#he's either the right hand man or someone who doesn't get paid enough for this there is no in-between

[mechieonu]

if there was anything else i wanted from phm it'd be more of ryland and the crew. SPECIFICALLY when they're pestering him

[coldfanbou]

Mail Order Maid

Now this is a pop-up I would want. Here is the other fic I decided on for the week. I really got airhead vibes from Momo because of this picture.

Length 2K

Momo x Mreader

Browsing the internet with nothing to do, you flick through web pages and switch between apps until a notification pops up and covers your screen. "Congratulations! You've won a prize of your choice. Please make your selection." You had yet to click on anything to warrant a pop-up, but there it was. The ad was there to stay, too, as you tried to find the button to close it. A little annoyed that you can't find it after a few minutes, you restart your phone. It doesn't help; the ad reappears as soon as you unlock it. You sigh, scroll down to the bottom of the page, and click on the prize selection button. You see a bunch of small items that were pretty useless to you. You click on the mystery object, and the ad goes away on its own. You think how weird that was before putting it out of your mind. 

A few days later, a knock on the door sends you running toward it, expecting to have your new laptop waiting for you. At the front door, the delivery hands you a paper to sign; without a thought, you sign it and hand it back. He wishes you good luck before walking away with a dolly. You look outside to see a giant box. Turning in the delivery man's direction, he's out of sight, and you're left with the giant box. The box is heavy and impossible for you to move by yourself. "The least he could've done would be to leave it inside," you think to yourself. You try to pull it forward with your hands on either side of the box. You do this a few more times before the front of the box completely breaks off. As you look inside the box, you're surprised to see a woman sitting inside. She waves to you with a smile on her face. "Who are you? Why are you in a box? How long have you been in there?" You ask as you pepper the woman with questions.

"I'm Momo! It's nice to finally meet you, Master." The woman climbs out of the box, and you get your first good look at her. She has what looks to be a bandana wrapped around her head, and as your eyes move downward, they're immediately attracted to her ample bust. A shoulderless crop top squeezes her breasts together while the rest of her outfit consists of overalls. 

"Master? What are you talking about?"

"You're my master, aren't you?" Momo looks toward your door and reads the address. Pulling out a piece of paper from between her breasts, she unfolds it before showing you. "No, this is definitely the right place. You're my Master." You read the paper, which has your name and address written on it. You think it's a prank at first, but a partial receipt shows you someone paid a considerable amount to ship Momo to you. It only gave you enough information to figure that out and nothing else."What do you want to do first, Master?" 

Momo's question gets your attention, and you look back at her. She smiles at you, looking into her eyes; there's not a thought behind them. "I…get inside, please."

"Okay!" Momo says as she walks into your home. She looks around the place before sitting down on your couch. You close the front door and stare at Momo. She looks back at you and blushes. "Don't look at me like that, Master…but if you really want to… we can do it."

"What? No. How did you get here?"

"In the box?" Momo responds, trying to understand why you would ask. "Master, you need to relax. I can give you a massage if you'd like." She says as she stands up and walks to you.

"No, I don't need a massage." You try to slap away Momo's hands, but she pushes through. Once her hands reach your shoulders, you feel your stress melt away instantly and can't argue with her. Momo gets around behind you, massaging your shoulders and pressing her tits against your back. 

"It’s okay, Master." Momo calmly states. Her massage relaxes you, and you forget to ask her any questions. It was as if Momo had some special power. You tilt your head back, glancing at Momo only to see her smile. "Let's go to the shower. I can give you a better massage there." You nod your head, and Momo leads you to the bathroom. She strips you of your clothes and asks you to sit on the chair in the shower. You do as instructed and watch as Momo strips out of her clothes. She pulls off her bandana, letting her hair fall down. After that, she unlatches the button holding her overalls and lets the piece of clothing fall to the floor. Your eyes move up her legs until you see she isn't wearing underwear. Her pink pussy was out for you to see; her thighs were getting wet from her nectar. You get hard and unconsciously stroke your cock. As your eyes move upward, you catch Momo lifting her crop top, her breasts bouncing as her shirt pops above them. Once Momo's eyes reach you, they wander down and notice you're stroking yourself. "Master, let me."

 She steps into the shower and kneels before you. Her hand replaces yours; her soft, delicate fingers wrap around your shaft before she starts stroking your cock. "You're so hard, Master. Don't worry; I'll take good care of you." You start groaning, each stroke pushing you closer to your orgasm. Once precum starts to leak from your cock Momo takes a tiny lick at the tip of your cock. A jolt of pleasure rushes down your spine, and you moan loudly. Momo uses her other hand to start the shower, causing water to rain down on both of you. Following that, it finds its place by playing with your balls, squeezing them gently. "Master, you have a lot here. I'll make sure to drain you." Momo takes another lick at the head of your cock. She pauses momentarily, leaning down to kiss it before pushing your cock inside. Your new servant keeps her lips wrapped tightly around your cock, and uses her tongue to flick the head.

"Oh fuck. You're so good at this, Momo," you moan. You push on the back of her head gently, and Momo takes in more of your cock without a problem. Her hand plays with your balls as she starts to bob her head. When you look down, you see her eyes looking back at you, pleading for you to release your stress. You hold on a little longer, your cock twitches in her mouth, and seeing you weren't going to let yourself cum, Momo pushes your cock into the back of her throat. As you hit the back of her throat, you let go and spurt rope after rope of cum. Momo's mouth fills up quickly; her cheeks puff out as they fill with cum. The salty liquid leaks from the corners of her mouth before she can drink it all. The falling water clears away your cum before Momo has a chance to collect it all. 

She moves on. However, Momo stands and starts riding your thigh as she presses her breasts against you. Grabbing some soap, Momo lathers her breasts and uses them to massage your body. You feel her grind her lower body on your thigh and hear her soft moans. "I'll take good care of you, Master." Her hard nipples drag along your chest, and you start to get hard again. She feels your cock poke her legs and smiles at you. "My Master has so much energy," Momo says as she moves forward and straddles you. Your cock is trapped between your stomach and her cunt as Momo grinds against you. Your hands start to wander around Momo's body, moving down her sides before you squeeze her ass. Momo jumps a little but giggles. "Master's so naughty." Momo's breaths become labored as you continue to play with her ass. Small moans start to leave her as she rubs her cunt against you. 

"Momo, ride me." You say, commanding her.

"Yes, Master," Momo replies as she lifts herself. You rub your cock against her entrance before pulling Momo onto it. Momo's back arches as you push more of your cock in. Her warm walls are wrapped snugly around your cock; it feels as if Momo was made for you. Momo moans loudly as she finally takes your entire cock inside. She wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder as you begin thrusting. "Ahh, Master, you're so big." 

"Do you like your Master's cock?"

"I-I love it. It's the only one for me." Momo replies as she presses her chest against you.

"Good, you'll be getting a lot more of it." You moan as you start to thrust faster. You're holding onto Momo's waist, pushing her down as you buck your hips. With every thrust, you're slamming against her cervix, making Momo a quivering mess. Her walls tighten around your cock as she begins to cry out from the pleasure. You're pushing ever closer to your orgasm when you decide to kiss Momo. Her eyes shoot open, but as you hold the kiss, she begins to accept it. You begin to explore her mouth as your tongues rub against each other. 

"Mmm, Master. I'm going to cum." She says in muffled tones. You spank Momo suddenly, causing her to yelp in pain.

"We're going to cum together; hold it." 

"Yes, Master." She moans as you give her another hard strike. You stand up and press Momo against the shower wall, her legs wrap around you, and she places her hands on your shoulder. Being pinned between the wall and you leaves Momo as a fuck doll for you. You start ramming your cock deep within Momo, your thrusts going wild. Momo starts to dig her nails into your skin. "Master, please cum. I-I can't hold it much longer."

"Hold on a little bit longer." 

"I-I can't!" Momo cries as her legs tighten around you, and she orgasms. Her walls squeeze your cock, coaxing you. You give a few more thrusts before you follow Momo's lead and climax. You bury your cock in Momo, painting her walls white as you spew hot cum into her. Capturing her lips once more, Momo weakly returns it, her chest heaving and her legs dangling as she recovers. You move back and sit down, keeping Momo attached to you. You enjoy the feeling of her cunt trying to milk you for more. Some minutes pass before you lift Momo off you. After you shut off the water, you take your cock and point it toward Momo. 

"Please clean me, Momo." Momo nods along. She takes your cock in hand and drags her tongue along your shaft. Before letting go and letting your cock slap her face. She smiles to herself before taking your cock in hand again and cleaning you up. Her tongue swirls around your cock as Momo bobs her head. Once clean, she kisses your tip and tries to stand up. She nearly tumbles, but you steady her. Cum drips out from her cunt and runs along her leg. "Take a shower if you'd like, Momo." You say as you place her on the seat you used earlier.

"Thank you, Master." You leave the shower and dry yourself off. As you wait for Momo to come out, you think about the situation again. Whatever the reason for Momo to show up, you wouldn't fight it. You had a maid now that would take care of your needs. Momo soon emerges from the shower, and you order her onto your lap.

"Momo, I'm your master, right?"

"Yes,"

"Good. Then you're not allowed to wear clothes here. I want to have access to your body whenever I want."

Momo blushes, "If that's my master's order. I have to follow it." She stands up and drops her towel to the floor. You were going to enjoy your new life with your servant.

[odiesdayoff]

The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress. 

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him. 

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank. 

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now. 

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all. 

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that. 

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to. 

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in. 

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this. 

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt. 

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open. 

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips. 

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat. 

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents. 

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.” 

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured? 

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes. 

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 

~~

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it. 

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable. 

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered. 

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face. 

He had won.

[choke-me-joey]

38 with Joseph Quinn please. Maybe he got jealous of a guy younger than the reader flirting with them

I hope this came out okay!! Friends to lovers is just 🤌🤌 I couldn't resist writing it this way!!

38. Let me show you how a real man does it.

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, rpf (don't like don't read), jealous Joe, public sex (they do it in a private bathroom but yk), flatmate reader and Joe aren't in a relationship but there's ✨️feelings✨️, unprotected p in v, creampie, friends to lovers, the usual filth

Hoe-vember masterlist

You looked good, you know you looked good. You'd had eyes on you ever since you'd stepped out of the car with Joe and Wesley at the GQ event in London. Both Wesley and Joe looked impeccable in their black suits, and Joe had given you his card and told you to go shopping to find an outfit for tonight, and found an outfit you had indeed. Both of their jaws had dropped when you'd stepped out of your bedroom in the flat you shared with Joe.

The black dress hugged you in all the right places, the lace of the bodice sitting beautifully against your skin. It showed just enough cleavage to be sexy, but not too much, and all those squats you'd been doing in the gym certainly paid off, as your ass looked like a damn peach. Your hair and makeup were flawless, having gone for a sultry smoky eye and a dark red lip.

"Fucking hell, Y/N, haven't seen you look this good since our uni ball!" Wesley grins, and you flip him off, smiling. "Scrubs up well, doesn't she Joe?"

"Y-yeah, you look beautiful love," Joe looks you up and down, shooting you a sexy smirk and a wink once Wesley's back is turned. You roll your eyes playfully at him, checking him out once his back is also turned. It was no secret that you and Joe fancied each other, well to everyone else around you anyway. It drove your friendship group crazy whenever either one of you hooked up with someone else, because there'd be some serious tension, jealousy and moping on behalf of the one who wasn't getting laid.

You'd wept into your pillow when he'd bring random girls home and fuck them, making sure to stay in your room as late as possible the next morning so you didn't have to face them. He'd slammed doors and sulked around the flat when you would bring a guy home and fuck them. It was mutual pining at its finest. And now you'd decided you'd had enough. Either he was going to finally fuck you tonight, or you would do your best to move on.

So you'd gone all out, it was your first public event with Joe, so you wanted make a fucking good impression.

The two lads were sipping on whiskey in the kitchen as you slipped on your shoes and spritzed yourself with perfume (Joe's favourite perfume on you, he'd drunkenly confessed to you on a night out once and then gone on to say it was his favourite on others in an interview) and you feel his eyes on you. You look over, meeting his eyes as you dab perfume on your neck and wrists, smiling coyly.

Oh, you'd made a good impression alright.

When you had arrived at the event, Joe had offered you his hand to help you out of the car, before being swept away by his publicist and manager for interviews on the red carpet, leaving you and Wesley to mingle with the other commoners, as Wesley had so charmingly put it.

"Tonight going to be the night you finally shag him?" Wesley asks casually over the lip of his champagne glass he'd been handed as you'd both walked into the room to find your table.

"Depends if he finds someone else to shag." You shrug, absent mindedly checking name cards on the tables as you walked through them.

"Oh come on, Y/N, you know he's pining for you," Wesley rolls his eyes, pulling out your chair for you as you find your places, sadly not at Joe's table.

"That why he's balls deep in a random girl whenever he's home?"

"When was the last time he actually did that, mate? And I know for a fact he hasn't been shagging whilst he's been abroad."

You pause for a moment. It was actually a while since Joe had been home long enough to go out and pull. "And you have been remaining celibate as well, so Zara tells me."

"For fucks sake why is my sex life being blabbed about within our friendship group?!" You hiss and Wesley snickers.

"Because we all need you and Quinn to stop being idiots and get together, you're driving us insane!" Downing the rest of his drink, Wesley gestures to your now empty glass. "Refill? Our man of the year should be joining us soon."

"Yeah, sure, sure" you mumble, and off he disappears. You get your phone out of your bag, and are scrolling through Instagram when a voice asks.

"Is this seat taken?"

You look up at and are met with a vaguely familiar, young, handsome face. He's leaning on the chair, a smile gracing his lips.

"Um, no? Go right ahead." You smile back at him. He was cute, very cute and he shot you an award winning smile as he sat down.

"I'm Harry," he says, offering you his hand. You take it, shaking it.

"Y/N."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," Harry says, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

"And how many times have you used that line?"

"Not as often as you'd think," he chuckles. "Why, is it working?"

You giggle, completely unashamed of your flirting with this total stranger. You don't even notice Wesley, now joined by Joe, coming back to the table with another drink for you as you and Harry are chatting away, you laughing at a joke he'd just made.

"Alright, Y/N?" Joe's mildly annoyed tone makes you turn around. Wesley is stood next to him, looking a little bit awkward. Joe's jaw is clenched as he looks at Harry sitting next to you, admittedly you had moved your chair a little closer to him

"Oh, hey! Joe, this is Harry, Harry this is-"

"Joe Quinn, right? Loved you in Stranger Things, mate."

"It's Joseph, actually." Joe replies with a bite to his voice, making Harry blink.

"Oh, er, sorry mate, I just thought cos she said it-um, right well I better head back to my table. It was nice meeting you." And with that he scampers off to his table somewhere else in the room. You sigh, looking up at Joe from your seat.

"Thanks, Joseph." You hiss at him. You slam down your glass on the table and grab your clutch bag. "I'm going to the loo, watch my drink."

"Nice one mate," you hear Wesley say sarcastically as you walk away.

You push through the crowds, navigating your way to the toilets, thankfully they were pretty well out of the way and not bloody cubicles. You let yourself into the vacant one, locking the door.

Jesus the bathroom was nicer than yours at home, you think as you touch up your powder and lipstick, giving your hair a bit of a scrunch to give it some more volume. A knock sounds at the door.

"Someone's in here!" You call out. Another knock. "Still in here!" Another, more forceful knock. You stamp over to the door, wrenching it open, ready to give the rude ass person on the other side absolute hell.

You were not expecting to be shoved back into the bathroom, and the door slammed shut behind said rude ass person.

And you were definitely not expecting the rude ass person to be Joe.

"Joe, what the fuck?!" You glare at him once more as he locks the door behind him.

"I could ask you the same thing." Joe says, quite calmly despite his chest heaving a little beneath his black suit. You give him a confused look. "Flirting with someone younger than you, really Y/N? I could hear your fucking giggles across the room."

"I wasn't flirting!" You definitely were. "He was just being nice!"

"So you push your tits together and up for every guy who's just being nice?" Joe scoffs. You echo him, rolling your eyes.

"Tell me you're jealous without telling me you're jealous, Joe." You challenge him, stepping forward. His eyes flick up and down you again, and you feel your skin warming under his gaze.

"Fine, I was jealous. I could see how he was fucking looking at you and I just wanted to deck him." Joe admits. "Been driving me crazy all fucking night, I can see everyone's eyes on you."

"And how exactly are they looking at me?" You goad, knowing you have him now. He grabs your hips and pulls you against him.

"Like they want to throw you down, rip this damn dress off and fuck you." His eyes are so dark they're almost black now as he backs you up against the sink. "Which is exactly what I wanted to do ever since I saw you tonight. Been wanting you for months, fucking years, Y/N, you drive me crazy."

"Then do it." You whisper, your mouth hovering inches apart. "Fuck me, Joe. I want you, always wanted you."

"Yeah, that why you're flirting with someone younger than you? Oh baby, let me show you how a real man does it."

You giggle as he lifts you onto the counter. "He was like 3 years younger than you, Joe."

"I bet I can still fuck you better." Joe grins and you grab his jacket, pulling him into a kiss. He moans softly as your lips meet. The first kiss is soft, and he pulls away. "You know I love you, yeah?"

"I know." You peck his lips. "I love you too. Now fuck me, man of the year." You reach down between you and palm at his cock through his trousers.

"Shit, shut up." He laughs, kissing you again, this time his tongue flicks along your lips asking for permission which you gladly grant him, moaning in appreciation as you taste whiskey, mint and a slight hint of smoke. A taste that is so Joe it makes your heart flutter. You continue to stroke his cock through his pants, squeezing occasionally. "Wanna bend you over, okay?"

"Fucking please." You nod eagerly, hopping off the counter and turning to face the mirror, sending him a smirk in your reflection. He pushes gently on your back, and you allow him to bend you over.

"Jesus, you look so good like this." Joe runs his hands over the curve of your hips and ass, before pulling your dress up. "Fucking hell, Y/N, no underwear?!"

"Didn't want a VPL, Quinn, would have ruined the look." You smirk over your shoulder, trying to conceal a moan as he slaps your ass. He raises an eyebrow at you in the mirror, a smirk on his face. "Shut up."

"Interesting." He says, undoing his trousers and shoving those and his black boxers down. "No time right now though."

You shudder as you feel him drag the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips, lubing himself up with your arousal. He leans over and kisses the shell of your ear. "This okay? Want me to get a condom?"

In response you push your ass back into him so his cock slips inside you, making him grunt out a breathy "fuck" that has you clenching around him. His cock slides into you with ease, the burning stretch of him filling you up had you moaning and clawing at the counter. "Fuck, Joe, so fucking big!"

He chuckles, gripping your hips as he starts to fuck into you, each bump of his cock head against your cervix sending tingles up and down your body.

"You feel so fucking good, babe" Joe sighs, locking eyes with you in the mirror. "Think you can cum for me? Wanna feel this perfect pussy cum on my cock."

"Joe..." You moan as he reaches round and strokes your clit, making your legs shake. "God, don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it, love."

Joe's phone begins to ring in his jacket pocket and your eyes snap open, staring at him.

"Don't you dare." You warn him as he grabs it with his free hand.

"It's Wesley," he says, like that's a reasonable excuse for answering his phone in the middle of dicking you down. "Think you can be quiet?"

"Joe, don't you fucking-"

"Hey, mate," Joe grins as he answers the call, and you glare at him in the mirror. He doesn't stop moving his hips or his fingers though, and you can feel yourself getting close. "Nah, just stepped outside for a smoke with Y/N....yeah, she's fine-"

You purposefully clench your kegels on his cock, making him hiss and slam into you a bit harder. He shoots you a glare. "Yeah, mate, I'm alright just burned my finger on my cigarette....yeah we'll come find you in a min-minute....yeah bad signal....alright mate, bye." He hangs up, putting his phone down and thrusting into you quicker. "You little....you did that on purpose!"

"You answered your phone whilst fucking me!" You shot back. "Besides, I really didn't want Wes to hear me cum."

"Oh yeah, you're close aren't you? Can feel how much tighter you're getting, come on baby, let go for me." Joe coos, his cock hitting that spot over and over until the tension in your body snaps and you cum, long and loud for him, moaning his name and gushing over his cock. Joe shudders, his cock twitching inside you before shooting his load against your walls, his hips pumping weakly into you still. "Christ, Y/N, fuck...." He pulls out, admiring his cum dripping from you. You're still lying across the counter, panting as you catch his eye in the mirror. Ever the gentleman, he grabs some toilet paper and cleans you up, throwing it away and pulling your dress back down for you. "You good?"

"Pretty fucking good. You?" You say breathlessly, unable to stop smiling as you straighten up, turning to face him.

"Pretty much the same, although I'm kind of pissed we have to stay here instead of going home and doing more of that." He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek. "I'm sorry I was a dick, Y/N."

"I would apologise for my behaviour too, but it just got me some of the best sex I've ever had, ever, so I'm sorry but...not really." You look up at him with a cheeky grin. He laughs, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"The best sex you've ever had ever, hm? I bet I can top that. Just wait until we get home."

[meret118]

2023 Review

This has been the worst year in my life. (Long post.)

Nicholas died in February. I thought he was just constipated, but he was 20 years old and my vet insisted I take him to the emergency clinic. I didn't like the place even then. They have all this fancy equipment, and they overcharge and overtest to pay for it. They insisted he stay overnight, which I didn't want, and wouldn't let me say goodbye to him. They called later to say I was right. They'd given him an enema, but wanted to watch him overnight. I should have gone to get him then. They called at 2 AM to tell me he'd died.

He started living under my car and following me around shortly after I moved into my apartment. He had horrible health problems, including stomatitis which made his breath and saliva smell horrible. I think that's why his previous people abandoned him. The idea of him dying alone in a cage thinking I'd done the same torments me. If I'd just followed my instincts it wouldn't have happened that way. I don't think well under stress anymore. I miss him so much.

That was my winter. This past spring I almost died myself. (I'm not going into the details about what happened.) I've read the hospital notes, and my oxygen rate got so low they even called my uncle at one point to see if he wanted them to try and resuscitate me if my heart stopped. I was in the hospital for weeks, but I only remember the last 4 days or so of being there.

I ended up losing the use of my non-dominant hand from a compression injury, and have been in constant pain ever since. The muscles from mid-forearm down have wasted away. You don't realize how much you need that hand until you can't use it anymore. I've always been healthy before this, and it's been a huge adjustment. I feel like I've aged about 10 years. Crafting was one of my main hobbies, and I can't do that anymore. It takes me forever to type anything out now too. ETA: The non-stop pain has been the worst thing.

Everyone except my mother knew she's had Alzheimer's for years. (She refused to believe it.) She lost touch with reality completely while I was in the hospital. The neighbors had to call the police, and they took her to the hospital where she lives. I don't know if the stress of my being in the ICU pushed her over the edge, or if it was just a coincidence. She had already started hallucinating some before that. My father has been in assisted living for Alzheimer's since 2018, and now she is too.

Contrary to what a lot of people think assisted living is paid for completely out of pocket. Regular health insurance doesn't pay for it, nor does Medicare. It requires long term care insurance, which they don't have. It's not cheap either. Hopefully they will have enough to last as long as they need it, but it's not a sure thing. If they do spend all their money, they'll end up on Medicaid in a government funded nursing home.

Assisted living is like living in a small apartment with daily activities, and even trips. (I moved them near me into 2 really good ones. ((They don't get along.)) My father is even gaining weight, and doing so much better. I go see them once a week.) A nursing home is like living in a hospital.

My father had a good job, (upper-middle class), but was forced into early retirement at 55 due to bad-mouthing the new exec at HQ. He was used to being the (regional) boss, and never got another job. That's 10 years of income he didn't earn.

What's even worse is they made each other their POA's instead of someone younger. After my father was put in assisted living, my mother met a man at an Alzheimer's support group who conned her into allowing him access to all her accounts. Everyone told her not to do it, but he's a CPA, and she had no experience with handling the finances.

I know he had a wife with Alzheimer's because Janice met her when she helped him find an assisted living for her. So he was there for a real reason, but I guess he saw an easy mark and decided to go for it. He made sure never to be around when I was there. She and I don't get along anyway, but I think he was also poisoning her against me based on some comments she's made.

It all came to a head late last year as her Alzheimer's got worse. I found out by accident that he has been stealing from them ever since he was given access to the money. He had romanced her into doing that and leaving everything to him in the will, a new will he wrote. As well as I can figure out he told her he just wanted to be friends as soon as he got what he wanted.

I tried to get a new will written, but her Alzheimer's was too bad at that point, and lawyers refused. My uncle saw a lawyer earlier this year, and he said we're screwed. When she dies the guy gets everything, even if my father is still alive. She's a narcissist who has ruined my life over and over ever since I was born. Now she's going to ruin things after death too.

I'm having to go through their 3 story house crammed with decades of things to get it ready to be sold. The basement is so full you can barely walk through it. I'm single, with no kids or siblings so it's just been me.

At the moment I'm pretty sure I finally have COVID. I have to stay isolated since I was exposed over christmas anyway, so I don't see the point of getting tested right now to find out for certain. I'm fully vaccinated, and my symptoms are very mild. My fear is of developing long covid.

[beevean]

Something happened that lead me to think.

Yesterday, I read a long message that was left to me on November 24 (it was on Messenger and I don't use FB anymore): an old friend of mine, that abandoned me 10 years ago, wrote me a long, long letter of apologies for her past behavior.

We were close, although long distance, friends. I was 16-18, and she was two years older than me. She was a very intelligent, studious girl, and we could relate to each other for our shyness and lack of friends among other things. But she suffered from OCD and depression, things I honestly did not know how to handle at the time, and they interfered with our relationship. She was extremely insecure, constantly doubting that I cared about her, acting up if I invited my classmates over to study together, making me feel responsible for her staying alive.

Long story short, she eventually found herself a boyfriend and decided I wasn't worth the effort anymore. I think she said something like "being together with you isn't stimulating anymore".

(btw, in her letter she offhandedly mentioned that now she has understood her sexuality better, which doesn't surprise me - I can believe she had a crush on me and it manifested in a terrible way. I myself sometimes consider her my first girlfriend :\)

She and my father "abandoning" me at the same time caused me suicidal thoughts that to this day I'm battling with. But I eventually forgave my father: I think he paid enough for what he did. With her, I honestly thought I'd never hear from her again. I tried to learn my lesson, and honestly I strived to never become like her. Which I failed to do, sadly.

And I haven't responded to her yet because I honestly don't know where to begin. It's been ten years, and while I'm in a better place than where she left me off, I'm not exactly in a good place either. But... just the thought of contacting me after a decade to apologize? Was the guilt really that strong?

And then, today my boyfriend made a surprise visit to talk face to face.

I thought he was also done with me after we spent a month essentially making each other sick. I was trying to move on, because really, I'm not going to cry again for the umpteenth person who gets tired of me (a mentality I "learned" from this old friend of mine, that eventually I'll bore everyone away), but yes, I was thinking all this time "man, five years down the drain, what a waste".

And what does he do when he showed up? He apologized to me. He realized that I was right about some of the things I told him. That he gets passive-aggressive when angry, that he's excessively proud, that sometimes his advice got too insistent. He thought about it, and he drove to my house (it's an one hour drive) to speak to me with his heart in his hand, fully knowing that I could have said that I don't love him anymore or I found someone else.

We made up. I have made my mistakes, I need to change as a person, but I honestly, honestly appreciated that he made the effort to actually examine himself and ask for closure.

So... I guess the takeaway from this is that I, too, deserve to be apologized to. I always feel like I'm a screw up and everything I do is wrong and I need to constantly apologize myself. It's what I argued with my boyfriend over. So, as self-centered as this may sound, yes I do feel better about myself now.

But also, I'm constantly afraid of reaching out to people for fear of rejection, or that it's too late to make amends or anything. And yet look at this. An apology after ten years. I really should take this to heart.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

non post here just collecting current thoughts abt the [what's up with atlas' death and the unlikely connection of mitzi and mordecai through some shared secret relating to it] mystery specifically

firstly i'm tending to presume that mordecai did just shoot atlas; he definitely knows that mitzi did Not, "she didn't shoot anyone"....which also i suppose does not necessarily mean that mitzi didn't kill him. it's possible she did, or mordecai did, or someone else did, and by some non [noscoped by mordecai] method, but that mordecai and mitzi then coordinated in covering up how he actually died by, say, quickly staging some kind of other scene, including shooting him while he had only recently died. but really the mystery here is like, what exactly would these two feel so aligned in cause about. doesn't seem like, say, mitzi could've just paid mordecai to take atlas out, b/c mordecai would either not want to do it Or he actually would, in which case why not do it himself, and earlier, since he was at lackadaisy for surely the better part of a decade. it could've been like "with our combined talents imagine how nearly competent we could be" with mitzi having some kind of key knowledge to plan this heist (murder) or something. but it would still require an Alignment between them of wanting him dead Now, and, y'know, why

their particular similarities that we know of, imo, are that they're probably about the same age (supposing mitzi's around thirty / early thirties) and that they're sort of especially Materially Beholden to atlas and more directly, individually collected by him (versus, say, zib saying he's a collected stray because he'd stay around if mitzi did. he's also a saxophonist which is lower stakes than your new wife or your new guy to kill other guys)....neither mitzi nor mordecai seem to posthumously dislike atlas, but naturally mordecai's barely indirectly commented and it seems to me like mitzi regards atlas fairly symbolically, as the potential for her situation to improve, or at least be as good as it was during lackadaisy's heyday. she may have affection for him abstractly, and we also know via mordecai that the marriage was distant enough before atlas died that mitzi didn't live with him and things had Visibly Deteriorated. it sure seems plausible that mitzi might kill him to inherit things, and turned to mordecai for his expertise in a) doing that & b) perchance making it look like an accident / covering things up, but he evidently didn't want to stay on at lackadaisy No Matter What, i.e. if mitzi was running it instead, and why agree to this, it seems very unlikely he'd do anything just for mitzi's sake or the sake of being paid to do it by her, he has to have his own motivation. and it's possible that, despite plausible positive feelings about atlas still (who did also like, throw him right into mortal perilously dangerous work w/little experience lol, mordecai happening to be immediately good at it or not) he could've, like mitzi could've, still wanted to be less beholden to this one particular person, and achieved that by just killing him lol....but even if their feelings Aligned on that matter, there's a few wrenches, like a) how would they realize this alignment. they're probably not having heart-to-hearts. they're both very close to atlas (at least professionally, for mordecai) and it would be very bold to go "would you happen to wanna kill this guy too" either to his wife or his right hand gun hand hook car door man.

there's also the fact that: viktor is Also someone very limited by his being beholden to atlas, pretty much positioned as close to atlas as mordecai since they were partners, and maybe has the added bonus of seeming marginally more Approachable than mordecai, plus that like, being thirteen years older and beat up on more, maybe if you were looking for an accomplice you'd figure that "idk do you want to retire" would also make him marginally more likely to get aboard murder plans if you're just trying to Find someone to help with that who you don't know would already want to. but he also disagrees with the idea that mitzi is particularly vulnerable / isn't herself at least somewhat dangerous, which seems like something he Might have any knowledge about beyond "idk i just get that vibe," like, did he get to be privy at all to whatever went down there. &/or led up to it.

what seems to be implied here, and makes more sense, is that there was some specific event that both mitzi and mordecai consider to have been unfortunate / undesired / things going wrong, and that involves mitzi enough for mordecai to blame her / her to refer to it being her fault, although she may not necessarily agree. (and does "perhaps i will / not to discount your culpability" imply mordecai Also considering himself culpable. whether that goes beyond "if anyone actually shot him, it's mordecai")

but while maybe there's not much love lost between these two, neither seems to like completely hate the other. civil enough one-on-one here, does seem like mordecai would be negatively affected if viktor had died, "very little interest in defending her" is not "no interest" nor "less than no interest and one can imagine mordecai is being both precise and accurate about what he means, and to exit this car chat by advising mitzi fix the conspicuous bulletholes is, in fact, helpful; he's probably not actually interested in / intending to personally dismantle lackadaisy or anything, and makes sense if mitzi's lashing out just a bit while they discuss sore topics (again, seems neither of them Wanted to have to kill atlas either, so what was the specific impetus....) and also they did just have Lackadaisy's Big Night involving foes that have guns while they (almost entirely) don't, thanks to mordecai's transference of those....which, like, did he just do that himself, or was it on order from marigold....either way, seems more like a nudge like Retire Bitch to everyone there, rather than an effort to sabotage them That perilously

there's also this compelling material

not interpreting Bonus Material as the strictest of canon, in some cases more obviously [not at all] than others, ft. generally more of a light tone / elevated humorousness....but also the not obviously complete jokes ones perhaps not Not canon contradictory, either. a) i want to see the shopping trip and b) fascinating how they are outright discussing that mutual Material Beholdenness to atlas. but a couple of other points arising

one being that i was racking my brain like "whaaaat are the usual Murder Mystery Motives" and then landing on "money" wherein like, besides the theory of "what if mitzi just wanted to inherit lackadaisy, while still Actually Married to atlas despite that maybe circling a drain / maybe atlas, being warned about something by asa, was going to get rid of lackadaisy from his inheritable estate," it also occurred to me like, mordecai originally got in hot water as a bookkeeper, which leads me to presume that he may have been embezzling (though maybe he was the fall guy for someone else's embezzlement, or maybe even some third or fourth things, not even involving embezzlement at all) which, if he was, was presumably for his family, whom he left money for (though he also maybe had to skip town too quickly to retrieve it anyways). and there we see that mordecai may have also been bookkeeping for lackadaisy, too, which i'm going to interpret as perfectly canon backstory. i guess this isn't exactly so different from previously mentioned ideas/elements like "both of these two are aware how beholden they are to this one specific guy, and would like to be less so (through embezzling??)" and "this could be about mitzi wanting to inherit lackadaisy much sooner than later (or not at all)" like, still wanting more of some resource atlas has sooner than later (or not at all....see questions of how much mitzi could have been legally considered to Directly possess while atlas was alive, such as, money) with the same kinds of questions raised of like, how would they realize they aligned on this. there's also a question of like, Would mordecai be moved to elevate the flow of funds here versus just whatever he's already paid, though he'd (maybe) already done that in that original bookkeeping gig for whatever reason. but that may have been more time sensitive and motivating if it was indeed at least in part for his family. which i suppose it could still be Now w/the theory of him just turning around and doing that again. wherein i suppose the idea here is just that they're both in on it, and maybe atlas finding out about it / suspecting too much is such a potential impetus like, whoops, well let's kill him :/ hypothetical 2 for 2 lack of embezzling stealth lol

the other more tangential idea here is just that like, well who knows, maybe mitzi and mordecai Did talk / have tête-à-têtes / an unlikely friendship or friendly acquaintanceship going....again that like, even as professional mostly enemies now and with no especial warmth evident between them, they also don't seem to hate each other even though they Could, even when it comes to this secret re: atlas's death that they're both unhappy with....a lot of writing this stuff out is just how it helps get ideas together lol and not lose entire threads / have derailed trains of thought. like maybe mordecai Would do something mostly for mitzi's sake, if evidently at all begrudgingly. and i suppose the other way round could be considered, i.e. if mitzi would begrudgingly commit to helping kill atlas for mordecai's sake, which still seems the less likely arrangement

oh wait Also i sort of rotated freckle & mordecai juxtaposition, as not being entirely dissimilar, see for one: their having the ideal time the one occasion they were in the same place, that is, completely declining to interact with each other at all lol....but i'm presuming the Mystery of freckle's secrets & backstory are a bit less deep than this more central atlas murder secret, and my interpreguess is that freckle accidentally(? probably.) killed someone(? or almost did. or whatever.) probably his dad(? family tragedies....his hat is still on the premises....) and rocky took the blame, which i'm guessing is out of just being the effective older sibling / pretty close. so i was just half wondering like, well what if mordecai killed someone too rather than being in shit over embezzling. maybe! and how this ties in is that i'm also considering, like, maybe any of this has to do with that Past that mordecai has. the arbogasts were saying atlas Settled Some Of mordecai's pursuing grievances....maybe Lackadaisy Embezzling could be about settling even more via financial payoffs. or something. just a potential troublesome loose thread

there's also the Mystery of "what's marigold bothered about. is what's changed there being this lawful prohibition agent you can't pay off and could somehow shut marigold down longer than ten minutes. and who's in charge of marigold" which is relevant b/c the mystery to me is that, where we leave off in the comic, mordecai is Very Motivated by "how does it figure in re: atlas's death" still and at this risktaking crossroads about it wherein he's clearly positioned at odds with marigold. what are the important things called into question. if marigold knew how atlas died, what would they even do about it. is the problem "well mordecai how do i know you won't also shoot Me, the mystery owner of marigold," seems like something he could expect to be more directly confronted about rather than [what, if marigold knows more about atlas's death and is Just displeased with mordecai about it, they're gonna either Not say anything about it or just try to get rid of mordecai by giving him this hands-on work where he Might be killed?] like, just kill him, And the fact we know the prohibition agent drago Was planning to meet with gracie grombach (and his lawyer, presumably the guy mordecai hatcheted to death just the other night at the start of things) for real, so there's actual reasons to assign him these killings....seems like it's more about things Missing to us as readers about Why they felt they had to begrudgingly kill atlas, what their further mystery connection is / what that impetus was....

oh and back to that [very tangential] tangent re: how i wouldn't have figured mordecai and mitzi interacted much But Maybe They Did, i also before now was assuming that, at least b/c mordecai's business was either in the most dangerous &/or most mathematical work at lackadaisy, he wouldn't have interacted much with ivy, who would've been all of around ten or so when he started there. the pilot specifically illustrates the results of his history with lackadaisy by having him entirely refrain from taking the shot when aiming at her, which i'm also sort of [bonus material]esquely interpreting as "not comic canon noncompliant," but at first i was like, well, like how viktor is protective of ivy / playing concerned patriarch as she puts it, and we know he has a daughter maybe around her age, we also know (from bonus material) that mordecai has younger sisters, including one feasibly also around ivy's age. or just that if you've known someone since they were like 9 or something, you're still reluctant to shoot them. but now i'm Noting that a) most everyone else who's been around awhile, mitzi, viktor, even rocky, has commented on mordecai, but ivy hasn't, which may be a bit Mysterious, and b) in her nightmare sequence moment, she sure not only has this Concept of him, but interacts with him in the dream

which might not mean anything really, but sure might imply she'd talked to him readily enough before, and does also serve as a bolstering / reminder of the idea they'd have interacted, especially since there's the entire factor of "if she was interacting with viktor, this would probably involve all the more mordecai adjacency" like well, interesting, noted, etc

oh and it has to also be mentioned how i'm supposing that also what the savoys are saying about mordecai and atlas, via indirectly framing it by discussing how maître carrefour Already Knows mordecai, can be taken as accurate / is not going to be contradicted. so there's how mordecai seems to resent being called the kind that turns on his partners on a dime (while the savoys Probably had a more uncomplicated departure from their earlier associations. though maybe if marigold knows mordecai was involved in atlas's death, he's Also been hired rather than having been shot, in a stroke of generosity)....and then there's the very broadly relevant description of how, once you take that one path laid out for you, you're Obliged To Him Only, Always, the other paths gone forever....the way pretty much everyone involved was in a place with especial vulnerabilities and limited options at the start, and taking one available path left them kind of trapped there / unwilling to get off of it b/c otherwise they're lost again. what might have motivated a couple of people to snuff out their would-be guiding light, when it's not as though they now act as though they'd clearly found some better one....there's also the fact that serafine characterizes their diable as having a hot temper, wonder if that application could be overlapped with atlas too....and it just handily circles around for rooting for this dream team w/mordecai & the savoys; whether the latter anticipate Not sticking around with marigold forever; the fact that it would be quite a surprise if they do assume that for the first time mordecai is, in fact, just having fun tonight; that mordecai sure may be lost in the dark in-between crossroads rn. rooting for them to stay friends no matter what one way or another. mordecai's as much of a wild card as anyone at this juncture really, keep being wild cards together

meanwhile mordecai not knowing what's going on but laying out some of the confusion is helpful but like, well then we definitely are confused too

i'll say too....really i have to imagine that there Is some bigger missing piece in the [Why] of mitzi & mordecai's murder secret that one could only guess at at best, but i think of this as an effort to kind of feel out the shape of What's Missing thusly, figuratively. and this has been an extensive "i dunno" without any epiphanies falling into place along the way but hey lol, laying it out....if marigold already knows about the How atlas died, namely, if mordecai specifically carried it out, you'd think that if nothing's come of that already, he's fine. or maybe he just wants to Know anyways, though it seems as or more risky to Not kill a guy he's supposed to as marigold's professional killer....he says he's not sure if he knows important Things he thought he knew, plural, unsurprising if there's more than one such important thing we definitely don't know, but suspecting that his concerns might have to do with the big mystery Why they killed atlas, which might also align with how mordecai's reacting to asa saying he warned atlas of [something/s] before his death, which sure doesn't otherwise necessarily imply he knows anything about the death itself. and then mitzi, who should also be in the know, is still asking "how does it figure in" re: connecting his death & if asa Did warn atlas of something....i sure don't know either, and you two have so much more info lol

and Does rushing water count as a clue? cue me trying to zoom in on an illustration to see if the silhouette of a figure reflected in mordecai's glasses could be atlas (don't think it was, or that it'd be a Key Clue dropped thusly anyways) like hell i dunno yeah maybe the rivers are relevant somehow in secret ways, that'd fit, but again only guesses. oh and hey, why would mitzi and mordecai have any kind of gun handoff? maybe as like, a burner revolver lol. i always end up going Shruggg at mysteries but i am enriched by rotating them anyways, especially when it's so tied to character here, and when they're not the only thing relevant to ongoing story so it's just intriguing rather than simply frustrating / stifling to not have already solved them / not the only point of interest. e.g. who Knows why mordecai's having his off the shits saturday but it's so fun that he is. good for him (ultimately) (probably) (hopefully)

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Picdrop podcast - with Jens Koch (2019)

with a big thank you to @struwwelzeter for finding the link, an (imo) very interesting podcast with Jens Koch on his work, being in prison in Iran for a few months and working with his idols, Rammstein.

The podcast host is Andreas Chudowski, himself also a photographer (mostly of politicians etc), who in each episode invites a colleague who works in a specific 'niche' of the photography business. Jens is listed as celebrity photographer, and indeed agrees that is his niche and that what he loves to do: meet celebrities and make pretty photos 🌺

Celebrities

Around 0h20 the conversation moves to 'who was nice to work with and who wasn't', Jens mentions Lady Gaga as someone who was really nice to work with, she was very interested in the shoot etc, Pamela Anderson was a bit more work, demanding a specific lighting setup, which Jens' dad made at home (because he likes to tinker with equipment), then when Pamela saw the light she almost stormed out again, fortunately a shoot happened, but Pamela demanded to see the photos right after and deleted a few pictures herself without hesitation (fortunately Pamela didn't know there is revovery software for deleted photos, and the one that is currently shown in Jens' portfolio of her is one she hasn't approved 😇) but in general that wasn't a bad shoot either. Jens mentions the worst experiences were the ones of which we don't know he did a shoot with, because the photos never worked out or never happened.

He has one male US celebrity who he can think of as having done a shoot, but not liking the experience, but he doesn't want to name him, the person is generally regarded a ladies' favorite (Jens doesn't understand why). interviewer: George Clooney? Jens: no, he is out of my league. I: Brad Pitt then? Jens: no, haven't photographed him either. Then the interviewer gives up because those are the only two US celebs he can think of; in the rest of the podcast the name Brad Pitt is mentioned more often, but this is always in the context of 'some person that wasn't easy to work with, and whose name we don't know, so we'll just call him Brad Pitt, though it isn't Brad Pitt'.

Somewhere at the first part he mentions he's not really a women's photographer, but still has some good experiences. Not Angela Merkel though..both guys agree that she is pretty difficult to photograph, always the same pose, and she doesn't really like to have her picture taken, but knows it's part of her job (well, was at the time) so she goes along with it, but after a few pictures, always says 'we're done now, right'? Jens mentions he admires Andreas Muehe's set of photographs of Angela, he took a very original approach and that worked really well.

How did he become a photographer

How did Jens get into the photography business, did he start, like so many, as an assistant to another photographer? No, he is a self made man, he always admired the glossy photos in US magazines, started making photos in Cologne for a magazine as freelancer, coming in in the morning with several others, hoping there would be an assignment. Then the cards with assignments for that day would be handed out, each photographer got one, did the shoot, and hoped it would be good enough to get in the magazine and get paid. He never was an assistant (0h36) and thinks that that worked out fine, because you often see that assistants learn photography only in the way their 'teacher' did it, and you can tell from their style.

From that he got more assignments, got called by other magazines to do shoots as well. Typically his clients are magazines like Bild or Focus who do an interview with a celebrity, Jens is asked to do the 'interview photo', and he always tries to get the celebrity to do a portrait photo as well. This means that he often doesn't have much time with the celebrity, not even always an assistant with him, and he needs to make sure the celebrity is in a good mood, engaged, willing to being photographed. If the interview is in a hotelroom, he often sets up his stuff in a separate room that he hires for the day, and the celeb ('promi' in german) just pops in and out. One of the secrets to keeping them engaged is do your homework, work out what they like and talk to them about that. Find music they like and put that on, so the celeb enjoys the experience. It doesn't always work out, but many times it does.

And sometimes, like with David Hasselhoff, who to Jens has always been a big celebrity (Jens being born in East-Germany, in Leipzig (1981), and David Hasselhoff was huge in Germany in his youth), he is basically always 'on'. Both photographers muse that he basically became the persona that we see in the photographs, and now is that way away from the spotlight or the camera lense too.

Apart from his freelance work for interviews he also has a studio now where he chooses himself who to shoot. But the magazine work has always been how he really became known in the business. Nowadays though, celebs and their PR people hire photographers themselves, do a promo-shoot at home, and those photographs are then distributed to magazines to use, so the interview-photography almost doesn't happen anymore.

Iran

At 1h19 the conversation turns to an episode that surprised the interviewer when he was doing his research on Jens, and he asked Jens if it was okay to talk about it: in 2010 Jens and his colleague went for an interview to Iran, were arrested and spend 4 months in jail there. They were going for a serious interview, Jens tagged along because he wanted to do something different for a change. Jens says it was the biggest mistake he made in his life, and they pretty much knew that it was, even when they started their journey. What happened was that as a journalist you need a special journalist-visa to work in Iran. They applied for it and didn't get it. And then they decided to just go anyway. Well while they were doing the interview, the police came in, asked for their visa, and they didn't have it...and then they were locked up. Surprisingly Jens says "It wasn't as bad as you would think", which throws the interviewer off a bit, because he was thinking it would be a life-altering experience, making you want to work with Amnesty International and similar, and wonders if this is a coping mechanism for Jens or if he really moved on. Jens agrees that it may be a coping mechanism to say that, but that he also realises he didn't have as bad an experience as you might think when you hear stories of political prisoners. They were given good food, were treated decently and were comfortable, yes ofcourse they were still locked up and not allowed to go where they wanted, but they just got on with it. And then one day they were told to pack their things and it turned out a German politician was there to pick them up, and only a few hours later he was back in Prenzlauer Berg, going shopping. The interviewer tries to get psychological about it, but Jens doesn't really 'bite', Jens says he's probably too shallow for the deep thoughts (interviewer interjects with "i didn't say that" Jens "no, but i did, because i am"), and he just looks at the nice things in life. You really get a feeling that for Jens it really isn't a topic anymore.

Rammstein

At 1h39 they come to another big theme: Rammstein. Jens was a life long fan of the band. Living in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg, where many of the band live too, he had obviously seen them out on the streets, but never spoken to them in a 'Never meet your heroes, because it can only disappoint' kind of way. But when he was asked in an interview a few years back who he really wanted to phtograph one day he said "Till Lindemann of Rammstein". Well as it so happened, he got a call from a friend of his who said "You know what, I'm involved in a video with Rammstein". And Jens was like "you have got to get me in there", so Jens said to the video team that he happened to be in South-Africa (which was no coincidence ofcourse), and if he could come over to do a few pics (think even for free). So that happened, and he did more than a few pics. From that his name got from the video team to band management, and a little later Rolling Stone called about wanting to do a dual cover with Rammstein, white and black. Jens would have been totally happy to do just an interview photo for them (Rolling Stone is normally not one of his clients), but they offered the cover shoot, so obviously he took it. And then he got to do a bigger shoot even, and thought up several setups (for instance one where the band were all holding a puppy). As a fan Jens obviously knew Olaf Heine's work (1h50) with Rammstein, but wanted to do different things. And the band were very lovable ('allerliebst') east-guys (although Jens and the interviewer, both from the east, agree it shouldn't really make a difference being from west or east, the both agree it still does), very easy to work with. And then they called asking if he wanted to do the tour photography for them. At the time of the interview the 2019 European tour has just finished. As a fan Jens had bought tickets to go to the shows in Berlin anyway, but now he got to shoot all the concerts, he only had time off at the last show, because the band didn't want that photographed, and that was the first time he really got to see the show 🌺

Words of wisdom

This being a photographer podcast, the guest is always asked if he had tips for listeners. Jens has to think a bit about that, because he got where he got by working hard and taking opportunities, but he concludes with "Be nice to people, and maintain a good relationships with your contacts, the people you meet and work with". 🌺

[wisedawn13]

#xiantober Day 23: Detectivexian

Wei Ying loves his job. Sure, a lot of it is boring surveillance that either leads to absolutely nothing or the proof that "Yes, your husband IS a cheating scumbag." He's not complaining about that though, he's still paid for his time.

He's always enjoyed solving mysteries and playing spy growing up, so this seemed like the perfect career choice for him.

It's a slow day when someone about his age comes swirling into his office with the most dramatic flair he's ever witnessed. They flutter their fan and sit.

"You have to help me!"

Wei Ying shifts forward. "What do you need help with?"

They shut their fan, slamming into their open palm. "I think my brother's boyfriend's boyfriend is planning to hurt my brother and I need the proof," they say simply.

Wei Ying blinks. "Your brother's boyfriend is trying to hurt him?"

They shake their head. "No, no. My brother's boyfriend's boyfriend. My brother's boyfriend is polyamorous, my brother is not. But I think my brother's in trouble with the other boyfriend. They don't get along."

"I see... And what makes you think the other boyfriend is going to hurt your brother?"

They quickly open their fan, covering part of their face and shifting their eyes around. "I don't know, I really don't know."

"Mhm... And you said they don't get along?"

"That's right."

"Do you know why that is?"

They shake their head. "I don't know anything."

"Sure sure," he dismisses. "Well, tell me their names, I'll see what I can do."

They smile. "Wonderful! I'm Nie Huaisang and money is no issue at all. I was a thorough investigation."

Sounds like a good deal, if a bit odd. "You got it. Now, their names?"

"Right! My brother is Nie Mingjue. His boyfriend is Lan Huan. It's Meng Yao, the other boyfriend, that I want you to look into. There's something off about that man, I just know it."

Wei Ying nods, jotting down the names and relation to each other so he doesn't get confused. "Alright, you can leave your information with my assistant out front and I'll check in with you when I have some news."

They stand up quickly and shake his hand, thanking him profusely.

Wei Ying watches with wry amusement as they leave his office. What a unique individual.

He gets to work.

First up, as always, is a routine background check of everyone involved. He takes his time going through various databases looking up each individual.

He also takes time to look into those who are shown to be close to them to get a feel for them. It's basic, routine stuff. But this time Wei Ying finds himself getting off track when he stumbles upon Lan Huan's younger brother. He is so stunningly beautiful he gets distracted.

Eventually, he forces himself back on track but he secretly hopes he gets a chance to meet Lan Zhan in person.

When he gets to Meng Yao he finds something strange. His online presence and accessible information are far less than the average person.

It's not unheard of for people to come up like this on his searches. More often than not when that happens, that person is hiding something. Wei Ying doesn't jump to conclusions based on his preliminary searches, but that is a bit of a... shall we say, rose-coloured flag.

It's not exactly a red flag. People have had very valid reasons for this before and they were completely innocent of what they were being accused of. But, he clocks it all the same.

Wei Ying sets out after that to do surveillance and get a read on how this guy lives his life.

He carefully follows Meng Yao for a few days without anything much happening. The guy seems normal enough, but Nie Huaisang was right that something was off about him. He can't quite put his finger on why he feels that way, though.

So, he watches.

Meng Yao seems nice on the surface, but on his second day of surveillance, he watches Lan Huan interact with his two boyfriends. Nie Mingjue does nothing to hide the disdain he holds towards Meng Yao, but Meng Yao is sneaky.

Wei Ying watches closely as Meng Yao smiles sweetly in front of Lan Huan but the moment his boyfriend isn't looking Meng Yao's expression switches like a flip. It turns into something dark and hateful. It gives Wei Ying chills to watch that happen.

Lan Huan is clearly unaware.

Wei Ying honestly hopes that Meng Yao just doesn't like Nie Mingjue much and puts on a nice act for his boyfriend's sake. He truly hopes it's only that.

But something nags at him that there's more to it than that.

Then, on the third day, Wei Ying follows Meng Yao out of town.

Meng Yao makes his way to a deserted warehouse and gets out of his car. Wei Ying watches through his telephoto lens as Meng Yao meets with someone. Wei Ying can't tell who it is from this angle but he makes sure to take lots of photos.

Then, just as Meng Yao leaves, they turn.

Wei Ying snaps a photo of their face and the gnawing, nagging feeling grows. He's seen that man somewhere before, but where?

When he gets back home he pulls up that photo and cross-references it, searching for a match.

It doesn't take long.

Xue Yang.

Arrested for mass murder.

He got off on a technicality. Wei Ying remembers hearing about that case, Jin Guangshan was the judge presiding over the case. There was an uproar over it and then Xue Yang disappeared without a trace, some celebrity dated someone, and everyone forgot about Xue Yang.

Wei Ying does a deep dive into Jin Guangshan and ends up finding out he has a long and promiscuous history that resulted in his having many illegitimate children. Wei Ying freezes when he sees it. A report from another PI that was hired by Jin Guangshan's wife.

They found out that Jin Guangshan met up with a woman with the family name of Meng. The same Meng as in Meng Yao. There's a photo of her and when Wei Ying studies it alongside Jin Guangshan's face, he sees it clear as day.

Meng Yao is Jin Guangshan's son.

This is getting far more twisted than he ever expected it to.

He spends a little more time deep-diving into everything and everyone involved in this. He genuinely believes Nie Mingjue is in serious danger if Meng Yao knows Xue Yang.

He shoots off a text to Nie Huaisang as he leaves his apartment, and then another to his assistant to send what he found to the local law authorities. Then, he heads to Lan Huan's house and hopes he's not with Meng Yao tonight.

He rings the doorbell and fidgets nervously.

Lan Huan answers the door and smiles at him with a hint of confusion. "May I help you?"

"Hi! Sorry, you don't know me but I'm a private investigator and I was wondering if you were available to talk about something rather important."

"Oh? Of course, do you mind if I ask—"

"A-Huan?" a sickeningly sweet voice calls from further in the house. "Who is it dear?"

"A private investigator," Lan Huan replies.

Then, to Wei Ying's ever-mounting dread, Meng Yao comes into view and smiles at Wei Ying. "Oh, I see. Come on in."

Wei Ying forces a smile.

"Thank you, but I was hoping to speak to Lan Huan alone if you don't mind," he replies.

Meng Yao's smile sharpens into something almost predatory. "Nonsense, I'm sure I can be of help to you too. Come inside, Wei Ying."

Wei Ying's smile immediately falls from his face.

Somehow, Meng Yao already knows who he is.

The dread grows and grows.

He glances at Lan Huan but the man seems almost blissfully unaware of the murderous undertones happening right in front of him. Wei Ying curses his luck and forces the smile back on his face. "Of course."

He enters.

Meng Yao leads him into the livingroom and then tells Lan Huan to make them some tea. The moment Lan Huan is out of sight Meng Yao's smile drops.

"Why are you here?"

"I think you already know that," Wei Ying replies.

Meng Yao hums. "Perhaps."

"It truly is unfortunate that you're here. You've ruined everything. Who hired you?" Meng Yao continues.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

Meng Yao scoffs. Just as he opens his mouth to say something more, Lan Huan comes back in carrying a tray of tea.

They sip in silence for a while before Lan Huan sets his cup down. "What is it you wanted to talk to us about?"

Before Wei Ying can respond, the sound of a key turning in the door catches their attention. He's up in a flash.

There's a sudden shattering sound and a blur.

Then, a sharp pain pressing against his neck. Wei Ying freezes, barely breathing as the cool steel of a knife presses against his skin.

"A-YAO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Lan Huan exclaims.

"Ge?" a low voice questions from the entryway before the sound of footsteps comes.

Wei Ying sucks in a breath as Lan Zhan enters the room, fierce eyes taking in the situation. Seeing him in person is even more stunning.

"Wow," Wei Ying mutters under his breath and feels the urge to laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation.

The knife presses down harder.

"Did you hire him, Lan Zhan?" Meng Yao asks, venom dripping off his tongue.

Lan Zhan's gaze meets his own and Wei Ying feels everything else fall away for a heartbeat. Lan Zhan doesn't say anything for a moment, blinks, then replies, "No. I have never met him before."

Oh, the urge to smile and flirt is so strong right now but Wei Ying realizes that would be immensely stupid to do right now. So, he opts to just stare at the beautiful man in front of him.

"A-Yao," Lan Huan pleads. "Let him go! What are you doing?"

Lan Zhan frowns.

"Sorry, A-Huan. No can do. My hands are rather tied at the moment." Meng Yao laughs frantically.

"Meng Yao," Wei Ying says and then hisses as the knife presses down harder. "Look, if you let me go, nothing has to happen. You haven't done anything yet, right?"

"Ah... Wei Ying, you and I both know that's not true, now don't we?"

Wei Ying grimaces, wishing for a way out of this stupid situation.

The sound of tires screeching into the driveway draws their attention. And things happen fast after that.

Meng Yao gets distracted enough that he loosens the pressure on the knife enough for Wei Ying to launch at the opportunity and slam his head back, feeling the sickening crush of Meng Yao's nose on the back of his head. Meng Yao screams and Wei Ying stumbles forward.

He's caught by strong arms before he has the chance to fall, the scent of sandalwood enveloping him. A booking voice yells out "MENG YAO!" before Nie Mingjue comes in and quite literally kicks Meng Yao while he's down.

Nie Mingjue starts yelling and questioning Meng Yao.

But Wei Ying is distracted by Lan Zhan, helping him upright and looking into his eyes with concern. "Are you alright?"

Wei Ying almost whimpers. "Y-yeah. Peachy," he lies.

Lan Zhan hums, clearly not buying that. Which... Fair.

Local law enforcement comes running in next.

Lan Zhan pulls Wei Ying firmly against his chest to keep him out of the way and Wei Ying melts into the touch. The rest is a blur. He thinks he answers some questions, he doesn't really remember it. All he remembers is staring into honeyed eyes.

The chaos finally dies down and Lan Zhan asks if Wei Ying would like anything. Without meaning to, he blurts out, "Your number." Shocked, he smacks a hand over his mouth and blushes furiously.

"Mn. Give me your phone."

Numbly, he does.

Lan Zhan enters his number.

Wei Ying stares at it as he takes his phone back. "I wanted to meet you, you know. But not like this." Again. His mouth just needs to STOP TALKING WITHOUT HIS GO AHEAD!

Lan Zhan hums in question but when he peaks up to see his expression it's one of calm curiosity.

Wei Ying takes a breath. "I always do background checks and research into the people I'm investigating, that includes people close to those involved too. So, I looked you up." He feels himself blushing again and looks away.

"Did you like what you saw?" Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying laughs, startled. "Yeah. I liked it very much."

When he meets Lan Zhan's gaze again he finds Lan Zhan smiling minutely. "Good."

Wei Ying smiles wide. Good.

----------

Link to thread

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What am I?

Raga struggles and Davarax notices.

-

Davarax sighs as he leaves the forge and their leader behind, and sets course for his quarters. He's exhausted from the mission and he just wants to get cleaned up before sleeping for two weeks. (He'll probably be sent out again long before that.) His neck and shoulders are killing him and the bruise left behind from the fight with that falleen is aching like it is getting paid to do so.

On his way there, sounds catch his attention and Davarax finds himself diverted from his original plan. He easily recognizes Din and Paz' voices. It's been two weeks since he saw his kids last and he can't resist the urge to at least steal a peek to make sure they're doing okay. (Din's temper has been getting worse lately and Dez has been doing his best to drive Paz into an early set of grey hairs.)

To his relief, he finds the two boys either training or half-heartedly fighting each other in the arena, it's difficult to tell the difference when those two go at it some times. After a quick scan tells him they both look healthy, Davarax turns to leave them to their business, he'll talk to them later when his brain is actually functional after some sleep, but he pauses when he sees the boys are not alone.

On the balcony above the arena, Raga is sitting on a bench half-hidden by the shadows, but while her gaze is aimed at the boys below there is no mistaking how she's not really watching them. Her mind is elsewhere. Davarax frowns as the tight tension on her face tells him that wherever her thoughts are, it is not some place nice.

Dank farrik.

Forgetting about sleep for the moment, this is far more important, Davarax makes his way up and over to her, silent enough so not to alert the bickering boys of his presence but loud enough so she'll hear him approach. She doesn't look over at him though, not even when he's standing right next to her.

Definitely not good.

“Hey.” Davarax says.

“You're back.” Raga states the obvious in a flat tone.

“Yep.” Davarax replies, continuing to scan her face. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect.”

Davarax' frown deepens. In the background there is a thump and a yell as either Paz or Din makes bodily contact with the floor. “What's wrong? Talk to me.”

Raga clenches her jaw. She's only ten years old, but her rage rivals some of the fiercest fighters Davarax has had the pleasure of fighting alongside. “I'm suspended again.” She says.

Closing his eyes for a moment, needing to control his own anger, Davarax only looks at her when he can at least sound calm. “Mitmine giving you trouble again?” For a teacher, that man has remarkably little patience. He's always disliked Raga, believing every whisper from every idiot who heard some unfounded rumour from someone unamed, and he keeps blaming her for anything and everything he can think of. And he's clearly done it again. Idiot. “I'll deal with him.”

“Don't bother.” Raga mutters. “It's dealt with.”

That has Davarax frowning again. “What?” He refuses to believe her parents have done anything, they tend to shrug off any and all complaints regarding their children, and there is no way Raga would have told Dez anything. “How?”

Raga's glare finally shifts to stare at him. “I punched him in the junk.”

Davarax blinks. “Oh.” Okay, well, not ideal, but the man has been pestering that girl for almost two years and, in Davarax' opinion, had pain coming. Raga might be small and skinny, but over the years she's been gaining strength and skills and should not be underestimated. That being said, he still feels she shouldn't have to fight her battles alone. “I'll have a word with him anyway.”

Raga stands up, an abrupt move that causes Davarax to flinch just the tiniest bit with the instinctive urge to either back up or discretely fold his hands in front of himself to protect his own junk, but her self-control has improved immensely over the years since she came into his care and so he stands his ground.

“I told you; don't bother.” Raga is definitely angry. With him as well as Mitmine. “We both know I'm not worth it. You're just training me because Paz made you say yes. I'm not like the others.”

“Like who?” Davarax is more than a little surprised by her words, but he needs to make sure he understands before he tackles the problem. Not worth it? Not like them? This sounds like Mitmine.

“Like Paz. Din. Barthor.” Raga snaps their names with no small amount of anger but also with a hurt that cuts at Davarax' heart. “They're important to you. I'm just the one no one wants.”

“Raga, that's-”

“It's true!” Raga snaps, her voice shaking just a little. She reclaims her anger. “Paz is the one you love to coddle and you keep worrying about because of old man Vizla. Barthor is a karking genius and you love to feed his brain while making him feel normal despite being more clever than the rest of us put together. Din... Din is your favourite. He's always been your favourite.” Raga smacks her hand against her chest. “Me? I'm nothing.”

“That's not true.” Davarax grits out, struggling to sound calm and not as devastated as he feels. Oh, Raga... These days, she's so brave and quiet that it is easy to forget she can be hurting too.

“Then what am I?” Raga demands to know. Her wild hair half-covering her face and the dim light make it difficult to be sure, but it looks like there might be tears in her eyes.

“Listen, I don't have favourites.” Davarax declares. (It is a bit of a lie. He's had many students, but none who he has grown so attached to as these four.) “I love to coddle all of you because you are all precious to me. And believe me when I tell you that the four of you, all four, are brilliantly smart. A teacher's dream.”

Yeah, there are definitely tears in her eyes now, but Raga isn't entirely convinced. She wants to believe him, he can tell, but Mitmine's words must have burned deep. Curse that guy.

“As for what you are...” Davarax continues, reaching out and placing his hand on Raga's bony shoulder, knowing no other soul would have dared to do so after her teeth has left lasting scars on more than one soul in the Covert. “You are the one who has done most progress of all four over the years. You're the one who works the hardest, aims the highest and fears the least. You refuse to be a slave to your anger and you've come so far. I believe that when the time comes when I'm too old and useless to keep them safe, you're the one who will keep the other three safe and together. I know I can trust you to look after them in the future. What are you, Raga?” Davarax tells her the truth. “You're my hope.”

There is a moment of stunned silence, then Raga shuts her eyes tight and dives forwards, wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face against his armour.

Davarax runs his hand gently over her wild hair and makes a silent vow to make sure she never doubts herself again. “I'll deal with Mitmine. He won't treat you like that again. Ever. I promise.”

“Punch him in the junk.” Raga mutters against his armour.

Fighting against an amused smile, Davarax nods. “I might just do that.” He has already warned the guy twice to lay off Raga, words are clearly not seeping through his thick skull, maybe a Saxon approach is the way to go to make him understand? And if not, Davarax suspects it is going to be incredibly satisfying to cause the guy some severe amount of pain anyway for causing Raga such distress. No one hurts his kids and gets away with it.

[fictionplumis]

Okay okay okay I got another one for Sorcery!

Flanker ends up with the Crown of Kings.

Bear with me. We all know he would dash that thing on the ground and destroy it after it was used on him to make him nearly kill the person he loves, but here's the thing.

The Analander hands it to him with such a trusting, earnest look and tells him, "You won't take away power from the people and you can fix this world. I know you can." And even though almost every part of him balks at the idea of ruling, Flanker has experienced how broken the world is, how none that are currently in power will do anything to fix it with or without the crown, and it makes a weird kind of sense for someone so reluctant for power to be the one holding it, the one wielding it.

And it's so hard to say no to the Analanader when they look at him like he personally hung the stars that sorcerers draw their power from.

So he takes it.

He tries not to use it. It's a cursed thing, and Flanker doesn't wish to control the people around him, least of all the Analander, but it's not an easy thing to do. It's not the temptation of it, it's not that he feels he needs to, it's that in his memories of the Archmage using it on him, the crown had been nowhere in the room. The Analander swears it had been on the Archmage's head, they just couldn't see it because the Archmage hadn't wanted them to, but it's hard for him not to question it.

Especially when he wears it and doesn't need to consciously give an order. Those that don't know about the crown well enough to fight the influence, or who trust him the most, seem to react to his subconscious will even before he says anything. Those things unsettle him the most, especially when it happens with the Analander. One stray thought of desire or pang of want while he has the crown on and the Analander is in the room, and they're at his side, arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple or what have you. Afterwards, with the crown well away from the both of them, they swear they don't mind, that they want those things too, but it still doesn't sit right with him.

As far as actually being a ruler goes, Flanker hates attention, so you know he's not going to be going out there and greeting the people and announcing himself as the new monarch of Mampang or whatever. He's a shadowy ruler, and there's just as many rumors about him being dead as there were about the Archmage. But--

Things start changing. Slowly, at first.

Despite his discomfort with magic and his lack of knowledge, the changes start with the College of Sorcerers. The Analander suggests that he release Valiquesh from the book she was trapped in and together with Aliizi (who was wary of him at first but started coming around, either unconsciously because of the crown or because she genuinely realized he wasn't going to purposely control her, it's impossible to say), they reestablish the College.

And the second Flanker finds out an acquaintance of the Analander's is locked up, he goes and frees Jann. The minimite, despite being an irritating headache, is something of a relief. The crown's power doesn't work while he's around and Flanker can always trust that the little pest will say exactly what he wants whether Flanker likes it or not.

It's even more reassuring that Jann first spent most of his time riding around on the Analander's shoulder since his wings were clipped, but the Analander eventually got frustrated at having their magic cut off and resolved to solve the problem, which came one day they were at the market and found a man selling a caged crow. They used their magic to speak to the bird, offering it job to be paid in food, safety, and some of its freedom back.

Flanker was sure the damn bird was going to eventually get irritated with the annoying minimite and eat it, but couldn't have been more wrong. More often than not, Jann ended up sleeping nested with the bird. The Analander, amused beyond belief at Flanker's annoyance, explained that the bird liked being talked to, but crucially, couldn't actually understand a word Jann said. Plus, Jann liked to give the bird scritches. The minimite treated the crow like one would a prized and beloved family horse.

It took a few months for the real work to actually start. The College was operating again, but without students, it was useless. And in order for there to be students, the gates of Mampang needed to be open to travelers. And in order for that to happen, people needed to be able to cross the Baklands safely. Flanker kept trying to put off actually exerting his influence on the people but Valiquesh was impatient and once the Analander and Jann pointed out how often he was using the crown to silence Valiquesh and keep her from calling him a coward, he finally decided to actually act.

Flanker's not a monarch, though. He knows nothing about actually ruling, so his first order was to establish a council and gather the other rulers of the land to talk to them.

He did not fret about the meeting in the weeks leading up to it.

He did not.

(He paced a lot. The Analander laughed kindly at his nervousness and assured him it would be fine. That didn't stop his pacing.)

They met in the study, which had been cleared of all the Archmage's things and was mostly used by Valiquesh and the Analander, because Flanker himself preferred their private quarters, which had been Jann's old jail cell, cleared and reconstructed with a fireplace, a cozy sleeping area, and a small sitting arrangement right in front of the fire. But for this, Flanker met them in the study, all but Jann in attendance, Aliizi watching the proceedings in invisibility, and Flanker dressed in his assassin's garb as usual, resolutely showing no signs of his nervousness.

That grew easier the more he asked each ruler how they made their kingdom prosperous and how they would have used the crown to benefit their people. With each answer, he grew increasingly irritated, finally understanding just why the Analander gave the crown to him instead of destroying it or giving it back to his king.

The only one of them that had wanted to implement any real change was Vik, who was distasteful at best, but at least had been put into power by the people of Khare and who was (somewhat) giving that power back to the people. But his change was only for Khare, while the other rulers just wanted their kingdoms to stay the same while abandoning Khakabad and the Baklands to suffer in poverty, ruin, and curses.

That was the moment Flanker started using the crown seriously.

The king of Analand was ordered to open his gates to Khakabad and send out sorcerers, farmers, and supplies to the neighboring towns. Khakabad would be part of his kingdom now, and he was to share Analand's prosperity and teach the people of Khakabad how to prosper themselves. They were now his responsibility.

Vik was ordered to stop enslaving people and forcing them into being his own private army of werewolves. Most of the damage was already done, but he was told to take the armor off the werewolves he did have, explain to them that they were now werewolves, and instead ask them to become part of his guard. It was now a job, like anything else was, and those that wanted to work for him would be paid well and for the rest of their lives, even after they could no longer work, considering they would forever live with the consequences of lycantropy. They were to have shifts with overseers to remove their armor at the end of the shifts so they could go home and have lives. Barracks were to be built for those that weren't on shift or those that no longer worked so they had somewhere safe to go during a full moon where they couldn't hurt anyone.

The other rulers were ordered to send contractors and sorcerers into the Baklands to dismantle the Archmage's beacons. This was something that Flanker put a lot of thought into outside the meetings, talking with the Analander, Aliizi, Valiquesh, and Jann about it. After lengthy, heavy discussions, they all agreed that it wasn't fair to keep those ghost towns alive, the people in them never knowing that they had died ages ago, never able to leave, their lives forever looping. It was best to leave the past in the past, and instead look towards what the Baklands could become in the future.

One night, years later, once all of Flanker's plans were well on their way to being completed and the gates to Mampang were open again, the College of Sorcerers seeing their first year of recruits under Valiquesh's teachings, Flanker sat on the distastefully extravagant chaise with the Analander's head in his lap while they dozed, turning the crown in his hand over and over again while staring at the fire.

Truly, for such a powerful item, it was a poorly made thing. Threadbare, the jewels chipped, the metal thin and bones crooked.

The Analander roused, half-asleep, meeting Flanker's gaze sleepily and it was as if he knew. A subtle nod of understanding was all Flanker needed to throw the cursed crown into the fire, the skullcap catching immediately and the fire warping the metal. By morning, all that would be left would be a puddle of metal and blacked gems.

"You always destroy it," the Analander murmurs, turning their face back into Flanker's stomach with a yawn, their eyes closing. "Sometimes right away, sometimes later, when you feel like the work is done. The land always fairs better when it's later."

"You are not awake," Flanker replies, because the words don't make sense. He ignores the twist of discomfort, resolves himself to ask the Analander about it later, and instead bullies them up so he could take them to bed, shedding clothes along the way.

It would be days later when he manages to corner the Analander in the library that he asks about it and gets the full story.

I'm cursed.

When I die, I return to Mampang on the day we defeated the Archmage. I can show you the very alley I return to.

I do it all over again. I've done it hundreds of times. I've gotten good at it, too. Once I figured out how to break you out of the Archmage's control, I've never once had to fight you again.

No, you didn't kill me that first time. But killing you killed me. I couldn't do it without you, and I was relieved when I died to the Archmage and had another chance to save you. I have every time since, and even though things change in the strangest ways, every time I tell you that I love you, your blade finds its home in the Archmage instead of my throat. You're strong enough to break out of the compulsion every single time.

You don't need to worry, Flanker. I know how to lift the curse. There's a tower in the College of Sorcery where I can undo it. I choose not to, not yet. At first I just wanted to see what decisions would be best for us and people of this land.

I've given the crown to my king, and things weren't bad. He kept it for two more years and passed it on to the next kingdom. Analand prospered and everyone knew who I was, who we were. But you hated the attention and I grew tired of it. We started a life for ourselves in the Shamutanti hills, an hour outside of Khare. You continued work for your guild after growing restless, I studied my magic, and we were happy. But in the quiet moments both of us agreed that it felt like something was missing. It was disquieting to both of us that nothing had really changed. It was the same every time I gave my king the crown, the only thing that differed was how I died. Sometimes one of us would get sick, or you wouldn't come back from Khare and I would have to track down someone from your guild to find out you had died, or I would go into town for supplies and get caught off guard by bandits...

I thought if I destroyed the crown, something different would happen, so I tried that a handful of times, but it was almost exactly the same. Analand would be in turmoil for a year or so before settling down, and we would live happily if unsettled over how little change our sacrifices and hardship actually made.

Then I thought to release Valiquesh. She made significant process back when she was the archmage. Every time she would destroy the crown, we would go on to live our lives in peace. She would establish the College again and work on revitalizing the land that the other monarchs left to ruin. It was better.

Once, I thought to stay in Mampang with her to study under her. But when I did that, you left, feeling you had no place in that world, and I lasted a couple years before I fell on my sword to see you again. Valiquesh was an unrelenting teacher and I learned a lot, but the progress I could have continued making wasn't worth being without joy. Being without you.

I thought to keep the crown for awhile, thinking I could make more change if I took matters into my own hand. You were always there with me, my general. But every time I did that, Aliizi would leave and Jann would want nothing to do with me. But you were there, and I made progress.

Sort of.

I never handled it with as much grace as you, Flanker. No, don't give me that look, I'm serious! After living so many lives and dying so many times, I was frustrated, and angry, and I always let it get the best of me. More and more each time. I never managed to make as much progress as I wanted, so each time I would take more and more control, until I realized I was becoming no better than the Archmage.

Thank you for saying that, but you never thought so in those lives, if I put the crown away. You were the one that told me I was like him, and you were right to say so in those lives. They still haunt me.

Whenever I gave you the crown and you kept it, everyone was better for it. You never relish the power, you never cling to it, and you push for the other monarchs to make the changes that they never would have made on their own. And once you feel you've done enough, you destroy the crown.

Now I don't bother to try other options. I've found the best one, and I repeat this life because I'm never ready to leave you. I want to keep doing this over and over, with you.

Flanker has no perception of these other lives that the Analander lived with him, has no idea how many the Analander went through, whether it was still that same life for them as it was for Flanker when, years later as they're sitting on the roof of the garret, watching the sun set, the Analander takes his hand and kisses the back of it, murmuring, "I think I'm ready for this to be our last time."

Even though it was always Flanker's "last time" he can't help but feel his heart squeeze with sorrow but he tightens his hand on the Analander's and nods in understanding.

"We both deserve to rest, my dear Analander."

[wonderwomanfantasy]

The best things in life are free

I like just remembered how much I love Sero hanta

Sero x Fem!Reader

warnings: none!

word count: 1,600 (about)

summary: Sero doesn't think there could be anything worse than watching you work a kissing booth, the only thing he's got going for him is that you don't seem to be liking it either.

“You keep staring,” Denki whispered. Sero didn’t tear his eyes away from you even though he’d just been pretty blatantly called out on his creepy behavior. 

“They just seem so uncomfortable man, they shouldn’t have to be here if they’re uncomfortable,” He grumbled for what felt like the thousandth time.  “Like if someone from class pressured them into doing this they shouldn’t have to kiss people they don’t want to.” 

Currently, you are sitting at the Class 1A kissing booth, and sure you smiled when people came up to you and you made a good show of looking happy to kiss random creeps who came up to you but Sero could tell, you were nervous. 

You kept glancing over at him and Kaminari with this weird look on your face and you were checking the clock every couple of seconds like you couldn’t wait for your time to be up. 

“Come on man it’s not like they’re being forced to do this no one said anything when Momo and Koda backed out they could have dropped out at any time they’re fine,” Kaminari protested. 

“Maybe they didn’t realize they weren’t okay with it until they started kissing people,” He shot back.

“Maybe you’re just a jealous freak,” Kaminari said rolling his eyes and Sero felt his cheeks turn pink. Okay, so maybe it bothered him a little bit watching people who weren’t him kiss you, maybe it really bothered him when some creeps paid to kiss you twice. And sure he wasn’t paying the same amount of attention to anyone else working the kissing booth but that wasn’t the point. 

The two of you were friends. Friends were allowed to get jealous when friends kissed other people.

“Shut up,” he murmured and went back to staring at you. The hour was almost up anyway, soon you would be free and he would move from working the ticket desk to being the one under the big red “Kiss me!” sign. 

The thought of actually working the kissing booth made him nervous. Not that he was scared to give a little peck on the lips to whoever came through, but there was this nagging feeling that no one would pay to kiss him and the paranoia was eating him alive a little bit. 

“You should relax now, no one in line for your sweetheart,” Kaminari snickered. Sero blinked and saw that he was right. You were alone for the moment.

“Give me a ticket,” Sero demanded,

“What?”

“Give me a stupid ticket,”

“Fine but you’re going to have to pay for that-” Sero rolled his eyes and snatched a ticket before leaving the desk where Kaminari sat and marched up to you. 

Your eyes lit up when he stopped in front of you and handed you the ticket. 

“I knew you’d come eventually, I’m just irresistible aren’t I Hanta?” you teased taking the ticket from him.  He felt a smile spread across his face, just hearing you say his name was enough to soothe any anxiety he had.

“In your dreams, it’s bad for business to have the line look so dead I’m just trying to keep our numbers up,” he scoffed.

“Sure, that’s why you did this for Ochaco when she had no line,” you teased,

“That’s different, Ochaco scares me,”

“Are you saying I don’t scare you?” you asked. 

“Not even a little bit,” he said, grinning. 

“So if you’re just filling out the line I guess you don’t really need a kiss then?”

“Hey! I paid good money for that ticket I expect what I paid for!” you laughed at him and reached up wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to your level. For a second Sero felt his heart stop, then he felt your lips brush his cheek and he could breathe again. Right, you were just friends. Friends didn’t kiss on the mouth, even if he really really wanted to. 

“Hang in there, your hour’s almost up,” he said encouragingly. You rolled your eyes and waved him away. 

“Right then it’s your turn to pucker up," you grinned.

Sero smiled all the way back to his seat next to Kaminari. 

“Lame, you didn’t even kiss on the mouth,” he said not even looking up from the money he was counting. Sero socked Kaminari in the arm hard.

“You were watching?” 

You were drumming your fingers impatiently on the ticket desk glaring at the kissing booth. 

“If you huff like that one more time I’ll kill you,” Mina snapped. 

“I’m not huffing,” you huffed. Mina rolled her eyes and went back to filing her nails. 

“Do you think one of those girls said something to him?” you asked her quickly. The sentence came out a little more harshly than you intended. 

“What makes you think anyone said something to him?” Mina asked not looking up. 

“He’s blushing, Hanta never gets red like that,” you hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of him since you’d switched places. 

He was a blushing mess ever since the first girl came up to him, it was getting on your nerves that your sort-of boyfriend was going around getting flustered for other girls like that. Everyone knew that you and Sero had a thing going on, even if it wasn’t anything official. Just because something wasn’t official didn’t mean it was okay for other girls to try and make a move on him. 

“Blush like that for anyone but you, you mean,” Mina teased. 

“Exactly! What if some girl slipped him her number and he decides he likes her better than me?” you pouted.  “What if he goes off and has a thing with her instead?”

“Relax, Hanta is crazy about you he wouldn’t blow you off like that,” Mina reassured you “besides if he did I’d break his neck,”

“You’re not allowed to break his neck,” you sighed. You watched as another pretty girl bounced up to your sort-of boyfriend and he kissed her sweetly.  “Unless he really is cheating on me,” you added.

 

You were alone when Sero found you. The festival was almost over, and 1A’s kissing booth had closed down for the night. You were on the steps to the school watching the sunset, 

“Hey,” he said sitting down next to you. 

“Hey,” you greeted and offered him a takoyaki ball skewered on a toothpick he smiled to himself and took it. 

“Enjoying the festival?” he asked. 

“I’m a little worn out,” you admitted. “Right now I’m just people-watching and eating.”

“Mind if I stay with you?” he asked. Normally on your days off from school and hero work the two of you spent time together, today he’d barely seen you at all, and it left him feeling a little off balance. 

“Of course,” you said before placing your head on his shoulder, effectively locking him in place. For a moment the two of you sat in silence, looking down at the stalls set up in the courtyard and watching your fellow students mingle. 

“So did you end up enjoying yourself?” you asked breaking the silence. 

“I mean yeah some of the things people set up were really cool, did you see the haunted house 3B did? I think this is one of the better school festivals I’ve been to,” he said

“Not the festival, the kissing booth did you enjoy having girls line up to kiss you,” you laughed. Sero froze for a minute as he mulled over your question. 

“Oh. uhm. Not really, I was kind of bored,” he said. 

“Really?” you pushed, you didn’t know what but the whole thing had just really gotten under your skin you wanted his reassurance that you were blowing things out of proportion. 

“Yeah really, what about you brat? Did you have such a great time kissing strangers?” he pushed back. 

“No,” you said quietly. You agreed with him the whole thing had been boring, except for the part where Sero had come up to you. 

“Maybe disappointing is a better word than boring,” he said. 

“Disappointing?”

“Yeah, you see there’s this girl I really like, I got in my head somehow that she would come up to me at the booth and I’d finally get to kiss her, but it didn’t end up happening like that,” he said. 

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him. 

“Maybe she did want to kiss you, but thought it might be weird to have a real kiss in front of all of our classmates,” you said and Sero grinned. 

“What about now? There's no one else but us I think this would be a perfect time to kiss,” as he spoke he cupped your cheek and started pulling you closer to him. 

“Seems pretty perfect to me,” you agreed, then just to tease him you added, “shame it’s just the two of us, just two good friends and not you and this mystery girl you want to kiss so bad.”

You couldn’t tell who leaned in first but the next moment your lips were on his. It wasn’t like any of the quick pecks you’d had today. This kiss lingered and left a warm feeling in your chest. You kept noticing things as he kissed you. How nice his hands felt against your face, how good he smelled, how warm his lips were. 

“You’re an idiot,” he said when the two of you finally pulled apart.

“But you wouldn’t want me any other way,” you giggled and went back in for another kiss. 

[rye-bread-soda-iceberg]

actually brainrotting over this thing rn

i haven't talked about it yet but i ship myself with him hehe

it's the first time i indulge in something silly like self shipping, i usually don't care enough about fictional characters to even make hcs for them but I guess this time the hyperfixation was strong enough

it's not my fault, hoyoverse just made the perfect male character in my eyes

ofc he wouldn't be the perfect boyfriend but i know we would be perfect for each other omg... allow me to ramble for a bit

many people ship him with gepard (who is my least favorite character sorry) and tbh i don't like that ship i feel like sampo needs someone who's more like him and who he can have fun with

from all we know about him he's clearly not young, i hc him to be around 30 years old but knowing how many human-looking long life species are in the star rail universe he could be older + he's obviously not from jarilo-VI and isn't planning to stay there forever so maybe he would want a partner who can follow him world to world

i think he would enjoy having a partner in crime who matches his energy, someone who can understand him really well, even when he isn't being genuine and putting up an act. i can see myself in some of his (implied) ways of being, especially constantly pretending to be someone you're not, and always wanting to make others laugh. i feel like we would understand each other really well

i think it would be hard to get close to him though, like actually close and not just fake close. he seems like the type of character who doesn't care too much about people

he's a bit morally ambiguos, I don't believe he's necessarily evil (yeah he scams people so much there's an entire guide on how to not get scammed by him) but also he's really nice to kids ? he takes hook on joyrides and i absolutely love hook so I love him asw for that. also idk if i'm just not understanding this right but he's (maybe occasionally) willing to work/do small favors even if he's not paid? i'm referring to his introduction line idk anyways

it would be so good to see a character like that genuinely care about someone and be really with them

on the other hand... it would be equally as nice to see him not caring. i'm not too into evil men but he's mainly evil in a silly way. however i wouldn't complain if he turned out to have a bit of a darker side...

either way I am so so excited thinking about the future content i'll get of this man i genuinely can't wait !!!

[terrence-silver]

idk if you've read/watched crazy rich asians - if you have what do you think terry would be like with a crazy rich asian!beloved? perhaps one that's richer than him? hell maybe even their family looks down upon him because they don't think he's good enough for beloved

Elopement can always be the answer.

Because Terry is bound to care for beloved's folks only as much as beloved does themselves and no more, and if beloved ever felt oppressed by their demanding, obscenely rich family, he has no qualms just collecting beloved and flying off to the The States with them once charm, pleasantries and dialing up his likeability factor fails. It is that easy for him. They are a consenting adult. They’re here of their own volition (Not that kidnapping is out of the question, mind you). He is, surprisingly, breaking no international laws (not that that ever stopped him before either, I reckon. He is willing to break as many as it takes). Beloved is his and he took what it is his. Of course, he knows all about oppressive, wealthy dynasties, because his might've been just like that too in a sense, so this is an issue that goes beyond cultures, traditions and boundaries. Then again, so do love, attachment and devotion. So does the insult and the slight in someone considering Terry lesser (Can you imagine?), which he doesn't like, and in fact, he loathes on an intimate level, because he's been building himself up all his life to never be lesser than anyone ever again. To never be not good enough. At this point, if it cannot be helped and if these relationships with his now disapproving in-laws cannot be remedied, he is entirely apt to just taking beloved and leaving. But, let us remember; Terry still has the reputation of a controversial and somehow ironically respectable man he cultivated for better or for worse. If he can have revenge without actually getting his hands dirty, in a roundabout way, by effectively destroying his beloved’s family’s reputation by presenting them as the villains of this story to whatever paid-off, bribed media, paparazzi or periodicals take interest in the union of two figures from such polarizing backgrounds, then so be it. If Terry can tactically present his story as the ‘Tale of the Ages’ and ‘Love Conquering All’ type of spin to the public purely to spite their parents and paint himself as the noble hero, he will. Hey, and for all intents and purposes, this is all true. Beloved’s parents might truly be the villains here...or they might just be concerned parents. No matter. They’re now deemed the foils of a couple’s happy ending in the press and housewives worldwide can clutch their pearls over this enough to sway the good opinion of the world in Terry’s favour. He achieved all of this by merely bringing out what he sees as his right to be with the one who is his.

And washing out the stain of being the bad guy(s) in someone’s fairytale isn’t easy.

Why harm them? They’re Terry’s in-laws. They belong to him now, just like beloved.

Unfortunately for them, so does the reputation he’s just irrevocably messed up.

[bf-skz]

24 to 25 days of SKZMAS | December 15th - Seungmin

pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader

genre: meeting by chance

synopsis: Seungmin works as an HR assistant for JY Publishing. He is invited to help interview the new candidates for an open position and he is susprised to see an old friend. The very same old friend that they had a crush on back in college. Could this be fate?

warnings:-

words: 831

15th day of SKZMAS

December 15th

Today is the day that Seungmin has been looking forward to. It’s your second round of interviews. Seungmin made sure to put on his best shirt in the morning to leave a good impression on you. He has been longing to talk to you again, but unfortunately he didn’t ask for your number. He could have easily taken it from your CV but that wouldn’t really match with the company’s policy. It probably would have been a tad bit too creepy as well…

You knock on the office door and wait patiently. You would be lying if you said you haven’t been thinking about Seungmin these past days. The way he grew into a real man… you know it’s been way too long since you two were as much as acquaintances, but you would like to think there could be… something. You are older now, after all. More confident in who you are, and also what you want.

“Good morning.” Seungmin greets you with that sweet smile of his. “Good to see you again.”

“Good morning.” you bow and look around in the small office. “Is it the two of us today?”

“Yes, I will be sharing some boring law things about working and rights.” Seungmin jokes. “I honestly think the CEO thinks that the HR doesn't have enough work cut out for them.”

“Maybe I should've applied for a position there.” you smile at him, glancing down at the thick pile of papers. “Are you sure we have to do this?” you smile at him prettily. That always worked for you when you wanted to get him to do something… you don't really expect it to work now.

“I believe you already know most of it.” Seungmin grins. “But I also have the offer here that you should probably consider.” he says, flipping to the last page of the paper stack.

“Theeeen how about we go through the offer, you take that suit jacket off so I can see you properly and then we discuss what we missed out on in the other's life in the past few years?” you ask with a cute tilt of your head, watching him for a reaction.

“You haven't changed one bit.” he sighs but compiles, taking off his jacket as he begins to tell you the offer. “So next to the competitive salary we offer full health care and cafeteria benefits as well as travel allowances.” Seungmin explains and he catches you staring. “Do you like it so far?” he lifts a brow.

“Oh, I love it.” you say with a little smirk, taking in all the details of his face, then his shoulders and chest and hands. “Please, do go on.”

“You get extra paid leaves if necessary and free weekends, something you didn't have at the previous place.” he says quoting your previous interview. “Plus completely free, up-to-date technological devices are provided.”

“That sounds wonderful.” you say, actually addressing what you hear now because wow, a place that treats its employees decently? Unheard of.

“So, will I see you more on the office premises?” Seungmin asks with a hopeful smirk, not hiding his feelings at all.

“I'd hope so.” you nod, smiling back at him. “I wouldn't miss out on my opportunity here for the world.” you add, wondering if he will catch the double meaning.

“Excellent. Then how about lunch together? My treat.” Seungmin adds as a matter of fact.

“You didn't change either.” you chuckle, but obey, getting up to get your coat. “Or, well. Someone has definitely put on some muscles.” you add as you sideye him.

“Compared to the wimp I used to be, this is nothing. Wait till you see Jisung.” he mentions.

“Oh, he works here, too?” you ask with a smile and you wait for him to walk around the table. You place a hand on his upper arm and he immediately flexes his muscles under his crisp white shirt. So cute. “Also, you were never a wimp. Don't you dare insult my taste like that.”

“Your taste?” he mumbles in surprise. “Are you saying you had a crush on me?”

“I might have.” You shrug, smiling at him sweetly. “You were so cute and smart, funny and just overall a great friend. Of course I would fall for you.” you tell him, and to his disbelieving look, you add. “The amount of times I imagined making out in the back of the lecture hall… wait, I shouldn't say stuff like that at your workplace!” you giggle, even though there is no one around to hear you.

“Um, yeah, let's discuss this another time.” he says, voice hitching and blushing to deep red as he leads you out of the building towards his favorite diner.

You don't respond, but suddenly, you feel stupid. Did you say too much? Gosh, is it possible that you misread all the signs and made him feel uncomfortable. Why do you always have to fuck it up?

to be continued...

[e1igius]

"i'm sorry. did i kill him? oh my god, did i kill him!?" the gun is still in her hands, though there's a desire to simple let it drop. she didn't know what else to do; she just saw huck on the brink of being stabbed and acted on impulse. each breath is a struggle as she starts to realize what she's just done. sawyer has been many things in her life, but a murderer has never been one of them. @bnchee

the body weight that had fallen on him after the gunshot had taken up temporary attention , it wasn't often the enemy got the jump on the blonde vigilante. in this case if he was being perfectly honest , he wasn't even sure who the enemy was. it took a better skillset than his own to find him. and even more skill to be able to stop any if not all of his security countermeasures set in place. the loft in houston was his safe space , not as much as the ranch house but huckleberry often didn't have time to go all the way back to the ranch in east texas to unwind. and houston was a home away from home when he needed it to be. just texan enough , without building too much chaos. still the loft had measures , which was why he'd felt comfortable letting sawyer stay over when she wanted to. platonic sleepovers or however she called them , something he knew he shouldn't be too open about but it couldn't be that bad it wasn't like they fucked or anything ---- and for the most part it was safe. or he had thought it was...

the intruder had certainly come as a surprise , as had the fight that followed. there weren't many people big enough to keep huck at bay , to say he was matched was an understatement. any memory of the right would be for naught , huckleberry never seemed to remember the mist of the action. not that it mattered, what he certainly hadn't expected , was sawyer grabbing the pistol out of the nightstand and firing it. the blood splatter on his chest was a feeling he was accustomed to , but not one he was happy to relive. especially not that seeing as the the second the man had stopped moving he heard her voice break through the shattered chaos. she sounded so scared. thoughts raced back into mind as he pushes the body off of him standing up instantly and moving to the girl on the bed in a heartbeat. one hand pulling the gun out of her hand by the barrel , the other instantly touching her cheek and shaking his head. no , no , he can't let this happen.

gun cocked , he turns and fires a round into the back of the mans skull. before tossing it aside and turning his full attention to swayer. taking her hands in his own. ❝ you didn't kill him , i killed him. me , see ? it wasn't you. it wasn't you. ❞ he's trying to comfort her , he's never been in this situation before. he's never had to see a civilian engage to this extent. his thumbs are tracing soft circles on the back of her hands , he kisses her forehead briefly. before turning his head back towards the dead body. he needs to get rid of it. sooner rather than later. the blasted skull , is going to be a handful to clean up. but swayer's haste in breathing brings him back to the moment at hand... his brain his scattered. priorities is what he needs, one at a time. one thing at a time.

❝ you just hurt him , to help me. thank you. i killed him okay. ❞ a pause , he needs her to breathe, he grabs a sheet off the bed and wraps it over her shoulders. is she going to be okay here ? he should take her home. get her out of here. she's certainly not okay. he remembers the first time he shot someone. and that had been someone they were actively trying to kill , because they were terrorists , in a foreign country. not some dude in an apartment in a very state-side city. either way , he's glad the loft is soundproof. otherwise , the police would have been here in seconds. with where he lives now... if only sixth grade huckleberry could see him now. a murder who doesn't flinch at destroying human life , making a comfy high six figures with all expenses paid... sixth grade huck would get mad at him for not shielding sawyer's face.

fingers move to cup her cheeks he leans his forehead against hers for a moment. he needs to get her out of here. he needs to get her somewhere safe...