just because you’ve been protecting me magically doesn’t mean that I cannot look out for myself.”

“I know,” Merlin said earnestly, “and Morgana is more than capable of standing up for herself, too.  But this is a sorcerer, and neither of you have magic, and we don’t even know just how powerful he is.  It’s better not to take the chance.”

Arthur finally saw to the heart of Merlin’s decision to join them, despite the increased risk to himself if he were to be caught: He was worried about them.  Merlin couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around, waiting, while his friends put themselves in danger.  Arthur didn’t argue with Merlin further after that.  It was exactly what he would have done, too.

Morgana was rather adept at sneaking around the castle.  Having grown up within its walls, she had developed early on an intricate knowledge of the maze of hallways, the many floors and staircases, and array of rooms.  She knew where to avoid and how to get in and out of the kitchen without being seen.  The servants’ passages were a personal favorite of hers, because they allowed her to move about silently and invisibly as the rest of the bustle of the castle passed her by.

Nowadays, she didn’t sneak around as much – Uther had caught her hiding in a secret passage when she was fourteen eavesdropping on a council meeting and had given her a stern but indulgent talking to about how sneaking around like a common thief was not appropriate behavior for the king’s ward.  The king’s reprimand hadn’t been what stopped her secret escapades, but rather the realization as she grew into a woman how much more those in the open hallways respected her.  Crowds would part when they saw her approaching, her heels clicking imperiously on the cold stone floor.  She no longer needed to sneak, because no one questioned her presence in any part of the castle now that she was no longer a troublemaking child.  If only they had realized that she had, in fact, only morphed into a troublemaking adult who was just very adept at hiding said troublemaking.

Even if she no longer routinely employed her knowledge of the ins and outs of the castle, the secret passages and servants’ hallways and hiding places, it didn’t mean that she had lost the mental map she had forged so long ago.  This is how Morgana followed Edwin now, watching him from the shadows, following him from adjacent, hidden passageways.  The conniving physician marched with great confidence, a nauseating sort of prideful strut, and it was apparent that he assumed he had already won.

Arrogance, Morgana reflected testily, is both one of the most obnoxious and useful vices nature imparts on men.   It was because of this arrogance that she was able to follow him so easily.

Morgana had spotted Edwin going into the chambers he was using as his laboratory, where he stayed for quite some time.  She got bored waiting on him to emerge, but she knew that there was no alternate way out of the room, so she just had to wait in the shadows until he finished whatever he was doing.  Finally, when the chill of dusk had settled into the air and on her bare arms, he eased the door open and set out on his way, not even bothering to check if he was being watched.

She trailed him down five corridors, up two flights of steps, and down the dome-ceilinged, guarded hallway that led to Uther’s chambers.  Her heartbeat quickened as she realized that the man was wasting no time in executing his revenge.  The moment he had stolen Gaius’s job as Court Physician, he had put the remainder of his plan in motion.  Morgana hesitated for the briefest of moments before steeling herself, wrenching a sconce from the wall of the servants’ alcove she lurked in, and holding it before her to use as a weapon if it came down to it.  She had no idea where Arthur was – probably trying to free Merlin or at the very least make a plan with him.  Not that it mattered.  She didn’t need him to confront Edwin.  She was perfectly capable of doing so herself.

And so she did.

She stepped out of the shadows, and in the clear, cold voice she had learned as a beautiful woman often approached by undesirable men, said simply, “Edwin.”

Edwin froze, then spun around in one fluid motion.  His eyes changed from cruel to surprised, and then melted into a tense indulgence when he saw who had snuck up on him.  “Lady Morgana,” he exclaimed sweetly, his voice hushed.  Morgana narrowed her eyes, disgusted by how obviously he thought he could manipulate her so easily.  His candied words may have fooled Uther, but they had never worked on her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a level tone.  Her heart pounded, and she tried not to think about how a show of bravery would mean ultimately nothing in the face of his magic.  The sconce she held before her was no more a weapon against a sorcerer than a needle against a knight.  Still, she stood firm, back straight, chin held high, eyes cold and haughty.  Morgana was used to fighting until she got what she wanted.  This time was no different.

“I could ask you the same question,” Edwin evaded, taking a step closer to her, arms held out placatingly at his sides.  When she said nothing, merely fixed him with an impatient stare, he yielded.  “Lady Morgana, I am merely bringing the king his medicine.  I am the new Court Physician, after all, and the king is waiting.”

It was Morgana’s turn to move closer to him.  She put every ounce of ferocity into her next words.  “If you get what you want, the only thing the king will be waiting on is his death.”

She watched the short-lived battle flash behind Edwin’s eyes and knew that he was trying to decide whether he should continue playing his part or drop the act.  Finally, he sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in an over-dramatized air of annoyance.  “Okay, fine, you’ve got me,” he said, still in the same good-natured tone as before, but this time, there was a slide edge to his voice.  “I should have known you would have figured me out, my lady.  You are, after all, much more intelligent than the men who rule this stupid kingdom.”

She raised an eyebrow menacingly.  “Flattery is trite, and will get you nowhere, Edwin.  And I believe Gaius discovered your plan before anyone else.”

Edwin shrugged, unimpressed.  “Only because he remembered me from when I was a child.  That’s basically cheating.”

She tilted her head to the side contemplating him.  “You are in an awfully good humor for someone who has just been caught committing treason,” she remarked dryly.

Edwin’s smile took on a strained quality.  “Lady Morgana,” he said, and she curled her lip at the patronizing tone.  “Please try to understand that I am not a bad person.  I’m not evil. ”  Her other eyebrow rose to join the first, but she did not speak, so he continued.  “I am not doing this out of greed, or cruelty.  I only wish to avenge my mother and father.  Surely you can understand that?”

“I understand that you came into my home, used me as a pawn in your revenge and nearly killed me with a terrible illness.  I understand that you forced a kind, competent man and great friend out of the job he has held for decades.  I understand that you accused a close friend of magic, that you got him thrown into the dungeon and slated to be executed.  And I understand that even now, you are marching to deceive and destroy my guardian, the man who took me in after my father died.  These are not the marks of a good person.”

The smile had turned to a sort of grimace now.  “My lady, I only did what I had to do in order to achieve my revenge.  I took no pleasure in making Gaius look like a fool–” a brief pause, “–okay, so I felt a little pleasure in that.  The man sat back and watched my parents – his friends – burn!  But I did take no pleasure in betraying one of my own.”  His eyes glittered.  “Interesting that you are aware of the servant’s secrets and that you not only keep them but refer to him as a close friend.  Perhaps your loyalties are not as easily defined as you would like me to believe.”

The hand of uncertainty clenched around her heart.  Her loyalty to her guardian had come into question in her own mind many times before, especially since she had learned Merlin’s secret.  Certainly, she had never approved of the king’s reckless hatred of magic, his harsh sentencing of any and all who possessed it.  She didn’t know much about the Purge, for Uther had sealed those records up as tightly as his own heart, but what she had heard, in fearful whispers or the dying curses of the accused, sickened her, and she found a growing disgust rising within her when she found herself alone with the king.  She fought against him, rebelled, did anything she could to prove that he had no control over her.  She tried to force him to change, to help him see the truth, and she was tossed aside, like she was nothing.

No, not like she was nothing.  Like she was a girl in a council room full of self-important old men – less than nothing.

She hated it.  Sometimes she hated Uther.  The kindness and indulgence  he had bestowed upon her as a child were few and far between.  Lately, she found herself contemplating what she would do, how she would feel, if a bitter sorcerer succeeded in their plot to kill the king.  Would she mourn?  Or would she breathe a sigh of relief for the oppressed and abused?

A small part of her was tempted, very briefly, to turn and walk away, especially when Edwin wheedled, “I have seen your heart through your actions, my lady.  I have seen how you have embraced those like me, how you have become loyal to a sorcerer.  You have empathy.  You cannot bear to see innocents suffer.  Just think of how many lives you will be saving if you just turn around and pretend you never saw me.”

His words struck her deeply, and she found herself thinking of all the times that Uther had belittled her, executed someone without a trial, hated those with magic indiscriminately.  Edwin was right in that her heart ached for those like Merlin who had lived in terror their entire lives because of something they were born with.  Then she remembered growing up in the castle, the way Uther would ruffle her hair, how he would always take her side over Arthur’s, and the tender way he had kissed her forehead when she had woken from her illness.  As completely as she knew she hated the king of Camelot for the atrocities he had committed, she knew that her guardian truly loved her.

And besides, he was Arthur’s father.  Merlin would be determined, she knew, to save the king even though letting him die would make his life easier.  He would save Uther for Arthur’s sake.  And even though Arthur was obnoxious and thick-headed and proud, he had also grown remarkably since Merlin came into his life.  And she had grown up with him, seen him at his highs and at his lows.  She knew how much it hurt him that he never got to meet his mother.  She could not be responsible for taking his father away, too.

She chose her next words carefully, for she could feel the hurt and the sorrow and the rage bubbling just beneath the surface of the man before her.  In a way, she pitied him, and all that he had lost.  But he had hurt her friends, and she would not allow it to happen again.  Perhaps, if she could just reach him… “Edwin, you of all people should know that revenge is never this simple.  Think of all the people that Uther has killed in his quest for vengeance.  Think of how Gaius and Merlin – Merlin, a sorcerer, like you – have already suffered because of your hatred for the king.  And if you do kill him, that will only continue the cycle.  Don’t you see?  Arthur will seek vengeance for his father’s death, and people will continue to get hurt.”

“The cycle stops with my death,” Edwin said, and he sounded haunted, fragile.  “I have no one left to fight for me.”

Morgana hesitated for a fraction of a second, then vowed, “If you stop this now, I will fight for you.  Arthur and Merlin will fight for you.  You are hurting, I know.  And you have a right to be angry.  But can you not see how different Arthur already is from his father?  He knows about Merlin’s magic, and he supports him.  He hides it from his father.  If you stop the cycle here, then Arthur and Merlin can work to build a better, safer Camelot for magic-users like you.  Change – good change – can only come from time, and patience.”

A tear trickled down his face, nesting in a divot of his scar.  “I watched my parents burn.  I tried to run into the flames to save them.  I don’t have time, or patience.  I want to see him die.”

Morgana took another step forward.  “If I let you walk away, how am I better than Uther?” she asked softly.  “If you kill him, how are you better than Uther?”

Edwin shook his head, something like pity in his eyes.  “Someday, my lady, you will see that your moral high ground means nothing in the face of tragedy.”  He studied her closely, his eyes boring into hers, and she fought the urge to back away or avert her gaze.  If he was trying to intimidate her, it wouldn’t work.  She put all of her frustration, all of her passion, all of herself into her glare, felt the rush of emotions build up behind her eyes as she met his gaze.  Abruptly, Edwin took a step back, as if she had slapped him.

“Perhaps we are more alike than either of us thought,” he said cryptically.

“What are you talking about?” Morgana demanded.  For reasons she could not explain, her heart was thrumming madly, and she felt alive, exhilarated – powerful.

Edwin hesitated for the fraction of a second, then murmured, “Your eyes…”

He trailed off, eyes catching on something over her shoulder.  Approaching from behind, Morgana heard sound of echoing footfalls and knew without having to turn around that the rest of her party had arrived… at exactly the wrong moment.

“Edwin!” Merlin’s voice resounded, pinging off the high walls and domed ceiling.  He didn’t sound like himself – the one name he called radiated power, deeper than his usual tones, serious and cold.  A warning.  Chills arced down Morgana’s spine.

And then, Arthur’s voice, as irritating and dripping with male bravado as ever, followed, and the spell of Merlin’s voice was broken immediately.  “Morgana!  Look out!”

Irritation flared up in her chest, and now she turned to meet her approaching friends with a withering glare.  “What are you doing?” she hissed.  “I’d nearly gotten through to him!”

Arthur and Merlin – whom she was relieved to see looked relatively unhurt, though with a bruise adorning one cheek – skidded to a stop in her ire, eyes wide, slightly out of breath.  Merlin’s eyes widened in alarm.  “Morgana–”

His warning, for that was what it had been, came too late.  Or perhaps Edwin was simply too fast.  One moment, she was reprimanding two of the most powerful men in the kingdom like they were naughty children, and the next, she was airborne, propelled from the ground with an invisible hit that knocked the breath out of her lungs and sent her crashing into Merlin and Arthur.

Well, she would have crashed had it not been for Merlin’s magic.  Instinctively – it had to be instinct, for though his eyes flared gold, no spell passed his lips – he caught her with magic.  The feel of his power being used on her was like nothing she had ever imagined.  She had watched him do magic plenty of times before, in the secret of Gaius’s chambers.  But he had never performed magic on her.

She’d wondered what it might feel like, and suddenly, she knew: Merlin’s magic was just like him, gentle, good-natured, but steadfast and real, like the feel of sun-warmed grass underneath your back on a breeze-kissed summer day.  It was also duplicitous, with another, almost invisible layer resting just beneath the surface.  This part was unyielding, shivering with power, and a little bit terrifying, like the lightning-charged sky in the moments after a great storm.  It made her want to laugh and weep at the same time, to wrap her arms around him and to run as far and fast as she could.  The top layer, she knew – it was Merlin.  But something far more powerful and foreign – not evil, just strange, almost old, somehow – lay beneath.  And yet she knew – this was Merlin, too.

All this ran through her head in a matter of seconds, and then Merlin’s magic had deposited her gently on her feet.  She staggered, pain flaring in her middle back, as the magic left her.  Edwin’s spell had hit her hard.  Merlin reached out and steadied her, and though Morgana did not enjoy being “rescued” by anyone, she had to admit that in this situation his hand wrapped loosely around her upper arm was actually helpful.  She regained her footing moments later, and Merlin, as if realizing he’d been holding a poisonous serpent, sprang back, and his hands disappeared behind his back, almost as if he were a good, obedient servant.

Morgana could tell with one glance at Arthur’s face that he’d watched the whole exchange, but he had no time to contemplate what it meant – nor did Morgana, for that matter.  Edwin had used the distraction to disappear, and Morgana knew that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to simply make his escape.  She’d almost broken through to him, but a bloodlust had still tinted his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked in a terse voice.  She nodded, said a quick, “Thanks” to Merlin for keeping her from further injury, and then the three of them rushed to Uther’s chambers, hoping they would be there in time, but all knowing already that they would be too late.

Edwin was gone when they burst into the room.  Merlin swore under his breath, an anger most unlike him sizzling just under his skin.  The rage swelled as his eyes alighted to the open window.  The king’s chambers should have been too high for anyone to escape from without serious injury, but when Merlin leaned out, toes barely brushing the surface of the floor as he tilted forward, peering into the darkness below for any sign of Edwin, the courtyard was empty.  Edwin had escaped.  A heavy weight settled directly onto his heart at this realization – and he came to the sudden, jarring understanding that he was not angry at all.

He felt betrayed, lost, and alone, but the rage had dissipated as quickly as it had come upon him.

He was wrenched from his thoughts, and from the cool night air blowing gently against his face, with a desperate shout from Arthur.  “Merlin!”

Merlin knew at once what was the matter, and what Arthur would want him to do.  A pang of anxiety joined the aching betrayal consuming him, followed quickly by fear, then an intense, deep-seated guilt.  It was one thing for Merlin to stop Edwin before he could work his dark magic on the king.  It was another entirely to play an active role in saving the life of the man who had driven Edwin and so many others into the reapers of death and hatred they had become.

Yes – Arthur was going to ask him to heal the king who had arrested him, thrown him in the dungeon, and sentenced him to a horrific death without a trial.  Worse yet, the man who had killed so many like Merlin, who only used their magic for good, or to get by, or because it was the only thing they knew how to do.  The thought of performing magic on a grief-torn, vengeance-born husk of a man such as this stirred something deeply uncomfortable inside of the warlock, and for an insane, panicked moment, he was half-tempted to follow Edwin out of the window and into the night, away from the dangerous and impossible thing that Arthur was about to request.

And yet, it was because Arthur needed it that Merlin stayed.  It was because it was Arthur’s father who was dying that he gathered the strength to turn away from the fear and self-loathing and nameless voices of the magical dead that screamed traitor! in his mind and agreed to use his magic to save a man who hated it.  Who hated him , and wanted him dead.

Now that he understood Edwin’s magic, it would be relatively simple to heal the king.  He’d just need the box, which the sorcerer had, in his haste to escape, left on the end table beside an unconscious, death-pale Uther.  “I can heal him,” Merlin said, his voice rough and uncertain, and he could tell from the looks on both Arthur’s and Morgana’s faces that they understood his struggle.

Morgana took a step forward, green eyes softening in sympathy.  “Merlin, you don’t have to–”

Merlin shook his head, cutting her off without uttering a word.  When Morgana had spoken, Merlin had looked to Arthur and saw something wonderful and terrible on his face – resignation.  Wonderful, because it meant that he had never intended to force Merlin to use his magic to save the king.  Terrible, because he doubted for a moment that Merlin would refuse to help his closest friend’s dying father.

I’m not doing it for a king, Merlin told himself firmly, I am doing it for a father and his son.  In the back of his mind, he heard those same voices, those of the damned, the oppressed, the executed, the slain, whisper their vile insults and curses.  Traitor! they spat.  Traitor to magic!  Traitor to your kind!

The battle waged fiercely for a few seconds more.  Merlin squared his shoulders, took the box of dark magic from Morgana’s pale, slender fingers, and stopped trying to justify his choice.  He leaned over the magic-hating king who wanted him dead, and used magic to make him whole once more.

As soon as Uther stirred, Arthur grabbed Merlin and shoved him out of the king’s chambers, escorting his servant quickly but silently, through the empty corridors of a sleeping Camelot, and back into the dungeons.  The guards were still sleeping by the door, having been knocked out from behind by a sleeping spell upon Merlin’s jailbreak.  Merlin had assured the prince that these men would remember nothing when they woke up – probably.  Merlin’s astounding confidence aside, Arthur hadn’t felt particularly reassured, but knew he needed to check on his father.

Soon, he knew, the king would learn the true story of Edwin’s betrayal, and Merlin would be released, though Arthur knew an apology from his father was far too much to expect.  Gaius’s position would be restored, and life in Camelot would resume in some facsimile of normal.  Except normal, Arthur knew, didn’t exist anymore.  It couldn’t, not with threats like the griffin and Valiant and Edwin surfacing seemingly every week; a heavy fog of dread and death had descended upon Camelot, and Arthur had thought his servant untouched by that darkness.  Until now.  He knew how hard it must have been for Merlin to willingly use his magic to save a king who wanted him dead because of said magic.  He knew Merlin felt betrayed by Edwin.  Did he now feel betrayed by himself?  The question twirled a sickening dance of uncertainty in Arthur’s mind as he escorted Merlin back into his cell.

Reluctantly, Arthur secured the shackles around his friend’s wrists, as Merlin almost sheepishly magicked the cell door back into place.  The sorcerer smiled reassuringly at Arthur, but the prince was anything but.  He was unsettled by the way Merlin’s smile barely touched his eyes, and Arthur’s skin crawled in unease at the choice he had forced upon his friend as he made his way up the stairs, away from the friend he had just locked in a dark, damp dungeon.  The man who had saved the king, the killer of so many of his kind, with magic.  The King of Camelot was alive, the prince was still a prince and not a king, and Arthur still had a father.

But at what cost to Merlin himself, Arthur feared but did not know.

He went to his father, but his mind stayed on his servant.

[spellbound-banshee]

She Laughs - Adam Sackler

Summary: Adam and you decide to indulge in some sexy times (your first time as a couple), and it’s different with him.

Warnings: fluff, smut (first one on tumblr!), general crackheadedness

Pairing: Adam Sackler (HBO Girls) x Reader

A/N: this is my first smut on here and i haven’t written one since the 8th grade so i might be a bit rusty, also it’s lighthearted so... i guess enjoy?

“Sorry, did that hurt?” “Are you sure?” “Show me how you like to be touched.”  “Say it again.” “God I love your hands.” “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” “What do you mean not yet? You can’t expect me not to cum when you’re fucking me so good.” “Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”

-

Adam had spontaneously called you as he was spending another day alone at his apartment. He’d been attempting to learn how to use his phone just so he could talk to you every day, and he finally realized that he was tired of being alone. 

So here you were, on a normal Tuesday sitting on his couch as you searched his fridge for anything good to eat. He’ll never admit that he looked at your ass every time you bent down to get something at the bottom. “Man, you’re really healthy.” You teased as you pulled out two apples and threw one in his direction. He fumbled a bit to catch it but still managed to watch the way your body moved as you sat down.

You hadn’t had sex as a couple yet. You’d only been dating for a couple weeks and he definitely respected your request to take it slow, anything to be with you. Even after a couple of weeks, he swore he was falling for you. You smiled at him with a tiny nose scrunch and he felt his heart flutter a bit, the apple completely forgotten as he just wanted to ravish you.

You bit into the apple and a bit of juice escaped from the area of the bite, so you swiped your finger along the bottom and licked it off your finger - quite innocently. He groaned playfully, slamming his head back against the end of the couch and smiling. “What?” You teased, shoving his shoulder a bit as you took another bite of the apple.

“Oh god,” He groaned again and picked his head up to look you up and down, “how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” You nearly choked on your apple at this kind of talk, swallowing and finding yourself blushing at the compliment. You saw his eyes widen at the comment, “sorry, was that too forward?”

You couldn’t help yourself, you put the apple on the couch and launched at him to kiss him. He gasped slightly at the sudden action but nonetheless let his lips mold to yours, his wandering hands brushing against your waist. Feeling bold, you picked your leg up and straddled his lap, inching further towards him as you could feel him tense up. “Sorry.” You suddenly said, pulling away.

“God, don’t be.” He replied, placing gentle hands on your waist to steady you. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” Your initial shock surprised him more than you - how could he not want you? He thought about you every day, he practically worshipped the ground you walked, and you were surprised that he wanted to ravish every inch of your body?

“I... uh...” He thought you were going to reject him, that you were going to say you wanted to take it slow and things would be awkward from now on. All of the worst case scenarios flooded his head, until he heard you say those magical words. “Yeah... me too, actually.” You chuckled nervously, running your fingers through your hair while one hand remained on his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” He asked sweetly, both of his hands coming up to cup your face, and you couldn’t help but kiss his palms.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You nodded, taking a deep breath. It’s not like you were a virgin, but your ex was an asshole when it came to sex - he was pressuring and demanding, and never gave any time to you. You really liked Adam, he didn’t deserve your sexual baggage, but now you were ready to let go.

“Fuck yes.” You heard him whisper, and you didn’t have time to giggle as he kissed you with a new hunger. He pulled you closer by your face and held you there, as if he never wanted to let you go, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck.

He found an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, and your soft moan caused a flash of heat in his stomach. Suddenly he was desperate, wanting to hold you close and clawing at your shirt like a rabid animal. You pulled his hair accidentally as you tried to grab his face, but from the groan he let out you could tell he didn’t not like it. All of the feelings you’d both held inside for each other came spilling out, and neither of you were in control of your bodies.

Suddenly, he grabbed the bottom of your thighs and lifted you up like you were paper, causing you to squeal into his mouth. The brief separation just made him more desperate as he tried to navigate his apartment still connected to your lips. As he finally found the bedroom - out of habit - he threw you onto his bed, causing you to make a noise that resembled a bit of pain.

“Fuck!” He quickly ran over to kneel by your side, “sorry, did that hurt?” The worry in his voice was quickly replaced by relief as he heard your muffled giggles.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You waved him off, covering your mouth a bit as you continued to giggle. He laughed a bit with you, softly crawling onto the bed and leaning over you to kiss you. Your giggled subsided as you kissed him back, running your nails down his back - feeling bold once again, you nibbled on his lower lip and pulled his out a bit while you were kissing. 

“Fuck.” He growled, pulling away and leaning down to kiss your exposed shoulders, biting just a bit to leave some marks. “You’re so hot.” He whispered, making you blush once again. He felt himself wanting to lose control, to just pin you to the bed and fuck you into next Wednesday, but he wanted to take it slow with you at first. The fucking could wait.

“Can I... please take your shirt off?” His hands tugged desperately at the button of your loose t-shirt, begging for it to be removed.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You teased, and he giggled as he raised the shirt up and off your head. “The bra is a front clasp so...” You laughed once again as you saw his confused face, so you reached down with trembling fingers to undo the clasp.

As it fell off, you watched his expression of confusion melt into one of awe and adoration. “Holy shit.” He breathed, staring at your tits like they were the eighth wonder of the world, “you’re so... you’re so fucking breathtaking.”

The atmosphere in the room changed as he leaned down slowly to kiss you gently, his warm and calloused hands resting on your stomach. You could cry at how loved you felt in that moment, so gently held by such a strong man above you. God, you wanted to treat him right.

The mood shifted once again as his large hands came to fondle with your breasts, and you let out a gentle moan. He wanted to hear that moan again, he made it his life goal to make you moan his name until you couldn’t remember your own. You bit your lip as his thumbs circled your nipples, arching into his touch - it startled him how sensitive you were. “God I love your hands.” You moaned as he continued his work, the praise making his pace falter a bit.

“Say it again.” He growled, placing his head in between your breasts and kissing the cleavage. 

“I fucking love your hands.” You repeated, taking one of them off your chest and kissing the tips of his fingers. Your words caused him to moan a bit, and even though you heard it his pride would never admit it. He started to kiss down your body and started to fiddle with the hem of your sweatpants, silently asking for them to come off. “Please.” You nodded and he practically ripped them off, grabbing one of your thighs and kissing down your calves until he almost reached the promised land.

“Please don’t make me beg.” You whined and he chuckled, shaking his head against your stomach.

“But you’re so cute when you do.” He protested, causing you to giggle and reach down to take off your underwear.

“Just touch me, pretty boy.” You whispered, kicking the panties off your legs and noticing the way he stared at your pussy and moaned at the nickname. “You like being called pretty boy?” You asked, running your hand through his hair as he couldn’t take his eyes off your pussy.

“How are you even real?” He asked genuinely, looking up into your eyes and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, shoving his face away playfully. “Can I eat you out?” He asked, and you felt your face get hot at the question - you also felt your heart flutter, nobody had ever asked how you felt. The way you nodded made him laugh, but he quickly grabbed your thighs and spread you out for him. “Tell me how it feels.” He whispered, and before you could respond he dove right in.

His tongue instantly latched onto your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub a bit before taking the flat of his tongue and licking up your entire mound. “Fuck!” You moaned - you haven’t been eaten out in a very long time, and Adam took notice to how sensitive you were. He moaned gently around your clit, once again swirling his tongue around the nub and causing you to let out the same moan. He could feel the electricity shoot up and down his entire body at just the sound of you, he could only imagine what this pussy felt like. 

“Fuck, Adam!” You mewled, finding yourself grinding against his mouth, already feeling the coil tighten in your stomach. He moaned around you at the cry of his name, pulling you closed by your ass and suffocating himself on your skin. He could be buried in your pussy for days if his body would allow him. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He sarcastically mumbled as your hands came down to cart through his hair, messing it up and making it stick upwards. You seemed to like the vibrations against your clit, so he moaned again and he could feel your body tightening. Your moans became closer together and louder, your hands became fists in his hair and you pushed your mound against his mouth. With one final suck to your clit, you came gloriously on his mouth - your thighs closed around his head and he actually thought he would suffocate against you. What a way to die.

“Fuck...” You breathed when you finally came down from your amazing high, staring down at the flushed man below you. You bit your lip and ran your fingers through his hair to put it back into place, pulling him back up to your face to kiss you.

“You are... so, so beautiful.” He sighed against your cheek, kissing it gently and nibbling on your ear, causing you to giggle. “I like the way you laugh.” He smiled, kissing your ear and traveling to your jawline. “It takes the pressure off, I feel like I can be myself around you. It’s so freeing.” Once again, you felt so loved, being held in this context, knowing you both had this effect on each other. You wanted to say you loved him, but you didn’t want to scare him away - but he felt the same.

“I wanna touch you.” You whined, grabbing him by the shoulders and attempting to flip him over, but he was too heavy. He laughed and pushed his head against your stomach, loosening his stature and moving with you as you once again attempted to flip him over. You looked so beautiful on top of him, he could feel the urge under his belt get harder and harder to ignore. “Can I take your pants off?” You asked, and he just blushed from the innocent look you were giving him.

“Go crazy.” He teased, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear just to adore your face for a second. His heart stopped when you smiled again, pulling his jeans down and he helped you kick them off his legs. He felt bad, this should be more about you - you told him about your asshole ex, so he should be giving you all the pleasure, not the other way around. “Kid, as much as I would love- oh, fuck, okay....”

He was about to protest, but knowing what was coming you started to kiss the bulge in his briefs. You knew he felt bad, but you wanted to give as much to him as he was giving to you, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Can I suck you off?” You asked, and he laughed at the sheer brazenness of your words, but he didn’t protest or complain.

“Show me how you like to be touched.” You whispered as you took off his underwear, his dick instantly standing at attention above you. It was big and intimidating, the tip already red with veins decorating the shaft.

“Woahhhh...” He breathed, “that was crazy hot. You can’t do that.” He shook his head, whipping his hair out of his face a bit - and once again, you laughed that gorgeous laugh of yours. You kissed his thighs with the same amount of worship he did to yours, caressing his strong stomach and kissing up and down his chest. He whimpered before he could catch himself, and you bit your lip at the sound - you made it your life goal to hear that sound again.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You teased, testing the boundaries and determining his preference in positioning, particularly dom-ing. 

“God, yes. Please.” He nodded, his pride hurting a bit for begging but he would do anything you wanted him to do, that’s the kind of power you held over him. He would walk into oncoming traffic for you, he would do anything you wanted and all you had to do was ask.

You started slow, licking up his entire shaft and stopping to suck at the tip for a few seconds. He seemed to like that, shaking a bit the further you got to the tip and the longer you sucked on it. “Fuck, keep doing that.” He encouraged, reaching a tentative hand down to push your hair out of your face. You appreciated the ability to see again and decided to work your way down his cock, taking as much into your throat as you could. He let out a whimper-y growl and threw his head back into the pillows, lifting his hips gently to get further into your mouth.

“God feels so good, kid.” You moaned around his dick, sucking up and down in slow motions to tease him a bit. He wasn’t being rough with you like he normally would, but he liked the freedom of having you take control and work at your own pace - it was sexy. He felt so close already, normally coming from a blowjob would take a little longer but with you below him, he couldn’t help himself. “Fuck, stop. I’m gonna cum.” You obliged and he let out a sigh of relief, but immediately found himself missing the warmth of contact.

He made teasing grabby hands at you, and you giggled while wiping your mouth, coming above him and kissing him sweetly. “You’re so beautiful, Adam.” You sighed, kissing down his chin and across his neck, deciding to leave a couple of marks there. He felt his face heat up at your words, placing a gentle hand in your hair and massaging your scalp as you worked.

“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly, nibbling on his ear as you said the words.

“Fuck.” He groaned, covering his flushed face with his hands and laughing lightly against them. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Is that a yes?” You questioned, kissing his cheekbone and running your fingers through his long hair to get it out of his face. You noticed some beauty marks that spotted his skin, and you traced your thumb over them, connecting them with non-existent lines.

“That’s a fuck yes, whatever you want.” He nodded and leaned his body up a bit to kiss you on the lips, gently biting onto them and pulling it back. You moaned into his mouth and kissed him with hunger, that fire in your belly re-lighting. “Wait, do you have protection?”

“We don’t need it, I’m on the pill.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He said genuinely, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m sure.” You whispered, crawling down his body and kissing his toned chest on the way down. You lifted your body above his, squeezing his already sensitive dick and lining it up with your entrance. He hissed and grabbed your hips as you started to move down on the tip, his head lulling back and his body already needing more. “Fuck, Adam.”

“Please...” You really had him wrapped around your finger if you had him begging for you like this. His mind was fuzzy with pleasure, his toes curled and his back arched into your pussy - he swore it felt like the first time. Not the mechanics of the first time, not messy or confusing or awkward - you were meant for each other, and he’d never felt pleasure like this before.

“God Adam, you’re so fucking sexy.” You grit out, attempting to adjust to his reasonably sized length; it wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable at first.

“Say it again.” He begged again, and you noticed this time that he actually liked to be praised, possibly because he was insecure but this wasn’t the time to get into that.

You leaned down and connected your forehead with his, the new pressure on his dick causing him to moan, biting his lip in anticipation. “You’re,” you kissed the top of his forehead, “so,” you kissed his cheek, “fucking,” you kissed him hard on the lips, fisting your hands in his hair and pulling him upwards to connect further. He groaned as you pulled away, whispering, “sexy,” against his mouth as you roughly bit his lip.

“Fuck me.” He breathed, grabbing both sides of your head and pulling you back into him for a searing kiss, pushing up into your hips as he couldn’t help himself. You both moaned from the contact, grinding back against his hips as you started to get a rhythm. “Fuck!” Adam groaned as you pulled back a bit to splay your hands over his chest, continuing to grind against his dick.

As you found what worked for you and found a set rhythm, your moans started to become more consistent and melodic. It was almost embarrassing how flushed Adam was becoming, his face and his chest were covered in splotchy red marks. “Shit, yeah.” You moaned and started to bounce on his dick, to which he moaned loudly and threw his head back, nearly hitting the headboard. “We’re gonna... get a noise complaint,” you moaned and put your hands by his thighs to grind against him better, “and it’s not going to be... because of me.” You teased him, throwing your head back and displaying your perfect tits for him to reach out and grab.

“Fuck... I wish I could come up with a good comeback... but you’re probably right.” He shot back, panting and trying his best to last longer, he was biting his lip so hard he was sure it would start bleeding. “Shit, I think I’m gonna cum soon...”

“Not yet, wait...” You begged, bouncing harder on his dick which didn’t help to slow down the process.

“What do you mean not yet?” He stared at you as if you had four heads, “you can’t expect me not to... cum when you’re... fucking me so, so good.” You laughed at his complaint, once again leaning down to kiss him on the lips. “Shit, can we switch real quick?”

“’Course.” You replied, still grinding on him to continue the motion, “whatever you want.”

He nodded, letting out another moan before grabbing your thighs and holding you close, flipping you around as to not lose the connection. You landed on your back with a bit of a squeal, and he lied his head against your stomach to laugh a bit. You ruffled his hair and he looked up at you with that sweet smile, nothing but love and adoration filling those honey brown eyes. “My god, you have no right being that damn cute.”

At the compliment, he started slowly moving against your walls again, and since you were already sensitive, your giggles morphed into moans. “You like the way I look?” He asked, his voice strained as he began to pick up the pace, resting on one elbow while his other hand found itself on your hand.

“Fuck, yes!” You replied, grinding back against him and sticking with his rhythm.

“Oh yeah, fuck me back.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours and biting his lip. “You really like me?” He asked, half to help you get closer and half to confirm that a goddess like you could actually like someone like him.

“Fuck, Adam!” You yelled as his hips started snapping against yours harder and harder, you couldn’t keep up with his pace. He wrapped your legs around his waist and you clung onto him for dear life, he could feel the scratches forming on his back and he couldn’t help but let out a carnal growl.

“Answer me.” He was sweating now, his moans becoming more frequent and closer together. He reached his other hand down to rub against your clit, and he could tell he was hitting a special spot inside of you from the way you were practically screaming. “Do you really like me?”

“Fuck, Adam. I love you!” You couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of your mouth since you were on another planet, but the words made his heart and his pace stutter. Your words set off something deep within him, and now he made it his only goal in life to made you cum, to make you feel otherworldly pleasure.

He was fucking you so good, the pleasure was starting to build up inside of you at such a rapid pace it almost burned. Your mouth was glued open and you couldn’t stop the flow of moans echoing from your mouth, your nails that dug into his back were sure to leave marks that would last a while. “Adam, don’t stop don’t fucking stop please please please.” The hand that was holding himself up reached up to grab your hand, pinning it above your head and holding it sweetly. “Make me cum, make me cum please, please.” You definitely didn’t have any control of what you were saying - and my God he would do anything to please you. He felt his body swell with pride, knowing he could make you feel this good.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” He strained, his senses overloaded, surrounded by the godliness of you and this mind-blowing pleasure flooding his veins.

“Please, fuck, inside of me.” You nodded, wanting to kiss him but you were so close and you couldn’t stop your moans.

Just those three words sent him over the edge, pushing his dick deep inside of you as he came harder than he ever had before. The feeling of him still pumping and rubbing at your clit send you over the edge in a way you never experienced before, it felt different, and so much better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your moans mixed together in a somewhat off-kilter but gorgeous harmony, and it went on for a while. Even after the orgasms had subsided, you were both still whimpering, holding each other close and never wanting to let go.

He was shaking against you, wrapping his arms underneath your body and holding you impossibly closer against him. It took a few moments of sub-space bliss before your vision cleared and realized he was crying. “Hey...” You whispered, your voice still a bit shaky and raw, “what’s wrong?” You pulled his head from out of your shoulder, and his eyes were teary and red-rimmed, but he didn’t look sad. He was smiling slightly, not crying enough for tears to fall down his cheeks but enough to blur his vision a bit. You pushed his hair out of his face, trying to read him, and he could tell, so he leaned down to kiss you. Of course, you couldn’t resist kissing him back, but the concern still remained. “Adam... baby... what’s wrong?”

He smiled against your lips, “nothing’s wrong. I’m just moved.” That didn’t answer any concern you previously had and didn’t work to soothe your concern now. In fact, it left you more curious.

“Moved? Moved how?” He seemed to like your confusion, pressing his forehead against yours and nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I love you too.” He confessed, and your eyes briefly widened at the admission - you could tell he started to regret saying it from the way his eyes changed. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud in your haze of pleasure, and although it was something you actually felt for him, that probably wasn’t the best time for it to come out.

“Did I say that out loud?” You asked genuinely, and while he laughed lightly, it still sounded pained. He kissed your lips and looked down, guiding himself out of you with a soft groan, and shifting off the bed to move away.

“I really love you, kid. I know it’s... early or cheesy to say it or whatever, and it’s not just because of the sex, even though the sex was fucking...” He blew out a breath and scratched the back of his neck, causing you to giggle, tears beginning to fill your eyes. “Yeah... you don’t have to... say it back but I just wanted you to know that I mean it.” He gave you a smile, but inside he just really wanted you to say it back, even if it wasn’t true - just for the validation

Adam had always been insecure in a relationship when it came to mutual love, Hannah had fucked him up a bit and even though she was out of the picture, he still held that pain. He really loved you, and when he really loved someone, really felt that connection with someone, he was all in. With these thoughts in mind, the dread and insecurity began to set in, and you could see the sudden change in his face.

“Hey.” Your voice soothed, grabbing his wrist and stopping him carefully in his tracks, he could feel his heart skip a beat before he looked back down at you. His body pulled him towards you, like his brain didn’t have control and it was just you... all he could ever do or see or think about... was you.

“I do love you, by the way. I just didn’t want it to come out... then.” The joy that filled his heart caused his chest to swell at the confession, his mind immediately shaking off the insecurity that so easily plagued his mind.

But you weren’t satisfied, he still seemed to hold onto the pain, so you pulled him back down to the bed. You lifted your weak body up and planted a firm kiss on his lips, he moaned briefly at the surprise. “Adam Sackler.” You soothed, cupping his face with your small hand, your other coming to connect with his large one. “I’ve loved you since the moment you sat down in that restaurant, the moment you talked about your love of acting, the moment you opened up so we could communicate better, the moment I sat on your couch and we ate yoghurt in silence. Every moment with you, has made me love you so much more. Please, believe me when I say you are one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

He just shook his head and smiled, his mind immediately shaking off the insecurity. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, kid.” He was hiding his emotions a bit, truthfully he could start crying and lie in your arms all day and night, being reassured of your love over and over again.

“I like the way you call me kid.” You smiled, kissing the tip of his nose and he scrunched it a bit in response, pushing his forehead against yours until you were lying on the bed. “I’m trying to think of something for you, I’ll come up with it when I’m actually on Earth.”

He chuckled as he got up off the bed, kissing your hand and walking to the bathroom. You were going to protest, but you felt your body become heavier the longer he was gone, and you began to drift in and out of sleep. 

Suddenly, you were met with a warm sensation around your sensitive pussy, causing you to jerk backwards in surprise. “Sorry! Didn’t want to bother you.” He whispered, cleaning you and himself up, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“It’s okay, I should probably pee anyway.” You shrugged, hoisting yourself out of the bed and giving him a small kiss on the neck before walking to the bathroom.

“The bed’s getting cold.” He whined as you began to come back, washing your hands in the bathroom. You giggled at his neediness and dried your hands before walking back to the bedroom area. He smiled when you came in, and you swore you would never leave just by the adoration in his eyes when he saw you. You promised you’d marry him. And have his probably freakishly large children.

“Better?” You asked as you cuddled against his chest, kissing his collarbones and making your way back up to his face.

“Much.” He whispered, before sweetly kissing you on the lips. And you lied there in comfortable silence as the functions in your brain began to quiet, and your bodies became heavier with the weight of sleep.

And in that moment, he promised he would marry you.

-

[vinylhazza]

Can you write a concept about y/n finding Ethan’s Nintendo switch and playing at the whole day ignoring Ethan at first he’s happy she’s having fun but then he starts getting annoyed since she isn’t paying him any attention so he decides to pull her panties down while she’s laying on her stomach and then he inserts a furry tail anal plug in her which they’ve never really used before and yeah....I’ll leave the rest to your imagination queen😳😌

i’m not saying anything i promise (😖)

it’s not like she wanted to ignore him, but he gave her the opportunity to play his game when he left it sitting out in the wide open and she always begs to play only to get a “later” thrown at her carelessly with a kiss on the cheek. well the ‘later’ never came and she would ask again at another time, only to get the same answer. so when he holds out the controller in defeat after snatching it from her hands - she is lunging at him on the bed, laying flat on her tummy with the brightest smile plastered across her face. how could he say no to that face? when she looks so darn cute and happy? it was the least he could do after telling her ‘later’ so many times. 

at first, it’s actually quite fun to watch her little squeals of enjoyment and have her all giddy with excitement because finally he let her play after having to beg him and beg him day in and day out. she was just talking among herself to the game, little side comments that make him laugh at first...but then he gets lonely. and she hasn’t said a word to him in hours. she’s still sitting there, in the exact same position, tapping away at the controller while he sat next to her with a childish pout. 

“baby,” he whines, nudging at her leg with his hand. nothing. he gives her a silly tap, still nothing, “babe.”

she lets out a little “humph” at his tap but nothing more, still zoned in on her game.

“hm...i’m gonna get some food you want anything?” he smirks at the mention of food, knowing that she can’t ever resist because she is always so damn hungry he almost can’t keep up and he’s twice her size. the girl can eat, he’ll give her that. but again, she doesn’t move. not an inch. not even talk answer him quickly.

“no thanks,” she mumbles, then it’s right back to her game. and it’s - it’s making him angry now. not slightly annoyed, but angry. because how is she going to find his game, give him puppy dog eyes, and then ignore him the whole day? he was even offering food for christ sake. but she wasn’t having it.

“no thanks?” he scoffed, flopping his hand down on her ass in disbelief, it gives a soft smack - the soft cotton material of her tiny grey shorts nice unde his hand, “when have you ever said no to food in your twenty years of existence?”

never. the answer is never. but did she care? not in the slightest. she was having way too much fun 1. getting him to that edge of maddening irritation that she experiences often and 2. playing a game she’s constantly kept away from because he’s too selfish to even let her play one fucking time.

she gives a shrug, the tiniest of smirks on her lips that were now pinkish red from biting at the skin in concentration. he was just making it so easy to get under his skin.

even if she did hear him through the noise and commotion going on in her head while she played his game, smiling wide, it didn’t make her feel bad. not even a bit. she deserves to have a bit of fun, especially after having to deal with this exact bullshit every day with ethan and he hadn’t once apologized for ignoring her. he just kept on tapping away, leaving her to fend for herself and find her own enjoyment even when he was the one that invited her over. so she presumes she’s covered on that bit.

but she wasn’t expected what came next. and she definitely wasn’t expecting the result or rather punishment due to his pouting and nagging. he couldn’t have something too extreme up his sleeve right?

okay, if she’s gonna have her fun, i guess i’ll have mine, he thought to himself, flinging himself off of the bed with a scowl and a huff. she continues playing while he saunters over to the bottom drawer of the dresser, trying to be as quiet as he could as to not disturb her little play time. sarcasm intended. with an evil grin he tugs the drawer open and pulls out a little something something that he just knows will get her attention. he’s pretty sure they have only used the little toy one time before, but it was one of the craziest nights of their life.

a buttplug with a brown fuzzy tail. something he never imagined using while she was unsuspecting, relaxed, and not in the mood. yet, that is. she wasn’t concerned about ethan, let alone where he’s wandered off too until she felt a tug at her pants. one, twice, and then harder the third time. she finally feels the elastic waistband of her shorts slip just a bit down the skin of her hips, then further, and further down the expanse of her legs and off of her feet. she would’ve told anyone that asked she was only have paying attention at this point, even though that would be a lie.

her eyes had settled on a wrinkle on the bed, eyes set in a firm stare, waiting to see what ethan was really up to back there. ready to eat her out? fuck her for playing his game? punish her for ignoring him? what could possibly be coming next? instead of dwelling on the future that would unfold in just a few moments, she goes right back to her game, but keeps her attention divided in case he wanted to pull something.

it was only when her panties were finally peeled off and his hands were spreading her open like a flower in spring that she truly understood just how badly he wanted her to pay attention to him. and she jumped in a bit of fear and suprise mostly at the cold pointed tip of the butt plug - all lathered with lube now - poking at her clenching hole.

she had only ever felt the sensation a few times, on nights they got a little carried away and tried every damn toy they had before they finished. but...the stretch...she just falls apart at the feeling. it’s his hand squeezing her ass while he pushes the plug in slowly that causes her eyes to droop shut, fingers stilling on the controller. she’s trying her hardest, she really is.

“e...what are you doing?” she whispers, afraid if she does much more it would be a high pitched squeal because oh my God it’s all the way in and she’s clenched so tight around the silver toy that she can’t even begin to explain the wetness dripping onto the bed.

“so now you wanna talk to me?” he teases, but keeps a dark tone, now pressing his thumb into the jewled part of the plug, pushing in to slightly fuck her with it. the tail lays across her legs and over to the side. his little pet, such a pretty little thing, “that game doesn’t seem very interesting now does it?”

her mouth hangs open now, blown away by the plug pushing against a spot in her that has her seeing millions of stars bursting behind her eyelids. he’s rubbing at backside now, waiting to see if she will finally give it a rest and give into him.

“put the fucking game down and look at me,” he barks, ordering her without any hint of a choice. fuck he sounded so mad. but he will not be ignored, especially for a game he doesn’t let her play for a reason.

she shakes her head, defying him, knowing he will make her anyway, but wanting him to force her.

“i said turn,” a slap to her ass, “the fuck,” another slap, “around.” with one final harsh slap to her now sore behind, she’s pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, wiggling the tail back and forth while looking at him over her shoulder.

rocking back against his hand felt like a sin, a dirty, nasty act that she should be damned for. it just felt so good to be touched by him, used by him, punished for being a bad, selfish little girl. but that’s what she is isn’t she? his dirty little girl. always would be.

when his free hand slips down to rub figure eights onto her sensitive clit, she’s screeching then, eyes watery with tears of pleasure. it drives her crazy when he really works for it. his fingers rub her just right as the plug kept hitting that same sweet spot inside of her, his thumb pressing repeatedly in on the jewel under the tail.

the sounds of her pussy, the wet, squelching, soaking, drenched sound of her had him humming to himself in a sort of hungry way. she’s his little slut, dirty fucking whore. couldn’t deny him if she tried. she’s desperate for him always. and it wouldn’t ever change. she could have said no to his sexual advances, could have ignored him or given him a short answer like she’d been doing all day. but that would have been denying her the selfish pleasure of him seducing her for attention. and she didn’t really want to deny herself that.

his fingers are pushing into her quickly, moving at a fast pace, a goal set in mind. first he started with one, then two, and finally he slipped a third finger righ in her tight little cunt. with the tail swinging with her movements, his fingers fucking her, the plug making her feel so stuffed and full, she is cumming in minutes - screaming out his name along with many many curse words. he gives her praises through the blackout high she feels - telling her that she’s his good angel, his pretty girl, his favorite toy.

the fluttering clench around his fingers makes him hungry for more, but decides he’ll save the best part for later. tugging at the tail in her ass, he’s pulling the plug out slowly, letting her feel the stretch once again, and hearing her whimper at the loss, her hole shrinking back in front of his eyes. fuck.

ethans hands reach out to grab at her hips, raising her up so her back is pressed firmly against his chest where he kneels on the bed, eyebrows furrowed and fingers wet with her juices. she knows exactly what to do when he holds them in front of her lips, sticking her tongue out to suck his digits into her mouth, sucking and slurping to make sure she gets them all clean. his arm is wrapped around her midsection, his hips trailing kisses along her neck and collarbone, so tender and soft.

“please don’t ignore me anymore,” he whines between kisses, dipping his hand down to smooth across her thigh and lower stomach. her skin is just so soft it makes him crazy to not be touching her in some way.

“the game wasn’t even that fun,” she sighs, tilting her head to the side to give him more access. intertwining their fingers and giving his hand a kiss, first on the top, then on each knuckle.

“is that so? why did you go completely tunnel vision then?” he challenges, raising his eyebrow (you know the face). he’s such a smartass.

“you know why,” she laughs, smile taking over her face because her plan had played out just the right way. ethan always needs the attention, and when he doesn’t get it, he will make damn sure you pay the price. no matter if it’s sexual, a prank or minor inconvinience.

his lips detach from her skin with a pout at first and he sets his eyes dead on her face as she waits for him to talk, smirk just ornery as can be.

“you sneaky little shit.”

long story short she gets her shit pounded later that night and when she wakes in the morning the love bites, soreness between her legs, and light bruises scattered across her skin are a testament to what happens if you ignore ethan pay attention to me always dolan.

[siren1song]

Somethin’ About Ya

Summary: Remus kind of really love his partner, but don't tell Remy that.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and beheading

Pairing: Dukesleep

Word Count: 1,048

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @rose-gold-roman, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps

Notes: This is for @bitchy-sleep and @not-in-the-gutter because they were both being really cute right in front of my salad.

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

If there was one thing Remus could list that he liked about Remy it’d probably be how fun they were. Or… maybe the way they snorted when he told a joke? No it’d definitely be… fucking everything.

God, what was he thinking trying to list just one thing?

Like… they were hot as all with a killer fashion sense. Mesh shirts under crop tops and a mini skirt? Fucking hell.

Plus they knew how to cheer him up. Sure he may not be an avid coffee drinker but the fact that they brought him the sweetest coffee they could find on days he woke up with a hangover because they both went out and decided to go clubbing the night before and let loose was… really appreciated honestly.

They were also incredibly indulgent in the things he was interested in. How could that not be something he listed? Once, they sent him so many pictures and videos of squid and octopus just to watch him get excited over the animals.

Plus he’d do anything for the way they smiled at him when he pulled them into his lap without a word just because he was craving affection.

…Honestly he’d do anything for them period. Be it eating seafood or chopping off his own hand he’d do it all and more if they asked him to.

Well… with exceptions. He still liked to pretend they weren’t dating when other people asked, despite the two of them living in the same apartment and getting legally married for the tax benefits.

Sometimes Remus mentally called them his spouse and felt his heart rate increase and his face flush and every time he’d find himself grateful that Remy was either asleep on the floor (because fuck beds he guessed) or out of the house for any variety of reasons.

It was fun fucking with people though. He told Logan once that they hated each other when Remy was in his lap and their head against his shoulder.

They backed him up by not-so-lightly whacking his chest. Remus is pretty sure Logan is still confused about their relationship.

“I swear to all that is out there if you’re about to space out while I’m doing your makeup and make that cute little face of concentration that will ruin my progress sweets, I am beheading you twice.”

Letting out a loud snort, Remus snatched the black lipstick in Remy’s hand managed to swipe it over their cheek, cackling as they let out an indignant shriek and snatched the lipstick back.

They looked in the bathroom mirror to assess the damage, and Remus got out of dodge before Remy broke out the spray bottle they used to “keep Remus in line.”

Lotta good that did them, Remus was a free spirit.

“You little bitch I am cursing your bloodline!”

Remus cackled, stopping in the living room and whirling around just as Remy collided into his chest, clearly trying to hide their grin.

“I’m not gonna have a bloodline Remy, neither of us can give birth.”

Remy grumbled, looking at one of Remus’ hands that he had settled on their shoulders.

And then they fucking jabbed a foundation stick on his forehead and smeared it over to the other side in a Lion King style.

“You motherfucker!” Remus yelped, leaping back from Remy to swipe a finger over the foundation to see what color his partner had branded him with.

“You mauled me with lipstick, sweets. You really expect me not to retaliate?” Remy asked, recapping the foundation and raising a perfectly done eyebrow at him.

Remus grinned, and Remy narrowed their eyes.

“What are you planning.”

His grin grew wider, and he took a step back. As he expected, Remy’s hand shot out to hook on one of the belt loops of his jeans to keep in him close, and Remus took the opportunity to grab their arm and get them into a low dip.

The resulting giggle was like music as cheesy and dumb as that sounded.

“What the fuck, Remus?”

“Just treating you like a princess, babe,” Remus teased, his grin growing wider when Remy was clearly flustered.

And then pressed his forehead to theirs and pecked their nose.

It took a solid ten seconds for Remy to realize Remus’ goal and glare daggers at him.

“Let me go you monster fucking asshole.”

Remus suppressed a laugh, then dropped Remy to the ground not-so-gently.

“I’m going to behead you twice,” Remy started, once they got their breathing under control, “and send your fingers to your brother.”

“Hey, leave Margorita out of this, nyx doesn’t deserve severed fingers in the mail.”

Remy raised an eyebrow at him, and he let out a snicker he’d been holding in.

“Send them to my ex instead, he’ll get a cackle out of his shriek.”

There was a small pause, and then Remy let out a loud snort, rolling their eyes.

“Okay okay whatever, we gotta get cleaned up so we can make it to the dinner with Logan since you weren’t paying attention when you agreed to whatever it was he was saying.”

Remus let out a long dramatic sigh and collapsed on the couch instead, making grabby hands in Remy’s direction, who obliged without a second though.

Once he got them in his grasp, he pulled them onto his chest and wrapped his arms around their shoulders, making getting up difficult while he stared at the ceiling.

“Nah, I’d rather cuddle with you. I’ll tell Logan you got deathly ill or some shit.”

Remy relaxed into Remus’ hold, letting out a slow breath.

“We gotta stop canceling plans to go out just because you want to stay home and cuddle, Remus.”

“Your words contradict your actions babe,” he pointed out, placing a small kiss on the top of Remy’s head and grinning when he felt his partner relax further into him.

“Probably because I don’t actually mind,” they mumbled, voice slurred in a way that made it clear to Remus they were about to fall asleep.

The fact that they trusted him enough to sleep on his chest, not caring about the makeup smeared on their faces, filled Remus’ heart up a bit. God, he had a lot of love for them. Bitch or not.

[theforsakenprince]

One Cannot be Brave (Who has no Fear)

Chapter 2

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Summary: Virgil has hated the Renegades all his life, ever since they had failed to save his family. He’s made it his mission to take down the Renegades, and he’ll do anything to achieve his goal-even become one of them and tear them apart from the inside.

Based on Renegades by Marissa Meyer.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, platonic Intruality

Words: 2145

Warnings: knives, blood, (let me know if I need to tag anything!

Virgil slung his bag over his shoulder and started his climb up the building. He climbed past the first six stories before pulling himself onto the roof of the building. He dropped into a crouch, rummaging through his bag, pulling out the suit Janus had helped make. He slung his tool belt around his waist, where it hung comfortably. It was outfitted with specially crafted pockets and hooks where he could store his favorite inventions. Next, he pulled on his jacket- both waterproof and flame proof. He zipped it up to his neck and pulled up his hood, overshadowing his eyes. The mask came last. It was a hard, metallic shell that covered the lower half of his face. 

Then, he stooped low and pulled out the rifle and single poisoned dart from his bag.

“Where are you, Nightmare?” Phobia rasped.

“I’m almost in position,” Virgil replied, walking over to the edge of the roof. The noises of the celebration below weren’t as loud up here, and for that he was grateful. The street was a mess of parade floats, confetti, and people.

Virgil loaded the dart into the gun’s chamber.

Ingrid was the one to come up with the simple plan. When she’d told the group, Winston had complained about not being included, but Phobia pointed out that Winston, who most people knew as the Puppeteer, wasn’t capable of keeping anything simple.

So it was only the three of them on the field. Virgil had one dart crafted by Leroy Flinn, their poisons specialist. Leroy had offered to make him more, but he declined. He only needed one to finish the job. If he missed, he wouldn’t get a second chance.

But he wouldn’t miss. He was going to kill the Captain.

Once he was hit, Ingrid the Detonator would emerge and hit the Council’s float with her signature explosives. Phobia would focus on Thunderbird. As the only member of the Council that could fly, she would have an unfair advantage. There were rumors that she was deathly afraid of snakes, and Phobia specialized in fears. Best case scenario, he’d give her a heart attack midair.

And that was it- the Council, the five original Renegades- all eradicated at once.

And it all started with Virgil getting past Captain Chromium’s invincibility.

“Nightmare, you in position?”

“I’m here, Detonator. Relax.” 

“You have 45 seconds to make the shot,” Phobia informed him.

“Cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?” Ingrid said.

Virgil took out his rifle and looked through the scope. Though he couldn’t see the Council’s float yet, he could tell by the excited cheers that it was close.

“Well done, Nightmare,” the Detonator said. 

“He hasn’t done anything yet,” Phobia replied.

“Yeah, but isn’t it nice to have a shooter on the team again?”

“Would you two zip it?” Virgil grumbled, looking through the scope again. Below, the Council’s float moved into view. It was an enormous tiered structure that made him think The Council thought they were gods. 

Scratch that. They definitely thought they were gods.

Tamaya Rae- or as the rest of the world knew her, Thunderbird- stood on the first pedestal, her black wings almost spanning the width of the float. She occasionally sent bolts of lightning to further ignite the storm clouds at her feet.

Blacklight was on the second tier, shooting fireworks from his fingertips. With his red beard and curly mustache, Virgil had always thought Evander Wade looked more like a mustache twirling villain than a superhero. 

Next was Kasumi Hasegawa. She stood, barely moving with her arms extended, manipulating the fish filled water that surrounded her.

The fourth pedestal appeared to be empty at first glance, which meant that Simon Westwood was standing there. Sure enough, The Dread Warden flickered into view. A second later, he went invisible again, and the crowd roared in wonder as he reappeared not on his own pedestal, but on the fifth and tallest platform, Captain Chromium’s.

Captain Chromium rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the Dread Warden. They shared a look that was disgustingly endearing. Virgil resisted the urge to gag.

Virgil eased himself into position, calculating the angle and distance. 

The Dread Warden disappeared and reappeared again on his own platform, leaving Captain Chromium alone on the top pedestal.

As the crowd’s cheering grew louder, he reached for a display stand at his side. His hands wrapped around a long metal pike, lifting it overhead. His smile never wavered the entire time.

Virgil’s heart stopped.

“Is that…?”

“Don’t dwell on it,” Phobia hissed.

“Don’t dwell on what?” Ingrid asked.

Virgil was unable to respond.

Captain Chromium, the beloved superhero, had Ace Anarchy’s helmet skewered at the top of the pike. 

Ingrid’s voice came through the headset again, understanding as the float passed into her view. “Oh…” Virgil barely heard her. He was too busy grinding his teeth until his jaw hurt.

He was six years old again, afraid. Devastated. Staring up into those eyes behind the helmet.

The Renegades had not come. But he had. Maybe not soon enough to save his family, but still, he had come.

That was more than the Renegades could say, anyway.

“You’re dwelling,” Phobia said, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Virgil growled. “Am not.”

“It’s alright, Nightmare,” Ingrid said. “We’re doing this for Ace, aren’t we? Use that anger. Avenge him.”

Virgil took a deep breath. He looked through the scope, lining up the sights.

It had to be the eye. Anywhere else, and it would just bounce off his impenetrable skin.

His aim had to be perfect. 

And it would be.

The Street below began to fall silent, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. The

Captain’s blue eye came into focus. 

“Pull the trigger,” He whispered. He curled his finger over the trigger.

The Council may have been getting older, but they still held all the power. 

“Pull the trigger, Virgil.”

This was the best opportunity to take down the entire Renegade Council.

All he had to do was pull the trigger.

A bug flew into his vision. He waved it away, irritated.

He found his target again. The Captain turned slightly toward him.

Virgil started to squeeze the trigger when something landed on the end of his rifle. He lifted his eyes to see a crow staring back at him.

He lifted his gaze to the sky, where a murder of crows hovered. Dozens of wings flapped as the crows stared at him with their black, beady eyes.

He sighed. “We’ve got company.”

“What is it? The Renegades?”

He didn’t answer. The float was turning. Five seconds left, at most.

Virgil looked through the sights and found the Captain’s eye again. 

Captain Chromium lifted his eyes, almost looking directly at him.

He pulled the trigger.

To his dismay, the Captain turned slightly, and the dart struck his temple. The needle tip snapped off.

Captain Chromium jerked to attention, scanning the rooftops. He alerted the others, and they began looking too.

“Shit,” he muttered as he ducked behind the ledge.

Suddenly, one of the crows snatched the rifle out of his hands, squawking. He leapt to his feet and whirled around.

The crows converged into the form of a pale teenage boy with glasses. He gripped the rifle as he glared at Virgil. He wore the Renegade uniform- a form-fitting outfit that went from his neck down to his boots. A red R was emblazoned on his chest.

A small black cat clambered onto the roof before shifting into another teenage boy. He was also wearing the Renegade uniform. His hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days.

Virgil growled. Crow and Copycat.

Virgil had met them once before, when he had tried to steal from a pharmacy for supplies, but there had been more of them.

He raised an eyebrow. “Where are the rest of you? Watching the parade?”

As soon as he had said it, the utility elevator dinged, and a third Renegade walked out- a boy with light brown skin and dark hair. He walked with a limp and a cane. Faint tendrils of smoke followed him in his wake. 

Smokescreen.

Virgil smirked. “That’s more like it.”

Ingrid’s voice crackled in his voice. “Nightmare, what’s going on over there?”

Virgil ignored her. 

“Nightmare,” Smokescreen said, adjusting his glasses. “Long time no see.”

Without replying, he reached for his belt and drew out two throwing stars, throwing them at Copycat and Crow. Copycat dodged. Crow dissolved into a flock of birds.

A bolt of black smoke struck Virgil in the face. He stumbled back, snarling.

“Nightmare, what is going on?” Ingrid asked again. Virgil snarled and turned the transmitter off.

He shook his head to clear the smoke, but only succeeded in making his eyes burn. He forced them open anyway, only catching a glimpse of a streak of black before Crow was right in front of him. He grunted as Crow elbowed him in the stomach and he fell to the ground. He rolled out of the way of another attack from Copycat and jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain in his gut and the tears that blurred his vision.

Something hooked beneath his chin, pulling against his throat- Smokescreen’s cane. He yanked him backward, grabbing his arm as soon as Virgil was close enough.

“Your days of villainy are over, Nightmare,” Smokescreen said.

Virgil fought a snicker. “You sound like you’ve read too many comic books.”

“Is that really a bad thing?”

Virgil felt around for his hands on either side of the cane, but found no exposed skin. 

Smokescreen’s grip tightened. “Are you working alone?”

In front of him, Copycat picked up the two throwing stars he had flung and, after inspecting each very carefully, crushed them under his boots.

Virgil scowled.

Crow formed again, glaring down at him. “I believe you were asked a question.”

Ignoring Crow, Virgil grabbed Smokescreen’s cane and kicked back, Wrenching the cane away. Smokescreen landed on his back with a grunt. 

Virgil struck the back of Crow’s knees with the cane before discarding it in favor of another throwing star. Before he could throw it, however, Copycat shifted into a large dog and tackled him to the ground. He rested a paw on Virgil’s throat with just enough pressure for it to hurt. 

“Who,” Copycat said, lips pulled back in a snarl, “are you working for?”

Virgil smiled slowly. He couldn’t resist a good play on words. “Your worst Nightmare.” he put a hand on Copycat’s furry leg and let his power flow through him. Copycat slowly shifted back into human form and fell to the ground beside him, unconscious. 

A wave of mist suddenly rolled across the rooftop. Virgil huffed in frustration as he scanned the rooftop for Smokescreen, but the mist was too thick to see. He unhooked a dagger from his belt, gripping it tightly.

He spotted a dark shape- his duffel bag. He dove toward it and picked it up.

Crow suddenly appeared out of the mist, a fist aimed for his head. Virgil ducked and stabbed upward, but he dissolved into a flock of crows just as the knife met flesh.

The smoke began to clear, and Virgil spotted his escape route- The rooftop next to him with a ladder that went back down to street level.

“Crow!” Smokescreen shouted.

Virgil paused long enough to see Crow back in human form, pressing a hand to his side. His gray suit was dark with blood.

Turning back to the other building, Virgil took a slight step back before leaping the gap. He landed on his stomach and he laid there for a second, catching his breath.

He quickly got to his feet and started to run to the far side of the roof when a large figure jumped up from the street below. They landed in front of him with a clang.

Rather than the gray bodysuit the Renegades wore, the stranger was dressed in something better described as armor. Metal plates covered his body, and his face was masked by a helmet and black visor. The Renegade R was emblazoned on their chest, but it didn’t look like any Renegade suit Virgil had seen. Perhaps a new model?

Though he couldn’t see their eyes, he could feel them staring at him as he took a step back.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you before,” Virgil said.

They tilted their head. “I’ve been around long enough to know who you are, Nightmare.” their voice was definitely male.

Virgil’s fingers skimmed his belt, but he wasn’t sure any of his weapons would be effective. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

Before the stranger could reply, a bout of high pitched laughter echoed throughout the streets. The sound was all too familiar.

Virgil winced. “What is that idiot doing here?”

Taglist: @meowthefluffy (Ask to be added or removed!)

[inviouswriting]

Free - Butler!AU

Aymeric x Kiya

For the butler!au from @whitherliliesbloom

Let me start this off with. I know how some will feel out of character. But this is an AU, there will be moments where characters will always feel like that. Don’t come at me to point out the obvious. I know Nero would least likely be involved, but again this is an AU. I’m not aiming for canon! So now that we got that straight. 

Some warnings in place.

Some blood, some people getting stabbed, TW!forced marriage. Things that can cross into the abuse category with how some people treat their daughters as business trade investments. But remember this has a good ending. I’d never write something that made me uncomfortable.

With that out of the way. Enjoy~ This was suppose to have gone up yesterday but I got busy with other things.

Cameos mentioned.

@whitherliliesbloom​ , @meepsthemiqo​ , @maiden-born-in-snow​ , @wysteria-ffxiv​ , and @tatyltails​ 

Kiya has no idea how things got like this, she is staring at the courtyard from her window and the decorations are already being hung for a wedding. She replayed the previous night in her head, spending time with Aymeric put her in good spirits, but the day had finally come where she would either leave with him or leave married to a man she did not love and be expected to give children.

Kivera was grumbling to herself as she got Kiya ready for the disaster outside in her eyes. She is putting trust in Aymeric, alot of trust, she did not want to see this girl be used for others merits.

There is a knock on Kiya's door and Kivera opens it with a very angry glare. To Aymeric who steps back seeing the maid glowering at him.

"What do YOU want?!"

"Kivera. Please. Let me speak to both of you." He does not miss the lashing of Kivera's tail. She steps aside and let's him in. He spies Kiya dressed in a white dress, looking the part of a bride. Yet he sees on her face the worry.

Kiya looks up at him, curiosity etched into her face as to why he is there.

"It's official now, Edmont signed last night. As of now, you have no assets that these men could want. Other than you, but they'll have to fight me for you." Aymeric saysbwith a grin. He sees Kiya's face light up ag being told she is free, but now to break it to the world.

"Of course when we get back to Ishgard, you will have to stay in the dorms for a bit before you are back in the house to sort the red tape and such. I think you can manage." Kiya nods and Kivera gives him a quirked eyebrow.

"So tell me, what and when do you plan to reveal this information?" Kivera tugs in Kiya's hair a bit fixing it to the curled braid and spirals. Kiya swats at her hands only to have her face pinched.

"At the ceremony. What better spot than to speak now." Aymeric sees Kivera's eyes light amused.

"You know Ilberd might lose his cool. Don’t get stabbed." Kivera warns him.

"That is why I came to you. I think this would be safer in your grasp than mine till the moment." Aymeric hands Kivera the parchment and the miqo takes it hiding it up her sleeve.

"Alright, but if you fail." Kivera gives him a warning glare. Aymeric tugs at his collar then kneels in front of Kiya. To reassure her, he cups her face and places a gentle kiss on her lips avoiding smearing the lip paint.

"You will come home with me. Now I must go help Edmont to his spot. It is almost about. to begin." Kiya gets one more kiss from him before Kivera chases him out for the kisses.

Kivera touches her up, and then they wait. They walk down to a room before the courtyard. Kiya feels panic in her body at what if things go wrong. She recalls Aymeric telling her to have faith in him but it doesn't erase the anxiety in her.

Kiya peeks from the window seeing friends and names. From Shuri and her entourage, Illya and Alphinaud, Meeps and Asahi, Wysteria and Zenos. Kiya sees people who sympathize with her and want to help but can't when they have their own ordeals.

Another knock, this one belonging to Ilberd.

"It is time. Let's get this over with." Ilberd says as he begins to wander out. Kivera sighs as it is now nor never. She hopes for never.

The walk down the aisle was nerve wracking for Kiya every step felt like she had a ball around her ankle dragging her to them. She spies her friends who give anxious looks or glaring daggers at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Kiya reaches the altar and glares through the veil at the men. She felt every nerve on fire, she wanted to burn things, cast fire and ice till the whole place went up in flames for making her do this. Kivera stands to her side, along with a few choice friends from Nanamo to Tatyl. 

There was silence before the officiant began, reciting old words. Kiya wriggles her hands out of Nero’s grasp preferring to keep them at her side for now. There was the moment some were waiting for.

“If there should be a reason these two should not be married, speak now.” Kiya opens her mouth to speak and is shot a glare by Ilberd. She growls low and speaks anyway.

“I don’t want to do this!” Kiya takes a step back, and Aymeric takes this opportunity to get up and make for the center.

“I have some words myself. This woman, is under Ishgard’s maidservant training. In such, all who enter this careful practice relinquish their inheiritances, statuses, wealth, and namely anything that gives them leverage over their peers. It’s what makes us pretty good servers to be treated as equals.” Aymeric looks over to Nero who is comprehending what he just said.

“In other words, you could marry her, but you won’t get anything you are aiming for. Lolorito neglected to inform you didn’t he? That Kiya signed up on her own, they were hoping to marry her off, and save title by having her a Scaeva.” Aymeric looks over at the lalafell who only grins wide.

“Not that any of this matters to me. It was mostly Ilberd’s plan for Nero. You know how butler’s lose rank if their charges and wards lose their goals. An event like this? He’ll be a D rank by the end of the day, if not fired first.” Lolorito looks up at Kiya who only gives him glares.

“Why drag me along in this?” 

“Entertainment. Now the cat’s out of the bag.” Lolorito looks over to Nero who wisely walks away throwing his hands up.

“Back to Cid’s workshop for me.” He doesn’t even chance it. Aymeric pulls out a copy of the Ishgardian laws for Lolorito to read and Kiya’s parents who are more than mortified. Lolorito only accepted Kiya as a bargaining piece so they could pay off a debt to some wine makers. Lolorito also didn’t expect such a chase on the girl. Not that he could complain she is pretty.

“I’m fond of her, but I got what I wanted out of these charades.” Lolorito walks off after other guests as they get up and start to filter once they realized a wedding wasn’t happening.

Ilberd was silent and eyed the parchment on the table, he wondered if burning it would revoke this. Kivera sees his eyes on it, and they both reach for it. Kivera a little faster and the moment Ilberd’s hand graces the table, she plunges a knife into his hand pinning it there. 

The pained anguish that comes from Ilberd reaches the ears of a few and they turned to look in awe. Ilberd holds his hand now bleeding and glares at Kivera who smirks down at him.

“I’ll be taking this. You dare try to ruin this, I’ll gut you like a pig. Mark my words boy.” Kivera hands the parchment over to Aymeric who takes it and further grasps Kiya’s hand to start taking her away from the madness. Kivera follows after them as a way to guard them.

“My life will be ruined, my life is ruined..” Ilberd looks up at the officiant who just shrugs his shoulders and starts tearing up the marriage documents that were prepared. He had seen the sadness on Kiya’s face through the veil at being forced into marriage. 

“You know, marriage is suppose to be about love and happiness, and consenting. Not used as a business. It is appalling at what men do with daughters sometimes. Marry them off once they’re old enough to bleed and have children.” The officiant sees the defeated man and offers a rag to stop the wound.

Something seemed to click and Ilberd gets to his feet, Kiya, and Aymeric made it up the long stairs to go back into the palace. Kivera lingers and looks over her shoulder as she helps usher guests inside. They may as well make use of the banquet. Kivera sees Ilberd dashing up the stairs, and makes a face.

“By Hades and Thanatos. Will this never end?” Kivera takes her knife and turns to Kiya and grabs the hem of the gown and starts cutting it at her legs to remove the skirt from tripping her.

“Kivera?” Kiya winces as the knife nicks her leg.

“Sorry, but it looks like you’ll be missing the festivals a bit. Aymeric get this girl out of here before there are casualties.” Aymeric nods and picks Kiya up as well as usher his wards out to the chocobo they arrived in. They make it as far as the door when Kivera lets out a screech at being stabbed with a rapier.

“Kivera?!” Kiya calls out.

“Get out of here! I’ll be fine. Not the first time. But for this guy it’ll be the last time.” Kivera stares back at Ilberd.

“You ruined so much for me..”

“Me? Ruin things for you? Don’t be daft. You did it to yourself with forcing that girl’s hand. There are plenty of willing heiresses who would have been glad to have Scaeva, but you settled on Kiya because of the market trading she was tied to.” Kivera pulls herself off the blade and gives her wound a check seeing it healing already. Ilberd stares in horror at realizing she is not of this realm.

“What manner of creature are you.”

“Your death if you keep this up.” The knife Kivera holds to her side changes from the little tonberry knife to a grand scythe. Ilberd connects well that he had just harmed something that shrugs it off like a mongoose being bitten by a garter snake. 

Zenos and Wysteria see this change, and Galvus looks on amused at what was about to happen. Wysteria shocked at seeing an otherworldly being for the first time.

There is an exchange and Kivera uses the scythe pressing it down onto the ground and uses it as leverage to kick Ilberd back outside with her following him down the stairs they just climbed.

Ilberd lands back on his feet and prepares to fight with the reaper. This exchange is witnessed by the Fontaye house. Just coming up from the Garden. Startling the heiress head as Ilberd gathers to his feet and runs with Kivera in hot pursuit. Estinien gives a glance after Kivera who was sweeping her scythe at the back of Ilberd’s feet enough to make the man jump and he swears he could see flames at the end of her blade.

“Want me to follow them, Princess?” He offers to go lend his spear if things got out of control.

“Please do.” Estinien leaves her to run after the two in a fight, with Zenos walking slowly to follow. He doesn’t want to miss this, but doesn’t appear anxious for it.

Kivera brandishes the scythe and crosses it in front as the two square off in blows of blade to blade.  The sky was changing from bright sunny to a thick fog rolling in. Kivera notes they are at the front of the palace, and she could see in the distance her ward running, she had bought them enough time to get so far but it was getting them out of the area. She felt at ease but returns her eyes to Ilberd who knocks her back with a blow of his sword onto the front of her scythe. 

 Kivera holding back just a bit to allow people chances to leave. From above Zenos steps forward to watch the spectacle finding it of amusement more than the party. Ilberd lands another stab at her chest where her heart should be, and Kivera only glares down at him.

“Honestly, did you really think stabbing me would solve anything?” Kivera’s clothes change from the maid outfit she once wore into something more fitting for her taste as a butler. A suit to match and smirk on her face. She kicks him back and sends a shock through their weapons to drop him onto his back paralyzing him briefly and she jumps on top of him poising her scythe down near his neck.

“We are going to let them leave here.” She has a wild look on her face. Ilberd was about to raise up when the scythe presses down and he feels immeasurable strength behind her hold. She could easily crush him, or kill him. She would if it meant her ward leaves a happy woman.

“I’ve witnessed that girl grow up to be raised prim and proper, guided every which way to be. She chooses one thing for herself, and everyone has a problem with it. And I’ll be damned to hell again if I allow someone like you, the chance to enslave her in something like “THAT” You’ll accept your resignation of St Lucia’s ranks. If you come after my girl again. I will come for your head. got it?” Frantic nods from Ilberd and Kivera was about to step away.

“So you would let her do as she wan-” The scythe’s point aims dangerous at the center of his head now.

“Not another word. Realize the position you are in. That talk should be reserved for someone who cares, and someone on the winning side instead of losing.” Kivera amuses aloud, she straightens herself and looks around at the onlookers. She spies Kiya’s parents looking the part of wealthy oriented parents do. The mother in a fine dress and the father looking worn out of his mind.

“You two. Disown your daughter! You have no right to her anymore. Per the agreement with Lolorito. If she failed to marry someone to pay off your debt, the contract would be void. Release that girl from THIS.” 

“How would we pay off the debt then?”

“Getting a damned job like the rest of us. I’m sure Lolorito would have a fitting job for the both of you. Since you have no problems about controlling someones life, how about we fix you both up to work it off in a different manner?” Kivera glances over to her ward who offers a nod and grin. Kivera glances down at Ilberd.

“You will be resigning your rank, status, and anything else if you want to keep your head on. You’re not even worth killing.”  Kivera hops off and kicks him once in the side. She looks over to Lolorito who eyes her curious with amusement.

Kivera approaches the parents and holds up a parchment that Aymeric had prepared for her. 

“Sign it. Both of you.” To relinquish their parental status with Kiya. 

“What if we don’t sign it?”

“Then I’ll just kill you both. That should work now shouldn’t it?” Her voice low and venomnous, green eyes a dark red, suggests they obey her command. They realize there is no way out of this without signatures, or their lives at risk. They sign the document, and watch as Kivera glances over to Lolorito the moment it is done.

“I quit!” Kivera announces loud to him, and starts storming off. Zenos was a bit disappointed it didn’t end in bloodshed, but he got entertainment out of it.

“Now this was a party.” He comments and motions for Wysteria to follow him to leave the place.

Kivera goes to let off steam by sitting at the edge of the dock that leads to the salt of The Lochs. She seethed quietly till she hears footsteps behind her. Thinking it was another person bent on challenging her, she whips around and loops the scythe around the man’s neck seeing it is Estinien.

“What do you want?” Estinien holds the spear between himself and the scythe. How she has such fast reflexes.

“Come to offer you a job seeing as you quit your previous wards. I think you would do nicely at the Fontaye house. You can do what you like there, and without consequences and free to go after Ilberd if he shows up again.” Kivera eyes him as her bargains with her.

“I might be interested.” She places the scythe down and eyes him weary still.

“I think you’ll enjoy the house.” Kivera follows him to go greet the miss. They stop at a delivery moogle to send the document she had signed on priority to House Fortemps. She sighs to herself knowing now Kiya is officially a free woman from this life, and hopes that Aymeric will make her happy.

Kivera stands before Shuri, wearing her best. A graceful bow and a wicked grin on her lips.

“I am Kivera. At your service.”

[so-langdon]

Claiming Control - Michael Langdon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Y/N is bored and wants Michael to pay attention to her. 

Warnings: Sexual situations, choking, sensual touching, pre-smut, teasing, flirting, swearing, slightly bratty! reader, Dom! Michael

Tagged!: @hecohansen31 , @sarahandthejets , @rocketgirl2410 , @saltyshaggymeme , @blakewaterxx , @michaelsapostle 

A silent breath leaves Y/N’s mouth as her eyes roll up towards the ceiling. She rests back comfortably in the bed of her and Michael’s room at Outpost 3, but her mind races with want and need for excitement. She’s feeling neglected, for lack of a better term. She’s bored, in a rut for entertainment, as there isn’t much to do when you try to stay out of all the manipulation and deceitful plans your antichrist lover has for the people in the underground survival headquarters.

Turning her head towards Michael, she glances over at the beautiful man, hearing the sound of his typing as he focuses on his laptop and continues with his taxing sanctuary selections. She understands it’s difficult and time-consuming, holding interviews for people who Michael exploits into exposing their darkness, along with plans of his new world. 

But that didn’t mean she wanted that to be all he focused on. It seemed like days since she and Michael had spent any real time together, and it seemed too long since she and Michael had simply just had a conversation. He’d been so idle with her, not purposely of course, as he always apologized to her when they went to bed at night for him not seeing much of her and not spending more time with her.

She never blamed or resented him for his work. She knew his days were strenuous and hectic, and quite frankly she admired his work ethic and dedication to trying to reach his goals -- though the circumstances were a bit grim. Nevertheless, she still missed him, and wanted to catch up on some lost time. 

Knowing that Michael could never resist Y/N, always stating he could never get enough of her and he could never withstand being away from her too long, she’d had an idea formulating in her mind. She decided that if Michael wasn’t going to make time for her, then she was going to claim control herself and make Michael make time for her.

“Michael,” Y/N draws out, almost groaning, boredom showing in her tone, wanting to get his attention for a moment. But he still types at his keyboard, ignoring the call of his name. 

Y/N sits up, moving her legs over the bed as she faces towards him. “Michael,” she calls again, this time with more urgency.

“Hmm,” Michael hums, eyes still focused on the screen in front of him, typing away at his laptop.

Y/N rolls her eyes. The fact he won’t even glance at her or give her his undivided attention, for even two seconds, has her a bit aggravated, though motivated. She stands up, casually walking over to Michael in his chair. 

“You’ve been working nonstop today,” Y/N begins. “This whole week, actually.” She walks over until standing behind him, looking over at his laptop screen that shows a series of different documents and programs open. “When are you going to be finished,” she asks.

“Soon, darling,” he says, tone completely void of any other emotion, not bothering to make eye contact.

That’s it? That’s all he has to say?

Y/N frowns to herself, almost glaring over Michael’s half-assed response and continuation of him paying attention only to his laptop. She watches him type for a few more seconds before resting her hands on the tops of his shoulders casually.  

“Well, how soon is soon,” she asks, her hands moving to grab the beautifully layered locks of his hair that reach just past his shoulders into her hold and bringing it all to one side and over his shoulder and out of the way. She rests her hands back on his shoulders, pressing her thumbs into him as she begins with a gentle rub.

“Can’t you take a small break?” She asks kindly. “I mean, over-working yourself will cause your work to be subpar,” she leans over. “Unclear,” she practically purrs, leaning towards the exposed skin on his neck and pressing her lips against him. “Sloppy, even,” she adds, whispering softly into his ear before kissing against his lobe just like she knows he likes. “And I know how much you want your work to be well thought out, concise and exceptional.”

She begins kissing down his neck, trailing a series of smooth and gentle kisses along his skin, knowing neck kisses were the first thing to always distract Michael no matter what he’s doing.

But his focus hadn’t faltered, not once. Not any clear case of distraction or unbalance in his mannerisms. It was a bit gut-wrenching, to be honest, as usually in the past, just the mere glance of a smile or a soft expression from Y/N had Michael swooning and him dropping everything just to pay attention to her, even if she was busy. But she repressed those rejected feelings and held onto her confidence, figuring he was just too much centered on his work.

Sliding her hands from the tops of his shoulders, she rubs her hands against his outer arms, sliding them up and slowly back down in a relaxing fashion as she kisses against his neck more, not forgetting to kiss and give extra attention around his earlobe again. 

What Y/N didn’t know was that Michael was grinning from her behavior, her actions having an obvious impact on him, even if Y/N didn’t know it. The yearning he felt from her, the smell of her lust, the want and crave for attention, for his attention only, was very clearly effecting him. He just ignored it, with difficulty of course, but still continued to work.

As Y/N’s behavior does nothing to Michael, as far as she knows, she stops and leans up, standing up straight behind him as she huffs out frustratedly. She’s irritated by the fact that her simple touches weren’t working, knowing fairly well that they usually did considering how captivated Michael is when it comes to her. 

So she decided on another tactic, or a more forward one, stepping around Michael and leaning back to sit against the edge of the desk as she looks at him look at the laptop screen. 

“Michael,” she speaks sweetly.

Leaning off the desk in the next second, she grabs the arm of his chair, turning him in the seat towards her a bit, causing Michael to stop typing for a moment and glance at her by force as he turns a bit. 

Y/N sits on the side of his lap, crossing a leg over the other as she turns her torso towards him. She wraps an arm around his neck, pushing his golden locks over his shoulder so it hangs and flows behind him again.

“I’m so bored,” she pouts with innocent eyes. “I don’t know what I should do,” she says, her other hand grabbing Michael’s hand and placing it on her inner thigh, hoping that will imply to Michael that she wants his attention on her.

But Michael still chooses to ignore her behavior and pushes his chair back a bit and turns to let her off him as he gives her a small pat to imply her to get up.

"I’m almost done; I’ll be with you soon,” he says, causing Y/N to stand up off him and step away.

Michael slides his chair back towards his desk and begins typing at his laptop once again. Y/N crosses her arms with discontentment, exasperated over Michael’s continuous neglect and ignoring towards her.

She steps back to their bed, taking a seat back down on the mattress as she glares with defeat at Michael, huffing out another breath and letting herself fall back against the bed as she internally groans to herself.

~

Another half hour goes by, maybe even an hour, and Y/N is still laying back against the bed as before, waiting patiently or rather impatiently for Michael to hurry his work, at least for the day, so they can have some time together. Their time was limited considering all of Michael’s future plans for the Outpost, and she wanted time with Michael now.

But Michael’s attention was so centered and pinned on the task at hand, she felt that any of her advances would be useless by this point. 

Though, an opening seemed to present itself as Michael stood up from his chair and let out a deep breath, walking across the room to the closet. He takes his jacket off, wanting to be more comfortable, and hangs the smoothed dark fabric up on a hanger of course before walking back to his desk.

Y/N smirks to herself and takes his opportunity of him being up and away from his computer to stand up off the bed and walks over to him. 

“Are you done with your work,” Y/N asks with hope, as she meets him just a few feet before his desk. 

“Almost,” Michael answers, trying to continue forward but Y/N doesn’t let it happen.

“Well, I think it’s time you earned yourself a break then, right?” She smiles kindly, grabbing a hand of his.

“Almost,” Michael repeats. “I’m busy making the selections right now--”

“Nonsense, that can wait a few minutes, can’t it?” She states nonchalant. “You’ve been so busy working, for as long as I can remember it seems, and you need to let your mind take a minute to breathe.” She pulls on his hand towards the mattress, his footsteps a bit resistant but following nonetheless.

“Y/N, you know I prefer to get my work done in one fluid time period,” he says, eyes gazing at her strictly.

“Yes, I do know that,” she turns to him as they reach the foot of the bed. “But I also know you prefer getting your work done as outstanding and incisive as possible too, and you’re not going to reach that bar with your mind being overloaded and strained with one constant focus,” Y/N explains. “Give your mind a rest. Think about something else for a bit.”

“Y/N,” Michael starts, tone not seeming to be in a playful or resting mood.

“Come on, a little break will do you good. Besides,” she pushes him to sit on the bed. “I miss you,” she pushes him back more so he’ll lay back against the bed. She crawls onto the bed after, straddling over his lower waist as she reaches further up his body. “I want to be close to you,” she purrs.

And just like that, a small smile forms on Michael’s deliciously full lips, crystal blue eyes seeming to clear away from any work strain as they piece into Y/N’s dazzling (Your eye colored) eyes, hands grasping her hips, making Y/N smile too as she seems to think she’s gotten him to give in.

“I’m almost done,” Michael restates. “When I finish, I’ll cuddle you, or whatever you want to do -- afterwards,” he says, dropping his hands from her hips and to the bed as he begins to push himself to sit up and remove Y/N from off him.

But Y/N refuses to take this rejection and she pushes his shoulders back down and grabs his hands, holding them against the bed as she leans over him, her face hovering above his face. 

“No. You need a break, and I refuse to get up until you give yourself a bit of time to relax,” she smiles, trying to work any and every angle she can to get under Michael’s skin so he’ll pay attention to her.

“Y/N,” Michael starts strictly. 

“Michael,” Y/N mocks. “You’re too tense, too overworked. Five or ten minutes of rest won’t do anything. It won’t ruin your work flow or focus. If anything, it’ll help, and that’s what I’m trying to do.” She leans in closer to him. “And don’t you miss me? We’ve had no time together, not since we first arrived here last week,” she pouts again like earlier, eyes shining with desire.

“I know,” Michael sighs. “This Outpost has been, more difficult, to handle considering Venable’s rules. You know that,” he explains.

“It’s also made things easier for you to manipulate and deceive, considering Venable’s rules. You know you’ve had the most fun here enticing everyone to your dirty deeds compared to any other Outpost we’ve been to.”

Michael gives a smirk, knowing she was right about that.

“So give in, to just a small break. Let me relax you for a bit,” Y/N begins softly, leaning in and allowing the soft graze of their lips to brush over one another, tempting Michael with every gentle touch, tender hold, fiery feeling she can give in this current situation.

When their lips finally connect in a deep fashion, Y/N melts into the feeling and taste of Michael, already beginning to feel rejuvenated from the affection and love that spreads through their beings, just like every time they kiss.

Grabbing one of Michael’s hands, she pulls away from his lips and she raises it up as she sits up on Michael’s waist. Michael raises his eyes, curious as to what she’s doing, as to what her plan for “relaxing” him would be.

She brings Michael’s index finger towards her mouth, wrapping her lips around the tip of his finger and sucking, bringing the rest of his finger further into her mouth as she grabs Michael’s other hand and brings it towards her chest, letting his hand rest on her breast. 

Y/N lets out a pleasured moan as she brings Michael’s hand to trail down her body, wanting him to touch her, giving one last suck before removing Michael’s finger from her mouth with a pop. 

With the expression that shows on Michael’s face currently and the way she feels him hardening beneath her, Y/N believes she’s breaking Michael down. The way his bright blue eyes begin shining with a look she knows all too well when Michael becomes turned on. The way she feels his cock straining against the fabric of his clothes beneath her, making her want to grind against his body to persuade him further into giving in as she knows herself she’s becoming aroused. 

But Y/N figures she doesn’t need to do any more convincing as Michael sits up, and grabs her body, flipping their positions and presses her against the bed so swiftly and quickly. She grins up at him, feeling victorious that she’s getting what she wants, leaning up to kiss him again as he leans his head further towards her. 

But Michael stops just mere inches before their lips touch, Michael grabbing her throat instead and holding her down against the bed, catching her by surprise.

“You really think acting this way is going to get you what you want? Behaving all needy like this?” He hisses, tone low and husky, but his eyes screaming with longing.

Y/N narrows her eyes, caught off guard by his actions and tone. She was sure she’d convinced Michael to give in, to give up his work for the time being and to fool around with her. But clearly this wasn’t the case.

“You think bargaining with me, seducing me with your ‘Fuck me’ eyes and doe-like expression is going to convince me to stop my work right now?” Michael breathes out, letting his lips brush over Y/N’s to taunt her as she squirms lightly beneath him, trying to lift her head up further so her lips can meet his. But Michael raises his head just before she can, the same grip on her throat remaining. 

“I’m so fucking close into finishing my selections and the sanctuary process, and you think all this greedy behavior is going to lure me into fucking your clingy pussy,” he breathes out. “Fuck you good and hard just like I know how you want me to?”

Y/N whines slightly, almost whimpering from his tone, his words, his body pressed against hers, the way she feels his cock pressing into her lower body so pleasurably good. She ruts her hips towards him, desperately needing some friction against her as she feels herself becoming more turned on from Michael’s behavior.

Michael lets out a soft laugh, almost condescendingly, and leans in again. “You’re so desperate for any of my touch that you’re still trying to get any kind of satisfaction from me, even in this position? You’re not going to get anything out of me if you keep behaving this way, darling.”

“I know you want me,” Y/N whispers through the hold on her. “I can feel you,” she points out almost shyly, not letting it go unnoticed that Michael is obviously turned on too.

“And you’re going to be feeling me for a very long time if you don’t control yourself. You don’t want me to punish you and make you regret your advances, do you?” He squeezes his hold around her neck a bit more. “You want me to take care of you, right baby?” He says, almost sneering.

Y/N bites her lip, swallowing as best she can and nods.

“That’s what I thought,” he glares with sinister expression. “So sit here quietly and patiently, like the good fucking girl I know you are, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you what you want,” he smiles casually. “Are we clear?”

Y/N nods again.

“I said, are we clear,” he tightens his hand against her throat more, smile disappearing as he glares lightly.

Y/N bites her lip, hating the fact that Michael knows she likes when his hands are on her like this, wrapped around her throat, putting her in her place, roughing her up. It just makes her want him more, and therefore the situation worse as her crave for him grows. “Yes, sir,” she says as clearly as she can.

“Good,” Michael smiles wickedly before letting go of her throat and getting off of Y/N. But not before pressing his lips to the skin on her throat to soothe the harshness of his grip. Michael knew Y/N didn’t mind when Michael was rough with her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t tend to her gently either.

Once getting up and walking back over to his desk, sitting down and ignoring his obvious hard-on, he gets back to his laptop and starts typing again, forcing his mind back to his focused stance so he can hurry up and finish his work and give Y/N what she, and clearly he, wants too. It’s not like he didn’t want her. Of course he did, he always did. He was just too close to being done with all of his work, and wanted it out of the way first.

Y/N lets out a silent breath, feeling how deeply inside she’s aching for Michael and for him to be with her. So much for claiming control. But she knows better than to disobey his words. Though, it was all part of the fun.

~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you’d like please <3

[incarnation-of-victory]

Bakugou’s Fear of Mediocrity and Human Weakness

It’s interesting to see Bakugou’s inner thought process here as he prepares to fight this villain (from the 1st chapter of the spin-off tie-in manga to the Heroes: Rising movie, “Deku & Bakugo: Rising”), especially knowing what we know now about Bakugou and his fears about him not actually being as great as he thinks he is.

For one, the line about “[m]ost of the top heroes show[ing] signs of greatness even as students” echoes the line Bakugou says in the very first chapter of the manga proper:

Both monologues get across similar messages, but I think the one from the spin-off is a little more revealing/blatant, especially with the line “I’m not just a normal middle schooler. I’ll show them I’m different and rise to the top.” This line from the spin-off suggests that Bakugou doesn’t quite think he’s unique from the rest of his peers yet, and that he’s desperate to use this chance to finally prove himself to everybody. Meanwhile, the line from the manga makes him seem more confident in himself, that he’s sure that he’ll be the only one to succeed, while simultaneously disparaging the rest of his classmates. Of course, his words contradict his actions here: Bakugou isn’t as confident in this outcome as he seems, since he goes out of his way to discourage Deku from applying to U.A. because he actually feels threatened by him. Bakugou being the only one to get into U.A. would be a way of him validating his belief (read: hope) that he’s the best after all. Additionally, Bakugou goes on about being the first and only hero/U.A. student originating from Aldera, which, in theory, would be an easy accomplishment, since the middle school is supposedly devoid of any promising hero applicants. This achievement of him being the only one to succeed would also make him seem all the more impressive and exceptional—a unique case, so to speak. His goal should be guaranteed... if it wasn’t for Deku.

So both scenes carry the same idea, but Bakugou is a little more honest to himself in his head (makes sense, naturally). There’s this kind of sad, desperate urgency I get from the spin-off that I don’t get from the manga. It’s just a weird train of thought to have when hunting down a villain, that he’s using this opportunity to prove to everyone (and himself) he’s the great prodigy they made him out to be his whole life. Even though he still needs to reassure himself that he’s not ordinary and is actually “different.”

This whole idea of Bakugou wanting to rise above everyone else stems from this fear of mediocrity. It calls to mind how the literal translation of “Quirk” from Japanese means “Individuality” (the word “quirk” itself also implies some unique trait). This means that your Quirk is essentially what makes you, you. It's what makes you stand out among everyone else. Because Bakugou does place a lot of faith in his Quirk getting him to the top, distinguishing him as someone special. 

The interesting thing is that Bakugou initially wasn’t really aware that he was just more naturally adept—sans Quirk—than other kids his age growing up. The way he comes off in his childhood flashbacks in the manga make him seem more naive, not really understanding why everyone else just can’t as easily grasp the skills he masters so easily:

(I would argue that even current Bakugou doesn’t notice his other good qualities/talents as much, which is probably why it’s so easy for him to twist them into something bad or forget them entirely, and instead fixate solely on his Quirk. This is especially important when it comes to Heroism as a career, and his need to take more things than just raw power into consideration).

The theory that he’s just “better than everyone else” doesn’t fully cement until he gets his Quirk. With this, Bakugou seems to think of himself as someone almost godly or invincible, as someone almost more than just... human. Which is why I think he’s so averse to any suggestion that he has any weaknesses—it’s a reminder that he’s indeed human after all. He’s mortal and fallible and need help sometimes. And being human brings him back down to the level of everyone else, but perhaps even further beneath them, which is exemplified in the infamous creek scene where Deku tries to help Bakugou. And again when Deku tries to save him from the sludge villain. And repeated other instances throughout their lives. Because if Deku, someone who doesn’t even have a Quirk or anything that makes him special, is somehow is able to do something for him, then what does that make Bakugou? If Quirkless Deku is somehow better than Quirk-holder Bakugou, then Bakugou’s power—which is something he built his self-esteem around—essentially means nothing in comparison. Bakugou ends up being just like everyone else, but worse: someone so weak that they need help from a “worthless Deku.”

Another important thing to note is that part of why Bakugou neglects to think of himself as human is because most people never really treated him as such. For one, everybody almost exclusively praised him for his superficial or material strengths that it gave him the idea that he was perfect and had no flaws. In turn, he carries himself this way around others, thus perpetuating how everybody else sees him: as someone who never needs help. I could write a whole other essay on its own of how many times people in the BNHA universe assume that Bakugou doesn’t need help, or that he’s stronger than he actually is. The time the heroes left him to fend off the sludge villain is but one example. Even when Bakugou fell off that log as a child, his other friends disregarded the possibility that he might be hurt, because he’s “strong.” In terms of emotional need, nobody, not even his parents, suspected that Bakugou was still suffering emotionally from the Kamino incident, and that he wasn’t handling it as well as everyone thought he was (Talk about a poker face! For someone so outwardly expressive, it’s stunning to see how well he hides his suffering. The greatest hint we get is him being unusually quiet). All Might even points out his failure to recognize this. As much as Bakugou is responsible for his own actions, others have failed him repeatedly too.

I know I said that “people failing to recognize when Bakugou needs help” could be another post on its own, but I want to point out one scene (or rather two) in particular that showcase how much Bakugou really does need emotional and physical help sometimes.

For one, when All Might and the rescue operation break into the LoV’s hideout to retrieve Bakugou, All Might’s first priority is to verbally comfort/reassure him, as per Nana Shimura’s adage to not only save a person’s life, but their heart/spirit as well. He gives the whole “We are here” line and tells Bakugou he’s okay...

Though he outwardly denies it, the truth of the matter is, Bakugou really was in trouble and needed their help, and he truly was scared. This is clear enough by his initial reaction, which he quickly covers up with a defensive response immediately afterwards. I can’t say for sure whether All Might’s words made him feel much better, but I assume it must have given him at least a little peace of mind.

A similar thing happens when Deku and company pull Bakugou out of the following fight. Again, Bakugou is initially grateful to the team because he really did need their assistance to escape the battle grounds. Though he goes back to grumbling and arguing with Iida immediately after, and denies their part in saving him after they’ve fully escaped, his grateful/relieved, perhaps lightly disapproving smile when grabbing Kirishima’s hand reveals his true feelings.

On a somewhat different note, when Bakugou is having issues, people address them in a poor and/or dehumanizing manner: see the way he was chained and muzzled at the end of the Sports Festival. And not to get too much into the Mitsuki discourse, but the way she tries to curb her son’s behavior does not seem to help either.

Because Bakugou is so ingrained in this mentality that he’s supposed to be invulnerable, he isn’t able to interpret basic human concern properly when it’s shown to him, notably when it’s one of the few people who ever treated him like a human being: Deku. Not only that, but Deku knew Bakugou before he got his Quirk, and admired him for his other traits as well, such as his confidence and determination. But Deku never blindly idolized his friend either: he notes several times (to other people) Bakugou’s bad qualities too. The distinction here is that Deku never paints Bakugou as a lesser or bad person for it. Instead, he accepts who Bakugou is as a whole, while still acknowledging him as someone worth looking up to.

An investment in being the best is fine and all on its own, but not when it starts to infest other aspects of your life, especially socially. Bakugou’s antisocial tendencies are probably mostly due to him just deeming activities that don’t allow him to prove himself as a waste of time, but I also feel that some of it is due to his fear of appearing as a normal human being—as someone who sometimes just wants to spend time with his friends purely for the sake of enjoying their company. As someone who needs other people. I think this also kind of applies to his inability to be emotionally vulnerable around others, as well as to accept acts of kindness and affection. It’s what makes him human. This is why Bakugou only comes to Deku when he needs to open up—because Deku is one of the few people who knows him for everything he is, who recognizes him as a flawed individual. And again, Deku never looks down on him for anything (despite Bakugou’s former belief). Not even when Bakugou cries.

All this really comes down to is Bakugou accepting other people’s help and relying more on collaboration than just taking on enemies solo. I think having him participate in other, non-combative activities, such as playing in a band in the School Festival Arc, is a good way to ease him into this methodology. Also, since it seems to be a trend at this point, it’d be nice to see him be hugged at least once without making a face. Though I do think it’s at least good that people are being more attentive to his emotional needs, whether it be in praising him (when it’s warranted), or comforting him (even if he thinks he doesn’t need it). Like yeah, I highly doubt Bakugou will ever be much of a touchy-feely person.  But at the very least, he needs to know that other people care about him as a human being, and that this concern doesn’t make him any less of a talented, powerful individual.

[dxlansfxck]

BLOOD // WATER [G.D] † 01

Summary: Grayson Dolan, better known as “el diablo” – Los Angeles’ most known gang leader and drug lord – doesn’t usually think twice when it comes to killing someone that is dangerous for his business. One night, he meets this mysterious woman that out of nothing wants to start dancing in one of his DEVILISH-nightclubs. Once their heated relationship got more intense, he knew he’d be killing for her too – and realizes how handy she actually could be for him and the revenge he’s been longing for years.

Warnings: mentions of violence, sex work, stripping / pole dance, soft smut, gun use, blonde & tattooed Gray (it should be a warning bc it’s hot, lol)

Word Count: 14.5k

Saturday, 13th August 2016. 10:47 PM

Loud, obnoxious sounds were filling the crowded streets of Los Angeles, caused by a pack of luxurious cars racing down the 700 Main St, passing by tourists and locals that were trying to get to the annual beach party on Venice Beach. The leading car, a black Mercedes AMG CLA 45, came to an abrupt halt, all the other cars stopping right behind it. The tinted windows rolled down as one hand motioned the crew to take a turn on the left side, while the Mercedes went the other way, trying to find a free parking lot somewhere… inconspicuous. Not that this car wasn’t inconspicuous at all, Jalen chose the sleek black one instead of his bright green Corvette, but it wasn’t even his job to fulfill this task on his own. Usually, Grayson didn’t give him those kinds of jobs, knowing that Jalen could do better, but today, everything was different. They were so close to reach their goal; Jalen just had to make sure everything worked out as planned – so he decided to do it by himself.

Grabbing his sunglasses, he stepped out of the car in one swift motion, closing the door behind him while walking towards the more and more crowded beach where loud music was playing, and drunk people were either grinding on each other or fucking in the ocean. He scoffed at the exhilarating freedom those people must be savoring, knowing that by tomorrow, some of them wouldn’t be there to celebrate anymore. On the other hand, it wasn’t his fault that they chose the wrong side.

Jalen quickly pulled out his phone, texting Grayson that he was there and telling him to look after him if he wouldn’t call him within the next two hours. Then, he muted his phone, stuffing it back into the pockets of his worn-down jeans while putting on some random base cap he found in the trunk. Lighting a cigarette, he passed some couples that were in the middle of making out, not caring about them at all – he was looking for someone different.

The heavy weight of the Glock that was pushed into his underwear was something he was used to by now, even though he wasn’t one to use it on a regular basis. Like already said, he wasn’t the one to do that.  The diablo’s hierarchy was strict, no one could ever come even near the rank that Grayson Dolan had, that was for sure. But Jalen, he was a close second, maybe even qualified enough to be called the vice president. He was still out there in the streets, looking for his rookies sometimes, but most of his business was behind a desk, just like Grayson’s. Neither of them was the one to have blood on their hands, why else would they have hundreds of members following their instructions?

This time was different, though. Jalen couldn’t sleep over the fact that someone else could be the one to kill this motherfucker, the one that seduced his girlfriend, the one that had her pinned underneath his body when he was out there on a business meeting with Grayson. He found out rather quickly, he left no one he was close to without observation, but he couldn’t believe that the whore he used to think of as a loving girlfriend would ever dare to cheat on him with Kyle Houck. This edgy, wannabe tattooed bastard? Yeah, no chance that he’ll be surviving this night.

11:43 PM

The beach got more crowded as the time passed by, but Kyle Houck was yet nowhere to be found. Jalen has updated Grayson, talked to a few other gang members that were there as well, but neither of them has seen the target yet. Jalen grew nervous and impatient, wanting this night to be over as soon as possible to head back home where his younger sister was possibly waiting for him. Y/N never liked the thought of him being part of this gang, even though she didn’t know what exactly he was doing in there. But he loved his family, wanting them to be protected for the rest of their lives – and Grayson was one of the few people that could help him with that.

Sunday, 14th August 2016. 12:18 AM

A mob of teal hair passed Jalen’s field of vision, causing him to be more attentive than he’s already been, following the colorful head with his eyes, slowly walking after him without getting noticed by the dancing crowd. Sweaty bodies were pressed against his and Jalen couldn’t help but cringe at that, hating all those people but envying them at the same time. Their life was easy and fun, his on the other hand was full of risks and worries, weighing too heavy on his shoulders.

The gun he had checked multiple times by now was burning into his skin, ready to be used any moment from now, but Jalen had to wait, not wanting to cause a mass hysteria. Kyle walked further down the beach to a part where just a few random people were standing with red cups in their hands, probably talking somewhere quieter. Jalen acted as if he was concentrated on his phone. ‘Got him” was sent to Grayson before he raised his glance just to be found right across from Kyle motherfucking Houck. Jalen was quick to grab his weapon, but Kyle was faster – and smiled down at him. “Hello there”, he grinned while almost softly caressing his own gun.

“Houck”, Jalen spoke through gritted teeth, loading his gun while pointing it at his opponent. The tattooed man laughed at his reaction, angling his head. “What brings you to our side of the beach, Y/L/N? This is Angelo Vendicatore territory and it makes you”, he steps closer to him, “our prey.”

Just then, Jalen realized where he was, surrounded by AV members. “Fuck”, he hissed, reaching into his pockets with one hand to press the quick call button that was holding Grayson’s number while still looking at Kyle, but he was too late. Just as Jalen was about to make his only shot – a shot that had to be on point -, he heard a loud noise followed by the worst pain he had ever felt. His ears were ringing, and his body was on fire, a loud scream escaping his lips as he randomly shot his bullet into Kyle’s direction, not even hitting him in the process, before he fell to the ground with a loud groan. “Y/N”, was all he could say, not wanting to leave his sister yet, needing to see her finally get a man, build up a family, moving out of their parent’s house. He promised to take care of them, but he broke his promise. He broke his life goal. Laughs and applause was heard, but he couldn’t concentrate on that while feeling such pain. Jalen cried, not caring about it at all, his vision getting blurry and his breaths coming shorter than he’d like them to come. He felt so, so cold and he was hurt. Flashes enlightened somewhere in the corner of his eyes, knowing that someone must either film this scenario or at least take enough pictures to threaten Grayson with them.

By all goods, he just hoped Y/N would never be able to see them.

Y/N. With the thought of his sister, he closed his eyes one last time.

Late July, 2019

“Maybe you should go for it, Y/N. I know what they say about el diablo, but he never disrespects any of his girls – and you’ll be save around there. Jalen is dead, we can’t change that. It’s been over three years, you need to get your head back up, honey”, Zavi mumbles while scrolling through different web pages, looking for a better job opportunity than dancing in a night club. You sigh, pulling some of your thick braids in a knot. “I know that he’s dead, Zav, thanks for reminding me”, you shake your head, trying to get rid of the tears forming in your eyes. “But it’s el diablo, he’s known for killing people! What if I fall down the pole or anything like that? He fucking killed his twin brother’s fiancé because she was pregnant, and he wanted to get out of the gang!”

It was true, Grayson Dolan wasn’t known to be the nicest human being on earth, he killed many people – not that anything was proven by the police -, but people around the streets knew what he was able to do. He might not be the one to kill those people himself, but he for sure was the one that shoot the shot in this woman’s heart, enjoying the view of her falling to the ground, crying out her baby’s name while Ethan had to watch the entire time, not being able to move. Grayson’s men were holding him down, making him feel every bit of pain his fiancé had to feel, watching her life end while tears burnt his cheeks. Soon enough, her eyes showed no emotions anymore, her mouth hang open, but no sound came out, her heart stopped beating, still losing blood. And the baby never made its way into the daylight. At least, that’s what the rumors said.

Rumors said also, that Ethan killed himself right after that, others said that he managed to leave the gang, joining another one while promising to ruin Grayson Dolan’s life. But no one knows for sure what happened after that one special night. You didn’t know who exactly killed your brother, but you for sure knew that Ethan Grant Dolan was still alive, running the Angelo Vendicatore like his life depended on it. Yet, not many people have seen him ever since that night, leaving him to be as mysterious as you could imagine.

“Y/N, stop it! It’s your decision, I could totally talk to my boss if we have another spot left in the team, but you were the one that said working in a pet store isn’t going to pay your rent”, Zavi shakes her head while writing the number of the DEVILISH-nightclub down. “That’s the number I found online. Give them a call, maybe even just go there to introduce yourself, I don’t think Grayson Dolan himself will be the one to decide who’s going to work there or not. He’s probably too busy buying and selling drugs.” She shrugs her shoulders before standing up and pressing a kiss to her best friend’s cheek. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” You just sit there and nod, still thinking about Grayson Dolan, while Zavi was already on her way out of the small apartment.

You knew you were in desperate need for a job, your parents didn’t even bother sending you any money to pay the rent when they moved away over two years ago, leaving you in the city where your brother was buried, but not wanting to live there themselves anymore. You on the other hand couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, Los Angeles was the city you grew up in, so many memories you had in each and every street that you could never leave that town. It was the city of angels during the day, but the city of the devil in the night – the city of el diablo, the city of Grayson Dolan.

Letting out another sigh, you quickly type in the nightclub’s number in your phone, breathing in a few times before pressing the call button, letting it ring for a while, but nobody answered. “Seems like I need to go there on my own”, you huff before standing up, taking a deeper look into your wardrobe, searching for an outfit to wear while having a job interview at a night club as a stripper.

You, of course, didn’t know what to expect there, trying to be prepared for anything that could happen. Starting off with a shower, an intense shaving session and you even exfoliated your skin to make it extra smooth. “I should’ve gone to the waxing appointment with Zavi.” You muttered, annoyed at the amount of time you just spent shaving, knowing that by tomorrow you’d for sure be covered in stubble again.

Now onto the big decision: what was the best way to show off your body, but not looking like a whore? On the other hand, it was a strip club, you might need to show off more than you usually would. You were standing in front of your full body mirror, the opened wardrobe right next to it, clothes were shattered all around your feet, some on top of your bed, but you felt like neither of them fitted. Usually, you’d go out in oversized band shirts and leggings or high waisted jeans, completely fitting into the whole “grunge/arthoe”-aesthetic without even trying. You didn’t like to dress up, all your clothes were comfortable but still cool looking, completely fitting your tattooed body. If you’d ever dance for el diablo’s nightclub, you’d dance in an outfit you feel good in.

Around an hour later, you decided on wearing a black button up skirt that ended mid-thigh and was tight, hugging the curves of your butt perfectly, showing off what you’ve got. Usually, you’d combine that skirt with a jeans jacket and an oversized shirt, knotted above your stomach, but that just wasn’t sexy enough. Grayson Dolan had the most beautiful, exotic woman dancing for him, skinny girls with porcelain-like skin, completely different from your dark skin and tattooed, curvy body. Back in the days people would call you out different names, not realizing that your skin color didn’t make your personality. You are black, who cares? You couldn’t change that anyways – and you love your skin, love the way it makes your light green eyes pop out and how white your teeth looked even though you were literally running on coffee.

One problem you’ve always had with finding cute tops was that your boobs were too big to wear most of them. That’s why you always decided onto something loose, showing off your hips and butt instead of your cleavage, but you felt strong and confident tonight, deciding on wearing a leather harness-bralette with some fishnet long sleeve over it. You’d totally dig some fishnet tights as well, but wouldn’t want to overdo it just yet, needing to find a pair of shoes fitting to that outfit. For you, it was usually either a pair of Doc Martens or some sneakers, but for today you decided to go with your old Jeffrey Campbell heels, the ones you wanted to badly but never wore them because they were made out of black leather and covered in studs. Well, tonight was the night.

LA’s streets were still filled with people, even though it was around 11 PM now. You didn’t like going out there alone, walking the streets on your own without anyone to protect you – especially in that outfit. For your hair and makeup, you kept it quite simple: bold brows, eyeliner and mascara, some highlighter and lip gloss. But still, you were popping out in the nightlife, people were looking at you with confused looks on their faces, eyeing you up and down. Your tattoos were always something that society didn’t seem to accept, making it quite hard for you to find a job these days, but you would never even think about getting them removed, they were a bigger part of you than your actual self. Your arms were sleeved up, mandalas and dotwork covering your left arm while your right one was filled up with beautiful flowers. Medusa’s head was covering your lower stomach, disappearing in your underwear – where it for sure continues, the snakes winding up around your belly button.

But your favorite piece so far was the ox skull right under your boobs, its horns going up on the sides of your boobs, while a dagger was placed between them. Some smaller tattoos were splattered around your legs, some of them stick and poked by yourself or your brother, but you loved all of them equally. You made your body even more beautiful than it already was by putting your own art onto it.

It was quite a walk to the DEVILISH-nightclub, but once you started to hear music you already knew it wouldn’t be as far anymore. The loud bass was already accelerating your heartbeat, making your stomach jump in both fear and excitement, but you were still more than just nervous. Your feet stopped abruptly; it was your last chance to head back home now. The red and pink sign of the nightclub was so bright that you had to squint your eyes to read it, making sure you were in the right spot. DEVILISH. There it was. Either your future or your death, you couldn’t know by now. Biting your lip in anticipation and agitation, you decided to stay there for a while to watch people enter the club.

Not everyone could get inside, you got to realize that so far. Boys in a sweater and joggers? Nope. Girls without makeup or high heels? Nope. Any other person that looked wealthy and arrogant, maybe even dangerous? Sure, come on in.

That was probably one of your biggest problems: the audience, the clienté. Those people, who will be watching you move your ass on stage. Those people, who probably wouldn’t even think about shooting someone your skin color. It was dangerous, you knew that, but it was also your only chance to stay in Los Angeles. You take one more deep breath, straighten your posture as you walk towards the line, waiting until you were the one in front of the bouncer. He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to explain yourself while checking out your outfit.

“I want to…”, you cough, trying to control your shaky voice. “I want to dance for this club. My friend told me I could just come over to give you a sneak peak of what I’m able of?” The bouncer looked at you in confusion before speaking into his headset, unsure of what to do with the girl in front of him. You tried to resist the urge to bite on your bottom lip, not wanting to, first off: act like you’re weak and second: not wanting to smudge your gloss. His deep voice asks for your ID card, repeating your name, address and date of birth to the other person who probably must check your criminal past. Luckily, you had none that was written down by the police. With one last nod, he opened the curtain for you to walk through, wishing you good luck.

You were overwhelmed by everything that happened right now; your senses couldn’t even react to all the action around you. It didn’t smell like alcohol or sweat like most of the clubs you’ve been into, it actually smelt pretty nice; like a mixture of grapefruit, ginger and even coffee, maybe. Step for step, you dare to walk in further, carefully having an eye on the people that you passed on your way, one prettier than the other. Blonde goddesses, tall businessman, all dressed in Louis or Gucci. You looked down at your own outfit, frowning while doing so. It wasn’t anything expensive, nothing too daring and suddenly, you don’t feel as confident as you did a few minutes ago. You felt cheap, not worthy to dance in front of those people. As if they’d watch you, if they could enjoy a show by the other, prettier, more experienced dancers.

“Are you Y/N?”, a sudden voice tears you out of your thoughts, making you turn around with a quiet shriek. Right in front of you, there’s this woman and you could swear to god, she was the most attractive person you’ve ever seen. She was so tall, you had to tilt your head back to look her in the – bright blue, of course – eyes. She didn’t wear much make up, but she didn’t even need to. Her skin was flawless, her lashes long enough to just be coated by a simple layer of mascara and her lips, god her lips. They were covered in a nude gloss, looking so soft and plumb, you scolded yourself for always chewing on yours, which looked nothing like hers. “Yes, I am, ma’am. Y/N Y/L/N.”

The mysterious woman smiles down at you, offering you her perfectly manicured hand to shake. “I’m Lia, nice to meet you, honey. I got told you wanted to dance for us?” Her smile was still prominent, revealing two rows of beautiful teeth and two cute little dimples. You nod, still more than cowed by her appearance. “Don’t worry, love, our team is nice and loving, the girls will love you!”, Lia cheers while grabbing your hand and walking you to a huge door, typing in some code to open it, motioning for you to walk through it first. Somehow, you couldn’t help but grin at the hectic woman in front of you, nodding quickly while walking through the door with your head raised, making you look more self confident. Suddenly, you didn’t bother your outfit anymore, even though everyone else was dressed differently – it was your style, your dance and most importantly your body.

“You don’t need to be nervous, you won’t dance today, we just all need to get to know you first”, Lia smiles at you sympathetically while guiding you through the long hallway – the clubs music was nowhere to be heard anymore. “Currently, we’ve got 7 wonderful dancers, most of them are American, but we’ve got one beautiful Asian queen and a European goddess, we’d love to have someone like you in our team as well!” You cringed at her comment. ‘Someone like you’, what were you like? Were you different? Was it the tattoos or the color of your skin? “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean it like that!”, Lia cringes as well, trying to make the best out of the situation. “Don’t worry, it’s fine”, you mumble while looking around.

Just as if she was reading your mind, Lia points to another huge door. “There we are, it might be a bit confusing to walk through this long ass hallway, but Mister Dolan just wants us to be save from all those… people. You know, our clienté isn’t always the nicest, you’ve probably heard the story about our club and why it is called DEVILISH. But don’t worry, until now, nothing bad has ever happened, Gra- Mister Dolan just wants to know us in safety if something would happen.” You nod, waiting for Lia to enter the code to open the door, letting her step inside first this time.

“Okay, this is basically where we hang out before our show starts, we get ready in here, we eat in here and after the show, we could shower or take a bath in here as well. Mister Dolan offers each of us a room to sleep in whenever we need to make more customers, whenever we need a place to sleep or when we’re just too tired to head home, maybe having one too many drinks.” Lia smiles at the thought, she’s probably been sleeping here quite often. “He takes good care of us, Y/N, don’t listen to all those bad stories people tell about him. He has had a rough past, losing his brother like that, you know? I’m sorry for him”, she sighs before eyeing your outfit the second time this evening. “I love your skirt! And those shoes, god damned, I wanted to get them too, but I couldn’t figure out where to wear them. Well, by now I would know. Anyways, let’s find at least two of our lovely girls.” Lia starts walking through the different rooms, showing you the bathrooms with those luxurious bathtubs that made you think about the old one back in your apartment that you never used because you were kind of disgusted by how old and rusty it was. Usually, you’d just hop in the shower, scrub your body and jump out again before the cold water was actually hitting you. This seemed… nice.

Soon enough, you were introduced to a small Asian girl, also covered in tattoos, but a different style than yours. Hers were more comic book looking, some Ghibli figures dancing on her skin, some bright colorful ones, not fitting into your black and white scheme. “Oh my god, hi! I’m Yun Hee, but you can go for Yun, it’s easier and easier to remember, I guess. I’m glad we get another tatted bad bitch for our team!”, she hugs you, glitter spreading all over your body while you hesitantly wrap your arms around her as well. “I hope you’re going to make it, Mister Dolan is here tonight”, she whispers the last part into your ear, not looking at Lia, “He’s a sucker for his girls ass and can’t say no to a lap dance, especially when it comes to a girl with a body like yours.” Yun slapped your ass with a cheeky grin, watching as it bounces while you couldn’t hold in a small laughter. “I didn’t know I had to dance in front of him… I thought I’d just dance for you and you girls decide whether I’m in or not…”

Yun nodded with a knowing frown but got back to her cheerful self within seconds. “Anyways, I need to fix my make-up, I’m sure you’ll do fine! I’ll let Lia know to give you my number, tell me how it went then, okay?” Then, she was gone. And you? You were even more insecure, biting your lip in anticipation while looking around to find Lia. Instead, you stepped in front of the many full-length body mirrors, eyeing your outfit once more this evening, not sure if you want to do this anymore. You should’ve asked Yun about the costumers, the loan and Grayson Dolan.

“Y/N, there you are! Mister Dolan would like to see you perform, now. Don’t be nervous, I’m sure he’ll love you! I hope he does, good luck!”, with that, Lia pushes you through another door, leaving you alone in a dark room with dimmed lights, a little platform for you to stand on and a dark blue velour couch. You take in another deep breath, trying to calm down all your anxious thoughts before raising your head, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness.

And then you saw him. Erebus. El diablo. Grayson Dolan himself. Staring at him, you couldn’t move at all, hypnotized by his stunning looks, now understanding why he was named after the devil himself. He looked hot as hell.

“Hello, angel.” His deep chuckle brought you back from your trance, causing your breath to hitch slightly. You finally dared to really look at him, practically sucking in his appearance. His eyes even managed to sparkle in those lights, prominent eyebrows giving him that intimidating look and those, combined with his tight, chiseled jaw just left you like a shy little schoolgirl, dreaming of his attractive teacher. He tilted his head in amusement, raising one of those sharp brows at you. “Did something bite off your tongue? Or are you just so wet by just seeing me that you can’t move without dripping down your long thighs, baby?” Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrow, mocking his amused face while stepping towards him.

“Not the slightest, Mister Dolan. I came to dance for you and that’s what I’m going to do, yet I couldn’t get any preparation time. Is there any chance to change the lights and let me choose a song of my liking?” Your loose tongue causes his fists to clench, but he was somehow impressed, no girl would ever contradict him, especially none of those dancer girls. “Suit yourself, angel.” He crosses his arms while sliding back onto the couch with spread legs, making himself comfortable while taking a deeper look at your dark skin, covered in all those pieces of art. And that outfit, that no other of his girls would ever choose because it wasn’t as slutty, not as cliché. But on you, it looked amazing. You looked like a bad ass bitch – exactly what he was looking for these days. Mentally, he took a note on observing you the next couple weeks, minding something bigger for you already.

Soon enough, the lights turned a dark red, making you almost disappear as you slowly walked onto the platform as “DEVILISH” by Chase Atlantic started to fill the room.

SEVER OFF THE HEAD AND WATCH THE BODY FALL, SEE YOU IN THE DEPTHS, THAT AIN’T A METAPHOR.

SEX, BLOOD, FASHION DRIPPING HOLY WATER. HOLY SHIT, SHE WORSHIPPING MY DICK LIKE IT’S THE HOLY FATER.

As soon as the calming, yet rough voice fills your ears, you couldn’t help but slowly sway to the rhythm of the song you chose wisely – referring to Grayson, to his nightclub and his life. You’ve had lots of dancing experience, even took some pole dance classes, but dancing in front of the devil himself wasn’t something you could ever come prepared for. The beat started to get faster, making you run towards the pole and jump up on it, letting it turn you around multiple times with your head hanging low, bringing you closer to the floor with every rotation. Once your fingertips brushed past it, you let yourself fall until your back was hitting it as well, turning around to crawl onto the floor while opening your legs for him, humping the parquet twice.

TRIPLE THE SIX, I’M BLAMING YOUR GOD ‘CAUSE HE DON’T EXIST, I KEEP THE BEAT, ONLY TALK A FEW WEEKS THEN I CUT OFF YOUR WRISTS.

MEDICATION GOT MY HIGHER THAN HEAVEN BUT BRO I’M THE SHIT, BETTER FIX I SAVED FOR HADES, I’M POPPIN’ THE PILLS WHEN I’M SICK.

You didn’t dare to break the eye contact with the intimidating man in front of you, watching every of his reactions, trying to read his mind – but he was a professional in keeping his poker face up, not showing you any kind of emotion. Biting your lip in anticipation, you continue your dance routine, climbing back onto the pole until you were about to reach the ceiling, when you pushed your feet of the secureness, holding yourself up by just your arms while walking through the air, slowly circling around again. Then, just as the beat intensifies again, you press your back against the turning pole, crossing your feet over it while slowly tracing your silhouette with one of your hands. Your thick braids were flying through the air, your abs clenched, and you were slowly but sure getting out of breath, but you would never give up.

I ONLY EXIST TO FALL, HAPPENS LIKE THE GHOST OF GOD, I JUST WANT TO LET THEM GO. FEELING HOMESICK, FIRE UP THAT BLUNT, BITCH. SHUT UP.

DEVILISH, FUCKING WITH MY GUYS, YUH. I MAKE SACRIFICES, YOU MAKE LIES UP. HEAVEN LOST AN ANGEL WHEN I SIGNED UP, I MIGHT FUCK YOUR FRIEND, I MADE MY MIND UP.

Just as the music hits its peak, you pulled yourself up with your right hand, bringing your legs over your head in a split, spinning the pole even faster than before. Your legs were now above you, your head stretched away from the pole and hands working as wings, as you slow down a bit, winding around it like a snake. Taking a deep breath, knowing the next move must be perfect, you jump back up to the highest point, wrapping your legs around the pole as you let yourself hang from it like a bat, opening your arms while waiting for the next beat drop. Once it comes, you let yourself fall to the floor in a horrific pace, a move you usually just dared to show off when you were drunk. Just as your nose was about to hit the floor, you quickly let go of the pole with a somersault.

Grayson raised an eyebrow, impressed with your performance and shifting in his seat while waiting what’s next to come. You couldn’t hide a smirk while crawling towards him with swinging hips, enjoying the desirable glance he shoots towards you.

I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH.

Looking up at Grayson with a slightly innocent look, you climb up on his lap, debating whether to touch him or not. This man was out of your league, yet, you had to compel him, to seduce him like you would with any other man that was watching you perform. Without even thinking about it twice, you grab the collar of his dress shirt, playing with it while smiling down at him. You didn’t press your crotch against his – yet -, but you could feel his hips move to the beat as well, eyeing your entire body up and down

It wasn’t part of your choreography, but you bite your lip while placing his huge hands on your hips and pull off your fishnet shirt with them, wrapping it around his neck as if it was a scarf, giving him a view seconds to enjoy the view of your impressive cleavage. Then, you turn around quickly, pressing your back against his toned chest while using his hands again to roam your body, while wriggling around in his lap in a slow pace.

DEVILISH, SAY THE PART YOU LOVE ME, YUH. I DON’T WANNA TALK, JUST SAY THE PART YOU LOVE ME, YUH.

SETTLE DOWN, YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE ME DRIVE THE DEVIL OUT, YOU DON’T WANNA SEE MY DEMONS IN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE, YOU DON’T WANNA FACE DAMAGE IN YOUR MENTAL HOUSE.

Once the slow part was over and the beat dropped again, your let yourself fall right down onto his dick, earning a quiet gasp from Grayson, his hands tightening around your waist as you started to grind down on him, hands buried in his perfect styled hair. Just as his hands were about to travel further down your waist and you feel something starting to grow underneath you, you get out of his lap to dance around him while softly pressing down onto his shoulder. Once you were standing behind him, you let your nose brush against his neck, breathing in his heavy but delicious after shave, knowing that this man had to smell good. Your clothed tits were pressed against his shoulders as you gently bit down onto his earlobe, loving the way he twitched underneath you. Placing your hands on the couch upholstery, you lifted yourself up in a handstand above him, rolling down back onto his lap as the song finally comes to an end.

I TAKE DRUGS ON THE DAILY, I TAKE PITY ON THE PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SAVE ME, GOD DOESN’T EXIST AND EVEN IF HE COULD, OH BITCH YOU WOULD NEVER CATCH ME PRAYING.

Within seconds, you had your shirt back on and were standing in front of Grayson, raising an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say anything. He, on the other hand, keeps on looking at you, burning you with his stare. Just as you grew impatient, he opened his mouth. “Where have you been all my life, angel?” He stands up, walking right up to you while pressing his warm palm against your cheek, almost stroking you. “Definitely not here, Mister Dolan”, you chuckle as you stepped back once more. “Well, what is your opinion on me, Sir? Will I be able to dance for your clienté?” He hated the fact that you were running away from his touch, but he loved playing games, he loved a challenge.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N”, he chuckled in his intimidating deep voice, “I do think you’d fit in perfectly, but”, he stopped once more, just to build up some tension, “why would I let you dance for me, angel? What would you do to deserve your wings? How important is this job for you? Tell me your story.” He was way too interested in her to just let her go like this, no. He needed to know everything, needed to know if she was the one. The woman he was seeking for, the woman he needed to finish off his plans.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Mister Dolan, but I don’t think my past is important for you to hire me, isn’t it? All you need to know it that I’m available on the daily, I will dance for you, your friends and your… costumers. I don’t mind if it’s one man or twelve, I’d still be up for it if the payment is high enough. I’m not for free, you won’t be able to bring me down, I went through way too much to be ordered around by another gang member, even if it’s the leader this time. So, you could either hire me and make some money with my body – a body like no other of your girls has- or I could pay your sweet brother a visit to see what he thinks of my dancing skills. Because I for sure know what’s going on with you two, Mister Dolan. I’m sick of deciding which gang my family belongs to, you know?”, your walk towards him, showing him that you weren’t afraid of him. The thought of your brother, killed by the rival gang, made you feel powerful.

“I once chose my side, don’t let me regret it.” You lift the left side of your bra a bit up, showing off the devil tarot card that held Jalen’s name hidden on your ribcage, always near your heart. “I’m not an angel, nor am I as innocent as you might think, but I am willing to fight for my survival. I am willing to fight for my family, even though I might have lost an important member of it. So, I wouldn’t wait another second to team up with Ethan’s gang, because I don’t want to starve to death, but my brother was part of the diablo’s , I guessed it would be just the best to follow his footsteps.”

Grayson’s eyes widen in shock before he frowns, pulling you even closer to look at the healed tattoo – you had to have it for quite some time now, not seeing any fresh ink or crust to show some healing process. “How long?”, he mumbles while secretly checking out your other tattoos. You didn’t even have to think about it for a long time, always remembering the night you got the tattoo together with Jalen.

“About three years ago, when my brother got his tattoo, he made me get the same one – I didn’t know what it meant, though. I thought it was like a brother-sister thing to do, get matching tattoos and stuff. But once he…”, you cough to swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find your voice again, “But once he died, I quickly found out what that tattoo meant. He wanted me to be safe if something happens to him. I knew I never had some receptive ritual or something like that, but I already have the tattoo – wouldn’t it be a shame to get it covered by Gabriel?”

“It would be a total shame, princess. You deserve an angel on your skin, but not that one”, he walks around you, acting like he’s inspecting you, as if he hadn’t seen enough of you during your performance. “Who was your brother, darling? Must have been someone I know, otherwise he wouldn’t be that confident of me securing his little sister.” Well, you haven’t thought through that part of you actually telling Grayson who your brother was, not knowing which position he had in the gang or if Grayson even liked him. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to know what your brother did, whether it was a simple drug deal or being the cause of someone’s death. It doesn’t matter, just because of this gang shit, Jalen ended up being the death one.

“Jalen, Sir. Jalen Y/L/N..“, you mumbled while lowering your head, afraid of his reaction. “Jalen? Jalen had a sister?”, Grayson raised his eyebrows once more, balling his hands to tight fists. “I never knew about his family. Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You should’ve been searching for me a long time ago, Jalen didn’t die for no reason, you got me?” You just nodded; eyes wide in shock.

“Jalen was somewhat of my right hand, he helped me do… lots of things, I guess. But they know who he was, probably checked out his family as well, but nobody ever knew he had a sister.” Grayson paces through the room, the red light making him look even angrier than he already was. “Where are your parents?” Biting your lip, you quickly answered. “Gone, they moved away as soon as they found out about his death – but I couldn’t leave the city I grew up in, I’ve got too many memories here. And I want revenge.” Your voice sounded stronger than you felt in this moment, but Grayson looked at you with an impressed glance, nodding in agreement. “That’s what I wanted to hear, angel. Okay, here’s what I could give to you: a place to stay that’s absolutely safe, money or whatever you’ll need to keep living your life and I promise you: you’ll get your revenge. But I need you to do something as well, angel. Are you willing to do something for me in return?”

“Yes, Sir. But you don’t need to do all those things for me, I’d be fine with a somewhat good paid job. I don’t need a new place to live in…”, you suddenly grew nervous again, not knowing what he had up for you. “Really, I don’t want to bother you, Mister Dolan.” “Stop talking, would ya? As Jalens sister, I owe you more than you think. This man saved my life way too many times.” He shakes his head with a chuckle before continuing. “And don’t worry, my house has more than enough rooms, I wouldn’t even know you’re there. Anyways, I think you’d look quite good by my side, don’t you think? So, in return I want you to keep me company whenever I need to do important stuff. I want you to dress up pretty for me, lull my business partners and who knows, maybe you could be the one to finally ruin my brother. I know you’ve got your brothers blood in your veins as well. You’re a fighter, angel. Would you like to fight on my side?”

Grayson steps towards you, placing his hands on your waist as he whispers the last couple words against your lips, leaving you gasp in excitement. “You sure, Sir? I don’t know if I’d look that good by your side, I-“ “Oh angel, you don’t know how you’d look in Louis, in Gucci or even in Balenciaga? All those brands would be glad if you wore them, pretty girl. Where’s that skirt from, Forever 21? You deserve better.” His soothing words left you with goosebumps along your spine, making you shudder under his touch. “It’s actually H&M…”, you whispered, ashamed of your cheap outfit that probably hasn’t even cost half the price of his underwear. His fingertips were currently tracing your jawline while you were still thinking about his offer.

“What do you mean by living in your house, though? I mean… I do have my own apartment, there’s no need of me moving in with you. But I’d totally be fine with escorting you to your business meetings. And I wouldn’t say no to a nice dress. I came to dance, so that’s one thing I’d love to do for your club, Mister Dolan”, you giggled at the thought of something more expensive covering your body, knowing that Grayson wouldn’t be hesitating in buying you all the designers you loved. “I just offered you anything you could dream of, but you still want to dance in front of hungry men? What did I just got myself into”, he chuckled while nodding in agreement. “Fine, you can put on your show on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but on the other days, your body will me mine, angel. And about the living situation: we’ll be discussing that later, for now you can go home and think about everything. Tomorrow, you’ll be having a little shopping spree on your own, okay?” He hands you his credit card while grinning down at you. “Visit La Perla for me, darling. I bet you’d look great in salmon colored silk.” With that, he left you standing alone in that dimmed light, holding nothing but a black credit card in your hands – not knowing what to do with it.

 “So, you’re really telling me that he not only offered you a job, but also to live with him in his freaking mansion? And that you denied that?”, Zavi shakes her head at you, blowing nose through her nose in disapproval. The two of you were currently wandering through your local mall, searching for some nice stage outfits. Grayson’s credit card was burning holes through your wallet, but you denied on using it, not wanting to waste any of his money for something you’d earn your own money with. Just as you walked past a small store called La Perla, you smirked while pulling Zavi with you into it. “Y/N! This store is out of our price range, c’mon, even looking at those pieces will make me poor”, Zavi whined as you showed her Grayson’s credit card. “It’s on el diablo. Don’t worry, I guess he won’t even realize that some money is missing. He told me to spoil myself, so why not spoiling my best friend too?” You shrugged while looking through the different lingerie sets, some of them out of complete mesh, others of lace – which you absolutely adored, packing 4 sets into your basket, knowing they’d look stunning on your body. But one pair of silky lingerie caught your eye, salmon colored and absolutely wonderful, you didn’t even dare to touch it. Zavi didn’t even bother to put that one into your basket as well, grinning at you while showing off her teeth. “Make him greedy for you, girl. Try it on, I need to see it!” She shoved you into the dressing room, handing you your basket after putting some more lingerie in there.

You put on one after another set, actually feeling yourself and smiling into the mirror with such a confidence, you couldn’t help but step out to show Zavi your favorite set so far – the one that Grayson suggested. It pushed up your tits to their maximum without looking too fake, but those panties were a different level. They were short, revealing but sitting on your hips like they were meant to be there. You turned around, showing her the fabric that was hidden in between your cheeks, showing the roundness of them perfectly. “Fuck, Y/N you look so hot, you’re driving my pan sexual ass crazy”, Zavi moaned at the view you gave her. Just then, you saw a familiar silhouette passing the dressing rooms, making you chuckle. “Hey stranger, what do you think of it? Or would you like to enjoy a show later on?” You would’ve guessed it was Grayson, following you on your little trip to see if you were about to spend his last coin, but the person that was now standing in front of you definitely wasn’t Grayson. “Oh, that color suits you pretty well. But let me tell you, I bet baby blue suits your skin even better.” You stood there in shock, not being able to speak up while letting your eyes travel the person that looked so similar to Grayson that it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Oh, I’m sorry, what a shame to not introduce myself. I am Ethan”, he holds out his hand for you to shake and as soon as your smaller one touched his, you felt instant rage boiling up your skin. But instead, you smiled.

“Well, hello Ethan. I’m Y/N, always up for help when it comes to finding a new style. Is there anything specific you’d suggest for me?”

You instantly regret going out in your sweatpants and some tank top you found laying on your floor, your face was free of any make up, wishing you had at least put some effort in doing your eyebrows. It was a one time chance to meet Ethan Grant Dolan, talking to him without him knowing who you were. “Oh, for sure, pretty girl. I see, you already chose some lace, that’s always been a secret love of mine, I adore women in lace”, Ethan closes his eyes, imagining you stripping down in front of him, wearing nothing but those see-through lace panties.

“Yeah, I can totally imagine you in that set”, he pointed over to a cute baby blue set with flowery lace detailing. “Oh, Ethan, this is so pretty!”, you smiled at the set, putting it into your basket willingly. On the inside, you were rolling your eyes at him being that easy to compel. Shouldn’t he be crying over his dead wife? This Ethan wasn’t someone you expected him to be.

“Let me buy that for you, Y/N. It’s going to be my treat for you, hoping I’d be the one to see you wearing it one day.” “Oh, Ethan, I can’t accept that, this lingerie is way to expensive to let a stranger pay for me…”, you pouted while Zavi giggled.

“You like being a challenge, huh? I won’t be a stranger to you for long, baby”, he grabbed the lingerie to go and pay for it while you rolled your eyes as soon as he was out of your sight. “Such a fucking dumbass”, you huffed to your best friend. “As if I’d be in to fuck the guy that-“

“Here I am, babe.” Ethan hands you a little bag while smirking at you. “I put my number in there as well, I surely hope you’re giving me a call or at least some pictures to strengthen my opinion on you in lace.” He kisses your cheek before winking at Zavi one last time, disappearing into the crowd of people outside that store.

Later that night, when you finally unpacked all the clothes and make up you bought, you decided on enjoying a nice bath and some Sushi in the tub while listening to music. Sadly, your pampering night got interrupted by the annoying ring tone of your phone, the display showing some unknown number. “Hello?”, you asked while chewing on a big chunk of avocado maki, snorting at the amount of wasabi you put on that piece. “Angel.” Grayson’s soft voice made you almost drop your chopsticks into the water, choking on the Sushi. “Mister Dolan.” You tried to sound professional, but which professional would ever decide on eating maki in their bathtub? “How is my princess? I was hoping to see you tonight, there’s still some things we need to figure out. Are you free?” “I guess I am, Sir. When and where to you want to meet up?” Opening the drain, you stepped out of the tub while grabbing a towel from your heater, wrapping it around your body and looking for your body lotion.  

“I don’t mind coming over to your house, would you?” Grayson asked casually, causing you to sigh in relief. “I’d like that, Mister Dolan. Would mean I don’t need to get dressed nicely”, you giggled while walking towards your bedroom, looking through all those beautiful pieces of lingerie you got with his – and Ethan’s - credit card today. “Fine, I’ll be there soon, angel.”

Minutes have passed and you grew more and more nervous, debating whether to wear something nice or casual, whether to wear make up or not. Well, you chose the same pair of sweatpants from before combined with a basic tight black crop top, trying to look at least somewhat sexy. Not knowing what Grayson had on his mind, you just set your brows in place with some brow gel but didn’t waste time on foundation or mascara. Then, your doorbell interrupted your upcoming anxiety attack, leaving you with one more spritz of your perfume before rushing to open the door. And there he was, dressed quite casually, some lose dress pants combined with a simple black hoodie – but he managed to still look stunning. “Good evening, angel”, he grinned at you while shrugging his shoes off. “Can I come in?”

You just nod, still perplexed about how different he looked from yesterday, but you instantly felt so miserable standing next to him in your dirty joggers. “Sure.” Stepping aside, you allow him to come into your cozy little apartment. “Do you want anything to drink? To smoke?” Grayson shakes his head, but you decided to grab a beer just to calm your nerves.  “I don’t really have much space to sit, is the couch okay for you, Mister Dolan?”, you bit your lip in discomfort, you’ve never been ashamed about your living situation, but you knew he was used to something much better. “Everything’s fine, angel”, he places his hand on the small of your back while guiding you to your own living room. Once the two of you sat down, Grayson looked at you with such an intimidating look that gave you instant goosebumps.

“So, what I’ve been wanting to talk about was our contract stuff. I know you want to dance for me, but you know that I’ve got different plans for you, right? It wasn’t just a wish of mine to have you move in with me, Y/N. I want you to live by my side from now on, not just as my coworker, more like a… girlfriend. It is hard for me to do all the business meetings alone, to attend anything without someone by my side. The problem is, I can’t trust most people around here. I mean, I could choose any girl from the gang, but… most of them are manlier than I am”, Grayson chuckles while looking at you, “Would you be okay with that? Just keeping me company. You wouldn’t have to dance for all those men, you could be by my side, in my house and live your best life while doing one, two things for me. To be honest, I’ve got plans, most of them maybe not as easy as pole dancing. But I feel like I could trust you – I know that I can trust you, let alone because of Jalen. I owe you something, angel.”

Grayson el diablo Dolan wanted you not to only move in with him, but be some sort of his girlfriend? Shaking your head in shock, you chugged down most of your beer before starring at him in confusion. “Mister Dolan, I don’t understand...” “Grayson”, he interrupted you. “Huh?”, you raised an eyebrow at him, more confused than before. “My name’s Grayson, don’t always call me ‘Mister Dolan’ or ‘el diablo’ that’s kind of weird, you know?” You gulped but shrugged your shoulders.

“Fine, I don’t care what to call you, so Grayson it is. Okay, Grayson. Don’t you think there’s some kind of love needed to ask someone to be their girlfriend? Instead of just asking someone jobwise. I mean, I’m honored, but… I feel like this is so wrong. I’m not an escort or anything like that – and I barely know you. What I know is that you can be really, really dangerous, that you own more money than I could ever dream off and that you could probably pay prettier and more graceful woman to go out with you. I’m not the one to be in the spotlight, Gray”, the nickname slipped off your tongue so easily that you didn’t even bother to correct yourself, “I need to be the girl in the shadows, the mysterious one that dances a few times a week and that’s it. If I was the one by your side, everyone would know me. I’d be everyone’s target.” There it was, the side you didn’t want to show anyone that works – or owns – DEVILISH. Your insecure, anxious self.

But Grayson was fast to react, cupping your face with his large hands, suddenly a soft sparkle in his eyes. “Listen, Y/N. The moment I saw you, I knew that I had to have you. Before you even started to dance, I knew what kind of ride you were – the first girl ever to open her mouth and be not up into my ass like all the others. I’m usually not the type to ask for anything, you should know that. But let me phrase it properly: Will you, Y/N, be my girlfriend? Or will you at least be willing to get to know me better?” He smiled that smile that would melt thousand of hearts in seconds, but you were still frowning, not sure of this situation. “I am willing of getting to know you, Grayson”, you bite your lip while nodding shyly, “But I still want to dance, you know that. I want to get paid the way you pay all your dancers, no benefits, okay? Dancing will be my job, we’ll see about the rest – that will start only in our private time, okay? You can invite me to dinner, I love sushi. Tomorrow, 7PM?” Out of nowhere, you got your confidence back, grinning at the man in front of you. Grayson couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve got myself a feisty one, huh? But fine, sushi it is. Wear something nice, though, I may or may not want to take you to another club afterwards”, he winks at you before standing up, looking down at you. “Mind escorting me to the door?” You nod, getting up as well and throwing your braids into a knot, relaxing your neck while doing so. “Oh, by the way. I met the other Dolan twin today. It was quite… interesting, I’d say. He even bought me those”, you giggled while lowering the waist band of your joggers, revealing some of the baby blue lace Ethan bought you earlier that day. “That dumbass even gave me his number, wanting me to send some pics in those.” You rolled your eyes, huffing at the thought of this greasy guy.

Grayson’s eyes widen at your confession, sitting back down on the couch in disbelief. “You met Ethan? And you didn’t tell me earlier? What did he say? What did he do? Does he know who you are? Oh, no, he couldn’t know. Are you going to call him?” “Grayson calm down! He was so weird, acting all flirty and stuff. I mean, I tried to flirt back, but I couldn’t because I kept thinking of Jalen. I still kept his number, though. What do you think?” You sat down next to him, popping your legs on the couch table while looking at the bill that kept Ethan’s number on it. Grayson scratched his beard, thinking about all those possibilities to ruin his brother.

“Tease him, send him pictures, try to get in his pants, I guess. But that would mean you couldn’t be the girl by my side… Mh. Fuck, Y/N that’s one of the best chances I’ve ever got. Okay, wait. Let’s do it like that: we’re still going out, doing all that official business stuff but you keep on hitting on Ethan, trying to convince him that you hate me with all your guts but you’re still with me because of my money, how’s that?”

You scrunched your nose at his idea, shaking your head no. “I’m not the type of girl to do that, Gray. It would be too obvious to be with both of you, don’t you think? I mean, Ethan doesn’t seem that dumb. But, I may or may not have a friend that he flirted to as well. I think she’d be up for it. She loves a challenge – and a good dick to ride on. How’s that? I just slip Zavi Ethan’s number, telling her to send some lingerie pics to him, trying to drive him crazy. And once he’s far up her ass, we’re destroying him and his business.” You raised an eyebrow, giving Grayson an asking look while typing Ethan’s number into your phone, sending Zavi the contact.

“Girl, I love you, I can officially say that. You’re a genius! But I got to say”, he eyes you from head to toe, smirking while doing so, “I think I’d still prefer salmon colored lace or silk on your body. Was your shopping day successful, angel?” You nod with a wide smile, thinking about all those luxurious lingerie sets that were ready to wear in your closet. “Yeah, it was wonderful. I was quite surprised though, I look fine as hell in salmon.” Grayson groaned quietly, nodding his head. “I bet you do, angel. I bet you do. I can’t wait to see it, mind to give me a show? I mean, I paid for it”, he winked at you, making you pout. “But I wanted to wear them for my first dance.”

“Dance for me, then.” Grayson kept his eyes on you, a soft smirk still plastered onto his beautiful lips while you stand up, basically running into your room to change into a nicer outfit. If Grayson wanted a show, he’s totally going to get one. Stripping out of your nasty clothes, you quickly slipped into your new lingerie set after removing the tags on them, turning around in front of your mirror with a proud smile on your lips. Salmon truly looked amazing on you, Grayson was right. You didn’t have a pole montaged into your living room, so you need to improvise in that, probably going for a lap dance or a striptease. One of your new favorite pieces you just bought today was a skin-tight dress made from black faux leather, hugging and stretching around your curves. It had so much cleavage, that you were unsure if your boobs were about to fall out during your dance, but they’d see them anyways – who cares? The back was something different, though. It was held by many straps, covered in rivets, giving it some sort of grunge vibe. To that, you’d usually wear some of your combat boots or over knees, but since you were at home anyways, you went barefoot.

Once you came back into the living room, you saw Grayson on his phone, probably checking up with his gang mates or whatever an important gang leader must do in his free time. Little did you know was that he already booked your dinner at this really fancy sushi place. You walk up to him, coughing quietly. “What’s your favorite song, Gray? What would you like to see me dance to?” You ask while standing in between his legs, caressing his thighs with your thumbs. Grayson lays his head back to take your appearance in, sighing at the view of your hips in that tight ass dress. “Fuck, angel”, he moans while gripping onto your love handles. “You could dance to anything and nothing, I wouldn’t mind at all. Look at you, girl.” He pulls you down onto his lap, smoothing out your braids over your back. “The worst thing is, I kind of know what’s underneath, but I haven’t seen it. So, what about me just ripping off that beautiful dress?”

You shake your head in amusement, standing up again before connecting your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, choosing ‘American Money’ by BØRNS. As soon as the soft bass starts, you sway your hips in front of Grayson, but he just shakes his head, pulling you back onto his lap while holding your chin between his fingers. “I can’t watch you just dance for now, babygirl”, his nose traces your jawline, inhaling your flowery scent with another groan while his hands explore your body. “I need to see you, need to taste you”, he mutters with closed eyes – leaving you almost paralyzed. His fingertips were melting into you skin, while his body was practically molding against yours, leaving no free space for anything. Opening his eyes again, Grayson traces the thin straps of your dress, biting his lip. “This makes you look so naughty, angel. Doesn’t it?” You nod, seeking for more than just his fingertips on your body, aching for his rough touch. “Grayson, please”, you mewl, rolling your lips between your teeth and looking down at him. “Please what, baby? Please, stop?” He grins, waiting for your answer. “No! Please, continue. Please, touch me. Please, remove this fucking dress”, you squirm around in his lap, searching for at least some friction.

“But, Y/N, I thought I came just to talk?”, he removes his hand from your collarbones, smiling innocently at you. Your blood was boiling, not wanting to waste any chance of getting Grayson into your bed. “Yeah, you did, but now I want you to fuck me, Mister Dolan.” Grayson loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, but he loved the sparkle you had in your eyes even more. “What was that, doll?” He needed to hear it once more, needed to hear her begging for more. “I want you to touch me, Gray.” Raising an eyebrow, Grayson gently rubs her back, her hair and her shoulders. “Like this?” You shake your head, whining in impatience. “No, you idiot. I want your hands here”, you place his large hands over your tits, helping him to squeeze them while grinding down on his slowly hardening dick, “while I need your tongue down there.”

His hands were fast to move to the bottom of her dress, rolling it up and revealing the fantastic set of lace that she bought just for him. Grayson breathed out through his opened lips, not believing what he was seeing. “Fuck, I fucking told you”, he emphasizes while quickly laying you down onto the couch, hovering over you with lust filled eyes. His fingers move to the already damp fabric, slowly tracing those flowers out of lace. Squirming, you were the one to remove your dress completely, enjoying his stare with a wide grin. “Look at what you bought, Mister Dolan. Don’t I look pretty for you?” “You look amazing, babygirl. You look like the queen you deserve to be”, Grayson breathes out as he picked you up, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Just as you were about to tell him, Grayson’s phone began to ring, causing him to set you back onto the floor, picking up his phone with a groan. “What?”, he snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose, shooting you a sorry smile which you just shrugged off as you took another sip of your beer to calm your nerves down. You were really about to go there, even though you know nothing about this man besides that he’s fucking dangerous. On the other hand, he could give you anything you wanted, he could make your life hundred times better than it was by now. He had the opportunities – you didn’t. And by now, he was nothing but nice to you, as if he really wanted you by his side. “Taehyung, I already told you not to go that far all by yourself! I swear to god, if you get hurt, I’ll fucking shoot you!” Grayson’s loud voice dragged you out of your thoughts, making you look into his direction in confusion. He quickly mouthed a ‘sorry’ combined with an apologetic grin before continuing to talk. “Just take care, man. Alright, good luck, I’ll be there soon.”

You laughed as soon as Grayson had shoved his phone back into his pockets. “Don’t your own men listen to you, Mister Dolan? Where’s the authority?” Grayson laughed along with you. “Taehyung isn’t one of my… men. He’s most likely my best friend that wants to save my ass more often than I could save his. Speaking of, I need to head over to him before he ends up in the hospital once more.” He presses one soft kiss onto your blushing cheeks before walking towards the door. “I’m sure you’d like him too, but I need you to get to like me first! Tomorrow, 7 PM!”, he shouts before leaving into the dark night, doing whatever he needed to do.

Once your clock hit 6 PM, your nerves started to go wild again. You were pacing around your flat, trying to clean up even though you just spent an entire day cleaning just to calm down. Of course, you were already dressed and did your make up, but you’ve been changing your dress at least 5 times, drew your eyebrows on twice and couldn’t decide for the perfect lip gloss for another solid 15 minutes. Grayson stressed you out, even though your “date” hasn’t even started yet. You spent the entire night thinking about what he had said to you, about the girlfriend thing and living with him, but you were still unsure. He has been nice to you two times, but you didn’t know him, didn’t know what he does in his “job” and you didn’t know if he would be loyal or if all of this would be just for the outer world. All you knew about him was that he was fucking powerful – and that scared you.

At 6.54 PM, Grayson texted you to come outside, so you quickly applied one more layer of lip gloss before slipping into your heels and heading out. Gasping, you couldn’t help but adore the car he was standing in front of: a dark grey Corvette Z06, one of your most favorite cars in the entire world. “Fuck, Grayson”, you basically moaned, walking towards the car, touching it with sparkling eyes. “Hello to you too, angel”, Grayson laughed before pulling you into his arms softly, pressing a kiss to both your cheeks. “I see you like my car for the night?” You not quickly, smiling at him. “Can I drive?” Grayson’s chest moved against your head as he chuckled, looking at you in amusement. “Not tonight, this is one of my favorite cars, I wouldn’t even trust Tae to drive it. C’mon get in!” He guided you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you and watched you get in before closing it, running over to his side. Once he started the motor, you couldn’t contain your envy. “I will be your girlfriend if I can drive this car. The interior is even better, this car is pure sex.” “Keep on talking angel and we won’t make it to the restaurant”, Grayson glanced at you while maneuvering the car through the traffic, soft beats coming out of the speakers while Los Angeles’ skyline passed your windows.

“It is so beautiful at night, yet so dangerous”, you mutter with a sad expression on your face, thinking about the night you heard about Jalen’s death. “It is, but who am I to judge?”, Grayson answers, leaving the car in silence again. He was right, you thought. If his and his brother wouldn’t be in those gangs, your brother would probably still be alive. Grayson breaks the comfortable silence shortly after, announcing that you arrived at the sushi place.

“Urasawa? Grayson, this is literally the most expensive place. Believe me, I’m fine with ‘Roll Roll Roll’, really. No need to spent hundreds of dollars for some raw fish…”, you mumbled as you gawked at the luxurious restaurant, but Grayson ignored you, opening your door and holding out his arm for you to hold on to. Sighing, you stepped out of the comfortable car, grabbing Grayson’s muscular biceps as you walked in together. One of the waitresses came up to you, showing you your booth as soon as Grayson mentioned his name, leaving you two in the most private area after taking your orders.

“So, Y/N, why don’t you tell me something about yourself? Did you go to university?”, Grayson asked as he took a sip of his water. You played with the water droplets that were running down your own glass, shaking your head. “No. I was about to go to university, but then Jalen died, I needed to help my parents pay for his funeral. Then, I fell in some kind of black hole, couldn’t handle my own feelings and decided to take some time off. Well, I never applied after that, working here and there to pay my rent. College wasn’t a topic for me ever since. By now, I’m too old to attempt, I guess. Did you?” Not wanting to talk about you all night, you decided to ask him some questions too, wanting to know everything about him and his life. Grayson nodded.

“I did, but only two years, never finished because… well, the gang happened. Ethan and I were both going to UCLA, I studied law and forensic studies, while Ethan went for art and humanities – even though our dad wanted us to study architecture. But then, things got weird and difficult with us, so we stopped and went our own ways, you probably know the story”, Grayson shrugged as the waitress brought your food. You smiled at her as she placed the plate in front of you, Grayson didn’t even look at her. Once she was gone, you tried to get him talking more. “What happened between Ethan and you? I know what the street says, but I want your story.” “You should eat, Y/N. We can talk about this another time.”

The rest of the dinner went on with some small talk, but you learned quite some things about Grayson. He loved wasabi, even ate it without pieces of sushi. He didn’t do drugs, even though he was one of the biggest drug lords out there – he hated people that bought from him, but he makes his money with him, so who would he be to decline that? His mother and his sister are still in contact with Ethan, but not him. His dad passed away because of cancer, which caused him to donate around a million Dollars to a children’s hospice. You frowned, feeling bad for him and his loss, but also admiring him for his strength to still lead that empire on his own – starting to hate Ethan more and more. “Don’t worry, I’m fine by now. Learned to hold my head higher than they do. I don’t get called el diablo for nothing”, Grayson winked at you while eating his last piece of sushi, making you giggle, but also smile in admiration. “What is your favorite childhood memory?” You asked while continuing to eat, curious if he’d tell you something about his past. Grayson remained quiet, obviously thinking about it before answering. “Probably something with my dad. Whenever Ethan was sick, dad and I would go out and do things on our own. It was fun, almost like I was an only child, not having to share experiences with my twin, you know? Full attention on me. Not having to share dad or mom, something like that”, he shrugs. Nodding, you finished your sushi as well, laying back in your chair to relax your stomach. “I’m so full”, you groaned with an exhausted laugh, Grayson joining in. “You ate more than I expected, not that it’s a bad thing. Usually the girl I take on business meetings with me just eat some appetizers. I must’ve looked like Son Goku next to them, eating all the time.” Smiling, the two of you kept having a comfortable conversation, getting to know each other better and better, leaving you with the thought that Grayson wasn’t a monster at all.

Days have passed, conversations were shared, and memories already made. By now, you knew that Grayson wasn’t the tough man he pretends to be, you found his soft spot, even though you’ve been now living with him for little less than a month. You decided the day after your date night, that Grayson was right: you two were meant to be. All your worries were for nothing, Grayson cared about you as much as you learned to care about him. Including staying up the entire night whenever he didn’t come home, cleaning his wounds whenever he got into a fight and helping him with any paperwork that was bothering him. A smile stole its way onto your lips as you thought about your argument during your second week of living with him.

You just got into the car with Grayson, glitter covering your body, barefoot and an exhausted look on your face. “You tired, angel?”, Grayson hold your hand while driving, caressing it with his thumb. “Mh, yeah”, you yawn, head pressed against the window, about to close your eyes. He looked over at you, smiling, while he realized something on your exposed neck. His grip got tighter; eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that on your neck?” “Hmm?” “Is that a hickey, Y/N?” Turning your head in confusion, you rolled your eyes at him. “Probably something you did last night, babe.” Grayson shook his head. “I didn’t, this time. What happened during that privat dance? I told you not to make out with any of your costumers!” You shot him a glance that could kill – if Grayson wasn’t already used to your stubborn head. “Thank you for calling them ‘costumers’ as if I was some slut fucking for payment. I dance, Grayson. I don’t even strip that often, remember? You should, because you’re always there when I’m on stage. That private dance was just me on the pole, I didn’t even give him a lap dance, I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it definitely isn’t a hickey.” Rolling your eyes, you laid your head back again, huffing at his assumptions. Soon enough, Grayson’s finger was tracing your neck, touching the ‘hickey’ – and realizing that it stuck to his fingers. “Ew”, he said, looking at his index finger, causing you to break out in a massive laughter. “That, my dear, is lipstick. My own lipstick, to be exact.”

That night, Grayson ended up showing you who you really belong to – him, no one else.

That night, you stopped dancing for clienté, leaving Grayson to be the only one to enjoy your hips swinging to slow music.

That night, you fell in love with Grayson, because you realized he actually cared for you.

Smiling, you looked down at your intertwined fingers, gently squeezing Grayson’s hand as the two of you walked towards the empty beach, large cones with ice cream in your hands. “I’m glad this part of town is mine, I wouldn’t know what to do without Marco’s ice cream”, Grayson confesses while happily licking at his lemon ice cream. You nod, stuffing your face with the mixture of hazelnut and melon you chose, leaving Grayson cringing. “I don’t get your taste.” “I can never eat just milk ice cream, but just fruity ice cream is boring either. So, the only logical thing to do is just pick one of each”, you shrug as you bite into your cone. “Never liked that though”, you hand him the waffle as soon as every drop of ice cream was in your mouth. Grayson takes it, basically eating it in one piece, speaking as he was still chewing. “How can someone not like the waffle?” You shrugged, nudging his side and you started to run down the street, enjoying the wind in your hair, laughing as Grayson started to sprint towards you, trying to run faster than him. “I don’t need a girl that’s fitter than I am, Y/N!”, he laughs as he finally catches you, pulling you closer to him and pressing a soft peck onto your nose. Then, he wraps one of his arms around you, hugging you from the side while walking towards the soft breeze of Venice Beach. “Haven’t been here since… you know”, you whispered as you slowed down, terrified and anxious about your feelings. Were you ready to get confronted with that? “It took me a while to come back too. But I want to show you something. Jalen once told me how he imagined some nice guy taking you here, walking with you on the beach, enjoying the comfortable silence. Are you okay with me being that nice guy tonight? Fuck it, not just tonight. Always.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, allowing you to just nod. “Just… don’t leave me there, be by my side, okay? I don’t think I could handle it all by myself.” Grayson’s eyes got soft immediately, his fingers playing with the braids that fell over your shoulder. “You’ll never be alone again, Y/N. I promise you that.” Then, he guided you towards the water, lacing your fingers with his and pulling you closer to his side. Soft rustling noises were heard from the ocean, even some seagulls were still flying around, chirping above your heads. “Should we sit down here?”, Grayson quietly interrupts your thoughts, pointing to a clean spot in the sand. Once you nodded, he pulled you in between his legs, sitting down with you against his chest. “I’ve never done that with a girl, romantic stuff.” “Really? Not even in high school?” “No. It is difficult to date when your brother is always the one who gets the girls. I was always their second choice whenever Ethan didn’t want them. So, I preferred staying single instead of being just the Ethan lookalike. But let’s not talk about that, let’s make it to a moment you will ever remember and a night that you will never forget.”

And well, you did.

Grayson pulled you towards the water, the two of you only in underwear, deciding to go for a midnight swim. “Gray, please tell me nobody will see us”, you asked in worry, but Grayson just shook his head. “I promise you, baby. No one comes ever to this part of the beach, it’s el diablo territory – and I told my guys that we would be here tonight. But if you don’t want to…” “No! I want it, but… not in my underwear”, you grinned at him while slowly unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto the ground where all your other clothes were neatly folded, your slip soon following. “C’mon, baby.” You ran into the cold water, yelping at the feeling, but laughing as soon as you realized you were back in your element, letting yourself fall under the surface. Grayson laughed, enjoying your carefree side – and the view – before he stepped out of his boxers and ran towards you, embracing your naked body with his own, warming you up and engulfing you in comfort. Your skin was glistering from all those water droplets reflecting the moonlight, you were stunning, like Selene herself. Grayson’s personal goddess of the moon, of the night – and of his life.

Grayson on the other hand looked like a mixture of Hades and Nyx – if she was a man -, fitting perfectly into the night, shining under the starry sky. His broad shoulders broke the soft waves on the water surface, his strong arms holding you up against him. “You’re so beautiful, angel”, he whispered as he admired your simple beauty. You smiled at him, tracing his tattoos with your fingertips. “You’re a piece of art. I love every single one of your tattoos”, you hum. “I… love you.” There you said it, looking at Grayson with wide eyes, just like a shy deer, scared of his reaction. Grayson’s face softens immediately, mouth hanging open before it cracks into a smile, pressing soft little kisses around your mouth. “I love you too, angel. I never thought I’d say that, but I love you. I love you. I love you.” His hands were everywhere, showing how much he loved every part of you, starting from your face down to your neck, your arms, your fingertips, going back up again to caress the curves of your breasts, your hips and your butt before he grabs your legs to wrap around his waist.

You didn’t even break eye contact once, not as he touched your nipples, nor as he slowly enters you. Both of your lips were parted, chests pressed against each other’s as you moved gently against Grayson, soft hums leaving both of your mouths as the water around you started to move with your actions. “Grayson”, you whimper as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his teeth teasing the sensitive skin. “I’m here, baby.” His soft thrusts grew unsteadied, whimpers turning into moans as Grayson hits the right spot each time. Again, you couldn’t believe that this tough, almost criminal man was so soft when it comes to you. You tilt your head back, looking up to the stars and start to ask yourself how you out of all people deserved to get this man. “I love you, Gray”, you moaned out as you clenched around him, your orgasm coming in stronger than the waves around you. “Fuck, angel, I love you.” With that, Grayson came too but remained inside you while you shared this intimate moment, soft kisses and many whispered promises, before you eventually went in for another round.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

GHOST'S TOBIAS FORGE ON FILM PLANS, COPIA'S FUTURE, "DARKER, HEAVIER" NEXT ALBUM

Bandleader also talks Metallica, Mercyful Fate, why a Ghost biopic would be "like premature ejaculation"

The Gospel of Cardinal Copia began barely a year ago, his birth as the new frontman of Ghost neither virginal nor particularly miraculous. But there he stands, a religious man of style and mystery: left eye icy blue and blazing, dressed in fine liturgical threads, leading a band of Nameless Ghouls in silver masks through songs of plague and vermin, love and death.

In the eleven months since the beatific release of Ghost's epic fourth album, Prequelle, much has happened in the world of this wildly theatrical metal act from Sweden. The first of these events was the reveal of Tobias Forge as the living, breathing mastermind behind the masks and papal vestments. Though he's never explicitly stated as such, it's widely understood that it's been Forge all along behind the mic, disguised in corpse paint and/or latex masks, first as a series of consecutive demonic popes called Papa Emeritus (Nos. I-III), before reemerging in 2018 as the grimly debonair Cardi Copia.

Prequelle was a medieval concept album that became a hit, spreading the word of Ghost to a growing congregation, in the U.S. reaching No. 3 on the Billboard album chart, and the Top 10 across most of Europe. An American tour filled theaters and last year delivered Ghost to select arenas in Los Angeles, New York and Montreal. It was all a preamble to Ghost's upcoming Ultimate Tour Named Death, a true arena tour of North America, where the band will deliver a fully realized, theatrical rock show of stained glass and fireballs this fall, beginning Sept. 13th in Bakersfield. (Ghost is also openingfor Metallica this summer on a "WorldWired" European stadium tour.)

"For some reason and luckily for me, I have never really crumbled in front of challenges — maybe going to the dentist," Forge tells Revolver. "I've always got a kick out of doing challenging things. More than anything, it just forces me to go further."

As a lifelong devotee of Queen and Kiss, Forge is a true believer in the power of rock's epic sweep. Taking Ghost to its fullest potential as operatic spectacle is the ultimate fantasy-come-true for Forge, who birthed the band with few expectations a decade ago with a trio of satanic metal tracks.

"There were definitely moments where I had to walk into the arena in the morning and pinch myself a little bit: All these trucks are ours? All this is just for us?" Forge says of his experiences at the handful of headline arena shows Ghost performed last year in America. "I've always wanted to do this since I was a child. I've envisioned it so many times that I don't know really where the dream ended and it sort of went into reality."

Out of costume and out of character, Forge is a friendly and contemplative figure, a seemingly humble rocker and family man behind Ghost's larger than life image. And there is much still to be done as he heads into this final leg of Ghost's Prequelle cycle. To accompany the tour, he's just completed a new series of online video "webisodes" that dive deeper into the mystery of Copia through Gothic intrigue and comedy.

"There are a few episodes coming in the future that might bring some clarity as to who this fucker is," Forge says of Copia, without offering details. "My hope is that he gets to become Papa Emeritus IV. That is the goal. It just takes time and it takes effort. And that is what he's proving now."

The videos are an essential part of the band's mythology, and now Forge is close to realizing his ambition to create the first feature-length Ghost movie. If all goes well, the film will be shot before the end of the year.

"If it wasn't for the fact that I ended up finally being a musician, the one thing I really, really want to do in my life is cinema," Forge says. "Any chance I can have to do that, I'm definitely grabbing it."

There had been discussions about this over the years. As an especially visual band, with its own cavalcade of insane characters, the potential was obvious, but things often got stuck on the form a movie might take. "Most films about bands are biographical, and I see no reason to tell our story yet," says Forge, who still considers Ghost to be in its early years. "It's a little bit like premature ejaculation. You have to have a career first and then you can tell the real story, so that was never an option. And when you yank away that, what do you have? Well, that would be a fictional story."

He's confident that the story of the film has now been figured out, and would partly take place around a live concert. Figuring out the location, budget, etc. will make all the difference.

"The cog wheels are turning on that one," he says. "We're just trying to figure out a lot of the practicalities. Making a film is a big endeavor. Another problem that I have had over the course of my career is that I don't have a shit-ton of time. I am also a father of two kids and I'm married. I try to not to break my back. I've been so close so many times to overworking and I said yes to everything just because I was so keen on not losing momentum. I've learned over the years that it's really important not to do everything at once."

Beyond the film and the final leg of this tour, Forge is contemplating what comes next when he returns to the studio in 2020 to begin work on a new Ghost album. He's leaning toward a harder, riffier sound this time. He'll start in January and finish that summer.

"I want to make a different record from Prequelle. I want it to feel different," says Forge, being careful with his words to avoid misleading fans. "If I dare to say heavier, people think that it's going to be Mercyful Fate all the way ... but I definitely have a darker, heavier record in mind."

Prequelle, he says now, was "a little ballad heavy." The next one will lean more in the imposing direction of 2015's Meliora without repeating the same ideas. He's worked to make each album different, starting with 2010's gloomy, metallic debut, Opus Eponymous.

While the sound and message of Ghost remains rooted in the initial ideas he first had when he wrote the riff to "Stand by Him" as a mostly unknown metal player in Sweden, years before first trying on the pope attire. He's also made a point of evolving as a lyricist.

"I have always pushed myself to write the songs that we don't have instead of going back — it maybe would've been a smart move to just try to replicate Opus," he explains. "I can regurgitate. I grew up with metal. It's in my DNA, so I can formulate death-metal lyrics easily. But I try not to repeat myself on that.

"I like to make the Metallica comparison — where Kill 'Em All is a little bit more crude, on Ride the Lightning they started writing about more real things. It had more depth," he adds. "I'm not going change everything and just talk about politics, but I believe that if you have people's attention, you have responsibility to weigh with your words a little. Sometimes that is hard. I find that harder than the musical challenges."

Even so, the unexpected opportunity to take his vision of Ghost to ever larger scope across multiple albums and now onstage at arena-scale is a challenge he welcomes.

"I try to remind myself every day that it's pretty mind-blowing that we got to this spot. You need to try to appreciate 100 percent and do the best every day and nurture," Forge says, then adds with a laugh, "At the risk of sounding a little religious, this is a gift that you've been given."

All rights owned by Revolver Magazine

[kopzone]

This Is for Liverpool by Andy Robertson 

I need to start with a confession. Not many things bug me, but if there’s one thing that does, it’s the idea that my story is a football fairy tale.

I know when people say I’m some sort of Cinderella Man that it’s meant as a compliment. I appreciate that, but to be totally honest, it doesn’t feel like one, because it isn’t true.

No magic wands have been waved in my direction, I didn’t win some kind of lottery to land a spot on one of the biggest clubs in the world. The reason why I’m a Liverpool player is the same reason why I’m captain of my country: I’ve worked my bollocks off to get where I am, and by doing that, I’ve been able to make the most of whatever talent I have.

Why does this matter? In truth, it doesn’t matter to me as an individual. It probably doesn’t matter to my family, either. It only matters because there are God knows how many little Andy Robertsons out there. Kids who are struggling to convince people that their talent deserves an opportunity. Kids who just need a break to get to wherever they deserve to be.

Kids who might give up if they start believing that only a fairy tale can save them.

I’ve never wanted to be a poster boy, but if I’m going to be a poster boy for anything, it should be this ― if you don’t give up, and if you carry on believing in yourself when others are doubting you, you canmake it. You can show that you are good enough.

Now I’ve got two kids of my own, that message is more important than ever. I don’t want them to think that their dad got a lucky break. I need them to understand that whatever potential they have can only be fulfilled if they put their minds to it. Fairy tales? That’s bedtime stuff.

One of the best things about football is that there are loads of people like me. Most players get to the top because they are so driven. The Liverpool team that I’m a part of has no shortage of players like that.

Take Virgil van Dijk, for example, the best centre back in the world. How many coaches and scouts looked at him and thought he wasn’t destined for the top? He’ll tell you himself that there were plenty

.Mo Salah, one of the best finishers in the game today, was once discarded as not being good enough for a top Premier League side.

Jordan Henderson must have lost count of the times he has had his ability questioned – although never by anyone who has been fortunate enough to work with him – and here he is on the brink of captaining Liverpool in a second successive Champions League final.

I could go on and on, I really could. If these were all fairy tales, we’d have more than Hans Christian Andersen. They’re not, though. They are all examples of hard work and commitment making the difference.

The same applies to us as a team and to Liverpool as a club. We are where we are because of our work ethic and our belief that pretty much anything is possible. That’s the reason we were able to come back from 3–0 down against a great Barcelona team. We didn’t wait for fate to play its hand and hope that it would go in our favour, we forced fate to go our way and not even Lionel Messi, the best player I have ever set eyes on, could stop that.

Maybe there were those outside Liverpool who didn’t believe we would make it to the final. To be fair to them, they had more than enough reasons, especially after we had our arses kicked in the Nou Camp. There was something about that first leg, though, that gave us belief. We had seen enough to know that we could compete against Barcelona. The problem was that all of the decisive moments had gone against us, and we knew that with Anfield behind us, that momentum could be reversed.

If I was a sympathetic type, I’d probably feel sorry for opposition players coming to Anfield on European nights. What they’re up against is almost unfair. That intoxicating mix of history, passion and unshakable belief is a hell of an advantage to have, and that’s why Liverpool have beaten the odds on many occasions, and that’s why our supporters turn up convinced that the seemingly impossible is possible. They’ve seen it before, so why shouldn’t they expect it?

We knew that we had a chance when we were in the dressing room waiting to run out. We knew that the manager believed in us because he had told us. We knew that the supporters believed in us because we could hear them. My God, we could hear them. And, probably most important of all, we knew that we believed in ourselves and in each other.

That’s why when Divock scored in the seventh minute, I didn’t just believe. I knew. I knew what was coming — what Anfield was going to create. I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful in any way, because I couldn’t have more respect for Barcelona, but on that night it wasn’t about them. It was about us. We were fired up by the fans and our hunger was on another level.

It hadn’t been easy to feel like that in the minutes after Messi had worked his magic in the first leg. At that stage, we felt flat, which was probably unavoidable. Although we were in Barcelona, Madrid couldn’t have felt further away. Then the manager came into the dressing room, bouncing and wearing his trademark massive smile.

“Boys, boys, boys!” he says, “We are not the best team in the world. Now you know that. Maybe they are! Who cares? Who cares! We can still beat the best team in the world. Let’s go again.”

It might have taken me a second, or maybe the entire flight back to Liverpool to believe him, but in hindsight that was the moment that changed everything for us. In football, everyone always talks about belief. Every team says they had it after a comeback. But that’s not the case at every club. It’s just not. The manager, he starts it all. He lights the touch paper and then Anfield does what it does.

I remember in the warmup, the place was jumping. It felt like everyone was on top of us, so God knows what it was like for the Barcelona lads. When Div scored so early, you could just see it in their eyes. The fans went insane. I couldn’t hear a thing. I just remember looking at Hendo, Milly and Virgil — those boys barely cracked a smile.

They just waved their arms at the crowd, as if to say, “We’re gonna go again.”

I suppose that night will go down in history. Anybody who loves this club will remember where they were, and who they were watching with. For me personally, what made it even more special was where I had come from to get there. I knew how hard it had been and I knew how, if I had listened to others, I wouldn’t have made it anywhere near Anfield that night — except maybe as a fan who wanted to understand what all the fuss was about.

I had grown up going to Celtic Park with Mum, Dad and my brother. We had four season tickets. My brother and I had Henrik Larsson posters everywhere. Legend. Absolute legend. I even had green wallpaper. Celtic was a part of our family. That’s just the way it was and the way it still is. I joined the youth team as a wee lad, just bombing around the pitch pretending I was at Celtic Park.

At the start, I actually played up top for a bit. Dad even paid me two quid a goal. I think I made £75 one season — unlike now, when I’d probably end up owing him money, seeing as I’m not exactly Salah in the scoring stakes. Over time, I found my way into midfield, and in my last season with Celtic I bounced between the middle and left side quite a bit. They’d brought in a new technical director that year and apparently I just wasn’t in the plans for whatever reason.

At my end-of-year interview, the coaches let me know they wouldn’t be bringing me back. I was 15. One year away from getting a pro contract. One year from being a proper Celtic player. But it was over, just like that, and it hurt like hell.

Mum hated to see us cry. Still does. But she saw me shed more than a few tears that day. I remember she grabbed me a takeout curry from my favourite place to try to cheer me up. It was midweek, too. I almost never got midweek curry. I couldn’t even eat much of that. That’s how she knew how bad I was hurting.

It was just gutting, but thankfully my family really had my back. They let me keep chasing my dream, even when it might have felt unrealistic to keep going. We decided to give it another go at Queens Park in 2010. Bit of a smaller club in Glasgow, to say the least. Life was different there. I was making six quid a night. It was a working-class type of club, and most players were coming from jobs they worked during the day. It was no different for me.

I did all sorts of jobs to scrape by. I got set up with landscaping gigs, I cleaned up after the first team, and I even worked down at Hampden Park during Scotland matches. My parents told me if I didn’t start to find my game that year, it’d probably be best to start looking at Uni options. So I just put everything I had into getting better every day. That was real work, real pressure.

People always ask me about the pressure of playing for Liverpool. And it’s there, trust me, I feel it. But there’s that pressure, and then there’s the pressure of playing for your life — knowing that if you can’t figure it out, you have to give up on everything you love. That’s the harshest pressure I’ve ever felt. And in that situation, I began to truly believe in myself — maybe for the first time in my life. I didn’t really have another choice.

Dundee United approached me a few years later, and that allowed me to train every day while making enough money that I didn’t need the side gigs. But I think in the end it was good for me to see what people deal with day to day, outside of the bubble of football. When I got the chance to play in the Premier League with Hull City in 2014, I had lived a lot of real life. My ambitions were always to be a solid SPL player. When I was landscaping and emptying the bins, I didn’t think I’d ever be playing Champions League football, especially for Liverpool.

It’s funny, actually … a few clubs called when I was in preseason with Hull in 2017, but I wasn’t really that interested. My missus was pregnant, and we were in the process of getting everything ready for our big arrival — that was our top priority, like any expectant parents.

Then I heard Liverpool wanted me.

Liverpool.

When you hear Liverpool want you, you call your agent back in about five seconds. I couldn’t sign the contract fast enough, to be honest.

I got a dose of reality pretty quickly, though. The medical took two days, and it was brutal. My diet was weird because the medical staff had to do so many tests to make sure I was fit and was going to stay fit. After I passed those tests, I had to go to Melwood to do a lactate test. I was running it with Danny Ings, and after a few laps around the pitch, I felt something going on with my stomach. I knew things were going to get bad, but what can you do? I just kept running. A few minutes later, I’m on my knees, puking my guts out on the Melwood pitch.

This hallowed ground. This place where all these legends have trained. King Kenny. Rushie. Stevie Gerrard. And here I am, some wee lad from Glasgow, spewing up in front of the Liverpool medical staff.

If first appearances count, God knows what they thought about me.

The next day, I met the manager and I heard his laugh from a mile away. He’d obviously heard about my test. I turn around and he’s walking toward me, rubbing his belly and pointing at me. The staff behind him are having a laugh, too.

Then he gave me a big hug. After that, I relaxed a bit.

The whole squad made me feel welcome that week, but honestly, it took a really long time for it to sink in that I was a Liverpool player. I wore the red shirt. I wore the club tracksuit everywhere we went. I was wearing it around the house. But I still didn’t feel like a Liverpool player.

I was in and out of the lineup for quite a few months. And the system we play is so complex, I was working so hard in training to learn it all, to understand what the manager wanted from his fullbacks. When I wouldn’t see my name on the teamsheet, my belief in myself started to dip. It did. But all my experiences in life, and the tough times I went through at Celtic and Queens Park, it taught me to be patient.

So I would just come back to training every day and try to catch the manager’s eye by working harder than everyone else. Eventually, he noticed. I think he was just waiting for me to get it — to feel like a Liverpool player and have that confidence. And when I slotted into the lineup, I was ready.

Our supporters have been incredible to me since I got here. And last year they really carried us all the way to the final whistle and beyond in Kiev. That night was hard, and I don’t think you ever really get over a match like that. You just live with it. That night, I remember the silence in our dressing room, I remember the painful flight home. And I remember hearing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” after the final whistle.

The supporters still sang their hearts out, and that sticks with you.

We got back to Melwood at four in the morning, and the manager gave us all a hug and told us how proud he was of our team. And he also told us that we’d be back. Somehow, after a very long road … after being down 0–3 to bloody Barcelona … he was right.

We are back.

It’s not lost on any of us what this opportunity means. This has been an incredible season, full of so many ups and downs and emotional moments. But for me, it’s also been a chance to take a step back and see the full picture. From being released by Celtic and sobbing over my curry, to making six quid a night grinding away in Scotland, to signing for Liverpool and putting on that red tracksuit, barely believing it.

It feels good to have another crack at this final. Nobody deserves it more than our supporters, who have backed us through the good times and the heartbreak. But like us, they will know that we are up against a top side in Spurs. Mauricio Pochettino and his players will be just as determined as we are to do something special in a final like this.

The thing that matters most is that our fate is in our hands. We know that. And if there’s one thing I can guarantee about this team, about this group of players, it’s that we will stop at nothing to try to make our supporters’ dream come true.

If that does happen, it won’t be a fairy tale.

It’ll be because we deserve it.

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 23

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

23. Blindsided.

The weather was sunny with a few clouds when Adrien and Marinette had entered Lace Rose. When they exited, the rain dribbled. Once they’d reached Gabriel’s office, it poured from the sky like there was no tomorrow. Since neither of them had an umbrella, Adrien covered Marinette with his jacket for the few meters they had to run in the rain, claiming that he could change into any of many clothes from the previous collections his father had in the building so getting wet for him wasn’t an issue.

“I’ll change and then head to my father’s office,” Adrien said as they entered the building. “Then another few fittings and I’ll be free in three or four hours. Can I come to help you? Even if it’s for moral support?”

Marinette chuckled. “I feel like I’ve acquired a shadow, not a boyfriend.”

“Am I too clingy?” He frowned. “I probably am. I can tone it down... It’s just that… we are still together, but I’m already missing you because I know we’ll part soon.”

She reached for his hand and smiled. “You know, puppy eyes look adorable on you.”

“Do they work, though?”

“Maybe? Just a little.”

“So, I can come?”

“I’d love that,” Marinette said. “But it isn’t very professional, and if we want your father to approve of us, we have to keep it purely professional at work.”

“Bummer,” Adrien grumbled, lacing his fingers with Marinette’s. “But we still have a few minutes and an elevator ride until your lunch is over. Can I be unprofessional until then?”

Marinette bit her lip as she mulled it over before relenting a shy smile. “Okay.”

The elevator arrived sooner than Adrien would’ve liked. The ride up was even faster, the door opening at Marinette’s floor way too quickly. Before she exited, Adrien sneaked a kiss to her cheek. She smiled, whispering “I love you” before the door closed again and Adrien was left alone. His knees weak and his heart singing from joy, he closed his eyes. So this is what it felt like to be happy?  

Proudly grinning, Adrien entered his father’s office at exactly the appointed time, only to be told that Gabriel was busy.

“Take a seat, Adrien.” Nathalie pointed to a couch by a window. “He’ll see you as soon as he can.”

Adrien obeyed, not being surprised at all. It’d always been like that. Father didn’t make time for him; he squeezed him between his appointments.

Something in his pocket poked him. With a frown, Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim, crème-coloured box. The necklace he got Marinette. He groaned. How could he forget to give it to her? Unbelievable. But then… it could be his official excuse to drop by after work. Maybe he can even score permission to walk her home… or drive. Nah, walking would allow him to spend more time with Marinette… unless she was tired after a long day, so driving her home would probably be a better option—

“Mme Bustier told me M Agreste wanted to see me?” the woman on his mind asked Nathalie.

Adrien stirred. How did he not notice her walking into the room?

“Yes, he did.” Nathalie nodded towards Adrien. “Take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Marinette headed his way. “Hey, stranger. Fancy to see you here.”

Adrien stood up. “Did you miss me already?”

“Not at all,” she teased.

“Mean.”

She giggled. “Well, maybe a little, but I’m here because your father summoned me, not because I’m chasing every opportunity to see you. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I totally believe you. Especially knowing you’ve had a crush on me since forever.”

“Look who’s the meanie here,” Marinette pouted. “And you had the guts to accuse me of being mean to you?”

Adrien chuckled. His sight fell at the box in his hands. “Shall I give you this then, to atone for my sins?”

He offered the box to Marinette. She hesitantly took it and opened. The moment her eyes landed on the ladybug pendant, a muffled gasp escaped her lips.

“Adrien,” she muttered. “It’s gorgeous, but I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s an expensive gift—”

“And you’re my girlfriend,” he interrupted. “Why can’t I give a necklace to my girlfriend?”

She looked at him, biting her lip. “Adrien, it’s too much.”

“It isn’t. It’s not as expensive as you think.”  He took the necklace out of the box and circled around Marinette to stand behind her. A moment later Adrien brushed her hair aside, his fingers lightly glazing over her skin. He placed the necklace around Marinette’s neck, its pendant landing on her chest, and whispered into her ear, “A ladybug for my Ladybug. Fitting? Isn’t it?”

With a swift movement, Adrien closed the clasp at the back, just as clapping thundered through the serenity of the room.

“Congratulations, Adrien!” Gabriel smirked, clapping his hands as he walked closer. “You’ve brought her right to my door and even took care to mark her with a necklace, so there would be no doubt for me. Nice job. I’m impressed.”

Adrien’s blood ran cold. Beside him, Marinette stilled, her body going rigid.

“Nice to meet you, Mlle Ladybug.” Gabriel stood in front of them, his hands behind his back. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Interesting. Didn’t expect you to be the one who said my collection was ridiculous and would make me a laughing stock of the entire industry.”

Marinette gulped, her eyes wide as she side-glanced at Adrien.

His body barely functioning, rapid breaths and clenching heart, Adrien still took a step forward to cover at least some of Marinette from Gabriel. “Father, you’ve—”

“Nice job,”  Gabriel said, smirking. “You know, finding her would’ve been enough, but I see you’ve enjoyed the challenge, prolonging the chase—” he stepped closer to Marinette, almost leaning in, “—luring our little bug in a false sense of security, and delivering her to me with a bow on her… neck. Impressive.”

Adrien stared at Gabriel in shock. “Father—”

“I always knew you had it in you. You are my son after all.”

As if brought out of her trance, Marinette jerked to Adrien. Her breathing heavy, she stared at him in horror. “You were searching for me on your father’s orders?”

“Now, why would you think so,” Gabriel cut in. “Adrien is fully capable of coming up with his own brilliant ideas. Now, if you don’t mind, Mlle Ladybug, please, step into my office. I’d like to hear more of your opinion on my creative choices.”

Her face pale, Marinette stared at the floor as she silently headed towards Gabriel’s office, not sparing Adrien a glance.

Adrien gasped for air. His head spun, invisible force gripping at his chest. This couldn't be happening! What was even happening? Nothing made sense, but desperate to do at least something, Adrien grabbed Gabriel’s shoulder. “Father, you’ve got it wrong. She isn’t Ladybug.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. “And why would you lie to me, Adrien?”

“I’m not lying—”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him, scoffing. “Do you really think I would’ve let you do this on your own? You aren’t competent enough for that yet.”

“You—what did you—”

Gabriel laughed. “You’re such a child still, Adrien. Yes, I’ve been monitoring your every step. Your entire Discord chat history is on my desk.” His tone changed, cold and threatening notes slipping through as Gabriel took a step towards Adrien. “You should consider yourself lucky I’m willing to overlook you hacking into my computer and stealing my private files against you. I get it, everything is worth the finish goal, but if you were spending an insane amount of cash on something like that, at least hire a competent hacker who won’t leave traces. Now, go or you can kiss that insufferable ‘Freedom’ whim of yours goodbye.”

Barely breathing, Adrien stared at Gabriel in shock. How foolish of him. Why would he ever think his father wouldn’t monitor him?

“Father—”

“We’re done here, and I suggest you don’t push your luck, Adrien. If you make me angry, I may just forget about our deal. You wouldn't want that, right?” Gabriel threatened.

Adrien pressed his lips together, clenching his fists. He couldn't push anymore. Father was mad. That was clear as day. If he did, who knew what Gabriel would do. And it wasn’t him who’d just entered his office. That was Marinette. Adrien couldn’t make Gabriel even angrier. For her sake.

He still pleaded, “You promised not to fire her.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Go before I change my mind.”

Adrien stood in his place frozen, silently staring after his father and Marinette until the door behind them closed. His stomach turned. He… Did he just give away his Marinette to his father’s wrath? His eyes to the ground, Adrien groaned. He did. Unintentionally, he’d just betrayed Marinette, and there was nothing he could do at the moment. Interfering now meant she could not only lose her job but be blacklisted from the entire industry. Gabriel was powerful enough to do that. From experience, Adrien knew he would do that if pushed any further.

The air thinned, noises slowly vanishing into background. Adrien felt sick. His head spun. He was disgusting. How could he? Curling in on himself, Adrien tried to grasp that tiny sliver of hope that maybe his father really just wanted to hear Marinette explain her reasoning behind her opinion? Maybe, Adrien was just severely overreacting—Perhaps…

Holding onto his head, Adrien sunk onto the couch. “I’m an idiot.”

Out of nowhere, Nathalie touched his shoulder. “Do you need a glass of water? You look pale.”

“He won’t fire her?” Adrien mumbled, staring at the floor. “Tell me, Nathalie. Will he?”

“I don’t know,” the woman replied, shrugging. “Your father never let me in on his plans regarding this girl.”

“I see,” Adrien echoed. “Then maybe—”

The door swung open, and Marinette walked out, failing to hold back the tears streaming down her face. She was pressing some file to her chest, walking away as fast as she could, not sparing him a glance.

“Marinette!” Adrien got up and followed her. “Marinette, wait!”

“Leave me alone,” she barked. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Marinette, wait.” Adrien grabbed her arm, catching up with her. “Marinette, what happened? He promised he won’t fire you.”

Marinette jerked her arm away from him, brushing him off. “Oh, don’t worry! He didn’t fire me.”

“Then what happened?” Adrien tried to reach over to her again, but she flinched away.

Her voice bitter and labored, she asked. “Did you search for Ladybug for your father?”

He stalled. He couldn’t lie to her. Not when he’d already betrayed her so. Even if unintentionally. His eyes falling to the floor, Adrien mumbled, “It’s not so straightforward as it seems. He promised me—”

“Did you or did you not?”

The lump in his throat won’t let him answer. The words had vanished. Something gripped at his chest, squeezing all the air out. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t say it.

She glared at him. “Answer me, Adrien! Did you or did you not search for me for your father?!”

His shoulders slumped, Adrien lowered his head as he whispered. “I did.”

Her lips quivered. He could see her body trembling as she gripped at the file on her chest. Tears streamed down unobstructed and with a shift movement, Marinette ripped the ladybug necklace from her neck and threw it at his feet.

“I’m such an idiot,” she spat. “You never loved me. This all was a game to you. You used me for what? A thrilling pastime? And I… I believed you… I was blindsided by you. I can’t believe I even fell in—” She pressed her lips together and swallowed the rest of the words, growling instead, “Never come near me again.”

Marinette ran.

Adrien couldn’t move. His ears ringing, he couldn’t even look at her vanishing in the distance. Instead, he slumped down to pick up the necklace. The rubies of the ladybug sparkled. The chain was broken. Torn in pieces. Ripped from its owner’s neck.

His heart clenched. Hopelessly, he looked after Marinette, but she wasn’t there anymore. A few people staring at him from their offices hid back into their rooms. He didn’t care. He should probably go back to his father and ask what happened. His legs refused to listen. Clutching the pendant to his chest, Adrien fell to his knees, his vision blurring.

He had one person. One person in this crazy life of his who loved him. Whom he loved more than anything. How could this happen? How could he lose her?

“Get up!” Gabriel’s voice cut from behind. “Don’t embarrass me more than you’ve already done.”

Adrien clenched his teeth together. Don’t embarrass him? He never did! He was a good boy. The perfect son. Always did his best. Excelled in his studies. Didn’t have any friends his father wouldn’t approve of. Worked at the family company ever since he could remember. He sacrificed his life to please his father. For what?

“I said get up, Adrien!” Gabriel barked. “I don’t need you throwing tantrums. I’ve already had enough with you parading about the office with that tramp.”

“What did you do to her?” Adrien seethed through his teeth, not moving an inch.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What did you do to her?” Adrien stood up, spun around, and glared. “What did you do to Marinette?”

“Nothing," Gabriel stated as a matter of fact.

“Liar," Adrien growled. “She came out crying. What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel repeated, his lips pressed thinly together, yet his face emotionless. “I did nothing to her, and if you want to discuss this issue further, I suggest we go to my office.”

“I won’t go anywhere, Father,” Adrien snarled. “What did you do to her? Answer me!”

“And I repeat, I did nothing,” Gabriel responded dismissively. “She quit. Why are you blaming me for that?”

“She what?” Adrien frowned, anger coursing through his veins. “Marinette loved her job. She couldn’t quit unless you threatened her. What did you do?”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Gabriel groaned, rolling his eyes. “You should better ask yourself what did you do to her.”

“Excuse me?”

“She quit because she couldn’t handle the pressure that dating you had brought her." Gabriel’s said, his voice silky smooth, yet every word ripped at Adrien’s heart.

“What are you talking about?” Adrien snarled. “We’ve been dating for less than an hour. What pressure are we talking about?”

Gabriel puffed. “Huh, so even an hour of dating you had proved to be too much for her? Interesting. What did you do to her, Adrien?”

Adrien pressed his lips together. This didn’t make any sense. Marinette was perfectly fine with dating him.

“I guess you were too intimidating for her,” Gabriel continued.

No! That couldn’t be true! She was the cooler one in their duo.

“Or maybe the fame got to her, and she decided that she doesn’t need you anymore?”

What was he talking about? Marinette wasn’t that kind of person.

“Or perhaps she just got bored with you. She played her game, captured a mouse and decided it wasn’t worth it. Who knows? She isn’t any better than any of those friends you’ve brought home before. Forget her, Adrien. Enjoy the freedom you’ve wanted so bad.”

Adrien stared ahead of himself. His breathing ragged, a chill running down his spine, he gripped the necklace in his fist tighter. His walls around, the peeking people, his father, everything around suddenly blurred as he remembered all the friends that suddenly cut their ties with him before their friendships had barely started. There were so many. None of them stayed, all leaving him at the first opportunity. He eventually gave up on finding more, Nino being a rare exception. Father never approved of any of them. Nino never approved of Father and couldn’t care less about him or what he could do. It all clicked.

“You made her…” he whispered as if in a trance. “You made her quit, didn’t you? What did you do? Threatened her?”

Silently, Gabriel walked closer. He fixed Adrien's jacket, shaking off the non-existent dust, tighten Adrien’s tie back to its perfect shape, and fixed his hair.

“Now, don’t say such nonsense,” he said, looking Adrien straight in his eyes. Taking the ladybug pendant from his hands, Gabriel dropped in the nearby trash bin. “Why would I do that? She was a talented designer, and her input was valuable. You’re just upset because she dumped you, so you’re trying to pin the blame on someone else. I understand, and I’ll forgive you. Now, let’s go. You need to calm down.”

Adrien didn’t move. “You’ve made her quit because you didn’t like her dating me, didn’t you? Not even for daring to stand up to you. Why Father?” he whispered. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Gabriel scoffed and leaned closer. “You misunderstood, son. I don’t hate you. I only want what’s best for you and she…she was not what you need. You are an Agreste, Adrien. You need someone who would know how to serve you, how to please you. Not boss you around with her opinions. You’ll understand later.”

Adrien flinched. His stomach violently heaved, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as Gabriel continued.

“And I’ll keep you safe from everyone unfitting you put your eye on until you get your head out of the gutter and choose the right woman.” Gabriel straightened and turned sideways, ready to depart. “So stop slumming it after lying, entitled gold diggers and look at someone like that Rossi girl, for example. You were wrong about her, by the way. She reached out to me and told me the truth about what happened that day, what was happening for years and how she’d been suffering at the hands of that Dupain-Cheng tramp. I couldn't believe what vain and vile person I was harboring in my walls. So, I've fixed your injustice and rehired Mlle Rossi. She’s starting tomorrow as our newest junior designer. Luckily, we’ve just had an opening, and I suggest you think about inviting her to dinner next week as an apology. But now, be a good boy and go rest, clear your head, and come back when you’re more reasonable.”

Adrien felt sick. Did his father even hear what he was saying? Did he really trust the sweetened lies of a pretty stranger more than the words of his own son? No wonder Marinette couldn't handle Lila back in her school days. How was she handling her up to now was beyond him.

His stomach sunk. Adrien pressed his lips together and clenched his fists to stop himself from saying the words he knew he’d regret later. He needed to get away, or he would either cause a scene or get sick in front of everyone, and he didn't have time for that now.

He had to fix this. He had to find Marinette and explain everything. She couldn’t have gone too far, and if he’d rushed he might have a chance of catching up to her.

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