#i don’t want to look at all of this through rose colored glasses because i had some really ugly moments w my parents. as jane did with don

[fuckdamn]

slightly drunk but i’m sitting here thinking about jane margolis and like actually actively sobbing. i’m so sad she died what the fuck. her dad was a hardass and probably not someone i’d like very much irl but he also clearly loved her very very profoundly and if he didn’t like that he couldn’t always understand her lifestyle and choices and motives it wasn’t out of disgust or whatever it was because he was scared that if he couldn’t understand her then he couldn’t help her. is that fair to her?? no. and in the end he couldn’t save her because you can’t really save someone from themselves but how can that fact be any consolation when its your own child?? AND how can jane deal with being treated like a problem without internalizing that he thinks she’s a problem?? there’s no good answers there’s no right answers there’s only love that’s there despite everything and care and tenderness and the art that jane left behind and her room exactly how she left it like she could come back at any second but she CAN’T because don WATCHED them zip his lifeless daughter into a body bag and cart her off. that’s it. their last confrontation was a fight and the last time he saw her she was crying and she deserved better and she should have had more time and that’s all you can really say!! and don and jesse will have to carry on under the weight of not only crushing grief but crushing guilt (while the man who could have literally physically saved her will continue to justify his failure to act through increasingly twisted rationale). jane was edgy and snarky and ostensibly kept most people at arm’s length but she was vulnerable just beneath the surface and she was dry and funny and smart and self-possessed and creative and she made beautiful things and saw beauty in things and she was kind enough to give jesse a chance when nobody else would and making impulsive mistakes during a relapse doesn’t make her some kind of evil temptress who was in it for the money all along and the fact that i’ve seen so many dudebro takes that imply just that makes me want to scream. she was only in like half a season but to me she is utterly indelible i love you jane i hope you are painting sick ouroboros murals in the afterlife

[neptxn3]

Astrology Observations II

｡:ﾟ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა ﾟ:｡

Disclaimer, these are observations I have made through personal experience and thorough research, observations also vary depending on other natal placements involved

doesn’t resonate ≠ untrue 

♅ Virgos tend to represent the trad wife far more than people assume taurus does, and that’s because Virgos ability to uphold their life (at least on the outside) tend to attract men who want a wife that can keep them on track

Some Virgo women tend to also attract gay men unfortunately 😭, again I think Virgos just seem like the perfect trad Wife and it will attract closeted men like flies. This isn’t to say all your partners will be closeted but the ones who are overly aggressive on your role in the relationship might be.

♅ Gemini moon children develop QUICKLY. These are usually the kids who weird you out with their extensive knowledge and self awareness that seemingly comes out of nowhere. The mercury influence allows them to digest many topics which in turn has Gemini moon children mentally developing at a faster pace than their peers

I’ve also observed Gemini moons are those annoying kids in your class that are a lot smarter and a bit condescending to others intelligence, not because that’s just the way they are, but their mercurial moon needs constant stimulation, and with a combination of their rapid growth you’ll see them climbing academic ranks which in turn can make them dislike school if they are not progressing at a speed they like. 

♅ Scorpio moons have a tendency to see the worst in every situation/person which can be a nasty habit, but this isn’t out of judgment, rather they don’t like to give people the benefit of the doubt. They don’t like to be screwed over and their best bet is to think of the worst scenario possible. 

♅ Aquarius Venus who are flaky in relationships and constantly cheat will eventually have karma handed back to them, usually in the form of being in their mid 40’s still single.

Aquarius Venus flaky reputation does stem from the fact that it is a Saturn influenced placement, as well as being fixed. It’s not that they hate any type of restriction to their freedom but rather to what extent you restrict them to. They can and will jump quickly into relationships but if they see any glimpse of possessive or controlling attributes they will leave. Again because it’s fixed and Saturn influenced Aquarius Venus knows once it settles down that’s it, they’re not going anywhere, that’s why they’re so scattered to find the right person who fits their criteria. 

♅ Moon/Sun harshly aspecting Neptune is the embodiment of “I hate my Mom/Dad, but I love her/him too”. Neptune harshly aspecting these planets can cause a huge wall of misunderstanding between parent and child, but Neptune blurs the lines so deep that the individual sees them “through rose colored glasses” and if incapable of harboring hate. I would even say there could be nights where these people will look back and remember their past relationships (Neptune = Dreams)

♅ 10h placements can sometimes struggle maintaining relationships due to the very contradicting nature of the Midheaven and ascendant. Usually people will perceive them to be very different from who they actually are.

This is also why they struggle with their self esteem (the natural square to the ascendant). Sometimes they feel like they need to keep up an image to satisfy others and that isn’t someone who they truly are 🥲

In synastry this also points to partners trying to change who they are/make choices for them because they think it’s “for the best” or “what’s good for them”. 

♅ Every Virgo rising I’ve met always gives me a small lesson on why astrology isn’t real but follow up with a “but can you read my chart I want to see if it’s true 👀”. I truly believe it’s the 12h Leo which makes them secretly a little self centered (hence the interest for things like astrology to attempt and figure themselves out) but the mercurial ascendant will always make them skeptical 😭

♅ Saturn conjunct Jupiter natives is a dangerous fire sometimes. I’ve noticed if they haven’t learned to balance this aspect in their chart, the people around them can suffer their warm and cold attitude. It’s almost as if one second you could be hysterically laughing in class together, and the next second they immediately stop and ask you to be serious and finish your work. WHERE DID THE VIBE GOOO?? The key here is moderation in whichever sign/house this is in

♅ Whoever said Neptune in hard aspect to Venus needs to practice saying positive affirmations (especially to Venus related topics) to themselves in the mirror was SO correct. Neptune indeed does reflect lies to you and reaffirming yourself in the mirror breaks that spell. I don’t think I’ve felt so beautiful since I started doing this. 

[cozage]

Congratulations on hitting 2k🎉🎉

I really love your writing and I’d love to see how you think the op boys would react to their s/o getting jealous you could maybe do ace law and luffy?

Characters: gn reader x Ace, Law, Luffy Cw: Put your rose-colored glasses on, folks. Because we got some red flags (cough cough Law)  Total word count: 1.6k

Jealous Reader

Ace

Ace is just being fun. He’s just too oblivious to realize the other people are flirting. He doesn’t notice the soft touches across his torso, or how they lean in closer to him every time they laugh. But you do. 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” he said halfway through the night. “We can go, if you want.”

“Wouldn’t want to take you away from your fan club,” you spat back, venom in your words. But he either didn’t notice or he pretended not to.

“Yeah, they’re funny aren’t they?” He laughed. “They all buy me drinks whenever I tell a new story. Hospitality here is amazing!”

“Right.” You got up to leave. “Have fun with that.”

“What?” his brows furled together in confusion. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the ship.” And with that, you slammed the door closed. 

A few seconds later, he’s racing after you into the crowded street.

This man has no idea what he did wrong, but he’s trying to make it right. 

He abandons everyone in that bar without even a goodbye, and as his fingers lace through yours, you can’t help but feel a little better about that. 

He kisses your cheek and follows you closely, not wanting you to get away from him. He knows you all need to talk, but he also knows this crowded street isn’t the place to do it. 

When you all get back to your room, you try to break away from him, but he pulls you into an embrace, strong warm arms wrapping around you. 

“You’re the only one I have eyes for, you know that right?” he said, rubbing your back lightly. 

“Didn’t feel like it tonight,” you mumbled harshly. 

“Well you are.” He tilted your face up so he could cover it with kisses. “I just use those people to get free drinks.”

“I know,” you whispered, leaving your head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. “Doesn’t make it any easier to watch though.”

“Okay.” Ace kissed the top of your head. “Won’t do it anymore.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Of course!” He kissed your lips now, gently reminding you that he was all yours. “Your feelings aren’t worth some free booze.”

Law

Of course this woman was some fancy doctor. Of course Law had read her book. All her books. And now he had been gone from your all’s table for almost thirty minutes to talk to her. 

She wasn’t just polite. She was friendly. Overly friendly. You had watched as she had scooted closer and closer to your boyfriend, minimizing the gap between their bodies. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You got up from your seat and ignored the snickering of Shachi and Penguin from the table. 

“Law, dear.” You gave a strained smile to him and the woman. “I hate to rush you, but we’re kind of on a schedule.”

Law stood, still staring at the woman. “Wow! The time really flew by. Thanks for letting me pick your brain.”

“Oh doctor,” the woman cooed, a seductive smile on her face. “The pleasure was all mine. Feel free to find me any time you want to have a…chat”

“Thanks for being patient,” Law said as the two of you walked away. “It’s not often I-”

“Let’s go,” you said to the others as you walked past the table, not pausing for a moment. “The captain made us late.”

You don’t use “Captain” often. And based on your tone, Law had to guess he was in trouble. 

The snickers from Shachi and Penguin weren’t helping either. They had surely watched you become more and more irritated as time went on, so they had a pretty good idea of what was going on,  

“Can you give me some pointers? Any warnings?” Law mumbled to his crewmates, desperate to get a read on your emotions. 

“You don’t know what you did?” Penguin asked as Shachi burst into laughter, causing all three of them to receive a glaring look from you

When you got back to the Polar Tang, you made a beeline for your bedroom. Law didn’t follow. He assumed you needed a bit to cool off. Plus he wanted to check out another book from the woman he had just met. 

After a few hours, Law rubbed his drooping eyes, and finally decided to see you again. He still had no idea why you were so upset. 

You were asleep in the bed, but you had built a pillow divider between his side in yours. He rolled his eyes and quickly pulled the pillows away, curling into you. 

You tried to push him away, proving you weren’t asleep, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“Can you tell me why you have such an attitude?”He was irritated, and you laughed at the irony. You were the one who was supposed to be irritated, not him. 

“Why don’t you go ask that famous doctor since you care about her more than-”

He scoffed, cutting you off. “You can’t be serious.”

You stared at him for a long moment, and then turned away from him, pouting at his words. 

“I’ve read her books, that’s all. Can you stop acting like a child with this petty jealousy?”

His words tipped you over the edge. “I’ll stop acting like a child when you treat me like an equal!” you yelled. You rose to your feet and quickly strode out the door, slamming it behind you. 

Oh, he really fucked up now. His tongue was always getting him in trouble.

He scoured the Polar Tang, searching for you. He finally found you on the couch and curled up next to you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That was really insensitive of me to say. If the situation were reversed, I would be upset too. I’ll do better in the future, okay?”

You gave him a slight nod, and he quickly shambled you both back to the bed to get some much-needed sleep. 

Luffy

“Oh, Hancock is coming, right?!” Luffy asked. “I like her!”

“And we all know how she feels about you,” you mumbled under your breath. Your comment sparked laughter from Nami, causing Luffy’s attention to drift over to you. 

“What’s funny?” He asked. “I want to be in on the joke!”

“Nothing,” you grumbled. You could see Boa Hancock’s ship in the ocean, and your stomach churned with dread. “Sanji, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

Working with Sanji had been a bad idea. Boa Hancock was beautiful. And while you could hear her fawning over your boyfriend on the deck, Sanji fawned over her in the kitchen 

It was only thirty minutes before you gave up and retreated to your room. You were in a bad mood, but this was a celebration, and you didn’t want to ruin it. 

Luffy entered the kitchen looking for two things: Meat and you. “Sanji! Y/N-hey, where are they?”

Sanji shrugged. “Said they weren’t feeling well. Not sure.”

Luffy headed to your all’s room. Now that he thought about it, you had been off. You hadn’t been chatty or smiled most of the day, and he was starting to get worried you were really sick. 

As you heard the turn of the doorknob, you quickly wiped away your stray tears. But your eyes were still red and puffy. 

“Oh man!” Luffy sat down next to you on the bed, staring at your face. “Your allergies are terrible! You should’ve told me, we could’ve moved to another season ecosystem!”

His idiocy made you let out a garbled laugh, trying to hide your true feelings about the party. 

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. But your bottom lip trembled, giving you away.

“You’ve been crying.” He stated it as a fact, not a question. He knew you too well for you to hide your tears for long. He smushed your cheeks together and held your face so you couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “Did Sanji make you cry?”

“No.” You tried to pull away from his grip, but he clamped down on your cheeks so you couldn’t escape. He wouldn’t let you leave his gaze until he figured out what was wrong. 

While you were here alone with him, all your worries felt so silly. Luffy didn’t even realize Hancock was in love with him. If you brought it up now, you’d be causing a big scene. 

“It’s stupid,” you whispered, but he only frowned at you. He opened his mouth to say something. 

“Luffy!” Hancock called from behind the door, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you in there? Should I come in?”

You rolled your eyes at her voice. Of course she came to find him. He had been gone for too long, and he was the only reason she was here. 

You tried to hide your disdain for the empress, but Luffy caught it, and his eyes widened. “You don’t like her!” he whispered. 

“Luffy, can we not do this right now?” you hissed, and the door opened. 

“Oh!” Hancock blushed seeing you and Luffy so close, but she glared daggers at you. “I didn’t realize you were with someone, Luffy.”

Luffy’s eyes slid between you and her, trying to figure it out. He was so close to the revelation, but he just couldn’t get there. 

The three of you rejoined the party reluctantly, but Luffy kept you close to him for the rest of the night. 

He’s always been a physical touch person, and tonight you were grateful for it. He was always holding your hand or had his arm wrapped around you. He stayed close, and even though you got death stares from Hancock, at least you had Luffy by your side to make it more manageable. 

[pearlsinmyhair]

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: some calm before the storm. miguel won’t compromise his morals. diet angst. cursing.

platonic!miguel x daughter-like!reader. no seriously, reader is eighteen and young. this is found family, not romantic. training begins, and with miguel it is anything but easy. but sometimes he softens.

part i

word count: 2k

part ii: star girl

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 

“there are a lot of things you’re going to have to keep up with.” miguel said to you as you both walked through the halls of the spider society. you didn’t miss the glances and stares as you passed, and it made you shift closer to him.

he glanced down at you before glaring at a spider who stared a bit too hard, and they scrambled away.

“excuse their attention, i don’t usually take on apprentices.” he said simply as he continued walking. you had to practically run to keep up with his long legs.

“rule number one, keep up. i don’t need a kid dragging me down on missions or runs around the base. you’re eighteen, you can handle that.” he said without looking at you. you had to fight the urge to scoff at that. did he even realize how fast he was walking?

“rule number two, you have to protect your universe just as much as others. you are the only spider woman of universe 348, so you need to be vigilant.”

he glanced back at you again before saying.

“rule number three, you have to keep your grades up.”

you paused at that, your step faltering. “excuse me?”

“you heard me. you need to stay sharp, and not just in your training.” he hovered his hand over the key reader to the training area, and the doors opened with a soft hiss.

she had figured that he was insanely smart in some subject, as all spider people were, but she hadn’t figured it out quite yet. she’d only known him for a week.

“okay, fine. i’ll keep my grades up. anything else?” she asked as she looked around at the various equipment around the gym, all high tech and sparkly.

“yep. rule number four, when i say jump, you say…” he looked at you pointedly.

“how…high?”

“good job, you understand one of the most universal phrases. now run a lap.” he said, putting his hands on his hips and nodding to the track.

you stood still, not quite used to miguel’s pentient for sarcasm. he snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“c’mon kid, out of the clouds. jump.”

you rolled your shoulders, letting out a sigh as you began to jog.

this was going to be so much fun.

₊ ⊹

as weeks passed, you were beginning to realize just how much of an oddity yours and miguel’s partnership was.

the spider society had begun to call you ‘star girl’. the name laced both awe and envy.

it was loosely based on your suit, you were sure. it was blue with a few little stars trailing down it to add ambiance. but it was also linked to rarity.

the looks did not fade as time passed. and some looks of curiosity hardened into ones of jealously.

miguel was the unofficial leader of the spider society, and he was a hard man to please. many spiders gunned for your position, wanting even just a nod from him. but they got nothing. most of them were lucky if they ever got a single word out of him at all.

you would argue that their idea of miguel was tainted by rose colored glasses.

getting morsels of praise from him was great, partially because you knew he meant it when he said it. but every thing else?

“you need to be quicker. one day you might need that second to sling a web to safety or save a civilian. you can never afford to be slow, y/n.”

“again. your right hook is still too weak. you can’t always rely on webs.”

“kick your leg higher.”

“your webbing aim is still lacking, kid.”

“again.”

“again.”

“again.”

you had never been worked so hard.

it all piled into one training session of hand to hand combat.

there was always one rule when they were on the mat: no hitting faces.

no kicks. no punches. no slaps. no webs.

so instead, miguel would catch your blows with his hands, allowing you to throw punch after punch into his palms, correcting your positioning and your power everytime.

“it’s still really weak, kid. again.” he said, taking a step back, widening his stance once more in preparation for your punch.

but you didn’t move. you had been getting worse and worse as the lesson went, completly lost and confused as miguel kept dismissing each of your attempts.

“i don’t know how.” you murmured.

“quit pouting and try again. if you give up this quickly in an actual fight, you’ll fail. do. it. again.” he demanded, unaware of how tears pricked your eyes in frustration.

“i said i don’t know how!” you yelled, voice cracking pathetically halfway through.

miguel actually took a step back at your outburst, eyes widening slightly. for a moment, you expected him to bite back, or send you home. but when he didn’t reply, you kept going.

“i don’t know how, miguel. you tell me again, but i don’t know how to correct it. i need you to show me, not just tell me.” you said softly, suddenly embarrassed and a little frightened at his silence.

he swallowed, and his expression softened.

“go…go get a drink of water, then i’ll show you.” he said, blinking as he glanced away from you.

you had to fight off the urge to raise your own brows, instead using this rare moment of mercy to chug down water from one of the bottles on the side.

when you stepped back on the mat, miguel stood beside you, showing you exactly how to hold your fist, then how to move your arm.

when he stood in front of you again, holding his hand up in preparation, you threw your fist with as much force as you could muster.

the resounding slap made you cringe, and you opened one eye to check miguel’s expression.

the asshole looked bored.

“still didn’t hurt.” he deadpanned, and you responded by shoving him. he took a step back, a move that would not be possible unless he allowed it.

“you didn’t let me finish. it didn’t hurt, but it was better.” he said, pushing your forehead with his pointer finger.

you smiled, happy that at least you were improving.

and to your surprise, miguel gave you a small smile of his own.

₊ ⊹

after that practice, miguel’s whole training model changed.

now four months later, he met you at the entrance to his office, fiddling with his watch until a glowing portal opened up. when you raised a brow at him, he simply stepped into the portal, not bothering to tell you to follow.

when you exited the in-between of the universes, you were surprised to find that you were in a massive forest full of trees as tall as buildings.

without so much as an introduction, miguel shot a web and swung away from you.

“hey! what the hell, mig?” you shouted, struggling to swing beside him.

he glared at you. “never, ever, call me that. and we’re working on your swinging today.”

you glared right back, fumbling to keep your balance in the new setting. “no shit. but did you have to leave me?”

he smirked, flashing his canines at you when you almost fell. “expect the unexpected, y/n. i thought i taught you better.”

you scoffed, before once again nearly dropping.

miguel reached a hand out to you on instinct, but you recovered your balance.

“okay, let’s start easy. swing and fwip.” he said, murmuring the words as you mimicked his actions.

you smiled at him as you got the hang of your new surroundings. “did you get pointers from peter b?”

his face became grim. “do not dare mention that mans name. it summons him.”

you chuckled at that, before you pulled your web hard and swung your body into a backflip.

“see, i’m not entirely incompetent.” you told miguel, continuing to swing with him as he gave you small pointers.

“i’m aware. but i need you to be in top shape for when you go on a mission soon.”

you stopped shooting webs, pausing and dropping to the leaf-covered ground.

miguel circled and landed before you.

“are you telling me i’m ready?” you asked, looking up at him in disbelief.

“i’m telling you that i think you can handle slight anomalies. nothing big yet, just little disturbances.” he said, keeping his expression blank.

you bounced on your toes, chewing at your lip in excitement.

four months of training, and you’d be in the field.

you fought down the urge to whoop in celebration, or jump, or something. this was miguel after all. he didn’t appreciate sudden expressions of joy in his general vicinity.

so instead you settled for a sincere “thank you.”

he nodded sagely, fwipping back up to the trees.

and you followed, shooting webs and flipping, eager to sharpen your technique.

because of this, you missed the proud smile across miguel’s face.

₊ ⊹

you opened the door to your bedroom, eager to get your suit off and shower when you spotted the white box on your bed.

it was unassuming, plain except for a small message written in absurdly neat handwriting.

‘star girl’

you glanced around your room, even going so far as to ask lyla to scan it. calling on her was something you didn’t do too often. even though she was an a.i., it still felt like she was a person and that you were annoying her.

the projected woman granted your wishes, turning to you to tell you that all was well. she wore a secretive smile across her digital lips as she looked at you, then the box.

you glanced at the cardboard.

“you know something.” you said, tone suspicious as you tried to study lyla for answers.

she shrugged. “best way to know is to open it.” she replied before disappearing into a cloud of pixels.

you shuffled over to the box, tracing the edge of it before lifting one corner. you glanced inside and promptly slammed the top shut.

no fucking way.

there was absolutely no way.

you took a step back, turning your back to the box.

you couldn’t accept that.

but it was left on your bed. with your nickname on it.

you sucked your teeth as you turned back and fully opened the box.

inside it sat a beautiful midnight-blue spider suit with flecks of white stars all along it. you lifted the body of the suit up by the armpits, studying the way that the webs along it became geometric like constellations.

the white lines around the sides and waist glittered and flickered.

nanotechnology.

only one person had the materials to do this. and only one would have the courage to give it to you.

miguel.

you clutched the suit to your chest, fighting the raw emotion that caught in your throat.

you told him how much you loved the stars, explaining each and every constellation you had included on your suit.

you flipped the fabric in your hands to check.

cassiopeia on the ribs. canis major on the base of your foot. orion tangled in the spider symbol on the chest.

he would never give it to you in person. no, that would be far too informal, far to unprofessional.

so you sat in your room, biting your lip to fight back tears as you stood in your empty house, holding the glittering gift to your body like a vice.

you wondered how many nights he had spent making this. he had told you how hard his suit was to make, how tedious the process was. and he had done it all again.

for you.

fuck being unprofessional. you wished that he had given it to you in person anyway.

“lyla?”

“yes, y/n? are you alright, hun?”

“can you tell miguel-” you swallowed as a tear trailed down your cheek. “can you tell miguel thank you? like, really thank you?”

“…of course, hun. get some rest.”

you sank to your knees in the quiet of your dead house and sobbed, wishing for all the world that someone was here.

masterlists | part iii

yeah it seems pretty wholesome rn, huh?

would be a shame if someone…changed that.

tag list:

@ladyfairenvale

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

One of the relationships that I always think about in PJO is Percy and Rachel’s. Not on a romantic level, but on how they see each other and what the other represents for themselves and how I think they were a kind of escape from their lives .

Like with Percy, Rachel is normal. She’s mortal. She doesn’t have monsters after her, she’s not trying to raze nor save Olympus. She (at the time) isn’t involved in the war.

But, on the contrary, she CAN see through the mist. She’s seen cyclopses and centaurs and furies and hydras. She’s seen not just the Greek world, but the fantastical AND the horrifying. Just like Percy.

She’s removed enough to where talking to her isn’t hard. She’s not pressuring him about a war. But she’s also close enough to where he CAN talk to her if he wants to. She sees what he sees, sometimes before him, and won’t and doesn’t think he’s crazy.

She’s mortal, but he can still relate to her and talk and be a normal teenage boy. Something he can’t do with a lot of people at that point.

For Rachel, Percy might as well be her manic pixie dream boy. He came crashing into her life swinging a sword and proving to her she’s not crazy. Confirming all her suspicions and confusions.

He’s an escape from her dull reality, he’s got monsters and mythical creatures. He’s the son of a Greek GOD. He’s fun and new and fantastical and so colorful compared to what she goes home to.

But even with all these things, he’s still just a teenager, like her. He’s fantastical but also normal. He slays gorgons but still has to study for algebra. He’s on crazy adventures during the summer but still comes home to summer reading and packets that they both don’t do. She can escape her reality into his but they can still come back to the one they both know.

Percy takes Rachel on fun adventures into labyrinths and Rachel takes Percy on summer vacations. I don’t think they truly liked each other (on a romantic level), i just think they were what they needed at the time.

The look into each others lives with rose colored glasses, a little envious of what the other has. Because they’re both at a point were they’ll take neglectful hardass parents or a war over what they gave going on at home.

[lizzie-is-here]

valentine’s day one shot

poppies and babies’ breath

bucky barnes x fem!reader

bucky really wants to ask you out. but he can’t even dance anymore, much less date.

Bucky Barnes was not very good at dating. At least, not anymore.

No, that skill belonged to Sergeant James Barnes, a dumb, 20-something that hadn’t been made into an assassin for 70 years.

For all of his skills, that one is failing. He can toss a knife like nobody’s business, lift 1000 lbs to impress you on a training day, and speak dozens of languages.

But he can’t figure out how to flirt with you. Don’t even start on asking you out.

It used to be so easy. Flash a smile and the dames would line up to go dancing with a man in uniform.

Bucky can’t really dance anymore. Or he doesn’t want to.

He’s considering all of this as he stands outside of a flower shop, peering in and probably freaking out the kid at the register.

“Uh, sir, there’s a sale on flowers for Valentine’s Day…” the boy says, muffled through the glass. Bucky nods, finally stepping inside.

There are paper hearts strung up around the shop, only reminding him of exactly why he’s here. He’s gonna do it today. He’s gonna ask you out.

Well, he’s also here because he lost a bet with Sam. But that’s not important.

Bucky’s a dark shadow wandering through the quaint aisles, out of place in the colorful array of flowers. He skips over the roses. Too cliche.

He considers daisies, lilies, sunflowers, and flowers he doesn’t even know the names of until he finally finds what he was looking for.

Poppies. Your favorite. Apparently because of some story with opium poppies, wallabies, and crop circles. He was too distracted staring at you to fully grasp the story.

Bucky carefully grabs a handful and starts toward the counter before realizing that the bundle of red in his hand looks pretty bland. So then he adds some small white flowers, a pretty wrapping paper, and calls it a day.

“Can you wrap this for me?” he asks, setting down the items. The kid stares blankly at his metal hand, but nods.

He can’t remember the last time he bought flowers. ‘44, maybe? For his ma? He never bought any of his dates flowers. Too pricey and too significant when the relationships never lasted long.

You, though. You were different. Maybe it was the way you never looked at him like the teen boy in front of him had, with apprehension and questions Bucky didn’t feel like answering. Or maybe the fact that his brain had been through the blender.

But he loves you. And that’s more than he can say for most of his past ventures. He wants to give everything to you while also being selfish enough to take everything you may give him.

Bucky considers that he maybe deserves to be a little selfish sometimes.

The kid finishes wrapping the bouquet and hands it over.

“$25,” he mumbles, still in awe of the war hero in front of him.

Bucky tosses a $50 on the counter. “Thanks, kid.”

———————————————————————

A knock on the door of your room in Stark Tower startles you from your haze.

You’re in a shirt and pajama shorts on your bed, desperately trying to find a show that isn’t about true love.

It all reminds you too much of your own loneliness. How bad you wanted to ask out your own crush but never quite got ballsy enough to do it.

Grumbling as you watch a pair of high school sweethearts reunite in the picturesque Hallmark town, you stand to open the door.

There you find Bucky. The very man you’re conflicted over. Holding a bouquet and in a red henley to match the poppies.

“Hey,” he greets, trying to avoid staring at your legs.

You smile. “Hi, Bucky.”

He holds up the flowers. “I- I wanted to get you something for Valentine’s Day, and also…” He goes beet-red and stares at the ceiling for a moment.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. You shake your head, waiting for him.

“Oof, okay. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me? Sometime? Whenever works for you is fine-“

You rest a hand on his arm that’s still cradling the bouquet. “I’m free tonight?”

Finally, a shy grin breaks out on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky swallows, gives you a very real, very swoon-worthy smile, and hands over the flowers.

“Well, doll, do you wanna go dancing?”

Because yeah. Maybe he can’t dance anymore. But he wants to try with you.

[alexisomnias]

— "INSANITY" . . . | jing yuan

⤷ jing yuan has a thing for criminals, you fit that description

,, inspired by @dulcesiabits prompt

It was no surprise to expect chains bound on both your wrists, keeping you attached to the cool chair that was stuck under a dim light.

Talking to you no other was an npc esc character, asking you question after question. Ones you didn’t bother to answer truthfully. They couldn’t kill you after all, you were their only source of answers.

A moment of silence passes, the last question passing through, to which you ignore, mind drifting off. “You know I was going to add the demand that nobody would be on the other side of the glass. Listening in, when i don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you?” the guy asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, its almost as if you could see his brain tick until it hit 12 o’ clock.

“Well because I know the generals back there.” you hum. “Watching and listening. Perhaps finding ways to use my answers against me?” i laugh echos out of your throat as you tug at the chains. A loud clang as it bangs against the metal chair, “its truly satisfying.”

You could hear the door open behind you, unable to turn around due to your chaining a smile void of happiness rises on your face as you watch the guys’ across from you eyes turn upwards.

“Jing Yuan?” you speak in a lower, hushed tone. Your voice hinting twisted curiosity.

“I’d like to talk to them alone.” the generals voice turns behind you.

The guy across from you stays silent for a few fat seconds, before nodding, a glare being sent down at you as he stands up and walks by. “Don’t you dare try anything.”

Your face falls as you tug at the chains, “I can’t anyway.”

Jing Yuan stays behind you, out of sight, as the door shuts behind you.

“Surprised to see you were caught.”

You huff, already imagining his cocky face staring at you, judging you. “what? upset that you weren’t the one to chain me here?”

“Perhaps.”

you scoff, “of course, why wouldn’t you want that.”

you could hear his carefree laugh echo from behind. its almost as if you could see the crease of his face, and the usual, polite smile that almost never leaves his face. (even when picking up tea that was poisoned, or walking straight into a trap he knows was there.)

but really could you see him? no, but he could see you. You didn’t know of the look he gave that was full of unjustified adoration.

Jing Yuan wanted to see you like looking through the clouds and reaching the stars, he wanted to see what lied under your layers what color your blood was, what your motivations were, what made you tick.

You were so fixated on his murder, it could almost make him blush. If he was pricked by your thorns he hopes a rose would be placed by your delicate bloody hands. Even if the rose was painted red with his blood, he knows the color of it was still beautiful, like you.

“General?” your steel voice cuts through. Voice stabbing through unaware to the thoughts spiralling in his head as he stares at you ahead of him, across the glass.

You tug at the chains as you call his name, he went silent after your sentence. May it be guilty silence? oh you don’t know, and you don’t care.

“Is there something you need, [name]?”

“I don’t know, out of here?”

“Sorry, I can’t do that. Are peanut butter cookies to your liking?”

“Shut up.”

“I knew I should’ve bought chocolate chip.” 

You give a look of displeasure (he can’t see), before your eyes pan to the side. Watching Jing Yuans white hair sway by as he laughs, walking to the other side of the table. Taking a seat opposite to you as if this was a tea party instead of a criminal interview. A pleasureful smile on his face.

“Stop with the games, Jing Yuan. What are you going to do with me anyway? lock me in a cell? beat the information out of me?”

“None of the like.” he smiles, in a way that exhibits benevolence, laying his arms upon the table (hand twitching to reach yours), “I’m going to let you go.”

you stare at him in a mix of bafflement and disbelief, “have you lost your mind?”

“I don’t believe I have.”

“your joking, you’re just trying to give me false hope.”

“I’m not the type to do that.” 

he says, and if to prove it, you hear a click of a chain, and suddenly the weight on your wrists and biceps pull off. Freeing you, it takes you a moment to get accustomed to the lighter movement of muscles before your face moves into a glare, flicking your bound muscles as if opening chained wings.

In no wasted time you summon your weapon of choice, and bounce onto the table and bring it to his neck.

“What the hell goes through your mind, general, i wonder.” you say, voice hushed in a whisper as you see blood drip from his neck, eyes narrowing and keening in. His expression doesn’t change as if he was expected you to do that.

You walk around the table, carefully still holding your weapon to his throat, in a position of if he tried anything he’d lose his head.

“Hm, my mind works its own wonders I guess i can say.” Jing Yuan states, eyes turning as you walk to his side, standing behind him for more security on your position. Adjusting your grip on the weapon you scowl.

“You can speak all you want about understanding justice, but it seems yours is skewered.”

“I guess the proper way to say it is I got bored.”

You stare meeting his eyes as his head turns to see yours. “You’re really confusing, you know, General. You get bored with your duties, and decide the best thing to do is threaten your life?”

You adjust the weapon, watching as blood trickles out of his neck. Red blood moving down his porcelain skin. He’d look gorgeous in red.

Since your eyes were carefully focused on the pressure of your weapon and his movements. You miss how his breath gets caught, and how white his knuckles go as you “work your magic.” oh, you were just so hot.

An alarm goes off in the building, perhaps notifying the building of your escape from the chains and you scowl, you wouldn’t have enough time to finish the job, (you know better that a simple cut to the neck would be enough to finish him off), and you move your weapon down, glaring down at Jing Yuan. Who’s face still remains masked and neutral. Your eyes meet.

“Nice talk,” you start sarcastically, “hopefully the next time we meet you’ll lose your tongue.”

“Til’ we meet again then, [Name].”

As a parting gift, you slash your weapon across his neck in a precise and quick manner, to which his hand quickly goes up to grab, flinging it out of your hands from the blade and onto the ground. His hand getting cut, dirtying your blade with the scent of blood. He hears you curse roughly and before his gaze goes back to meet yours you’re out of the room. Only remnants left of you is your weapon, his bleeding scar, and the blown open door that bangs loudly against the wall of the silent room.

whats left in the room is Jing Yuan. Blood rushing through quickly as his heart pounds, not with fear but with thrill. Hot panting leaving his mouth as he can breath again. The blaring sirens emitted from the establishment bothering his ears.

“General Jing Yuan!” a call, comes from the hall. The young man who interviewed you before at the door, “where is the criminal!? how’d they get out!?”

“I don’t know where they went.” he hums, leaving the other question unanswered. “By now they must be out of the building, we’ll do a patrol.”

“But General.” another voice pipes up worriedly, “you're bleeding.”

much true to her words, his hand swipes across his bleeding throbbing throat and he winces as he touches it. (its going to take a while to heal it seems). he stares at the blood, an image of your eyes staring into his flashing through, and he gazes back up from his finger. “I’ll be fine. Do go ahead without me, i'll catch up in due time.”

The two knights nod their head and rush off. Jing Yuan hears a bark of orders and once again he’s left alone in the dimly lit room.

The scratch of a chair is all he hears as he stands up. Walking over to the corner, he grabs your left behind weapon. His thumb rubbing the holder gently, and he feels his heart pound against his chest again, stomach fluttering. 

Jing Yuan thinks he’s going to pocket it for a while…

[nevernonline]

✧.* crash into me; lsm one shot.

A one shot based off what transpired before these texts.

✧ Synopsis: Lee Dokyeom was your closest friend. After a friendly dinner you head back to his apartment, to play a game little did you know it would crash the friendship barrier between you two.

✧ genre/s: fluffy, friends to who knows?, 

✧ warning/s: suggested smut, suggestive humor and theme, kisses, lots of hands, some light drinking. 

Sitting at your favorite table awaiting the arrival of your best friend Seokmin, felt like a lifetime. It was a Friday night so of course the line was accumulating outside the restaurant and the patriots were waiting for your seat where you selfishly look like you’re taking up a table for you and your seltzer water. 

Through the large glass windows waiting at the cross walk you spot him looking for a chance to jaywalk across the street safely and sprint breathlessly to your side. 

As Ola, you and Seokmin’s favorite waitress brings him to the table alongside your cocktail orders, you can feel at peace again. That’s what he was to you, peace. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I got stuck helping someone with a task just as I was ready to leave. I feel so bad.” 

The brown haired boy now stripped of his denim jacket, resembling a puppy now flipping through the menu as if he wasn’t sure what to order. 

“It’s okay, seriously. I just mainly feel bad because all of those couples outside were starting to give me the stink eye. Also, I already ordered for you, why are you looking at the menu?” 

“You’re so right, I don’t know. I’m really flustered for some reason.” 

You slide his gin and tonic closer to him. 

“Drink this, please. You’re going to pop a forehead vein if you don’t settle down, Seok.” 

“You are right, for the second time. Maybe you should take up gambling.” 

As his breaths get back to normal, he takes another look at you. Your hair was up off your neck elegantly, a cream colored blouse with brown trousers, and the loafers he bought you for your birthday last year on your feet. He noticed you wore makeup today, a rare occasion for you since you didn’t need it. 

“Why do you look so beautiful today?” 

The words just escaped his mouth like word vomit, he couldn’t help but tell you. 

“Do I not look like this everyday?” 

He leans back in his chair to get a better look at you, sizing you up again. 

“No, something is different. Not that you don’t look beautiful all the time, but something is standing out to me..” 

You raised your hand from your side of the table to rest on top of his. 

“Seok, you’re rambling again.”  

His long fingers enclosed around yours as he held onto it a moment longer than normal. 

“No, I’m just trying to get my point across. I’m doing a bad job of it, but you are really beautiful. Got it?” 

A blush rose to your cheeks as your hand found its way back to the now sweaty glass and finished off the liquor inside. 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” 

 His megawatt smile flashed itself your way and you continued to enjoy your meal without any more of Seokmins semi-sober ranting. 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄

“GOD, I am so fucking full. That was amazing.” 

You giggled slamming the front door shut behind you, making your way into Seokmin’s apartment. 

“You know it’s extra good when I can sleep on your shoulder the whole bus ride without you smacking me.” 

“Seok, I do not.” 

“Uh, yeah you do, you're like some little old woman.” 

Suddenly a t-shirt hit your lap, coming from the entryway of Seokmin’s bedroom door. 

“I figured you’d want to wear that to sleep, I’m not letting you leave here alone when you’ve been drinking.” 

Your head turns slightly to your right to reply, but your eyes caught a glimpse of Seokmin in only his boxers changing into his own sleep shirt. It’s not wrong to stare at your best friend, right? 

“Do you want to watch a movie or play a game, maybe have wine?” 

His voice grew closer as you were still stuck staring at him. 

“Uh, can we do all of the above?” 

“Yes. Hurry up and go get changed, dummy.” 

You’re now standing in the same spot Seokmin was moments before, not at all baiting him to glance your way, but for some reason you couldn’t help yourself. With your back turned to him it’s impossible to see if he’s actively watching you, but you can tell by his sudden silence that he just might be. 

“Okay, so what shall we do first?” 

Sitting down next to him now matching his own outfit, underwear and his t-shirts.  

“I say we put on some music and play that funny truth or drink game you made me for a gift a few years back.” 

“Only if you want to die tonight, you NEVER answer any of the questions unless it’s like ‘golden retrievers or huskies?’”

Seokmin slapped your arm, removing himself from the floor to hunt down the laminated pieces of paper. 

“Okay, well how about we only get three chances to plead the fifth, any other question you have to answer or you have to drink.” 

Your eyes roll watching him move swiftly through his home, now grabbing a freshly opened bottle of red wine. 

“Plus it's only wine so we can cap it off at one bottle otherwise I do have opened tequila.” 

“Seok, do you not remember what happened the last time I had too much tequila?” 

“Sort of. I was equally as drunk as you if not more, all I remember is you’re  clingy as hell.” 

Taking the space across the coffee table from you, he placed the stack of questions down, and poured half of the red liquid in two coffee mugs. 

“Ladies first.” 

His eyes crinkled on the side as he smiled, waiting for you to read the first interrogating question. 

“Okay,” A laugh escaped your lips before reading out loud. “What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before hooking up?” 

“Oh come on, you can answer that it’s easy.” 

“Hm, I really was a little crazy when I first went to college. I’d have to say maybe a half hour?” 

Seokmin just nodded, nothing about that was too crazy. He knew about your freshman year of college. 

“Alright, Seoky. Saddle up.” 

You giggled, taking a sip of your wine out of turn, watching the face of the other player turn red. 

“What’s your most embarrassing fantasy?” 

He flirts with the idea of answering that most of his recent fantasies have involved you, but instead he takes a swig of his drink. 

“Oh come on. You’re no fun. Pick another card, Seok.” 

“That’s not how this game is played, you go.” 

“What’s the most embarrassing time you got turned on?” 

You stretched your head thinking you should confess to your friend that watching him change earlier brought on some sort of fever, but decided against it. 

“Actually, this is embarrassing. But, do you remember my friend Jeonghan from college?” 

“Yeah, of course. Tall, blonde, and gorgeous guy.” 

“Well one time we were studying for a biology exam and the AC in the library was broken, so it was ridiculously hot. We were both sweating a bit, but he was wearing a sweatshirt and I fought and fought him to remove it so he could be more comfortable. Like, it was clearly distracting him. But, he told me he didn’t have a t- shirt to wear underneath.” 

As your story continued Seokmin felt himself catching a wave of jealousy. 

“Lucky for him, I did have my gym bag for later. So I lent my workout top to wear. When he came back from the bathroom he was in a white crop top and for some reason I got so turned on by him wearing my clothes and studying. Like when he burst into the room I swear I almost fucked him right there.” 

“So you got turned on by a guy wearing your clothes? You’re such a typical man, Y/N.” 

“Hey, shut the fuck up. Men wish they were like me.” 

Seokmin’s face now hotter than ever reached back into the pile. 

“What’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?” 

He tried to think of anything even remotely scandalous he could tell you, but came up flat and a little embarrassed. 

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever sexted in my life.” 

“There’s no way you haven’t.” 

“No, I’m serious. The only girl I really dated long term used to try to send me stuff like ‘oh i want you so bad, Seokmin.’ or ‘I wish you’d come over to take care of my problem.’ But I was oblivious and would just respond with things like ‘Well you already have me.’ and ‘What’s wrong?’ I promise I’ve never sexted or even tried too, I would be awful at it. I can barely flirt and make it obvious.” 

“She was trying to get you to fuck her and you thought she had an actual problem?” 

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at flirting.” 

As you laugh at his innocent mistake, and continue to drink your wine you come up with an idea. 

“Okay, let’s practice.” 

“Practice what?” 

“Flirting, like we can roleplay you flirting with me right now, let’s go.” 

“Are you serious?” 

You patted the floor on your side of the glass table trying to get him closer to you. 

“Deadly, now come on.” 

He still didn’t move, so you pushed yourself off his carpeted floor and sat facing him at his side, finally turning to you, you noticed how nervous he seemed. 

“Look, it’s just me. Nothing bad can come out of it.” 

“How do we even start doing this?” 

“Hmm, here scooch is a little closer to me. Just tell me a line.” 

“Okay.” 

Seokmin placed his warm hands on your criss-crossed knees and looked deeply at you, almost into your soul. Your stomach fluttered at the closeness, even though touching for the both of you wasn’t unusual. 

“Hey, baby. I -” 

You cut him off blissful with laughter, nearly spitting your sip of wine onto his white t-shirt. 

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that bad was I?” 

Dialing it back slightly, your now crying eyes and painful belly, just shook your head. 

“Why were you so serious? Like be yourself, come on.” 

“Let’s just stop. I can't do this, it's too embarrassing.” 

“Fine, here. I’ll teach you.” 

You stood up now, gesturing to him to follow. When he does, you hand him his mug and give him a little nod. Walking over to the knob for the lights to be more dim, only the sound of your feet and the soft party playlist lingering in the background, you strutted back over to him.  

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

Your free hand snaked its way up to his shoulder as you gave it a little squeeze indicating you’re going to start now. 

“So, I was over there.” Your hands gesturing to the very bedroom you watched him changing in earlier. “And, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re really hot.”

“You do?” 

As you nodded, his eyes followed the traces of your exposed neck all the way down to your bare legs. 

“Do you want to dance with me?” 

A question a little silly for you two just being in his apartment, but anything to make him more comfortable without having to talk. 

Seokmin took back both of your mugs and placed them down onto the table, wrapping his hands tightly around your lower back as yours reached into his hair and laid your head down onto his shoulder. 

As you swayed looking out the window to the sparkling cityscape you felt him pull away slightly from you. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

A simple question. 

“How badly I want to kiss you.” 

The words left his mouth with honesty. 

“See that’s a good line.” 

“It’s not a line, I just really want to kiss you.” 

Your head came up off of his shoulder to search his eyes. 

“I, uh. You do?” 

Suddenly you were the one rambling, finally not in the dominant position. 

He just nodded, leaning down to your wine stained lips and planted a kiss as light as a feather on your face, just missing the target. 

You now rolling your eyes dug your fingers deeper into his brown locks and crashed into him. 

The two of you still swaying your bodies to the song started to go deeper into each other, kissing more rapidly now. 

When he stopped for a minute to lift you into his arms, Seokmin’s lips reached the spot on your neck that was just sensitive enough to have a moan breathe out. 

No words were exchanged as he laid you down on his perfectly made bed and continued exploring you, not until it was over did he mutter something that he often says to you, but it had a different meaning now. 

“I love you.” 

[aclowntiny]

✧･ﾟ: *✧Spa Days With Seventeen!✧*:･ﾟ✧

I did this for Ateez quite some time ago, but after a day of working outside in 43 C/110 F weather for 8 hours spa hours have returned to my head 😅 anyhoo Warnings: just 🤏🏻 suggestive in a couple places

S.Coups

♡ All Seungcheol can do is giggle as you ‘aggressively’ insist on taking care of him, resembling a miffed kitten in his mind more than the lion you thought you were as you shuffled him off to change into cozy pajamas for the day.

♡ Enjoy basically wrestling with him over who gets to pamper who, because nearly as hard as you tell him he needs to relax he wants to be the one to fetch all your relaxation supplies for you and peel your sheet mask for you as you sit against his chest.

♡ You guys get ✨jacuzzi access✨ for the occasion and Seungcheol literally physically carries you into the water because he can and very much wants to. Pretends to drop you at first, smiles at the way you hold his neck tighter and squeal, then lowers you in gently.

♡ A purchase you made for the occasion was floating light-up speakers you were so excited to burst out, coordinating the lights to bob in cool colors to the calm beat of the playlist you chose to lay back together to.

♡ You go back to miffed kitten mode when Seungcheol pulls you into him to rub your back, insisting that's your job and only letting him when he says you can reciprocate, smiling at you with loving eyes and shaking his head as you practically dart behind and in front of each other like Looney Tunes at your request to alternate, feeling like he'd done plenty over your time together to make you feel like royalty, now it was your turn.

Jeonghan

♡ In all honesty, Jeonghan was a bit concerned when you suddenly approached him with an idea for the so-called best date, wondering what was up your sleeve, but the moment you said the words spa day at home it was like a spell came over him, pulling him all in on the introvert dream day. “Can we get these too?” “What are those, headbands? Don’t you think we have enou-” “But (y/n), they’re so cute and we can use them when we do the face masks!” “Oh, alright.”

♡ So there you are, rolling back your hair or simply accessorizing with fluffy headbands- Jeonghan’s being pink with bunny ears on it and yours being black with equally plush kitty ears- as you stick sheet masks on each other. His of course has a bunny print and yours matches your headband too!

♡ Another relaxation method you wanted to try is meditation, so you two sit, legs crossed, adjacent to each other and practice some deep breaths beneath lavender-scented air.

♡ Your significant other being Yoon Jeonghan, though, it’s not long before you feel a poke at your side, barely suppressing a giggle and trying to ignore it. Then another, and another, and you fold completely or rather unfold, collapsing from your perfect posture and falling onto his side, looking up into his smiling face.

♡ Your day ends in a tangle of pajama-clad limbs, Jeonghan holding you close and running his fingers through your hair and up your loose, fluffy sleeves to ghost along your arm as the both of you lull to sleep.

Joshua

♡ It's his idea. He wants to pamper you and thinks it seems really romantic ever since he saw another couple have one and wants to recreate it for you, but even better if he can.

♡ He starts by giving you a foot rub with this really high-end moisturizer they recommended in the video. Somehow he seems to know the exact amount of pressure you like without you even asking him to apply it!

♡ "I got you flowers today, just, you know, not like usual," Joshua jokes as he produces a glass jar with cute lace around its neck. Knowing you like to exfoliate, he had a scrub made with your favorite flowers in it for you to use, too!

♡ The pièce de résistance? Joshua opening the doors to reveal he'd prepared the classic candlelit bath, rose petals drifting lazily across the surface and a whole host of fine things to add to the otherwise-undisturbed water at your discretion. "Do you like it?" The way you fly into his arms hastily pulling his head down answers his question well enough, and you feel him smile against your lips.

♡ "What did I do to deserve this, hm?" You hum as you glance up with fluttering eyes from your legs resting atop his under the water to meet Joshua's across the tub. "All you had to do," Joshua replies, eyes radiant in the face of yours, "was be you."

Jun

♡ Two words: matching pajamas. That’s step one of spa day, just getting all changed into the coziest cutest couple set Jun could find for you two.

♡ "Let's try this massage gun I got that looks like a piece of exercise equipment!" Leave it to Wen Junhui to find the oddest yet most practical contribution he could make, you thought as he held up the strangely triangular device. Before you could protest that it was overkill, he held it up to you and pressed the button really quickly, giving you a little buzz that had you laughing, shaking your head as you accepted it from him.

♡ The thing was powerful, but you had to give it to him: it felt good. Yours and Jun's muscles were practically jelly by the time you slowly ooze up from the couch to brew a pot of chamomile for your afternoon tea, for which Jun had also bought your favorite biscuits. The man never failed to bring a smile to your face.

♡ This time standing up was easier, not least of all because of the large, secure hands that wrapped around yours, practically sending you leaping out of your chair and into Jun's arms as he slow danced you across the hard floors in your animal slippers. At least it didn't hurt if you stepped on his feet!

♡ Your day of self-care ends in the shower, where you get the full Wen Junhui hair was experience aka the 'if I get shampoo in your eye, hit me'. It never runs even close, though, to either of you as you massage each other's scalps, smiling contentedly as warm water cascaded over you both, encapsulating you in more than one steamy embrace.

Hoshi

♡ Hears ‘spa day’ and thinks only of two things: either laying around in robes with cucumbers over your eyes or you guys giving each other massages.

♡ Wants to do both frankly. Takes your idea as an excuse to buy cute robes for you both and also to play around with you, getting DIY kits to mix your own face masks and deciding to try a mixture of both on because it can’t be bad for him, right? “I’ll just by cleansed and moisturized this way!” He exclaims with a grin as he smears the odd green and pink swirled mixture on his eager face.

♡ Of course he has to remark that the odd mixture gives his face the stripes he needs as he bought himself an orange tiger patterned robe, completely uncaring of the clash between the colors on his cheeks and the rest of him.

♡ It’s a massive 180 from him giggling over tiger stripes, horanghae-ing, and eating the cucumbers off his eyes when he’s suddenly sliding your robe off your shoulders, each brush and motion deliberate.

♡ The robes and masks are fun and all, but Soonyoung can’t let that massage oil go to waste. He always starts either a little too tough or a little too gentle, always feeling a bit cautious or a tad too excited, but your guiding words have him turning you to putty in his hands and feeling all the more ready to return the favor.

Wonwoo

♡ So surprised when you suggest having a spa day, he just looks at you with shining eyes and a smile of endearment. “You want to have a spa day?” He repeats back to you, thinking you’re the cutest thing ever.

♡ You end up researching how to make things together, going to the market the day before to seek supplies. “So this is really going on our faces?” Wonwoo chuckles as you mash avocados in a bowl. “Yep,” you joke back, “and the baking soda and sugar aren’t for baking, either, remember?” “Well, I guess that makes sense. Sugar would exfoliate and avocados are rich in oil. As long as it’s good oil! I’m more surprised about the vinegar honestly.” Oh, how you loved having a smart boyfriend.

♡ Removing his glasses, he can’t help but smile as you gingerly dip your hand into the avocado-honey-apple cider vinegar mixture you'd insisted on adding lemon juice to "so it doesn't smell so bad for you", holding his head still by the chin with the clean hand before beginning to smear. Your fingers tightened just so beneath him as he jumped from the cold, nose crinkling slightly at the sensation, and you both giggled. Soon Wonwoo had your face in his hand as you took your turn to turn green, making Kermit jokes all the way.

♡ You’re most interested to see how the bath bomb you guys made turns out, unmolding it into your hand with great focus and nudging Wonwoo with your leg beneath the bathwater when it comes out nearly perfect. A little powder drifts into the water, making little purple swirls between you before you drop in the whole thing, accidentally making a splash that has Wonwoo teasing you for being irresponsible with your creation.

♡ In response, you push the fizzing heart shape his way and he sends it back toward you, creating an impromptu little ball game between you two as you sent the floral-scented bomb zipping along the water’s surface. Finally it dissolves, giving you less reason to slosh violet-tinted water out of your tub and more reason to lean forward, hands on the smooth surface, face almost touching Wonwoo’s. “Having fun?” “M-hm,” he hums in response, hand instinctively reaching up to rub your back. “Good,” you reply, closing the gap between you two as you teased, “I liked our little chemistry experiments almost as much as this chemistry.” That earned you a light swat, but also more kisses.

Woozi

♡ “This seems a bit silly now, doesn’t it (y/n)?” This in question being one of those little foot spas you picked up at the store and insisted on starting your day of relaxation with. “The warm water is supposed to feel good,” you reply with your best puppy dog eyes, “is it not working?” The moment you give Jihoon that look, he caves, shaking his head as his own expression falls into a smile and starts rolling up the legs of his pants.

♡ Honestly it does feel good and he has to admit it as you sit there each in your own bubbling soak, you scooting closer and closer until he notices and teases you about it, casually slinging an arm around your shoulders as he laughs.

♡ Once you’re all dried off from the little spas, you reach into your bag of tricks supplies, producing a little bottle. “What’s that?” Jihoon asks. “Massage oil,” you reply, motioning to the couch, “come lay down.” He obliges, laying flat on his stomach along the cushions as you coat your hands, but you can't help raising a brow at him when he turns to look at you, causing him to do a double take. "What?" "Take your shirt off," you tell him. If you were any closer, surely you would see his cheeks flushing. "Why?" You keep your eyebrow raised, lifting also your now-glistening hands. "I'm not about to ruin that nice shirt with this stuff."

♡ Shy as he seemed, Jihoon melts under your touch, relaxing the moment your palms meet his skin, brushing lightly over it with the cooling oil you’d chosen. Pride washes over you as you knead out several knots he surely gave himself from sitting in the wrong posture, but today isn’t the day to nag him over it, it’s all about relaxation.

♡ Jihoon insists on repaying your favors even if you wanted to give him the luxury day, and would you really deny a massage from him? Instead of the cooling oil, though, you choose your favorite fragrance and insist on sitting close to him, your back almost to his chest as he holds you gently between his folded legs. Some tension leaves your body, too, and you can tell by the smile you see on Jihoon’s face that venture peeking at that the day has been a success, let alone the time together that is yet to come.

DK

♡ The spa day shopping is this 🤏🏻 close to being his favorite part- surely you were already expecting a full basket? He actually picks out really cute stuff- you'll discover he has great taste in candles, choosing the perfect soft scents to relax to.

♡ Draws you a bath, also puts a rubber duck in it. Squeezing it is very relaxing, thank you! It’s enough to fill your heart just seeing Seokmin smiling in anticipation as he pours in a bunch of the bubble bath you picked out, stirring up the water until it’s covered with a fluffy film.

♡ Puts said fluffy film on his head to make you laugh. “What do you think, does this style suit me?” He asks, grinning and patting his new ‘hairstyle’ as you just sit in front of him bursting into giggles.

♡ Seokmin takes such good care of you in the tub, making sure if you sit in the half with the faucet that you never hit it even if he has to tug you away from it and devotedly taking the time to wash your hair with all the products you need and one special scented oil you found just for the occasion.

♡ He gently towel dries your hair off too and once you are both dried and be-robed it’s time for bed! Well, getting into bed anyway. Lighting all the little blue candles with their luxurious natural scents you guys had purchased for the occasion, Seokmin slides into the covers with you, pulling you into his arms as he puts on your favorite movie. There was no other option, sorry. Until, that is, you go back and forth about it and it devolves into a tickle fight, Seokmin conceding to watching his favorite next time when you win.

Mingyu

♡ Taking a bunch of silly photos of you two with pink mud masks on wasn't what you were initially expecting from the day, but in the end you feel gratitude for Mingyu's innocent spirit as you look back on the adorable shoot.

♡ He also insists on feeding you your choice of snack for the day because your mask is set and you can't do it yourself, no siree. You have to accept it by hand, no take backs.

♡ Wipes off said mud mask so gently you barely feel it…but when the washcloth is discarded, you do feel the way Mingyu’s thumb affectionately, feather-lightly caresses your cheek as he stares into those lovely eyes of yours he loves so much.

♡ And there you end up, cheeks sticking together just a little from the residue as your lips meet again and again, hands joined first in at your laps, then sliding up to wrap around each other.

♡ As you finally rise to your feet, Mingyu’s hands returning to yours to help lift you up, he suggests drawing you guys a bath with an intensity in his eyes you can’t deny, and you are glad to oblige when you see the way he’s decked the room all out with candles, a huge, proud, eager smile on his face.

The8

♡ Spa day with him almost turns into a full-blown resort day, not because Minghao insists on being extra but because you get a little salon experience when he decides to paint your nails- but only if you paint his, too.

♡ The first thing you do is just get yourselves relaxed, you two wearing comfortable clothes, lighting some incense, and sharing cups of Minghao’s favorite relaxing tea blend that he knows just how many times to steep.

♡ Next up is getting ready for the salon experience! You two take turns filing each other’s nails to get ready. Minghao’s grip on your hand is so soft even as he runs the gritty file along your nails, and if you aren’t fond of the feeling he keeps you distracted looking at him and listening to what he tells you, probably some new Chinese phrases if you haven’t heard them already.

♡ The hand masks feel like wet gloves, leaving the two of you laughing at the odd feeling. Venturing a high-five is a must, and the wet slap sound has you giggling more and crinkling your nose as you peel the masks off.

♡ When your moisturizer is all rubbed in, you two pick each other’s nail polish color and make it a surprise, once again keeping your eyes on each other as you sit hand in hand. For Minghao, you chose a dark, almost maroon, shade of purple, and for you he chose forest green. Your accent nail was some gold glitter on your ring fingers, which Minghao jokes is what bling you’ll get on your left side…for now 👀

Seungkwan

♡ So serious about it all!!! It starts with an elaborate skincare routine that Seungkwan probably would have made you do anyway and evolves into him showing you every restorative stretch he knows how to do so you're loosened up for your massage.

♡ “Stay still!” He whines as you roll your shoulders beneath his hands, but the only punishment you receive from Seungkwan is his hands lightly tapping against your shoulder as he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “What are we going to do with you?”

♡ You quickly begin taking advantage of that, moving a little bit more so he’s forced to hold you tighter, practically nuzzling into you as he weakly chastises you, a small smile on his face when he sees you leaning in expectantly. “All right, you’re allowed to move if that’s what you want,” he gives in, grinning.

♡ Still remains stock still when you return the favor, practically entering a liquid state beneath your touch, his only movement waves that follow the flow of your hands. The only sounds he makes are sighs of contentment and the occasional request of a shift in pressure.

♡ Sings you your favorite lullabies and love songs alike as if he were your little radio when you guys sink into the tub at the end of the night. Well, almost the end that is. You still have the nighttime skincare routine and mandatory cuddles awaiting you!

Vernon

♡ Your spa day is sort of impromptu, opening up your new skin care purchase turning into a whole day off spent in self care. "Does that thing really work?" Vernon had asked you, pointing to the shining gua sha in your hand with raised eyebrows. "Only one way to find out!" You shrugged with a grin, holding it up higher, and well, curiosity got the better of him.

♡ He wanted to try the steamer you got for your face too. "This opens up your pores, right?" You nodded as you plugged it in, head turned back to look upon him brightly. "Look at you being all smart! All right, here we go!" You turn it on, steam curling out towards your heads where they lightly pressed together. Vernon squeezed his eyes shut immediately and you couldn't help but laugh, even into the steam, at the face he made.

♡ You practically pull Vernon by the hand into the kitchen to make ‘fancy snacks’, which just ends up being wee little finger sandwiches. There are normal ones like microcosm peanut butter and jellies or cucumber sandwiches, then there are a few weird ones because hey, what else was to be done with that leftover sausage?

♡ Eating outside in the sun is much more relaxing, so you take your finger sandwiches in yours and Vernon’s version of al fresco, out in the yard where you trail off to pick flowers and he thinks you’re so beautiful he can’t resist a few snapshots of you. Even if you’re embarrassed about not having any makeup on, Vernon is completely caught up in the ethereal vision of you with your robe falling off your shoulders caught in a sunbeam, a few flowers in hand. Oops, might become his wallpaper, sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

♡ Back inside, you press a few flowers in the pages of a book, pulling another off the shelf to read from as you soak all the dirt and wear off your feet in a pair of tiny spas, your eyes darting across the page and his following along, brightening as yours widen.

Dino

♡ “Can we do the thing with the hot rocks?” “Why would you pick the most dangerous spa activity you could?” “I dunno,” Chan chuckles in response, “it just seems cool!”

♡ Cue a quick google search on if doing that is even possible at home. Apparently the rocks are only heated to the equivalent of about 38-55 degrees Celsius (100-130 degrees Fahrenheit), AKA oven temperature, so that’s how you found yourself and Chan peeking into an oven full of volcanic stones that were probably intended to go in a garden.

♡ It’s worth it, though, to watch the focus on Chan’s face as he carefully presses the stones between his hands, checking the temperature and tempering the heat ever so slightly before resting them on your bare back. The warmth is startling at first, sending a shudder down your newly-decorated spine, but soon you’re melting beneath its sensation, eyes fluttering shut at the combined feeling of the stones and Chan’s hands over you.

♡ You do the same for him, pressing the stone and giving a satisfied little nod at the adequate temperance. “You look like a professional,” Chan comments, head propped up on his fist from where he lays, chest bare. You can’t help but flush at the sight, bidding him lay down so you can work all the knots and kinks out.

♡ Once massaged, you two stretch, having a little competition to see who can do the funniest pose. You win by a longshot, stealing and modifying that one weird stretch of Seungkwan’s and sending Chan into stitches. When you’re done laughing, he moves over to the speaker you had set up for relaxing music and turns it to something more romantic, pulling you into his chest and swaying lightly back and forth as he thanks you for a day that was both relaxing and fun.

[praetorqueenreyna]

counterintelligence, Nesta/Eris, Eris Week Day 6: Modern AU

Please enjoy, this is just a goofy light-hearted fake dating modern AU. There is lots of Cassian slander tho.

@erisweek2023

Read here on AO3!!

”I need a favor.”

Eris stared at the text message in disbelief. It had come through several minutes ago, and he was no closer to puzzling out what it meant. Sure, people often asked him for favors. He was smart and rich and good at problem-solving. But those people were not usually Nesta Archeron.

After running through several dozen scenarios in his head, he finally texted her back.

”What?”

A nanosecond after the text registered as being delivered, the phone began to ring in his hand. “Nesta Archeron” flashed on the screen. Bemused, he answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Nesta got right down to business. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for Elain’s wedding.”

It took a lot to truly surprise Eris, but that certainly did it. “I’m sorry, what?”

A huff of frustration, as if he were the one being vague and irritating. “Cassian and I broke up a month ago.”

Another surprise. A good one, if he was being honest. Eris had always fucking hated Cassian. They had grown up in the same social circles; Cassian had weaseled into Rhysand's friend group when they were children, and their families had been in the same industry for decades. Cassian maintained that Eris was a classist who disliked Cassian because he was poor. That wasn’t strictly true: Eris disliked Cassian because he was an asshole. But he had found that Cassian was sensitive about his class status, and so it was something Eris often mocked him for.

When he had met Nesta, he had had no idea what she had seen in Cassian. She was intelligent and biting, and he was a 20-something year old man that still acted like a college frat guy. Somehow they had managed to stay together for two years without either of them murdering each other.

“He’s the best man, and I’m the maid of honor,” Nesta continued. “And he’s bringing fucking Mor. I’d rather eat glass than go to this wedding by myself.”

Ah, Morrigan. Both Eris and Cassian had dated her briefly in the past, but only one of them had ever moved on. Whenever Eris saw the whole group together, he could sense the tension between Nesta and Mor from across the room. Christ. He wasn’t one who felt a lot of sympathy for others, but wow, Nesta had been royally screwed.

“That’s shitty, I’ll admit. What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Eris. Cassian hates you. He’ll be furious when he sees you there. And I know you hate him too. You can’t tell me you don’t want to piss him off. I’ll even let you be the one to tell him we’re together.”

The offer was too good to refuse. There was almost nothing Eris would love nothing more than to look in Cassian’s big stupid face and tell him that he was with his ex. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Perfect. The wedding is in three days. Text me your address, I’ll pick you up at two.” With that, Nesta hung up on him. Eris stared at the dead phone in his hands, still trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Eris didn’t hear from Nesta for the rest of the week. He texted her once, to ask for the color of her dress so that he could buy a matching tie and pocket square. She sent him a close up of a patch of fabric that was dusty rose in color.

The day of the wedding arrived and Eris was weirdly nervous. Quite frankly, he didn’t know Nesta very well. He had met her a few times, and flirted with her to piss off Cassian. And now they were about to spend several hours together pretending to be dating. He forced himself to sit and read all morning, knowing that if he started getting ready he would spend several hours fidgeting in his suit and messing with his hair.

His doorbell rang at two on the dot. He opened the door to reveal Nesta, looking even more beautiful than he had remembered. Her hair was bound in an intricate crown of braids, and her mauve dress flowed loosely around her body, both hiding and revealing creamy skin in equal measure. He once again marveled that an oaf like Cassian had managed to keep her for more than fifteen minutes. She scanned him from head to toe, mouth pursed. “Hmm.”

“Is there a problem?” Eris asked, slightly offended. In his own unbiased opinion, he looked very dashing. His suit was immaculate; not a speck of dog hair marred the charcoal gray. He had found a tie that perfectly matched Nesta’s dress, and his shoes had been polished so they shone.

“It’s nothing.” Nesta turned away, clearly expecting Eris to follow her. He debated calling the whole thing off and slamming the door. But Nesta turned back, one hand on her car door, and Eris put together a dozen tiny details that he had missed when she was right in his face. Her mascara was smudged and her eyes were tinged red. The patch of fabric over her thigh was wrinkled from her twisting her hand into it. There was a semicircle of half-moon imprints on her left arm, as if she had dug the nails of her right hand into the flesh. Nesta was anxious and miserable and furious, all in one. And she had signed herself up to pretend to like him for several hours, which wasn’t going to make her feel much better.

Without a word, Eris slid into the passenger seat of her car.

“We reconnected two weeks ago. You came into my work, we started talking, and I gave you my number. We started dating a few days after that.” Nesta regaled him with their romantic history as she drove. Her eyes were glued to the road in front of her. The clipped, analytical tone actually put Eris more at ease. He could handle this. He was good at negotiations.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a bartender at Rita’s.”

“Really?” Eris couldn’t hide his surprise. Nesta did not seem like someone well-equipped for customer service. Especially not when the customers were drunk and horny.

“Yes, really,” she snapped. “I’m in law school, and I needed a job that let me work nights, after classes.”

Once again, Eris was both impressed by Nesta and confused that she had been with Cassian for so long. How the fuck had that neanderthal captured her attention?

“Okay, that works. I’ve gone to Rita’s a few times.”

“I have a cat named Darcy. Elain got me into stupid reality TV shows and we watch the Bachelor together every year. I can cook, but I hate it, so we mostly eat out at the Thai place down the street.” Nesta’s cheeks pinkened, flustered over having to share even the most nonsensical details about her personal life. “That should be enough to get you through this wedding.”

She paused. Eris realized she was waiting for him to to return the favor, telling her just enough to get them through the reception without giving the game away. “I have four dogs. I still like going to the theaters to see new movies. I used to smoke, but I’m trying to quit.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the social media manager for my dad’s company.”

“What?” Nesta laughed, caught off guard. The corners of her eyes crinkled. Eris noticed for the first time that one of her front teeth was chipped. “Bullshit.”

Eris smiled despite himself. “I’m serious. I do all the brand awareness and brand imaging, but nowadays that’s mostly just social media. I try to convince the public that the company isn’t an evil corporation.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Nesta laughed again. Eris could see himself becoming addicted to the sound. “Noted.”

The remainder of the drive passed quickly. They shared personal details back and forth, but with ease and warmth. It felt less like they were preparing each other for a trial and more that they were just getting to know each other. It was very much like a first date, if Eris were being honest.

Whatever camaraderie they had built up dissipated when Nesta pulled up in front of the wedding venue. He could practically see the steel wall shutting down, cutting her off from any potential heartbreak. “Are you ready?” she asked, cold and clipped. Without waiting for an answer, she got out of the car, barely waiting for him to follow her lead before she locked it and strode away.

Elain and Azriel were getting married in a cutesy old church, chosen more for its aesthetic than for any religious affiliation. The wedding was small; only a few dozen people were milling around the foyer, waiting for the ceremony to begin. It made it extremely easy to pick out Cassian, who was already glaring at them with his upper lip curled into a snarl. Eris maintained eye contact as he wrapped one arm around Nesta’s waist, his own expression carefully schooled in its usual smooth confidence. Nesta tensed under his touch, but when she caught Cassian staring she relaxed, pressing herself against Eris’s side. He delighted at the fury that flashed in Cassian’s eyes. Just as he was contemplating the pros and cons of kissing Nesta in front of him, a call went out that the wedding was about to begin, and would everybody please take their seats. With a cheeky wave to his glowering adversary, Eris followed Nesta into the main hall.

As soon as they entered the nave, Nesta was swept away with the rest of the bridal party, presumably to some staging area so they could prepare to walk down the aisle. Eris scanned the crowd, hoping for at least one person who didn’t hate him that he could sit with. He settled on his youngest brother, who was sitting near the back with his boyfriend, Tamlin. Eris settled next to Lucien, who visibly jumped at his appearance.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien asked. “Did I see you coming in with Nesta?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.” The familiar beginning notes of “Here Comes The Bride” resonated through the hall, forestalling any more questions. A procession began making its way down the center aisle. Eris could pick out a few people that he recognized, such as Feyre, Rhysand, and Mor. The maid of honor and best man walked down side by side. Both Nesta and Cassian were making an attempt to pretend everything was fine, but the resentment between them followed them like a dark cloud. It was a visible relief when they separated at the altar. Azriel was next, dashing as ever in his tailored suit. Last was the bride herself, accompanied by her father. Elain moved slowly, both for the benefit of the photographer and to make sure that her father, with his injured leg, could keep up.

The ceremony was fine. It was short, which Eris deeply appreciated. A lot of people were crying by the end of it. Eris didn’t know enough about Elain and Azriel to know if their marriage would last. His cynicism said it was unlikely. Besides, they were the least interesting thing on the altar. He found his gaze constantly drawn to Nesta. She watched her younger sister with a softness he had yet to see in her. A few times he caught her dabbing under her eyes with the pad of her finger, clearly trying to keep tears from ruining her eye makeup. A new wave of hatred for Cassian rose up in him, startling him. He had tried to ruin this for Nesta in the name of “winning” the breakup. Eris resolved to be as obnoxious as possible for the rest of the evening.

The reception was held behind the church. Dinner was served on the patio, and the garden was festooned with fairy lights. To Eris’s delight, being the date of the maid of honor meant sitting at the same table as the entire wedding party, most of whom despised him. The looks he received ranged from abject disgust (Cassian and Rhysand) to plain suspicion (Mor and Feyre). The only people who didn’t seem to care about him were Feyre’s wife, Lena, and Rhysand’s date, a smirking red-headed woman.

“Lovely ceremony,” Eris said brightly, breaking through the tension that his presence caused at the table. He stretched out his arms, resting one against the back of Nesta’s chair. Nesta, in turn, leaned back so her shoulders were pressed against his forearm.

“It was,” Feyre agreed. She opened her mouth to say more, but Cassian interrupted her.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m my girlfriend’s plus one.”

“Uh huh,” Cassian replied, unconvinced. “What’s your angle?”

That got a chuckle out of Eris. “I don’t have some evil master plan. I’m just here to enjoy the party. Be the arm candy.” He brushed his fingers across Nesta’s cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Not that anyone is looking at me when I’m next to this gorgeous woman.”

Nesta gave him an odd look, and for a moment Eris feared he had overstepped the bounds of their fake relationship. Then she smiled and looked down, the perfect picture of a flattered partner. It was cute, almost cute enough to be able to ignore Cassian’s scowling.

“How long have you two been together?” Mor cut in, a pleasant smile pasted on her face.

“Only a couple weeks.” Eris nodded towards Mor and Cassian. “What about you?”

The smile was gone. “About the same.”

“Odd. I could have sworn you two have been on and off again for years,” Eris drawled. “I’m sure it’ll stick this time.”

Now both Mor and Cassian looked like they wanted to kill him. “Seriously Nes, what the fuck are you doing with him?” Cassian growled. “Is this just to piss me off?”

“Shockingly, who I choose to date has nothing to do with you,” Nesta responded. “And don’t call me that.”

“Nes, come on—”

“Stop it!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “You stopped being allowed to tell me what to do when you cheated on me with her.” She didn’t need to gesture towards Mor to indicate who exactly she was talking about. Every time Eris thought he couldn’t get more annoyed, he was proven wrong. The sheer nerve for Cassian to actually cheat on Nesta, and then act like Nesta was in the wrong for bringing Eris? The fact that he was only here to cause drama didn’t seem relevant. Cassian deserved everything that was coming to him.

Nesta deliberately turned in her seat to strike up a conversation with Feyre. As she did, she intertwined one of her hands with one that Eris had been resting on the table. In full view of everyone, she raised their entangled hands to her mouth and pressed her lips against his knuckles. She moved casually, as if the display of affection were subconscious. A woman reaching out to her partner for reassurance. She was a much better actor than Eris would ever have given her credit for.

Dinner seemed to pass at an excruciatingly slow pace. Eris was hyper aware that Cassian was watching their every move. Nesta was all over him: a hand on his shoulder while she whispered in his ear, playing with the tips of his hair in between courses, using her thumb to wipe away crumbs from the corner of his mouth. It was difficult for Eris to focus on the conversation when he was surrounded by Nesta’s soft touches and the savory scent of her perfume. The temptation to bury his face in her neck and inhale deeply was overwhelming. He distracted himself by talking, engaging with almost everyone at the table. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about these people, but he knew how to turn on the charm when it was required. And seeing steam come out of Cassian’s ears as Eris joked with his friends made it all worth it.

Finally, finally, they got through dinner and cake, toasts and first dances. Pop music pumped through the speakers, and everybody vacated the tables in favor of the dance floor. With a minute to themselves, Eris leaned in towards Nesta. “How am I doing?”

“Fantastic. I’ve never seen Cassian so furious.”

Eris preened at the praise, but the smirk slid off his face when he caught Nesta staring wistfully at the dance floor. Cassian and Mor were wrapped up in each other’s arms, giggling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Nesta lied. She scrabbled for her purse that was draped over the back of her chair. “We can go. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“We don’t have to.” Eris didn’t know why he was arguing. He wouldn’t gain anything by staying. But if they left now, Nesta would drop him off and then go home and sulk, and he’d never see her again. “I don’t want to go.”

“Eris,” Nesta huffed. “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not.” He rose to his feet and took Nesta’s hand in his. “I want to dance.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” For the first time ever, Eris was grateful that his parents had made him take dance lessons. He twirled Nesta under his arm, causing her to shriek in surprise. When he spun her back to him, she was grinning. She had clearly had formal dance training as well; she matched him effortlessly, falling into step even when he shifted dance styles and moves. She was his favorite kind of dance partner, the kind who could read his body language and predict what he was going to do, and match him perfectly. It resulted in an effortless, elegant dance that looked like a choreographed routine. It was likely that the rest of the wedding had formed a circle around them, applauding and shouting encouragement instead of dancing themselves. He couldn’t say for sure, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Nesta. She was the embodiment of grace, her dress whirling around her like rosy wings. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but she was laughing, free as a bird.

The song ended and Eris lowered Nesta in a dramatic dip. Her hands, which were around the back of his neck, tugged his head down to meet hers. She crashed their lips together, and Eris’s brain short-circuited. A live wire of electricity shot down his body, almost startling him into dropping her. He had heard people talk about experiencing fireworks when they kissed, but this was beyond that. This was a lightning storm, consuming him from the inside out and leaving him starving for more.

One of the greatest moments of Eris’s life was rudely interrupted by Feyre grabbing Nesta and jerking her away from him. “Elain wants to to take some pictures in the garden, just the three of us,” she explained. Nesta allowed herself to be dragged away, shooting him an annoyed glance over her shoulder. Eris consciously refrained from touching his lips with his fingers in the wake of the kiss, like some kind of goddamn Victorian era romance heroine. It was all a show, nothing more. Nesta only kissed him as a ploy to aggravate her ex. Not because she liked him.

The ploy worked a little too well, judging by the way Cassian was staring at him, as if hoping he would spontaneously burst into flames. Eris’s smug grin got a lot less smug when the larger man began to actually stride towards him across the dance floor. An actual confrontation wasn’t part of the plan.

“Whatever game you think you’re playing with Nes, you better stop before she gets hurt,” Cassian rumbled.

It took all of Eris’s willpower to not take a step back. Cassian was a foot taller than him, and twice as broad. “Of the two of us, I’m not the one who’s been playing games with Nesta,” he replied, his eyes sliding meaningfully over to Mor.

Cassian’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about me, asshole. I still care about her.”

“Sure. I guess caring about her means that you’re allowed to move on and she isn’t.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

High on the adrenaline of the verbal match, Eris couldn’t help but goad him further. “I understand why you’re mad. Nesta was always too good for you. I’m guessing you wanted her to pine after you and stay single so you can go crawling back when Mor inevitably dumps your idiotic, inbred—”

Before Eris could say “ass,” and finish his devastating insult, his head exploded in pain. It was like someone had hit him in the face with a brick, knocking him to the ground and leaving him gasping for air. His vision cleared and revealed Cassian standing over him, still brandishing a curled fist. Somebody in the crowd screamed and a clamor of voices went up, but all Eris could focus on was the fact that Cassian was about to beat him to death.

“What the fuck?” Like a guardian angel, Nesta had returned just in time. She shoved her way through the crowd and crouched down next to him. He gave her his most charming smile, which was somewhat compromised by the fact that he was pretty sure his nose was broken and blood was dripping out of his mouth.

“He—” Cassian started to defend himself, but Nesta whirled around and shoved him in the chest. He stumbled back, more from shock than the push itself.

“Get out of here. And if you ever try to talk to me again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Nesta’s rage was a physical force. Even Cassian wasn’t stupid enough to defy her. He shut his mouth and stormed off. Nesta turned back to Eris, her hands gripping his wrists like iron shackles as she hauled him to his feet. Holy shit, she was strong. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, to him and only him, ignoring the rest of the gaping wedding party. Eris was more than happy to follow her out of the main hall and away from so many incriminating stares.

Nesta led him to the small room where the bridal party had gotten ready before the ceremony. Empty bottles of wine were scattered around, and a confusing mix of perfume scents hung in the air. She guided him to a chair, instructed him to stay put, and disappeared. Eris slumped over, completely exhausted but still buzzing with energy. Nesta returned with a stack of fluffy white towels she had managed to berate one of the staff members into giving her. She bent over Eris, wiping the blood from his face. He hissed when the towel touched his nose, sending a blinding bolt of pain through him. Nesta paused, then resumed her work with a lighter touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The tightness in her voice revealed that that wasn’t a phrase she said often. “This was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have let things get that far.”

“It’s fine,” Eris waved it off. “You might be shocked to learn that this isn’t the first time I’ve been punched in the face.”

The twitch of her mouth into a brief smile filled Eris with light, and suddenly his face didn’t hurt so bad. “Well, I’m still sorry. I dragged you into this and I’ve been a bitch all day.”

“No you haven’t.” Nesta snorted, and Eris corrected himself. “Okay, you have. But I get it. I’ve done a lot worse over a lot less.”

Nesta pinched together a corner of the towel that wasn’t yet covered in blood and meticulously wiped around his nostrils. She was leaning close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “This was all so stupid. I hate how much I let him hurt me, even now.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

Her surprised snort answered him before she responded. “No, of course not.” The towel dragged across Eris’s mouth and chin. His face should be clean by now. “It just sucks how much of my life is still about him. I can’t get away from him. He’s dug in, like a tick. If I want to have a relationship with my sisters, I have to deal with him. And he is such an asshole.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that years ago.” Eris worked up the nerve to ask the question he had been wanting to ask for ages. “Why were you with him for so long?”

Nesta sighed. “I don’t know. It wasn’t all bad. And when it was, I figured that’s what I deserved.”

“That’s stupid.” Maybe it was the blood loss, the blow to the head, the adrenaline. Maybe he was still reeling from their fake kiss. But his mouth kept moving and words kept pouring out. “You’re so cool and smart and beautiful. You deserve, like, a tech billionaire who is also an astronaut who is also a model.”

At that, Nesta laughed, low and husky. She studied him with clear gray eyes, only inches from his face. “Well, if you know any tech billionaires-slash-astronauts-slash-models, you can introduce me.” She carelessly dropped the bloodied towel on the ground and straightened up, pulling Eris to his feet. “Are you finally ready to leave?”

The ride back to Eris’s house was in companionable silence. Nesta had led Eris by the hand through the main reception area, ignoring all the people who tried to stop her and ask what had happened. Oddly enough, she seemed in a better mood now, and Eris didn’t want to ruin it. She walked him to his front door and he dallied unlocking it, unsure if inviting her inside would be taken well and not wanting to scare her off.

“Well that was…” Eris trailed off, searching in vain for a polite description of the evening. “Terrible.” Nesta chuckled, which he took as a good sign. “But it wasn’t all bad. Let me know if you want to piss anyone else off.”

Nesta hummed thoughtfully. “You know, there’s a really shitty barista at the coffee shop on campus. I bet you could make him cry in less than five minutes.”

Eris’s heartbeat quadrupled. Unless he was mistaken, that sounded like a coffee date. “Yeah? I’d be down for that.”

Nesta grinned and leaned forward, pressing her cool lips against his cheek. “Great. I’ll call you.”

With a hand on his cheek, he watched Nesta get in her car and drive away until she was completely out of sight.

[aleixespargaro-apologist]

Notes on Liberty Media buying MotoGP (From Someone who’s had to go through this before)

Okay, this is going to come off as hypocritical seeing as I am 1.) American, and 2.) I was an F1 fan before I was a MotoGP fan, but please hear me out on this.

For context, I come from a family of F1 fans. My uncle has been watching F1 for nearly 40 years and F1 and NASCAR were the two racing series I grew up with. I remember what F1 was like before liberty media bought it, and call it rose colored glasses or nostalgia, but it was far better than it is right now.

What liberty media brought to F1 was a culture of celebrity worship, Americinization, little understanding of the sport and how it functions and it’s history, and an onslaught of people who have little care for the sport and only care about saying they watch it because watching the “pinnacle of Motorsport” makes them look cool.

I only remember hearing that F1 was the “pinnacle of motorsport” once or twice before liberty media took over, now it’s all I hear. People who were fans before liberty media took over, like my uncle, have had their opinions pushed to the side and treated like they don’t matter in favor of newer fans who don’t know the history of the sport.

Why am I saying all this? Because I’m scared this is going to happen to MotoGP too.

While I have not been a MotoGP fan for the same amount of time as I’ve been an F1 fan, I fucking adore this sport. At this point I can honestly say that I love MotoGP more than I love F1, and liberty media will probably take a lot of what makes MotoGP, well, MotoGP, away, just like they did with F1. I’m terrified that MotoGP will fall victim to the celebrity culture, Americinization, etc., that now permeate F1.

I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending. I’ve only been a MotoGP fan for two seasons but this sport is near and dear to my heart, and I don’t want to see another sport I love be reduced to a capitalist ploy.

[faithisasuperstar]

better in the dark → coral

coral!tbosas x reader

a/n → i have the feeling that my writing has been getting progressively worse (it’s getting short and sloppy + my grammar is slipping) because i’ve been trying to write so much all at once lol so i maybe just maybe will take a short break before posting anything else

notes → in which you savor some of the last moments you will have with coral before the games, even though you can hardly see her. feminine intended reader

warnings → possibly the WORST thing i’ve written (but i still want you to read it lol), sorry guys, inspo is low at the moment. very very ooc coral in my opinion. not edited & uploaded via iphone

     coral’s hands brushed yours as she reached them through the bars. you allowed her to grab onto them, shivering at her icy touch. even though it was the middle of a rather hot summer, nights still grew chilly.

     “we’ll meet again tomorrow morning to have a final goodbye.“ you informed her in a whine, she hummed in response. for some reason, saying it out loud hurt. but the ache in your heart seemed to waver as coral reached a hand up to cup your face, causing you to look her in the eyes for the first time tonight. you were afraid that if you made eye contact with her you wouldn’t be able to let her go, but it was too late now. mentally, you cursed yourself for how fast you got attached to people. in the two weeks that coral had been in the capitol, you were sure you had fallen in love with her. and maybe you had been looking at her through rose colored glasses, but even then, rose colored glasses had no effect in the dark night. deep down you knew you had fallen for her. 

     no matter how much time you spent preparing her, there was no guarantee that she would win the games. out of the other girls, sure, she was one of the strongest. but the guys were what you worried about. reaper and tanner posed a huge threat to the girl, but coral assured you that she could handle it. not to mention jessup, who was easily the biggest and strongest tribute of them all. your mind was working overtime as you brainstormed all of the different ways she could win, and the possibilities of her being killed. you were so focused that you hadn’t realized you were biting your lip, almost to the point of drawing blood. it wasn’t until coral began gliding her thumb over your knuckles that you were taken out of your trance.

     “what’s wrong?” she asked you, mildly concerned. 

     “just… thinking about what could happen out there.” you admitted, eyes softening.

     “i told you already, baby, don’t you worry about me. i’ve got it covered.” she smiled reassuringly at you, though you could hardly tell because of how dimly lit it had become now. it was almost like the moon was hiding from you. you felt as if she was far too calm for someone in her situation, it irked you. while you had been beyond anxious all day on behalf of coral, here she was, all mellow in the face of death. maybe it was just a facade on coral’s part, but you felt helpless at the fact that you didn’t know how to properly help her.

     “but coral, i’m your mentor!” you reminded her, as well as yourself. bringing up your status reminded you that falling in love with a district tribute would be more than looked down upon in your society. “it’s my job to worry about you-“ you stated, but were cut off as she pulled you closer to her, pressing her lips to yours. you melted into her touch, unable to stop yourself from leaning in closer. but sadly, the kiss seemed to end as soon as it started.

     “that shut you up,” she teased, smirking. 

     “you can’t just… you can’t just do that!” you complained in a huff, pouting.

     “you won’t allow a dead woman one last kiss? you monster!” coral joked, chuckling silently.

     “don’t say that either, coral. you’re not going to die.” it seemed more like a bitter attempt to convince yourself rather than coral. besides, you were supposed to be the cynical one here, not her. but then again, she had every right to feel that way. when twenty-four go in and only one comes out, it was easy to feel hopeless. who were you to dictate how she felt? you felt like a terrible, entitled person, and maybe you were. but coral seemed to look past that. you avoided her eyes once more, looking down at your shoes instead in guilt.

     “i’m just joking, pretty girl.” she remarked, but her tone seemed more solemn now. your eyes wandered back to hers. silence hung in the air as a few moments passed.

     “is it bad that i might love you?” the question slipped from your mouth in a single breath. 

     “yes,” was her grim reply. it broke your heart to hear, even if she was probably right. but that didn’t stop her from pulling you close once more, pressing her lips against yours passionately. thank goodness for the dark. if she had seen you in this moment with your nose runny, puffy, red eyes from crying so much, and cheeks flushed, you were sure you would die of embarrassment. but all your emotions seemed to flutter away when she was this close to you now. when her lips were on yours, nothing in the past, present, or future mattered, it was just coral and you.

[synthetictorii]

Rumors ✧ Toshinori Yagi

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x reader Genre: angst Summary: You've been called a lot of names, more than you can count. You've grown used to it - but your lover hasn't and it's about time it stops. Word count: 3.3k A/N: ...obligatory old and cringey fic ahead warning... + this was a wattpad rq

     You always lived your life in a way that made you feel like a side character of your own story. That was just you were content, putting others on the first place while forgetting about yourself. You were constantly trying to satisfy everyone, to help in any way you could. Many people told you that you were too kind for your own good. They were absolutely right, but you only felt satisfied when you behaved that way. You were happy only when everyone around you was smiling. Your way of thinking and behaving often caused you to be easily overlooked, this was also fine with you. You avoided attention as much as possible.

  Then it’s understandable why it was very surprising for you to wake up one day to find photos of yourself all over the news and in TV. Magically, overnight you became the talk of the town. Well, the only magic involved was the man standing right next to you on all of those photos. All Might. The symbol of justice and peace. The reports did a lovely job though, creating a beautiful collage tracking your yesterday’s date, your first “official” one. You turned the volume on as you curled up in your sofa. It couldn’t hurt to watch a bit, right? The show host was talking with the guests about each of them, guessing what was happening but they never got it quite right.

    The first picture was taken near the subway station where he was waiting for you with a single white rose, the same flower that was currently sitting in a glass on your kitchen table. You remembered times when a whole bouquet of flowers used to be there, sighing happily. Toshinori finally listened to your pleas and settled for something simpler. You never were one to enjoy getting gifts, especially expensive ones, always feeling that the bond you shared with people was more important. Yet he wouldn’t hear of it. You smiled fondly. “White rose, because your love is just as innocent as the color.” He said yesterday while giving you the flower, a hint of pink colored your cheeks.

  The second photo was taken through a window so it was slightly blurred. It showed you laughing, hand covering your mouth while he was talking sitting on a chair opposite of you in a little café, making grand gestures. It was a good one. They caught the moment when he was telling you about his students at U.A. You especially like to hear about one kid named Bakugou, he seemed to be quite a madman. You missed being their age, it was strange to feel like this when your age still sported the twenty in it but in your defense, things were easier then. You wouldn’t turn back time if you had the chance though, you were satisfied with your life the way it was now, especially with a man like Toshinori by your side.

  But surely enough, something had to go wrong the moment you thought just that. “They look like a happy couple, right?” said one of the guests on the show. You nodded, smiling from ear to ear. Well, you felt a bit guilty, agreeing without Toshinori’s opinion. Well, whatever, this once you’d allow yourself to be selfish and not care about his thoughts. “They do but you know what they say, even the sun sets in paradise,” said the host and the smile froze on your lips. You frowned and raised the volume, for once actually interested what do the people on TV have to say. “I don’t wanna spread rumors,” said the lady with a fake smile, “but there are some who feel like our dear All Might is only being used. I mean, I don’t want it to be true,” she huffed with laughter, “but she’s just so young, what else could possibly be her motivation? If she truly had feelings for him, she’d tell to wait for her until she learns how to take care of herself,” both the audience and guests bursted out laughing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, like this was what I thought when I first saw-” you turned the TV off and threw the controller away. Your hands were shaking slightly in distress. How could they say something like this? Not once did the thought about his fame or money cross your mind. It was a thing that you literally couldn’t care less about! You shuffled on your spot nervously and bit your lip. You replayed all the occasions when someone looked at you yesterday during the date. Were they all thinking like this? Were they all against your relationship? You were prepared for some hate but not for this. You expected some mean comments but not for people outright saying you weren’t enough for him.

  Your pride or reputation wasn’t what mattered to you, even if it probably should, instead you were stressing about what Toshinori will think once he hears these rumors. You knew each other for over half a year but only started dating about two months ago, going out twice or thrice a week, always during late evening or night so you wouldn’t be constantly interrupted by his fans. Yesterday was a little test of sorts to see how it would go. Not well it seemed, you frowned bitterly, gently biting on the skin around your nails – a bad habit of yours when you were anxious.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

  He woke up well rested, actually feeling refreshed for the first time in god knows how long. His side didn’t hurt one bit and it was almost like before the incident. He whistled all the time during preparing his breakfast and coffee, his mind blissfully returning to yesterday’s events. When his ham’n’eggs was done and the bread was toasted, he set the food on the table and turned on the TV, eager to see what the media thinks about his relationship with you. Although he wouldn’t break up with you if they didn’t approve, public opinion was important to him – and also decided his pay check, so yeah. He clicked through the channels, always watching just for a while before checking elsewhere.  So far so good, the reactions were mixed as expected, but mostly it seemed alright. Then he hit the jackpot of hate. His grip on the fork got so strong he split it in half. Shit. This wasn’t good. You were sure to see this, you liked to watch TV in the morning to see what’s up in the world and he couldn’t guess how you’d react but he was certain you’d start worrying.

  He didn’t waste any more time, toast and a forkful of eggs laid rejected on the plate, and quickly changed into casual clothes he could were in his flexing form. He felt so frustrated and enraged by what he heard – how dared they gossip about you like that? You were the sweetest, kindest person he knew, if anything was supposed to taken apart by the news, it was how suspiciously perfect you were. He wasn’t able to count how many times he teased you for being too modest and, with relation to the rumors, how often he told to take advantage of having rich boyfriend. You wouldn’t hear of it! Yesterday was the same, he made attempt to pay for your coffee and cake but no, you paid for all the things you both ordered. Seriously, if he didn’t bring you flowers, you’d be the one in your relationship paying for everything – he was the one using you. He could only imagines the headlines if the media knew that.

  He rushed out of his apartment and jumped from roof to roof to reach your place sooner while attracting as little attention as possible. It didn’t take him long to arrive as you didn’t live too far away. He waited for a while until the street got empty and then he jumped on the fire escape staircase right next to your living room window. He saw you marching from one end of the room to another, freezing on the spot when he landed with a loud crack. It was a wonder the staircase withstood his little stunt. You turned around and he waved at you. He saw your features relax and gentle smile formed on your lips. You walked to the window and opened it for him to climb inside. “I have arrived, [y/n]! Now let me assure you that everything is alright!” He grinned widely and spread his arms for you. Your smile faded a bit as you gratefully hugged him, he pulled you close tightly, stroking your hair. “You were afraid, right?” He asked, his voice calm and patient. He knew that your feelings weren’t based on distrust towards him but rather your habit of underestimating yourself and he decided to be as supportive as he could in your fight with these feelings. You nodded into his chest, squeezing him harder. “You know, I think saying lies like that on public TV earned them enough of the villain status, want me to beat them up?” He gave you mischievous smile. You laughed and smacked his shoulder lightly. “You know how I feel about violence,” you chuckled and sighed. “I… I really don’t date you just for your money and fame, I swear,” you said, looking somewhat apologetically into his eyes. “I figured that much,” he huffed, almost pouting. He knew it never failed to make you all mushy seeing him act cute. Your giggling rang through the room as you reached up and raised the corners of his mouth with your fingers. “But it’s so nice to spoil you!” You said happily. He took your hands into his and kissed each of your knuckles before laying them on his chest, again holding your waist. “I want to pamper you too, young lady!” He protested while looking into your eyes. “It’s a man’s job to take care of his girl, isn’t it? So, let me take you out for brunch, my treat this time,” he shushed you before you managed to say anything. “I’ll wait here, unless you want me to help you change?” He flirted and you quirked a brow at him. “Is that what you want in exchange for the brunch?” You teased but laughed at the sight of his flushed cheeks and flustered gesticulation. “I’ll be right back,” you reassured him with a smile and gave a small kiss to his nose.

  He watched you run off and fondly sighed. How in the world did he deserve such ethereal creature like you? You were the perfect combination of cute and smart with a hint of flirt mixed in and he fell for you more each day. He stared longingly at the doors leading to your bedroom as if he could speed up the process of you getting ready. He tried hard not to imagine you in your underwear but boy, was it hard. Instead he sat on the sofa and turned on the TV with intention of getting more information about how the situation progresses. The conclusion was simple: not very nicely. Some other channels inspired themselves with the one he saw in the morning, throwing hate your way. It took every ounce of his self-control not to destroy the controller. “Are you sure you want to go out?” He turned to see you sheepishly playing with the hem of your hoodie, looking everywhere but at him. You were adorable beyond words. Your nicely shaped body was hidden under oversized [f/c] hoodie but your legs clad only in thin black leggings made up for it and hinted at your figure. He switched the TV off and made his way to you, stroking your arms. “The day I will say no will be my last,” he smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Then I hope you’ll live a long life,” you snuggled closer to him, enjoying the safety of his solid body whereas he appreciated your affection and nice words. It didn’t matter what happened, you always found the exact thing to say that he needed to hear or guessed what would help to make him feel better. It always left him amazed. Neither of you wanted to let go, however when your stomach let out quite a loud growl. “We should get going,” he suggested and this time you didn’t oppose him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

  The walk was nice, the skies were blue without a hint of cloud and only a light breeze was blowing. You talked about everything and nothing, cracking jokes and laughing all the time. You clinged to his arm happily and momentarily forgot about your worries. This was the effect he had on you. Somehow with him by your side you could let go of everything that weighted down your mind and live in the moment. That’s the symbol of peace for you.

  However the peace was not supposed to last for long. Soon you were walking through busier streets than the ones near your home and people were staring. You remembered the words of the morning show’s host. She’s so young. All your insecurities hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt eyes of every single person around on you, burning holes into your soul.

“This can’t be true she’s not enough for him!” “Yeah, All Might deserves the hottest girls only!”

“What a joke, she’s still a child! Learn you place, girl!”

“Poor All Might, how can she be so cheap - using him without shame!”

“In my days it were boys digging gold!”

“Go back to high school he’s got more important job than to baby sit you!”

  You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the ubiquitous whispering. You held onto Toshinori’s arm more tightly, afraid that someone will actually try to tear you away from him. He noticed your distress immediately. You knew from the way his muscles were tenser than usually, his features somehow looked sharper, his teeth gritted to the point of breaking as he tried to maintain his trademark smile. “Please, it’s alright, don’t... don’t make a scene,” you pleaded, voice barely above whisper. You were afraid it would only add oil to the fire and you didn’t exactly wish for more attention. You saw him nod and then his hand was suddenly no longer in your grasp but around your waist, pulling you closer. You smiled, thankful. “Not a word of that is true,” he reminded you with a stroke of his thumb over your side. “I know,” you sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to blot out everyone staring at you from your mind and just focus on the positives. One, you were with Toshinori and he wasn’t fazed at all by the rumors. Two, he was as mad about the whole deal as you, meaning he cared about you just as much as you cared about him. Three, the man you loved with your whole heart was proudly showing you off to the world.

“There's no such thing as bad publicity, huh?”

“I don’t mind people with age difference between them dating, but isn’t she too young?”

“I hope he’ll dump her soon.”

“Be careful All Might, she’s no good!”

“Daddy kink alert!”

  The voices didn’t stop coming though and your boyfriend was getting visibly more and more upset. You bit your lip and laid a hand on his stomach, trying to bring him out of his thoughts. However your plan crashed as someone from the small crowd watching you two yelled, “Get your dirty hands off him, you sugar baby!” That was the last straw and all it took for Toshinori to snap. He stopped dead in his track. “Listen up everyone!” He shouted in his rich voice so loud that not even Present Mic would be ashamed of it. He gently pulled you in front of him and rested his hands on your shoulders. You backed down only to be met with his firm chest. Okay, this could do. He cleared his throat and scowled at everyone present at the moment. You noticed some cameras filming the whole scene from the corner of your eye too.

  “This is [y/n], and we’ve been dating for months now,” his voiced was calm, although he was not. Hearing your name come from his lips in the public, introducing you to his fans, made you blush a deep shade of red. He noticed and chuckled fondly, quiet enough for only you to hear. “I, All Might, am thrilled to share my life with this amazing woman and I would appreciate if you all could be more supportive of our relationship,” his hands gently squeezed your shoulders in attempt to ease your nervousness. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for you to face all these unknown people, but he hoped he provided at least a little support. “[y/n] is the sweetest person I’ve ever met, angels aren’t as kind or gentle as this young lady standing in front of you. You don’t have to worry, I will continue in my fight against evil, but please understand, even a hero needs a home and I found mine in her arms.” You casted your eyes down on the ground as you felt them overflowing with wetness. His tender words filled your soul with warmth and made you wonder for thousandth time just today how did you deserved a man like him. He often joked around but never when it came to serious matters, relationship definitely being one. He was honest, confessing his love for you to the whole world. “Shall we go, honey?” He asked you, voice soft, turning you slowly to face him. You smiled brightly at your new nickname. “Yeah,” you whispered breathily and before you knew it, he carried you bridal style while you soared through the air. You let out a weak squeak, tears flying around as the wind rushed against your face.  Soon you landed on a roof of high building near the city center. “I’m sorry they cornered us in the end,” he apologized, setting you down. “It’s alright,” you gave him a reassuring smile. Your knees were still shaky from your touched state. “Thank you… for what you said back then,” you avoided his intense gaze, roses blooming on your cheeks. You wished your thoughts were more coherent so you could actually respond with a confession of your own, but as luck would have it, you were speechless blushing mess. “[y/n], I meant every word I said and you better be ready to hear more,” he took your hands into his, rubbing little circles over your knuckles. “And now that our relationship is official, you can’t run that easily from me,” he smirked playfully, invading your personal space. “As if I wanted to run, you dummy,” you jumped at him in excitement when the full weight of his words finally hit you. Yet you were still in denial over your luck. He caught you chuckling with his deep voice and leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. His proximity made the color in your cheeks more prominent. You stared into his fierce blue eyes and cherished the sudden tranquillity, a fond smile on your lips. “All Might, I think I’m utterly in love with you,” your teeth showed as your lips spread widely in a grin. His expression mimicked your and he shook his head in silent laughter. “You dork,” he closed the distance between you, kissing you deeply but gently. His lips were delightfully moist and soft against your own. Kissing him always felt so out of this world you briefly wondered if this was what heaven was like. It was everything. Only when your lungs screamed for oxygen did you break the kiss but still lingered close, your lips still touching. “I love you too, [y/n],” he said so sweetly you almost thought that suffocating during kissing wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

[yunhohours]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ♡ 𝙰 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑: 𝚂𝚊𝚗 ♡

Request: thoughts about a relationship with choi san? 😔💗

King of pet names

Baby, prince/princess, angel, love, beautiful, handsome

He will only use your name for serious moments when he wants you to really hear him

Loves to throw a ‘my’ in front of any of the pet names

Partially just to see the way you light up at the thought of being his

But also because he loves reminding you that you’re his, not that you’d ever forget

“You look so lovely today, my prince/princess.”

Looks at you with heart eyes all the time

When you’re speaking, he stares directly into your eyes with so much softness in his

When you’re just sitting there, he gazes at you endearingly

He never once takes for granted how lucky he is to have you

Sends you voice notes because texting can feel too impersonal to him

Especially in the mornings when his eyes are too tired to text

So you sit there, stomach flooding with butterflies as you listen to his sleepy morning voice

He lowkey knows it affects you and that’s a big motivator for him to keep doing it

Though he’d never let you know he knows

Always ready to solve any and every problem for you, no matter how small

You text him about forgetting to bring your snack with you to school/work?

He is doordashing it to you as we speak

Someone was rude to you when you went out?

Don’t worry baby, he just needs their name, address, and a photo

He just wants to talk

Let’s be honest he does just want to talk he wouldn’t hurt a fly but he WOULD talk with passion!!

If you get periods, he is the Prepared Boyfriend

Has an entire basket of things he knows you might need/want during that time of the month

As well as open arms for you to cuddle into each night and a soothing hand on your back while he listens to your pains

Quality time is very important to him okay

He WILL pout if you’re on your phone too much when you’re supposed to be with him

If he had his way, your phones would be turned off and in the nightstand drawer

Like fr, even if you try to take selfies with him he’s like 😒 but he allows it because he loves you

He just loves being in the moment with you and doesn’t feel the need for things like that

Picture memories can’t compare to the feeling of actually being with you anyway

This a theme in your relationship actually

San is very low maintenance (except for emotionally pls give him all the love and attention)

So a lot of things you might like or want to do are things that he doesn’t necessarily care about himself

But he will go along with anything for you

Because you are his favorite everything and what makes you happy makes him happy

He will almost never insist on you two doing anything just because he wants to, always wanting to make you happy instead

So please insist on his behalf because he deserves as much prioritizing as you do

He’ll always apologize first after a fight

Even if his feelings are still hurt and he’s still upset, he doesn’t want to risk another second of your precious time in this life together

He won’t let something that probably won’t even matter in a year’s time cost him valuable time with you

When I say there is nothing more perfect to San in this world than you, I mean it

He views you through rose colored glasses

While still recognizing and accepting that you are human

It’s almost too pure

You could be really bad for him but he would still love you so much

So don’t be bad for him >:(

NSFW STARTS HERE

As with every other part of your relationship, you cum first (badum tss)

No but literally

San could not give less of a fuck about himself in the bedroom

Getting you off gets him off

Loooves for you to be his pillow prince/princess

Doesn’t want you to have to lift a finger

Just lay there and feel good for him, that’s all he wants

His answer to many things is giving you oral istg

Stressed? Tired? Cranky? Sad? Mad? Excited?

This sounds like a job for San’s mouth

Rarely accepts oral unless he’s in a particularly feisty mood

Like wdym you WANT to give him head???

No????

Obviously you would rather receive than give right???

Obviously making you cum is the one and only goal in this life right???

Likes if you wake him up with head tho

That’s the one time he’ll let it slide because he’s too dreamy to think straight

But you bet your ass the second he finishes his head clears and it’s payback time

Anyways San softest dom agenda is so real guys

And when you’re lucky…

A good like 1% of the time…

San will relinquish the softness to give you a surprise taste of something much more aggressive

Just to prove that he can

And keep you on your toes

[fanby-fckry]

Random Facts About UH3 Alastor:

His father was an on-again-off-again feature in his and his mother’s lives until Alastor was 12, and is a big part of why Alastor has BPD traits and gets along better with women than men.

(If you’re new to this AU, or missed my other Cluster B Alastor posts, hi! Author has BPD and accidentally projected onto Alastor. Now I write him as intentionally having multiple Cluster B traits that I do, as well as the ones implied by canon.)

His parents weren’t married – to each other; Alastor has a stepmother he’s never met and doesn’t want to meet.

He claims that drinking was more fun during Prohibition because it was illegal.

He has rose-colored glasses regarding the previous fact; Prohibition-era Alastor absolutely complained about how much harder it was to get alcohol after the ban went through.

He doesn’t view nudity as inherently sexual.

He’s still more comfortable with others’ nudity than his own because he equates it to vulnerability.

He’s panaesthetic and bisensual. He doesn’t know those terms even exist, but picking microlabels helps my writing stay more consistent.

His aesthetic attraction isn’t based at all on gender, but he tends to feel more comfortable with physical affection from women than from men, which skews the sensual attraction a bit.

He can be sensually attracted to men and is sensually attracted to Lucifer, but 1.) it’s rarer and/or takes longer for Alastor to develop sensual attraction to a man, and 2.) Lucifer isn’t a man in the human gender binary sense of the word.

Lucifer is the only nonbinary person Alastor has ever felt any kind of attraction to, but that has more to do with lack of exposure to nonbinary people than anything regarding Alastor’s tertiary orientations.

Alastor may or may not have some gender fuckery of his own going on, but I doubt I’ll ever be exploring that in the main series.

I would describe Alastor’s gender as “man by default.” He doesn’t think about it very often. He’s not exactly an egg; it’s not that he’s in denial or unaware that being something besides a man is an option, it’s that he doesn’t care enough to pick a different label. He’s not dysphoric about being a man, but he’s not supper attached to the idea, either.

I think if he was born into Gen Z, he might identify as agender or cassgender, but as it stands, he inhabits the liminal space between, “I don’t feel strongly about my gender, which means I’m cis,” and “I don’t feel strongly about my gender, which means I’m not cis.” (Both valid experiences, btw.)

He’s 100% the type of person to tell a traumatic story from his childhood as if it’s a funny one and not understand why everyone’s looking at him like that.

He legitimately thinks that these stories are funny, because he’s twisted them around in his mind as an attempt to cope, but they retain enough of the original detail that on the rare occasion he decides to joke about them out loud, people go, “that’s kinda fucked up, actually.”

He has low empathy, but not no empathy. Every now and again, he does actually get some empathy, and every time he does it feels like a slap in the face – surprising and very unpleasant. If he could turn it off entirely, he probably would.

Remorse is a similar ordeal, rare but not unheard of, and he actively denies feeling it.

I started to write more about Alastor’s relationship with the concept of remorse, and remorse vs regret, but honestly, it needs its own post.

I projected a lot of my ace experience onto him, including the idea that kissing is boring 9 times out of 10. Not necessarily unpleasant, just… Boring. If there’s blood or biting or some form of D/s element, then it can be exciting, but otherwise we don’t get it.

[venus-haze]

It's a Nice Day To Start Again (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: Bo brings you back to Ambrose, your hometown that you never thought you’d step foot in again, but when you’re one of the most wanted women in Louisana, there’s no place like home.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Reader is a lapsed Catholic for plot reasons. This could be considered a follow-up to Creep, but you don’t need to read that to understand what’s going on in this. Writing this was a bit of a challenge, since most House of Wax fics don’t involve a reader who isn’t Bo’s captive, but I want to explore the concept more after writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Descriptions of murder, violence, and kidnapping. Really warped morality on the reader’s part. Sexually explicit content involving oral (m. receiving) and some elements of public sex (the congregation is dead so…) in a church. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The stagnant swamp water that had settled deep in your lungs from the day you were born seemed to ripple with each breath you took as you became acquainted with your forgotten hometown again. You never felt particularly homesick for Ambrose after your family had moved, not until you’d run into Bo again, he a seemingly salt-of-the-earth mechanic and you a sad and lonely housewife brought back to Louisiana by a tar-like mixture of pure chance and her now deceased philandering husband. Looking at the past through rose-colored glasses couldn’t conceal the rot no matter how hard you tried. You became part of the rot, too.

There was no option but to accept the Sinclair brothers’ perverted preservation of your shared hometown, a wax-encased time capsule. Some of the residents you recognized, people you knew who stayed in Ambrose because they didn’t have anywhere else to go–the shop owner whose livelihood had been wrapped up in the dying mill town, a childless elderly couple who gave out pennies instead of candy on Halloween, a woman who’d gone through a messy divorce and became a recluse. As you looked in the latter's waxen eyes, you began to see yourself.

You almost wanted to move back into your childhood home, filled with dust and mold that reclaimed the floorboards you’d played with your dolls on, the walls that had your height scratched into them as you grew each year. Bo wouldn’t let you. He moved you and your frantically gathered belongings into his bedroom, keeping you on a short leash for a time, as if he thought you’d turn on him, on Ambrose. You’d never do that, not when Ambrose was your only sanctuary from the outside world, teeming with rabid dogs biting at your heels. Seeing your photo in a newspaper accompanied by the words ‘WANTED’ and ‘ARMED AND DANGEROUS’ made you sure of that.

Puttering around the Sinclair home and playing housewife to Bo felt comfortable, having done nothing else since you’d married your ex-husband. As volatile and sadistic as Bo could be–and he more often than not was–you considered him an improvement from your ex. At least he was actually around to eat your cooking and have sex regularly. No more dinners on TV trays and falling asleep alone on the couch to wake up alone again with a crick in your neck. Loving Bo was a different kind of hurt from the way you loved your ex-husband, but you’d never been one to take long to adjust. 

Even besides the fact that you owed him, the familiar intoxication of being in his presence was enough for you to acquiesce to every perverted and downright disturbing request he made of you. After all, he had been the guy you’d stare at in class only to look away when he caught your gaze, a juvenile delinquent with none of the nobility of James Dean. Back then you would have never admitted aloud that you preferred him that way, not to your parents who warned you to keep away from him, your friends who’d whisper about him in the halls, nor the priest who somehow managed to make every homily a thinly-veiled jab at him on the off occasions he attended mass. They were all gone now. Only Bo was left. No need to pretend. 

Any therapist within a hundred miles would be itching to sit you down in a chair and figure out what made you the way you were. There was nothing to figure out, though, nothing that you could say or do that could explain things any better than stepping foot your hometown could reveal. It didn’t take long for the taste of Ambrose on Bo’s lips in that motel room to send you into a spiral, regressing to a dark mirror of the way of life your family had abandoned.

You didn’t see much of Vincent, which kind of disappointed you. You thought you and him were friendly enough in high school, but you supposed there weren’t very many people you went to school with that you’d be eager to see again either, especially if they suddenly moved into your house. At the very least, he kept the history project, as you went poking around his room one day out of curiosity and saw the wax diorama of JFK's assassination on a shelf, covered in dust but nevertheless intact. 

As winter crept its way across the landscape, colder than you remembered, you found yourself drawn to your childhood home. Digging through your old bedroom felt like tunneling your way through a decomposed heart, setting up camp in its decayed cavity. You were desecrating a corpse. It’d catch up with you sooner or later. 

Despite not being in any sort of rush when your family moved out, you were bewildered by how much you’d left behind. Dust-covered dolls lined one of the shelves, and there were a few moth-eaten dresses and shirts in the closet. Lester helped you clean out your old room one day, claiming upon your reintroduction that he did remember you, even if just vaguely. 

“Mama liked you–least, more than she liked most people. I remember her sayin’ what a shame it was your family was leavin’ town,” Lester said.

“Huh, I feel like I never made a big impression on her,” you said.

He shrugged, shoving a tattered sweatshirt with your high school mascot on it into a garbage bag. “She had a funny way ‘bout her sometimes, y’know.”

You nodded. You knew that much. You knew what kind of woman Trudy Sinclair was just like you knew Ambrose’s gravel roads that lead to the paved main street by muscle memory. In the years you were gone, though, you knew less about the town and its residents than when you had left. 

In particular, the woman in the gas station vexed you. There was no way for you to help her, not without sacrificing your own refuge. She suffered because you refused to turn yourself in, put yourself and Bo at risk, not after everything he did for you. Considering yourself, Bo, and Vincent, the faded sign on the outskirts of town may as well have read– 

Ambrose Population: 3 (sometimes) ‘The most fucked up town in Louisiana.’

Later that afternoon, you walked down to the church, the place you spent every Sunday morning from infancy until you started middle school, and your family attended less frequently except for Christmas, Easter, or a funeral. The cold familiarity offered you some kind of emotional sanctuary, and you’d find yourself in the one pew not occupied by a wax congregant, hands clasped together until your joints ached on the padded kneeler. 

It was a crapshoot whether or not Bo would be in there, though you knew he came in often enough to pay his respects to his mother. For how much she didn’t seem to care for Bo while she was alive, Trudy may as well have been canonized in his eyes. 

You avoided the open casket, though out of morbid curiosity from Lester’s comments about Trudy, you walked the extra few feet to the front of the church. Making a sign of the cross, you knelt down before the matriarch on display. 

She looked similar to how you remembered her, only older. Vincent seemed to have preserved the whisper of a snarl that was always on her face. Her facade of doting mother may have fooled the rest of Ambrose, but it never fooled you–lemon drop cookies that were always a little too sour, compliments through pearly-white gritted teeth, and a holier-than-thou attitude despite raising demonic offspring. You didn’t want a woman like her to have ever liked you. 

“Vincent did a good job for her bein’ his first one.”

Your shoulders jerked a bit. You hadn’t heard Bo come in. Regardless, he didn’t need to elaborate, and you didn’t want to know the catalyst behind their deciding to go a far more brutal and morbid route in carrying out their mother’s vision. The few times you’d been at the Sinclair house, you sat politely through Trudy’s ramblings about how if she had the kind of money Walt Disney did to make Main Street USA, she’d do the same out of wax. 

Bo knelt beside you, making a sign of the cross as he did so. Though he clasped his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, you wondered if he actually prayed. You and the twins had been in the same small catechism class, making your first confessions and first communions the same year. The former never had nearly as much fanfare as the latter. 

The small church had been as packed as it could be on a warm May morning, making the place feel like a furnace. White dresses with matching white patent Mary Janes contrasted the black and navy suits the boys on the opposite side of the church seemed to swim in. Then, in a ceremonial fashion that you all had rehearsed several times in the days leading up to your first communion, the small group of boys and girls went up to the parish’s two priests in pairs to make the sacrament. 

You always wondered why the first instance of you receiving the Eucharist felt like a wedding ceremony. The deja vu you experienced when you married your ex-husband was uncanny. For your first communion, you and Bo had been paired up, walking next to each other in sync to receive Catholicism’s most significant sacrament. Bo had made a face when he put the communion wafer in his mouth. The actual body of Christ tasted like cardboard. What a let down. 

The sacrament of confession, that’s what left the impression on you. Somehow seven was the age of reason, of accountability, when you could be expected to know right from wrong, when your sins were actually held against you. What sins, though? Was lying a sin if it was the option that caused the least pain? Should you feel bad for disobeying your parents even if they were ones who were wrong? You had walked into the church that day feeling like you had nothing to confess. Even still, after lying, cheating, murdering, and being complacent in so much more, you felt it was all justified. 

“Do you remember your first confession?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, told the priest I disobeyed my parents. Think he gave me ten Hail Marys or somethin’.”

“I made somethin’ up,” you said. “I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong, so I just lied.”

He snorted. “That’s screwed up.”

“That’s where you draw a line?”

“You got some fuckin’ mouth on you. Mama always thought you were on the straight and narrow, even pestered Vincent to ask you out after y’all worked on that project in high school,” he growled. “She’d be real disappointed if she knew how much of a whore for my cock you are. Killed your damn husband over it, didn’t ya?”

You grabbed Bo’s belt with a force that made him grab the side of his mother’s casket. He cursed under his breath as you shifted to the low steps in that lead up to the funeral display, nimbly unbuckling his belt and tugging at his jeans. He stood up, your face level with his crotch as you unzipped him, pulling his pants down to his knees.

Looking up at him, you were met with a cruel, icy gaze. He reached down, his long fingers digging into the base of your skull as he pressed your face against his clothed crotch.

“You’re gonna have to earn it, slut,” he snarled.

You squeezed your thighs together before pressing a kiss to the fabric that separated your lips from his cock. Fondling his balls with one hand, you trailed wet, open-mouth kisses along his hardening length, unsure whether one prominent wet spot in the cotton was from your saliva or his leaking precum. 

You hadn’t been religious in a long time, let alone stepped foot in a church since your wedding day, but it made sense you would be worshiping a man like Bo Sinclair’s cock in the empty parish. There was no god in Ambrose, only he and Vincent meticulously seeing to every detail in the ghost town. 

The bulge in his underwear became hard to ignore, and he pushed your head away to pull them down, freeing his hard cock and wasting no time in shoving it in your mouth. You gagged as the head of his cock pounded against the back of your throat. You had no time to adjust, your eyes welling up with tears as you tried to breathe. Bo was never gentle, and being in a church, even in front of his own dead mother, was no exception. 

Grabbing his thighs, you attempted to steady yourself, your knees aching on the carpeted church steps. There was no organ playing, no choir, no homily, just the obscene sound of him abusing your mouth, your chokes and whines muffled by his cock. 

Unexpectedly, he pulled his cock from your mouth, allowing you a moment to breathe a little as he stroked himself. 

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

You presented your tongue to him without hesitation. He sneered at you, spitting in your open mouth before placing his hard cock on your tongue. His length was throbbing, wet from your warm mouth that had no other choice but to take it. You could taste the salty precum that mixed with your saliva pooling on your tongue until it dribbled down your cheeks as you drooled, unable to close your mouth and swallow. You could feel it land on your dress, the damp fabric sticking to your sweat-covered skin.

In the split second you were distracted by your dress, he pushed his cock into your mouth. You choked as he fucked your throat mercilessly, as if to punish you for something. You supposed that was the point, a public penance befitting an adultering murderess. 

“Fuckin’ whore,” he spat. “Church full ‘a people and you’re takin’ a mouthful of cock. Can’t believe mama thought you were some good little church girl.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to pretend the congregation was real, heartbeats and whispers ringing in your ears. Maybe they’d think you deserved the humiliation, to be put in your place and atone for the sins you’d committed. The thought made you moan, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs. You were soaked, able to feel the slick that coated your bare thighs.

Despite his harsh pace, you tried running your tongue along the veins that ran up the length of his cock. His thrusts started to become more erratic, his teeth gritted as his hand squeezed harder against your head. 

“Swallow it all, slut,” he grunted, his cum pumping into your mouth. 

Fuck, if you didn’t try swallowing, but you could feel his seed dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chest and further soiling your dress. He finally released you, and you gasped for air, leaning your head against his thigh. 

“Consider that your penance. Cock-hungry little freak,” he snarled, his insult laced with a perverse adoration. “‘S all you’re good for anyway.”

He shook you off of his leg, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt before leaving you to catch your breath alone at the front of the church. As soon as the doors shut behind him, you finally slipped your hand between your legs, playing with your clit as you tilted your head back, looking at the mural of Christ's ascension when you came. 

After a few minutes, you stood up, gasping in pain as your knees lifted from the hard floor. You stumbled over to the bronze font by the doors, dipping your hand into the holy water. You splashed your face with it, a stale and earthy smell on your skin–it was probably old tap water anyway, nothing about it had been blessed or sacred for a long time. Even if it was, who was there to care? 

Neither you nor Bo acknowledged what had happened in the church when he arrived back at the house later that night. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his work shirt discarded as soon as he walked through the door. You noticed dried blood on his hands, but didn’t comment, only gave him a kiss and heated up the plate you’d made him for dinner. 

“I could use your help down at the shop tomorrow,” he said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

You’d been planning to go back to your old home and dig through the forgotten relics, but nevertheless, you nodded in agreement, waking up bright and early with him the next morning to head down to the gas station. He only asked you to help with the charade when he knew there’d be people coming around. At first, you found it disturbing when he told you that he and Vincent would sometimes go out at night and purposely mess with people’s cars so they had no other choice but to get help in Ambrose. Then you figured, you weren’t in much of a position to judge.

When he let you out from the truck, you walked into the store part of the station. Something drew your gaze to the metal door that Bo always kept locked, the one you’d occasionally hear muffled screaming or crying from. You never asked him about it, but just this once, you took a few steps closer, until you could reach out and touch it if you wanted to. All you could hear from the other side was silence.

Bo walked up behind you, his footfall not rushed or angry, but a steady, confident pace. He threw his arm around your shoulders, guiding you into the garage. 

“She’s gone, if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

“Who was she?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. Does it matter?”

“Guess not,” you said.

You didn’t inquire further. You didn’t like that she had been there, for ethical reasons, sure, but mostly selfish ones. You were done sharing your men. There wouldn’t be others down there. You’d make sure of that much. 

The next few hours dragged on, and you wondered why Bo even asked you to help out in the first place. Maybe without the other woman there, he wanted company. You sat on a stool in the garage, watching as he worked on some old muscle car and being entirely unhelpful whenever he tried asking you to hand him a tool. It wasn’t your fault your high school didn’t allow girls in shop class.

The sound of Lester’s old truck grew louder, and you hopped down from your seat, rushing into the shop to take your place behind the counter. You watched as the man got out of Lester’s truck and walked over to Bo. Lester gave you a smile and waved from outside which you returned before he drove off. 

Since he hadn’t shown up in his own car, you assumed the man had left it somewhere, and it’d probably be towed back to Ambrose by nightfall. Sometimes you’d see Vincent head out with the tow truck alone, returning with a victim’s car or fresh bodies. You knew Bo would get anxious if Vincent left town by himself–though he hated when you called him anxious, saying ‘Only women are anxious’–so you’d act like you didn’t see a thing. 

Bo gave the man a friendly clap on the shoulder, a fake yet charming smile on his face as he pointed to you inside the shop. The man walked in through the front door, but he froze in his tracks upon seeing you. Did he recognize you? He took a tentative step forward, avoiding eye contact with you. Fuck.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” you asked cheerfully, your hand wrapping around a wrench Bo had left beneath the counter.

“Uh, do you–can I use your phone?” he asked.

You gave him the fakest smile you could muster. “Go right ahead.”

He skittishly walked past you, goosebumps visible on his skin as he picked up the phone. You could see his fumbling fingers pressing the button on the dial pad. 9-1–the wrench in your hand made contact with the back of his skull just as he was about to press that final 1. 

The man collapsed to the ground, groaning as he held his head. It was too late. Blood began pooling where he lay. You grabbed the phone, listening for a moment to the dial tone before hanging up. He began dragging himself across the floor, as if you wouldn’t be able to catch up with him in a few steps.

Both of you looked up when Bo walked in from the garage. The man groaned out what you could barely understand as a plea for help. You nearly scoffed. It was no use anyway, the nearest hospital wasn’t for miles. He’d hemorrhage before could hypothetically even drive him there.

Bo frowned, grabbing the wrench from your hand. “One ‘a these days you’re gonna have to learn how to finish what you started.”