#i may not be entirely serious but it is a chance to note that 10 of sott's 13 eps were directed by women and they knew who they wanted in

[cherry-leclerc]

lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 

Where Paradise met Hell.

-

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

-

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie? 

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

-

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 

-

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

-

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 

“Forget it. How would I know?”

-

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So��What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

-

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 

Fuck her, honestly. 

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 

He’s fucked. 

-

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 

-

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 

“Take care, Carlos.”

-

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

-

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

-

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

-

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

-

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?” 

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

-

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

-

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be. 

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 

“Coming.”

-

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 

None of it mattered anymore.

[skullvgirl]

a strange dream | barou

incl. barou 🎀 ( he would kill me )

warnings. completely sfw, fluff, school!au, fem reader, very much ooc, slow burn

an's. i missed him so much i had to revisit

BAROU probably hasnt got any interest in you before your relationship, not in a bad way but lets be honest—he's a soccer addict, he definitely wouldn't notice you until well, he did.

you're both sitting in math class (which did i mention had one hell of alot of students) and someone from the other side of the room asks to pass a note to you, rumor has it they've got a crush.

eventually the note ends up in the large hands of Barou Shouei and he's of course expected to pass it along to you but doesn't see anyone ahead of him expecting to receive it from him. he's confused—who the hell was yn ?

its his bad—he really wasnt to familiar with anything not soccer related.

he looked around, then finally decided to give the piece of paper back to the person he got it from—whoever that was.

you look at barou confused, so the paper was for you? you had originally gave it too him because you weren't sure if the people mumbling in the back of the classroom were really talking about you or not.

you opened your mouth to whisper-yell at him, but he wasn't paying attention to you anymore, his eyes trained on the teacher once again.

you uncrumpled the paper, trying to be as quiet as possible in the dead silence, but with no luck.

"yn?!"

shit

"yes miss?", you hid the paper under the desk, trying not to make eye contact with the 28 other students that had eyes on you.

"care to share with the class whats so important that you need to be passing notes in my class?"

fuck

reason #1 why you really hated this class, your math teacher was a fucking bitch.

'mean girl giggles' echoed throughout the room, barous eyes paying special attention to what you were about to do.

you dreaded the feeling of being forced to stand up in front of the entire class and read aloud whatever was written on the small note.

"get to it missy"

oh fuck off

you looked around the classroom trying to assess anyone who may have been distressed or embarrassed but with no luck, everyone seemed to be waiting on you.

weird...

"im serious yn. if you dont start reading in the next 10 seconds im going to—"

"no, no thats okay—i-im reading"

for whoever wrote me this, i am so sorry.

you cleared you throat in preparation for the humiliation you were about to face, curses be upon you miss peterson.

"hi, i think your really cute, we should go out sometime together, from..."

your heart stopped.

oh no this cant be right

"thats it."

"thats it?" the teacher probed, slowly making her way towards you.

"that it. i-it just says from your secret admirer after that nothing else".

your math teacher narrowed her eyes, looking closely at your expression—she didn't buy it.

dont breakeyecontactdont break eye contactdont breakeyecontactdontbreakeyecontactdontbreakeyecontact—

"really..."

"really!" you broke eye contact.

she pointed her nose upwards, probably as high as possible and began walking towards your desk.

"alright then i wanna see it, i need to have it confiscated"

"what?!, why?" oops you said that kinda loud. the class whom had previously lost interest when you finished reading turned back towards you and miss peterson now intrigued.

"well why not?! it was a distraction in class and now it needs to be taken away to make sure it wont be a distraction again...!"

but that doesn't make sense, if you care so much about us passing notes you should take our notebooks not the gosh dang note !

"but that doesn't make sense—" but you didn't get a chance to finish as the teacher viciously snatched the paper from you and spun around back towards her desk.

you sat down and burried your hands in your face, you couldn't watch this.

"oh this looks fun...says it's from barou shouei, not what i was expecting...not what i was expecting at all..."

fucking kill yourself, PLEASE

the class, which had previously been dormant erupted in a series of raging giggles and screams—shocked at the reveal of who the note was from.

a soccer player.

it was no secret in BLLK High that nobody—under any circumstance—was to mess with a soccer player. they had a bit of a reputation going on. even the nice ones.

" 'cuse me?" a commanding and masculine voice emerged from your left side and you turned as quickly as possible to the over 6 foot ( 182 cm ) tall man trying to explain yourself.

fuck, one day you were seriously gonna kill your math teacher.

"no, no no i promise it's not like that—i seriously don't know who made this i promise it wasn't from me and i know it wasn't from you—"

"you're yn ?" he cut you off smoothly, leaning back in his seat ever so slightly.

"huh?"

his knees were facing yours now. "you're yn right? been wondering who that was for the longest, guess i know now, cool."

"huh?"

okay now you were confused—about multiple things actually. #1, barou shouei, the man you'd been sitting next to for almost a full year now had yet to learn your name untill just now which is—gosh, just outrageous even for a soccer player

and #2 he wasn't toltally angry and going to kill you like everyone said he would have, should you make a fool of him?

no seriously someone explain what was happening.

you didnt get a chance to ponder on your thoughts much longer however, the bell rang loudly in your ear and soon everyone including yourself was making way for the door out the classroom.

what the fuck just happened, what the actual fuck just happened.

"heyy ! yn over here !" you didnt realize it but you apparently had auto-piloted your way all the way through lunch and was now being called over by people you've never talked to a day in your life—and you knew exactly what it would be about.

could this get any worse

you were about to find out. "yes...?" you asked, tray still in hand while you stood awakwardly by the trash can near the lunch table who called you over.

"soo—wait first sit down, we're friends we're friends, sit down first" one of the girls said, patting a seat next to herself eagerly.

you looked at the eyes on you and quickly made a decision to move.

there definitely here to ask me about him. it can't be that bad right? i think her name is ashley? i don't know maybe this'll be fun, maybe they'll be nice.

"so have you guys had sex?"

"what?! no—"

"have you guys even ever kissed yet?"

"no—"

"we used to talk you know", this one was from ashley, a pretty blonde haired girl who's blue eyes sparkled like marbles.

"really?"

she was attractive that for sure but and you could definitely see why some people would wanna date her but barou? not so much.

"really"

like in what world would some super macho super mysterious soccer guy get the hots for some popular pretty blonde girl? not to mention an obnoxious pretty blonde girl.

gosh i sound like a pick me right now, who knows maybe they really did talk

"didn't even know her name" barou said, cracking his neck from side to side.

"seriously man?" asked isagi, popping a fry in his mouth.

"dead serious"

this was the soccer table, a table where only the best of best players would sit for lunch, not that it was official or anything—but new students were warned not to go near The Table anyway.

"so you did ask yn to prom?"

"no bachira, i didn't ask her how many times to i have to say that, i barely know her anyways"

"untill today" kunigami confirmed.

"until today" barou repeated.

"would you though?" chigiri asked, he glanced over at your table—you were pretty that much was obvious but it was barou we're talking about, who knows what he thought of you.

"nah, couldn't."

"why not? shes not ugly" nagi questioned albeit a bit insensitively.

"shes not but..." he trailed off, stringing his eyes from nagi to you, she looks kinda...

"but what"

"i don't want her thinking we're dating after prom or somethin', gotta focus on the game."

"what if i did then, think she'd say yes?" it was reo speaking now who was now also looking at your table.

"nah, your uncanny resemblance to a donkey might turn her off"

The Table laughed as reo scowled at the other players, he didnt find it very funny.

"shut the fuck up shouei, i didn't hear her accepting your undying love now did i?"

"thats because i never really asked her dipshit"

"your point! still better than knowing your rejected as a default"

"is it though?" barou was almost smiling at the purple headed boy.

"oh really? watch me"

the table made boyish "ooo"-ing sounds and reo stood up confidently.

shouts erupted from the table, causing the whole cafeteria to turn towards the players, they payed them no mind however, only staring intently at where reo was walking.

"look, look, look! one if them is coming over here right now!"

"really?!"

you whipped your head around towards where the whole cafeteria's attention had been directed.

nononon, this cannot be happening. you seriously did not need another soccer players thinking you were some freak weirdo because someone else wanted to be messy!

"thats reo, he's super fucking rich, i heard he has a whole two backyards !"

"and an a theater room!"

great, and it was a rich snob kid too.

"does yn sit here?"

your table said nothing, even the loud ashley kept quiet while he was talking. everyones heads turned to you, waiting expectantly for you to say something.

"yeah thats me..." you said meekley.

reo smiled and curled his finger towards himself a few times, asking you to come to him.

this is so awakward

you stood up silently and walked over to where reo was. he didn't stop directing him towards you until you were standing right up against him, close enough to where he could grab your jaw and yank your ear towards his mouth.

"you're hot, go out with me"

your eyes bludged, and your heart accelerated way more than it should have. that was NOT what you were expecting.

reo let go of your face, his hands were in his pockets as he waited for your answer, he looked confident tou would say yes. and most people would, but this was a soccer player we were talking about—and this one specifically was known for being super rich, super smart and a super hoe. three things you couldn't be bothered to even try giving a chance with.

you glanced behind him trying to peer at the damage that had been done.

holy shit the whole fuking cafeteria is looking

"so?"

you were snapped back into reality as reo looked at you, still waiting for an answer. it was pretty obvious what you were going to say.

"no. im sorry but no, i hardly know you and you're really not my type, sorry."

your table made all types of noises as they watched the now humiliated boy bite a scowl and walk back too his table.

you quickly sat back down and watched as The Table made fun of reo's rejection. all the players were laughing but you were only looking at one.

"said i wasn't her type". The Table erupted in laughter, all the players except reo cackling like animals.

"fucking told you so, at least get to know the girl before you start trying to hit on her" isagi joked, slapping reo on the back repeatedly.

"no for real, dont know what made you think she would fall for you in a day, not all girls are so easy you know" kunigami shook his head.

"what did you say too her anyways?" nagi asked now curious as to what got him such a harsh rejection anyways.

"didn't say nothing, js asked her if she wanted to go out, said no, that's it." reo reiterated bitterly.

"knowing him it was probably something like 'youre hot, lets go out'" barou said offhandedly, distracted by the feeling of eyes on him.

"you could hear?" reo asked, now confused.

The Table went silent for a moment and isagi burst out laughing when he realized what reo had just said.

"so you did really say that?!"

the emmbarassment for reo only cotinued further but barou wasn't paying attention to that. the eyes from before were still on him.

it was you.

cute...

BAROU isnt really much of a romantic either, he hasn't got the headspace for it like he does for soccer, so of course—he's not seeking the love. the love is seeking him.

1 week later

you sat quietly in the school library studying like a madman for finals, it was just near the end of the school year and you were determined to get good marks on all of the subjects.

the library was the most perfect and quiet place to relax and work at the same time—without any distractions or problems to bother you from your job.

"excuse me?"

you glanced up to where the voice was coming from and your heart felt like it was going to explode.

it was none other than barou shouei in the flesh.

a whole week, a whole week you had managed to somewhat avoid his presence and pretty much ignore him during math ( your teacher denied you request to switch spots ) it was going fine untill—well, now.

"can i borrow your computer charger? mine just died and a left mine at home"

that was it?

you didn't really know what to expect from the man though. he was known to be pretty brutal on tbe field maybe you were assuming he'd be the same in real life.

although i guess i shouldn't think that considering how chill he was over the fake confession and all of that...

"oh yeah sure, I uh can let your borrow it no problem"

"thanks"

barou took your charger without another word and walked back over too his seat.

the racing in your heart was begining to subside, that wasn't so bad...

you shifted to get comfortable in your seat and began studying once again, right now where was i...

"excuse me?"

and just as you were getting comfortable. barou shoei again.

"yes?"

"sorry im back so soon but, could i sit here for a little bit. the outlet by my table isnt working for some reason" he said it in a polite tone but seemed eager for an answer, he was probably in a rush to get as much study time in before practice like most athletes were.

he really isnt as scary as i thought he'd be...

"yeah of course that's fine, it's better this way anyway, wont forget you had it in the first place ya know" you smiled moving your belongings over to make room for his.

"thanks"

barou set his things down and soon enough a static silence ensued over the both of you, not that you minded though. you still needed to get work done and it was better he wasn't attempting to make conversation with you. it is a bit awkward though...

"you color coded your pens"

the voice that emmited from the other side of the table almost made you forget who was there.

"i did, why?"

"nice, i did too"

barou didnt wait for an answer, but instead pulled out a all black pencil pouch to reveal all seven colors of the rainbow line up in order.

jeez, i just think it looks cool, his has all the pen hooks facing up too, ocd much?

that wasn't the main point though, what was more important was his sticker—on thst rested sturdy on his bag. "you watch graves anatomy too?"

he looked surprised when you mentioned the show, and nodded his head appropriately. "yeah, and im all caught up too, all 22 seasons and counting."

"holy hell, im only on season 12 how to even time for that—aren't you always having games and stuff, scince your on varsity and all..."

barou quirked an eyebrow, "mm you know your stuff—i make it work"

now it was your turn to make a face "you make it work...really, its that easy?"

no. the absurbant amount of school work i have is fucking killing me right now plus i've got sisters too take care of so no, it's definitely not easy

thats not what he said though.

"yup, real easy." he nodded his head and although you didn't buy it, it was hardly your place to nag. he didn't seem like someone you should nag.

"uh huh.." you shook your head up and down slow and repeatedly, "for sure, for sure"

"what you don't believe me?" barou moved his chair closer to yours, so close in fact you think your knees were touching, his arms bulged as he rested his hands on his head ; it was hot nice seeing him in a position that wasn't so straight .

"no i do, you seem really responsible im sure you're great at 'making it work' " you put a thumbs up.

gosh, could you be anymore awakward...

"oh im responsible ? you would know that im responsible?" barou questioned, leaning even closer on his arms towards you.

is he...flirting with me?

you laughed and covered your mouth with your hand leaning slightly away as he got closer.

"i mean yeah" you paused to swipe away the nonexistent dust from your eyes, you just couldn't hold the eye contact.

come on, dont get shy now yn.

"people talk, i guess."

"do they?"

"they do" you nodded your head firmly up and down, since it was the only thing you were sure you could do at the moment.

"mh"

mmh?!? the fuck does that mean ??

"so yn i wanna ask you a question" barou leaned back as he said this, finally returning to his normal position.

holy shit my heart was beating so fast, somebody get me on a stretcher and to the hospital NEOW, i am about to blow!

"yeah?"

barou stayed silent for a few moments, thinking deeply about what he was going to say.

"hypothetically..." he paused, staring directly at you.

"hypothetically..." you confirmed.

"hypothetically if someone, other than reo from the soccer team—just as an example lets say...yoichi ! remember hypothetically speaking—asked you out on a date what would your answer be?"

huh?

"what kind of question is that?"

"a hypothetical one" he said matter of factly.

"a hypothetical one, right, well if—hypothetically of course—i was asked out by isagi, om a date that is...i don't know...yeah? I guess i'd day yes?"

"really, you would?" he looked surprised and you suddenly felt alarmed, was that a bad thing or something??

"yeah? i mean no, not really—maybe not if he asked the way your friend did..."

"mhm"

??? again, what does that mean?

A moment of silence passed between the two of you and you tried and failed at going back to the work you were supposed to be doing in the first place.

"what about chigiri?" he said suddenly.

"chigiri? what do you me—"

"chigiri. pretty, has red hair, plays on varsity and is super fast? chigiri. would you say yes too him?"

"i mean, maybe, yeah he's definitely not ugly and i guess if i knew him well enough I would probably say yes—why are you asking me this?"

barou said nothing and suddenly, the strangest thing began to happen—he looked at you smiling—a large, uncanny smile resembling a creepypasta monster formed from on his face, your heart began to beat but for the wrong reasons.

"wake up yn" it was definitely barou's voice but it sounded far.

"huh?" you couldn't move, and you now realize you probably couldn't move for a while.

what...is happening...

"wake. up."

your head shot up from your arms, ans you looked around disorientedly.

oh...

up untill about the last 30 seconds you were a bit disappointed it had to end. your dream that is.

"yn", a voice—much deeper than you recall im your fantasies spoke out to you as you felt a tap on your shoulder.

it was barou. the real barou.

"i baroued your charged?" he said holding it out towards you. (an's. IM HALARIOUS LAMOSJKWIS)

"oh. right sorry, thanks." you took the cord from him. but he didn't leave, still looming over you in his tall stature he spoke again.

"uh, you got a little.." he pointed to the corner of his lip, scratching at it in expectation for you to do the same.

you did, softly at first, not really sure what is it he was implying but quickly realized what he meant after you felt a crusty dry substance still left from your unconscious.

oh..

oh !

"ive got drool on my face haven't i" he nodded his head, and you swore you saw grin appear on his face—a real one but he turned and walked away before you could make confirm.

"thanks for the charger yn, see ya later"

his back was facing you now, slowly getting smaller and smaller at he walked away from you.

seriously ! could i be anyless embarrassing for even a second!

im afraid not yn.

because according to barou, he thinks your little moments of embarrassment and humiliation were pretty damn cute.

BAROU is never scared. he hardly ever get worried, he's king and one of the best players in his school, he's top of his class always and struggles—never. so why? why was it now, over some so trivial that he was all thoes things he never gets all at once?

1 week later, in the classroom.

barou felt weird.

the truth is, he didnt need a partner for the social studies project. his teacher was allowing groups of two or singles all the same. his reasoning behind why he wanted a partner is what was scaring him.

after almost an entire year, barou realized that you not only were in his math class, but his social studies as well. and his history, and biology—even his orchestra ( he plays cello in case you were wondering ).

he realized that you were everywhere.

barou, for the first time was recognizing someome else, not on the team, not an adult, but a girl, he was acknowledging a girl, as more than nothing.

it was weird.

"yn."

you peered up at him, wide-eyed and adorable. "work with me on the project"

your eyes, (e/c) and beautiful, got impossibly larger.

"yeah—uh—sure we can"

he gave a thumbs up, and went back to his seat.

what am i doing?

"i dont know, maybe we can exchange numbers instead?"

"yeah thats better, since im hardly on social media anyways"

even though you've got so many followers..

"alright cool"

you and barou were in the library, again. instead of dreaming about his muscles however, you were watching them in real time move for your phone and yours the same.

there wasnt mych said after that, only short words to communicate what part of the project you both were supposed to work on, untill...

"yn?"

"yes" and once again, you were looking at him, wife eyed and adorable.

"i've got a question to ask you"

no way, did i fall asleep again?

you sucked in a breath, and pinched your cheeks, not paying any attention to the words that might come out of his mouth.

"ow!" nope, you were definitely awake.

barou raised an eyebrow and couldn't hold himself in. he burst out laughing and you we're glad the library waw empty, because in all his seriousness—barou's laugh was loud. like the sort of thing you'd been holding in for a while.

"what yn, afraid you're gonna fall asleep again?"

your cheeks heated up an intense amount.

"no..."

"you're funny you know, really funny"

"huh?!" you squeaked, shifting all over in your chair. "what does that mean"

barou leaned in close to your face, so close that your noses were touching.

"it means..." he tilted hid head sidewards, waiting for your permission.

"i think you're the stupidest most adorable person to exist..." you didn't move away.

and like a shock, barous lips were on yours so softly it made it feel very much like a dream, but it wasn't.

an's. i know this is not himmm, he wouldn't even look at you after a supposed fake letter i knooow, i couldn't think of a better way to force it ( i was lazy ) and he's cute let me live.

an's. i rushed the end i knoww, leave me alone. i like writing for personal enjoyment shhhhhh.

[harucafelatte]

stupid little things (part 2)

synopsis: the enstars characters as romance clichés

pairings: suou tsukasa, sazanami jun x fem!reader (separate)

genre: fluff

content warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread, non-established relationship (tsukasa), established relationship (jun), idol!reader (jun), harassment (jun)

word count: 804 words

author's note: i'm back with part 2 of this series! not really confident but i hope you'll enjoy reading this! read part 1 here!

taglist: @kazemiya, @tomago, @saikisolosgoku (fill in the taglist form to be added)

✧˖° 朱桜 司 · suou tsukasa

➽ confessing while you're "asleep"

"i knew i should've stopped you from playing in the rain with leo..." he sighed as soon he entered your room.

it took you a while to register who was at your door and you soon realised that it was your best friend, tsukasa.

"i told you that i'm fine!" you croaked, as you sat up from your bed.

tsukasa eyed you suspiciously.

"with a voice like that? i think not." he said, making his way to you. he gently placed a hand on your forehead and immediately withdrew his hand. "you're burning up! you're obviously not 'fine'! give me a moment, i'll go get your medicine." he exclaimed, turning around to leave. before he could even take a step, you grabbed his wrist.

"stay..."

"but your medi-"

"i already took them..."

lies.

you haven't taken your medicine. but all you needed right now was for him to be by your side.

"then sleep. i'll be right here."

it was as if he had read your mind.

silence filled the room as you lay back down and closed your eyes while tsukasa, who was seated on the floor next to your bed, watched you toss and turn until finally finding a comfortable position to sleep in. he was glad that your cold wasn't that serious. he couldn't bear to see a loved one suffering.

time flew by quickly, and before he knew it, it was getting dark outside. seeing that your back was facing him, he decided to call out to you.

"y/n?"

no response.

tsukasa took a deep breath.

this was his chance and he wasn't going to waste it.

"i like you, y/n. i've liked you for a while now. i know you can't hear me right now but that's okay, i'll confess to you again soon." with that, he got up and made his way to the door.

"get well soon, my princess." he whispered as he exited your room, closing the door with a 'click'.

little did he know that you were wide awake the entire time, and now you were a blushing mess.

✧˖° 漣 ジュン · sazanami jun

➽ protecting you from a stalker + wrist grabs

you were waiting for jun at the station when you received a text from him.

*jun*

jun - 10:15 am: sorry, i'll be a bit late.

you - 10:17 am: it's okay! i'm waiting at the station.

jun - typing...

suddenly, a voice caused you to look up from your phone.

"excuse me? are you y/n?"

you saw a boy standing in front of you.

"yes, i am. how may i help you?" you asked.

"oh my gosh...i'm literally your biggest fan!" he gushed.

oh.

"you have no idea how much i love you! i've attended all your concerts and brought all your merch! oh my gosh...i can't believe you're standing right in front of me!" he rambled.

he began asking you questions, some of which were personal, which made you slightly uncomfortable. not wanting to ruin your idol image, all you could do was smile.

"right...i've been wanting to ask you this..." he mumbled, leaning into you, causing you to take a step back.

"are you dating that sazanami jun from eden?"

your smile dropped.

what?

"i've seen the two of you walking around in the city together."

"you've been following us around?"

"something like that." he confessed. "look, wouldn't it be better to date someone who truly loves you and can dedicate all his time to you?"

you were starting to feel very uncomfortable and wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible.

"y/n?"

a familiar voice called out.

both you and the boy turned your attention to the owner of the voice and saw jun walking towards the two of you, with his phone just a few centimetres from his ear.

"i'm sorry for making you wait, y/n. i tried calling you but you wouldn't pick up." jun asked you, with a gentle smile. he sent a chilling glare towards the boy which caused him to take a step back away from you.

before the boy could say anything else, jun grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him.

"let's go, my love," he said lovingly, before guiding you through the crowded station, away from the boy.

after walking for a while, he turned to look over his shoulder.

"did he do anything to you?" he asked, worry clear in his voice.

you shook your head and gave him a small smile. "he just asked me about our relationship."

"i think it's time to reveal our relationship to the public then."

"what? why?"

"so that everyone will know that you're mine and i'm yours." said jun, shooting you a grin.

maybe it wasn't that much of a bad idea after all.

[redwayfarers]

Safe

Fandom: Blood Moon Ship: Angelina x Farro Characters: Angelina Jakovljević (OC), Farroq Khan Words: 1191 Rating: Gen Summary: Farro and Angelina try to discuss an important part of her past.

Read on AO3.

Nero’s note: Now, I’m not normally hugely into vampire/werewolf media. I like it just fine, but I usually prefer other fantasy stuff. However, at a firm recommendation from a friend, I gave Blood Moon a chance and my god, it’s so fucking good, go play it, here we are - two and a half runs in and I’m already writing fic.

What also got me hella interested was the fact that the main pack is Serbian and as you may or may not know, I am Serb myself. So I jumped at a chance to write about my culture in a fantasy setting, and thusly, Ange was born. What more could I ask for but a good muse to write about.

Mind the vague spoilers for the entire game, as minor as they may be.

Full moon’s a very nice time, Ange decides. Her head’s as quiet as a wolf’s head is going to be, and she can reasonably be expected to just rest. Of course, there’s never rest for an Alpha, and she knows this, but by god if she’s not gonna take any chances she can just get as much use of her old, cranky bed with Farro as she can get away with. 

So that’s what she did, and Farro wholeheartedly agreed, so they dropped Hani to Marco with wide smiles and locked themselves in her room. It’s been hours since, and she’s cuddling Farro’s pillow in a piss poor attempt to salvage his full body warmth until he returns from putting his daughter to bed. 

So far she’s counted 10 minutes. When she scents him approaching, she sends out a small, pleased howl that she hopes nobody else heard. While not the most embarrassing thing in the world, given the fact that Farro is her mate, she’d rather not be the subject of teasing for committing the horrible crime of falling in love.

“That’s the fastest she’s ever fallen asleep,” Ange comments when the doors slide shut once more. 

“A miracle,” he agrees, his voice light, but genuine. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting for too long, either. Otherwise, you’d end up– well, like this.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re a living furnace,” she groans and sits up. He’s pulled his hair back and is wearing an old shirt that does little to make her want to not take it off him again. Farro laughs and walks over. Ange likes hearing him laugh.

“Has your warmth been restored, ma’am?” he teases once the mattress creaks under his weight again. Ange curls herself against his side and feels his hand slide down the length of her back. 

“Yes and thank you,” she says in a high voice that for some reason earns her a head kiss. 

“Much obliged,” he responds with a smile. They fall into companionable silence and his hand runs rhythmically over her spine. Up and down, up and down. She’s not immune to a backrub, as much as she likes to stifle the animal in her. Between that and his warmth, the idea of going at it again feels decidedly wrong.

“Hey, Ange,” Farro breaks the silence, “can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it, big guy.” 

“You have a saint’s portrait in your room? I saw it a while ago and didn’t want to ask. But I was curious.” He meets her eyes. “Are you religious?” 

Ange snorts and shakes her head. “That felt oddly serious, Farro,” she replies. “Like it’s wrong to be religious. I’m not, personally, but there might be religious werewolves out there.” 

“It’s perfectly okay to be religious,” Farro frowns and it’s so severely endearing she has to move from her comfy spot and kiss his nose, which makes his brow furrow even more, “I just saw a medal and was curious! And it felt like an odd thing to ask at the time. I saw a portrait in your room when we had sex for the first time the night before a big battle with a vampire.”

“When you put it like that, it is a little weird,” she concedes. She glances at it, standing right at the center of her drawer. Before Lawrence, she kept it in the darkness, but during the renovations of the warehouse, something clicked in her head. She thought it had seen the light of day for the first time since Alek took her in. 

That felt like a lifetime ago. Fuck, it was a lifetime ago. Now she’s Alpha in Alek’s place, and she’s the last one she can afford to lose. 

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s painful,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that I asked.” 

“No, no, it’s good that you did,” Ange sits up and places her feet on the floor. Her footsteps echo in the night. The floor is a little cold, with only a thin layer of socks separating from her soles. With gentle fingers, she lifts it and looks at the painted female face. Venerable Mother Angelina, it says in Cyrillic script.

“The saint I was named after,” she explains. “From my birth pack. This belonged to the Alpha.” She remembers his bright, blue eyes and patchy, dark beard. He hated being called Alpha and insisted on them calling him by his name, Pavle. But he was their leader and he led well. Ange herself never really found it in her to forget that. To her, he was Alpha. “When they were killed, I took this and ran. In hindsight, it probably kept me sane some nights when the moon was loudest. I thought that if I was ever with the moon, I’d tear this to shreds and I would never forgive myself for it.” 

“Ange,” Farro says. He’s behind her, like a big, protective shadow, like Alpha Pavle was. It should be the other way around, Ange - Angelina - thinks. She blinks. Farro’s hand is soft on her shoulder. 

“I still carry his surname, you know,” she continues. She thinks she smells his rakija, and his dark coffee, and her mother’s too sweet perfume. Not even a wolf’s nose is powerful enough to scent the past, but she pretends to do it anyway. “Jakovljević. Might be a bitch to write, but I think I should have it. Alek might’ve taken me in, and I’ll love him for that forever, but my birth pack was good, and cohesive, and would’ve kept us safe if hunters hadn’t come to shoot them all with fucking silver!”

“Ange,” Farro repeats and she clings to it like a lifeline. She thought she was over it. She thought she had it under her paw, but no, it surfaces like a vampire’s rancid stench. “Ange, look at me.” 

So she does, small and in his shadow despite the fact she’s the Alpha, and the world settles. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. Her heart beats in anger, in pain, in the harm to all the hunters she wished she could rip open in the first few months of being a stray. She holds the portrait tight. “I ruined the night.”

peacepeacepeace, Farro howls. Without looking, she sets it down and buries her head in his shirt. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew it was so painful,” he says apologetically. His hands wrap around her. He keeps howling quietly. “And you didn’t ruin the night. I am thankful that you trust me enough to share this with me. And, uh..” There’s a visible, clear as day, as real as their touch pause. “If you ever feel the need to talk about it, or anything, I’m here. No wolf should have to go through that.” 

“Thank you,” Ange replies. Her voice is muffled by the old, stretched fabric. When they return to bed, her eyelids grow heavy to the feeling of his fingers running over hers. 

safesafesafe, she howls softly one last time before sleep takes her. Even Alphas need to feel safe every once in a while. 

[prep4tomoro]

Prevent and Survive a Home Invasion:

You are 8 times more likely to be involved in a home invasion attack than a house fire. A home invasion is when intruders forcefully enter your house, whether for the thrill of it or to rob you and take your family hostage. They do not take place only in high-crime areas. They also occur in suburbs and rural areas. These attacks are more common than most people think. Always be aware of your surroundings and apply home defense measures to develop a defense strategy against a violent home invasion. Tips to Survive a Home Invasion:

PREVENTION: Preventing a home invasion is better than surviving one. Apply Home Safety and Security measures.

HAVE A PLAN is the theme of this entire blog. Make a plan for this potential threat and practice it.

DO NOT ENTER the house if there is any evidence of a breakin while you are away. Back away to a safe distance to observe, then call law enforcement.

REMAIN CALM: A calm head means a clear mind and allows you to make the best decisions in difficult situations.

PANIC WORD: In a tense situation, communicating with those who can help may not be easy. Having a "panic word", known only between friends, can tell a family member of a serious problem or a potential rescuer that you are in trouble and need help without alerting the captor/invader. Select an uncommon word, but one that could be used in a conversation, like "tell dad that I will cook the asparagus when I get home". Asparagus is the "panic word" to let the rescuer know that you are in trouble.

KEEP LIGHTS OFF: If it's night, and lights are off, when the invasion happens. Keep the lights off. You know your house without lights but the invader probably doesn't. That's your advantage.

SAFE ROOM: Designate a place where everyone can go at the same time. This room should be stocked with several specific items that will help you survive the upcoming fight.

STAY PUT: Do not, under any circumstances, leave the safe room. Don't leave until rescuers (police) arrive.

FATAL POSITIONING: If you are using a gun for home defense, position yourself in a corner of the safe room that is opposite of the door. This gives you the maximum amount of view area and time to decide if you're going to shoot. You will be the last thing the intruders see if they burst through the door and take time to assess the room before they make a move. You only have to decide if you're going to shoot or not. You will know that it's either the police coming to your rescue or the bad guys coming to harm you.

COOPERATE: If you are unable to stop a home invasion or get to the safe room and are now face-to-face with the invader(s), give them what they want. No object is as important as you and your family’s safety. If a home invader is threatening you or demanding valuables, you should give them what they want rather than risk a struggle and physical harm. Always speak calmly, move slowly and keep your hands visible. A calm demeanor means less chance of aggravating the intruders. Speak when you are spoken to; keep your answers short and clear; don't ask too many questions; and don't argue with the intruders.

DON'T BE A HERO: Only fight with the invader(s) when you have to. Don't do anything to put yourself at risk. Don't attempt to prevent the intruders from leaving, or otherwise slow them down. Your priority should be getting the criminals out of your house as quickly as possible.

TAKE NOTES: You may not be able to write stuff down at the time but observing and listening to the invaders can help lead to their capture by law enforcement. Take note of their clothes, their voices, hair styles and any other distinguishing features or sounds that may help law enforcement identify and apprehend them.

RESOURCES: 5 Tactical Tips to Survive a Home Invasion 10 Tips for Preventing and Surviving a Home Invasion Active Shooter Response Options: Run / Hide / Fight Home Invasion Mistakes Home Invasion Defense Tactics Burglars Expose Their Secrets Fortify Home Base Without the Fortress Look Setting Up Booby Traps for Home Protection [Reference Link]

[14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [5six7 Menu]

[kickingupdust]

Virtual Diary Entry #6

Virtual Diary Entry #6 

July 23, 2022 10:26 PM

Is monogamy a scam? Have I been living a lie, thinking that one person could love and devote themselves to me? Is love and devotion even what I seek? Love maybe, minus the devotion. Well, maybe the devotion? I don’t know, is it too much to ask that someone devote themselves to me? 

For them to devote themselves to me, yes I do think it's too much to ask, as I am ever changing and growing and molding myself into something and someone else entirely. To devote themselves to anyone else, they may be granted some security and stability. To devote themselves to me, they’d be devoting themselves to a lifetime of variability and instability and chance.

Look at me, I’m so caught up trying to make excuses for why I don’t deserve love. Really, there’s no concrete answer. 

The bottom line is that I do deserve love, and I try to be accepting of it, but I still have a hard time shaking the feeling that I don’t deserve it. 

Today when I was just arriving at the creek and began walking down the small hill that leads to the creek’s bank, two men stopped and started talking to me and C. C chatted back and they tried to understand his toddler-speak, but I was just trying to get away. Desperately trying to get away. Like they were going to hurt me. But they definitely were not, and I knew that, but I still could not be polite to them.I wanted to be, so badly.  I was trying to speak and barely anything was coming out. And what was coming out was not nearly enough to be heard by human ears. They told us to really try to have a good time, for real, they meant it. I saw the same two guys as I was sitting in my car about to leave. They threw me some big smiles and hand signals, waved, told me to have a good day. They meant it. 

I don’t know why it makes me cry. The kindness of a stranger, I feel like sometimes a person can just tell when someone needs to hear something like that. I’m glad that I came across two of those people today. I needed to hear something like that.  

It sucks to think that there’s more to come. But honestly it’s kind of amazing that I’ll survive it. I don’t want to speak too soon though. I may never tell what the future holds. 

I desire to rebuild my relationship with the universe and their energies. I have been feeling something awaken inside me and have done little to nothing to aid it in its waking. 

Whatever it is, it’s fucking serious this time. I say good, I welcome whatever it is, whatever fire may strike itself inside me. Let it burn out. And let a new brighter me be born from the ashes. 

I am now going to get very high and try to watch tv. We’ll see how it goes. 

 Well I did the smoking part, I’m not so sure the high part happened. Maybe a little? I smoke too much. Anyhow, I am not really interested in watching TV right now, so I am not going to subject myself to it. I think I am going to read Sherlock Holmes instead. That’d be a much better use of my time. Actually, I think I’ll just go to sleep. 

Any closing thoughts, me? Or shall we just leave shit off on the most random note possible, like usual? Yeah probably so. 

I need to be better disciplined with brushing my teeth. I’ve gotten myself disciplined on skincare & body care finally, now onto oral care. Getting/finding a waterpik charger (I misplaced mine) would greatly incentivize me to be more consistent with my oral hygiene. 

Anyway, goodnight.

[thisbluespirit]

gifset request meme from @allegoriesinmediasres --> The Shadow of the Tower + 4 most attractive character(s)

As everyone knows, York is “the sexy one,” right?  Must be all that plotting in tights and shirts and firkins that does it.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part Xl

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually) 

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,375

Note: Hey guys!! It’s been a year since I started this series and I was really excited to continue, I really was. But months flew by and my life began to take a different course, now, I can’t make promises that I’ll be uploading soon again, though I will try if I have time to spare and my imagination cooperates :) Hope you enjoy this chapter! And thank you all for your patience, it’ll be rewarded!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10

Months have flew by way too fast. And now you were feeling more confident around the northern lady and your family. You’d keep her from any harm they would try to inflict on her no matter the consequences, yet you were cautions cause Joffrey was still so damn annoying. Though since Margaery arrived to the capital she has been keeping him rather distracted.

“Because the truth is always either terrible or boring.”

“Am I boring?” You approached Sansa from behind, daintily kissing her cheek.

“Not at all.” She answered with a broad simper.

“You shouldn’t be too obvious in plain sight.” Shae subtly advised.

“You are right. We should be more careful.” You peered up to see if the guards were staring your way, when you confirmed they were not you stole a kiss on her silky lips. She giggled.

“Have a lovely day. I’ll meet you later. My grandfather requested my presence.” It was true... Tywin wanted to speak privately with you, and you sort of imagined why.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“My ladies.” You winked playfully at Sansa before walking away.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Shae asked Sansa well knowing the answer to her own question.

“She is perfect.” She let out a love sigh.

“You trust her?”

“The princess has always treated me with respect. I always dreamed with a handsome knight or a sweet prince, then I met her and she is far more better than any of that.” Sansa confessed.

“She seems to be a good girl.” Lord Baelish approached the two women.

“Lovely day for it. May I speak with lady Sansa alone for a moment?” Shae stood up and walked back to Ros.

“I saw your mother not long ago. She’s very eager to see you. And your sister.” He commented.

“Arya’s alive?”

“Oh yes. Indeed she is. But... I’ve noticed you’ve grown quite attached to princess Y/N.” He chose carefully his words.

“I have. She is and extraordinary friend.” Sansa added. “I’m very lucky to be her friend.”

“You are. I’m waiting for word on an assignment that will take me far away from the capital. When I set sail, I might be able to bring you with me. But you’d need to be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.” Sansa widen her eyes. She didn’t really want to leave now... did she? After all she knew she’ll never be truly free here.

“I... I’m not sure if that’s a wise idea, Lord Baelish.” She conflicted admitted.

“And why’s that? Other than the risks it involves of course.”

“Well, as I said before, King’s Landing is my home now. It has good things despite the corruption.” Only Y/N, she thought.

“All right then. The offer stands, my lady. Keep it in mind.” He turned around to leave Sansa wondering if she’d abandon you to return home or staying here by your side.

“You are glowing, granddaughter of mine.”

Tywin was jotting down something with a quill. “Is there a boy already?” It sounded more like a statement rather than a question. You tried not blush as Sansa’s picture coming to your mind.

“Mmm... no. There is not a... boy.” You concluded kinda nervous.

“If there is not then you should be looking for a suitable swain. I reckon you have many admirers waiting to receive your attention.” He said with a serious tone. Does he really mind? Of course he does. He wants to get a hold of another loyalty for House Lannister. “Many lords would give their whole lands to marry you. And we might need that.”

“But that’s not what I need.” You responded nonchalantly. It was true. All you truly needed and longed for was the love of someone who valued you. And you already found that in a northern lass. You knew he disapprove entirely your “reckless” choices, same as your mother. You’d fight back and won’t allow them to throw you into some random man’s arms.

You stepped inside Joffrey’s dining table. You always enjoyed to hang with the Tyrell siblings, but now that she’s engaged to your brother... you wonder how she’s been managing to handle him. After all, she’s one of the cleverest persons you know.

“Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Hightgarden. I’ve heard Y/N do charity for the poor here as well.” Loras commented. You nodded. The soon to be queen smiled softly your way.

“The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart.” You mirrored her act.

“An open heart is what you’ll get in Flee Bottom if you’re not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attached by a mob there. We had a full complement of guards that didn’t stop them. The king barely escaped his life.” You hid your smirk.

“My mother’s always had a penchant for drama. Facts become less and less important to her as she grows older. Our lives were never truly in danger.” You rolled your eyes at his lies.

“Oh but they were. You didn’t even care about sending the guards to get lady Sansa back to the Keep. A king is supposed to ensure the safety of all the ones that are in need. You seem to keep failing on that, big brother.” You sensed his furious glare upon you.

“Who cares about her anyway.” You clenched your jaw tightly. Loras and Margaery keep their eyes on their dinner.

There was an awkward pause as the main course was brought to the table. The rest of the evening was all about the same. Joffrey flaunting about his “bravery” and Cersei flattering him all along. Margaery showing off a wide smile at his non sense.

~~~~~~

You strolled to your room exhausted after training with the bow and horse-riding with little Tommen. Before that you decided to pay a visit to Sansa’s chambers. You knocked the door twice and she beamed with delight.

“I hope it isn’t too late to stop by.”

“No, I was about to get under the sheets. Perhaps you can join me?” She suggested with a gaily grin. You chuckled. Seeing Sansa being so... awfully bold was so nice and pure. Being around you made her forget about the fact she’s a prisoner. It didn’t matter as much when you were together.

“I’d love that.” You entered the room, holding her by the waist and leading both of you to the bed.

“How was your day then?” You smoothly asked. She tossed to be face to face with you.

“Actually, it was wonderful! Ser Loras escorted me to the gardens with Lady Margaery and Lady Olenna. They were very kind to me. We had lunch together and chatted for a while.”

“That sounds lovely, my lady. I’ve always consider Lady Olenna as the grandmother I never had. She knows me since I was a baby. Now that they are here I’ve been reminiscing about the good old days when we wouldn’t stop joshing Loras about me beating him on a single duel. We were so young back then... I’ll always hold dear those moments. He may be moody and brash at times, still, he is complete gentleman. Water’s sometimes thicker than blood. That’s for sure.” The Tyrells were your second family, they welcomed you with open arms and never once judge you. Unlike your own blood, with exceptions of course.

“Back in Winterfell I was so focused on learning how to properly be a lady and all that, that I missed many things... I should’ve been closer to Robb, Arya, even Jon. I was mean.” Sansa’s voice cracked.

“Don’t lose faith, Sansa. I know it’s too much to ask for but life takes unexpected turns.” You brushed one of her ginger locks with your right hand.

“I found a new home.” She whispered lightly. “Not Kings Landing. Not this castle. You.” She unhurriedly closed her crystal eyes. Your heart was at her mercy, that was a fact. You caressed gently her cheek and sealed the night with the most tender kiss anyone could dream of.

“You are my home too, my love.” You breathed against her lips.

[hisredhysteria]

Locked In

Note: Just for fun—! I've been wanting to do something like this for Cutthroat because of the beginning manga panels, but thank you to my friend for involving Hacker in this—

TW: mention of murder and the reader in Hacker's scenario may come off a little yandereish in a sense

Summary: Scenarios to do with being locked up or in-? IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT—

Cutthroat

Once detained, the other correctional guards didn't feel they had to so much as roll when coming to their conclusion. They could have flipped a coin, asked you to pick a number from 1 through 10—hell, why not have added your name to a roulette wheel for such a heinous decision? Every single one of them chose to back up the other though, all as they anxiously informed you that it would be your turn to pick up their cowardly slack. The criminal going under surveillance was dangerous, but in what world is a criminal entirely not? If watching the murderer really was the death sentence everyone made it out to be, then you were determined to survive just to prove them wrong.

You made your way through to the lowest level of a dismal prison, an entanglement of keys finally jingling as they clicked into alignment with the room door of his temporary holding cage. Relieving the previously stationed guard of their daunting duty, it was as if he had been on edge for all of the five minutes he'd been standing there. Concerned about the longevity felt from simply being in the same room as a death row patient, he did what anyone would have done by wasting no time rushing out of there. The criminal was your friend for the night, silently elated as he could feel your new presence—hear your differing footsteps. The only thing missing now was a face to match the sound of your pretty voice.

"I've heard a lot about you.."

The murderer didn't stir, but did you expect him to under the confines?

"Cutthroat, was it?"

Growing beneath the mask across his face was a smile at your question; surely this wasn't going to lack any of his own amusement.

"Hm...~? Is someone there..?" He cooed, starting with a hum that made you wonder about the relevance of his serious tone after.

Was he joking or was he trying to be serious?

"Is someone ever not..?" You sighed, clinking the cage cell back shut without you inside. Better safe than sorry, you stood from a bit of a distance to be sure.

"Never usually this close...~" He continued.

"This close? ... I'm not standing any closer than the last guy who was here." Interested to see you encourage a conversation, again something echoed beyond his covered face.

"Well, the other one didn't greet me... He was no fun because he didn't answer any questions either..." His reminder that you really weren't supposed to be entertaining him, you swallowed an antsy feeling in the pit of your throat.

"Whatever it was that you said, it must have scared him. He left in a hurry..." You answered quickly so it felt less against your own rules, taking mental note that from there on out it was best not to respond to him.

"I only asked to see his blood...it's pretty on everyone, isn't it...? I bet yours is pretty too..."

Shooting your eyes to examine the constraints that bound him, Cutthroat was eerily still for someone in his position—with the staggering strength he had too. Silence filled the air once more and usually the killer would have grown bored by now. You had chance of answering anything more by doing so previously, and because that was so, Cutthroat wasn't ready to leave you alone just yet.

"I hope you're the one to take me to the execution room ~" He subsequently tried.

Admitting fondness so soon for something as easy as a blunt greeting and reciprocation in conversation, his attempts unsettled you the longer he kept talking. In fact, it wouldn't have been such a fever dream if he wasn't also detained for the murder of nearly one thousand people. Shifting in the spot you stood however, a step forward from the cell didn't seem like such a bad idea as you took it.

Discouraged by the tap of your shoe distancing yourself from him, he'd still test you a final time.

"You'll be there to watch my blood spill with everyone else though, won't you? ...Of course you will, who would miss the chance to see someone die..? Hm~ It would be nice to watch someone else die one last time though..."

His ending comment sat with you. It killed not to provide an answer, so you surveyed your surroundings to find no one but the security camera's watching.

"....Are you asking to kill me..?" You fell into round two of his deadly game.

"Would you let me..!?"

You jumped for how foreign it sounded—for how muffled and excited the gasp was. It had to be a joke or another intrusive thought, you really did not have a death wish for tonight. All you needed to do was pass time, but...what was the harm in a little fun? A prideful tease at best—you propositioned Cutthroat.

"Do I get something in return....?"

"Huh...? Is dying not fun enough?"

How insane he must have been to think that it was, but more so to think you'd forfeit your life either way.

"Is that why you want to die?" You asked, turning around to glance through the gaps of the bars curiously. "Is dying fun to you..?"

His small laugh was rewarded for your kindness towards him.

"Of course~! I have yet to find out if dying is as good as killing... but I'll know soon enough.. Maybe you will too ♡ ~"

Hacker

Lying to his own advantage wasn't a deed Hacker took part in often, but when it came to being on the receivers end, something about it was just thrilling enough. From the tasteful and underhanded way you trapped him in this room, who was he to admit any disliking towards it? Arguing with you to open the door would have never worked, and just by glaring down at the cruel silver knob, Hacker knew it was tightly locked.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you..?" He asked, your greater plan slowly sinking through like he was as thin as wet paper. A personal hell awaited him—all from the moment he told you he was going to be leaving.

"I suppose I should have seen this one coming sooner or later...it's just that I never expected it to be you holding me back..." Hacker added, and where you thought one would have grown weary or more nearly now angered, the way he spoke instead sounded intrigued with every last drop. Your breaths deepened however, stuttering to hold back a cry. Hearing what would be your back slide down against the door, he eventually caught on that maybe you hadn't wanted to do this at all in the first place.

"If it made you this upset...you could have told me."

You let the tears threatening to spill finally touch skin. If the solution was all that simple, did he really think you wouldn't have tried? Telling him your true feelings may have been nice, but it would only make it that much easier for Hacker to slip between the lines. As long as he didn't expect your heart to get in the way of anything, he couldn't plot against what he was enduring now.

"...It's not that I didn't think of bringing you with. Leaving together wouldn't be so bad. I need something new though, something with a faster pace—and I don't expect you to be able to keep up. This is just the better option for both of us."

Your body continued to become further distraught as he spoke, and now perhaps you were the one that was angry.

Had he always thought you were slowing him down..?

"Then..." You whispered, rolling your head back so it was flat against the door. Hanging on the edge by your words, Hacker must have had no idea how bad this actually hurt. "I can't let you leave."

His eyes lit up. It was controlling, but the fact that you thought you were the one with the upper hand made him feel like your competitor.

"If I wanted to, I could turn this door to ash using my drones... It'll hurt more later if you continue to sit in that spot." He threatened, an empty one at its best. Was it one he could even fulfill?

"Try it..." You inhaled, stuffy from the rainy vision. "Burn me to cinders if you have to..." Testing him, you knew Hacker wasn't going to do it. There was little to no point in the test because of that, but it was to spark his interest instead.

Working as planned, his fingers strained themselves on the singular bubbled keypads. His drones aimed at the wall facing the outside street, Hacker tried them for himself. With no patience or hesitation, he pressed a key sure enough to elicit a reaction from both drones—for them to crumble the waiting wall beneath their wrath. When nothing happened though, his wide eyes suggested horror.

"What..? How..." Confused by the lack of response, maybe technology was always a little faulty. Slamming his finger on the key once again, your quiet laugh in success wasn't what he'd been ordering. Enough to have slowly broken him the longer things lasted, suddenly this wasn't going to be as fun as he initially planned.

"You told me you wanted something new. You've never been locked in a room for longer than a year, have you...?"

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 2/?

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name, A/N - any name (your best friend’s name)

Warnings: Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

Welcome Back! I have, once again, written more of Jason Todd because he’s a fucking teddy bear and I love him.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N and Jason both returned from that date feeling all giddy about each other, but trying their dammed-est to not let their hopes get too high about the other. However, that was extremely, extremely hard for Jason to do with family like Dick in his life. It’s like coming home to a hopeless romantic of a shipper as a nosey bitch. Lovingly, of course. No one’s like Dick.

“So, Y/N?” Dick asked Jason immediately as he entered the Manor.

“Yeah, what about her?”

“So, many questions: Was that a date? If no, will there be a date? Is there going to be a second date? Do you like her? Do you think we’ll like her? Does she know you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?” Dick rambled at his little brother.

“Okay hold on god damn, yes it was a date, yes there will be a second, yeah I think she’s cool and I like her, slow your roll Circus Boy, I don’t know when she’ll meet you lot, I don’t think she knows who I am, she’s from Metropolis, so I don’t think she knows the Waynes well.” Jason answered Dick with confidence.

“So you like her!” Steph mocked as she entered the hallway, probably heard her brothers talking about Y/N, so she wanted in on it. Somehow she had evaded Jason’s gaze though, so she startled him immensely.

“Jeez, how many of you will scare me today? And yeah, dumbass, I like her. But I’m doing this magical thing called ‘Not getting my god damn hopes up about her since it’s only the first date’ you hopeless romantic fucks.” Jason barked at them.

“Yeah, but you love us.” Dick said.

“That might be true, but your meddling is only going to cause chaos, Dick and Steph.”

“What about my meddling, Jay?” Bruce asked. Once again, he had heard the talking about Jason’s new crush and decided he’d parent the boy on his girl. Jason jumped out of his skin, because, he had once again, not seen Bruce enter the hallway despite his best efforts to not get startled again.

“You, are going to give me a heart attack.”

“Looks like this girl let your guard down.”

“Can we just go on patrol and stop badgering me?” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Nope!” Barbara exclaimed. Clearly, there’s a pattern with Waynes escaping Jason’s attempts to not get startled today, “We’re still going to badger you, Jay,” Barbara finished.

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

When Y/N made her way back to A/N, she couldn’t help but turn her radio as loud as she could and try to take the longer journey back home. Pieces of quiet and tranquility always surprised and drew her in. Like a good book on a Sunday morning before the rest of the bustling city of Gotham or Metropolis awoke itself. If New York never sleeps, she thought, then what the hell do Gotham and Metropolis call themselves. She laughed.

There were a few good things about Gotham, like the people you’d meet on the street at 4am were some of the weirdest but kindest people you’d ever know. It’s like the city radiated off of the energy of the people in it, and in spite of the villains constantly hitting the city with their worst, somehow everyone never let it get to them. It was admirable. Metropolis was the same in that avenue, but it didn’t feel like the cold Gotham streets.

Y/N thought Jason was one of the kinder people she had met in her travels and classes. And she never thought that she’d meet someone she liked this much in her criminal psychology class of all places, but hey, the universe had different pen strokes for her.

She went and parked her car in the driveway of the rental house she and A/N shared. Only the two of them shared it, but if either of them lost their jobs, they’d be looking for another roommate immediately. Pulling out her bag which was full of notes written by Jason, the original notes written by her, and binders upon binders of criminal cases she was looking into at the time, she would get out of her car and begin walking to her door.

Of course, like most people, she would kick off her heels the minute she walked through the doors of the house, to which, A/N paused her music and went to go question Y/N about Jason.

“So, you know how this works, babes, lay it on me, how’s hottie? Is he kind?” A/N pondered.

“He’s so kind, he paid the printing fees for my notes and rewrote all of them, I guess it’s a system for us now. I write the notes in class while he tries to take it all in, we meet up, and he rewrites them all and pays the printing fee.”

“He paid the fee?! At that college?” A/N said, completely shocked.

“Is that shocking?”

“Well, the printing fees are so fucking expensive, hun. Mans must have daddy’s money to do that.”

“Really? Well regardless money doesn’t matter, he’s kind and I can make a name for myself if I graduate at the top of my class.” She said, fully believing this. Smart woman. She knew she could do it.

“I believe in you, do you have homework tonight? I can make dinner for you so you can study.” A/N offered.

“Nah, I’m just going to go file my notes and shower, I’ll come join you and help after.”

“Well, don’t drown.” A/N joked.

“Do you know how much effort that would take?” She laughed as she walked towards her room, once she got there she pulled out her papers and began the slow filing process of them into her desk.

About 2 minutes into this, she got a text:

Hey stranger.

If someone had a heart monitor hooked up to her, they could have bet their last penny on her heart skipping a beat. 

Hey Jason. She sent back.

I had a fun time today with you, do you want to do the same thing tomorrow, I could use your fast writing skills to get by in classes. And I just like talking to you. What do you say?

She thought. Maybe something legit is here, hopefully I’m not just used for notes. She worried about that, since she was just a tad insecure about him. He was pretty. She knew she was a looker, sure. But he was something more.

I would love to go on another budget date with you.

Budget? Actually yeah, I guess it is budget lol. Maybe next time I’ll actually take you out to lunch like I said I would.

I, honestly, completely forgot you said you’d take me to lunch, I was just having fun as we were talking.

Me too. You’re a hoot.

A hoot? That’s a book nerd statement if I’ve ever heard one. She joked. She didn’t actually know if he was a book nerd at this time, but they had been joking the entire time when she was filing her notes. She was no where near done filing her notes, Jason was a distraction from that, it wasn’t that important, she would end up finishing it later. She just liked some semblance of organization so she didn’t have to put it off.

I’ll have you know I’ve probably read more books than you.

Well book nerds are cute.

Eventually the messages from Jason and Y/N started slowing, Y/N assumed he was tired or working so she took her chance to file her notes and start running her shower.

Sorry Y/N, this has been fun but I’m going to get really sparse with replies, I got work to do.

That’s fine! Where do you work, by the way?

And she got into the shower. Halfway through her shower her phone pinged, she assumed Jason was texting back, so when she finished her shower, before she even got her towel on, she decided to answer him:

I work at Wayne Enterprises with my dad. It’s quite fun.  He had said.

Oh! I’ve heard the owner of Wayne Enterprises is a lovely man, have you met him? She asked him back.

And within an instant, he answered.

He’s my dad, so yeah.

You’re the Jason Todd? Heir to the Wayne Manor and Wayne Enterprises? She started thinking back on what A/N had said. Yep, she thought, Daddy’s money indeed. She started to slip into her pajamas, which were literally a mess and not put together, because this is the real world, not every girl has matching sets, when he answered:

I hope that doesn’t change much, Y/N.

Explains the camera I saw but didn’t mention, and that’s about it.

You saw the cameras? Damn it. I tried to shield you, they may have pictured us together, sorry.

Worth it for a lovely date. I’ve seen worse, my mum works with Clark Kent, who I guess you probably know since he’s Bruce’s best friend, and the paparazzi loves to take Clark’s picture.

Oh yeah, Uncle Clark. Yeah, the pap love him. You get used to it. I guess you somewhat know my family lol.

Nah, that’s about all I know. Wasn’t really interested in drama about you lot because it’s just not my business. Probably not a shared ideal with the general public.

She finished getting dressed and went to go cook with A/N, and share the news.

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

“Girl! You were right about daddy’s money oh my god,” Y/N said when she entered the kitchen.

“Go on,” A/N urged.

“You know Jason Todd? Guess what. That’s hottie from Crim Psych 101.”

“Are you serious? That’s insane. You’re probably plastered across the internet right now for that date,” A/N laughed, “are you scared to date a famous man?” She asked.

“No, he’s really sweet and if this gets serious, I can just block out the flashes.”

The two of them laughed and started cooking. A/N was Latina, so, of course, she was in charge to cook most nights. But Y/N made killer desserts and pizza. Tonight was fajitas, so Y/N kind of sat bat and let A/N do her thing. Trying to know more so one day A/N wouldn’t have to do all the work, Y/N went onto the internet and the first thing she saw?

Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire, Jason Todd, out on a DATE with a Mystery Girl?

Like clockwork, Jason answered:

I guess I have a lot to teach you, and I hope you haven’t been on the internet recently.

I have. Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire. She texted back.

Fuck those damn tabloids. He said, she couldn’t help but agree, the paparazzi seem like they’re very invested in stories that aren’t theirs to tell.

Can’t agree with you more. We should put on a show for them tomorrow, actually give them something to write about.

I like your thinking.

You’ve opened up a lot today.

Is it your turn now?

What do you want to know? You asked him before turning to A/N.

“Tabloids talk too much,” you sneered at her.

“Cat should get their tongue and choke on it,” she finished, “did you at least look cute in their pics?” she asked.

“Somehow. Wasn’t even posing,” Y/N finished.

“Well, food’s done, are you still hungry?”

“Always.”

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

Jason turned to his brother, Dick, Nightwing, and said, 

“She knows now.”

“That you’re rich?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I have to be more wary of her now,” he sighed, “I hope she’s not in it for the Wayne fortune.”

“Doubt she is if she agreed the tabloids can suck it, Red Hood.”

“I pray you’re right.”

He then drew his guns and fired at the ground underneath their laest venture into crime-fighting. This was gonna be one hell of a ride Y/N embarked on, not even knowing what she was getting into.

[mirror-vicit-omnia]

Ya know what? F*ck it. DMC Heathers!AU where Dante is Jason Dean but never tries to blow up the school or murder anybody and the reader is Veronica.

Dante has an adoptive jackass dad, Big Blood Dean. Sparda is in hell and Eva is dead. Vergil is a missing person's case no one can solve. Big Blood Dean adopted him for the money and drags Dante all across the map with his shady deconstruction company.

The reader is in the same situation as veronica, it goes to canon. They get an in with the Heathers, there's probably a Martha involved.

Fight For Me. Just imagine Dante kicking ass. Those jocks wouldn't stand a chance in a million years.

I like the West End performance for all this.

Dante doesn't quote Baudelaire (if this was Vergil instead of Dante, yes he would have)

Reader: "Okay, don't just drop a snappy one-liner and then walk away! Excuse me? I didn't catch your name?"

Dante, all devil-may-care swagger: "Well, I didn't throw it."

If you think Jason Dean was a good fighter, you should see dante. He's always finding places to train with his sword and picking fights to keep sharp. Yep, he still has demonic powers and demonic heritage and a demonic sword.

He's been dragged to 10 different high schools. Now, Dante is the kind of guy who can just drop everything, pick up and go, if it weren't for the fact that he's adoptive dad sucks. Yeah, he's asking himself these days why he didn't just bail sooner.

He probably tried to run away when he was younger and the cops found him. Even young little Dante knew not to let anyone know about his demon heritage I guess. I don't know.

Anyway, enough logic!

The reader and Dante do not cause the death of Heather chandler. Maybe they think they did, cuz Dante still made the joke of poisoning Heather, and the mugs still got switched up, but later on after the entire world thinks Heather Chandler died a saint, the reader tells Dante that she doesn't think whatever Heather drank was what killed her.

Of course, the body is gone and so is any evidence that could have told them otherwise.

Meanwhile, Heather Duke rises in red and Kurt and Ram insist that they slept with the reader and did drugs.

Dante picks the reader up when they fall apart crying. He does set up the plan of baiting the jocks to the cemetery at dawn. But he's actually planning to knock them out and do some crazy embarrassing stuff with them, the kind of immature terror that only Young men can conceive of and inflict on one another.

Chloroform is involved. Dante packs his gun for safety. He's not a demon Hunter yet, but he knows what's out there, and there's no way he's walking into a cemetery without one weapon at least.

So, the jocks were probably going to wake up naked and tied up on a monument in the Town square or a landmark for everyone to see. It might even make the papers, since this town is so small. Dante would fleece them for their money, and encourage the reader to do the same.

"Hey, how about we divvy it up? One for you, one for me. One for you, and one, two for me- Ow! Fine, whatever, take what you want!"

But what was meant to be a life ruining prank goes horribly wrong. They got Ram, but Kurt's streaking through the graveyard in his skivvies.

Dante sprints after him. "Don't worry, I'll get him back!"

Funny. Kurt should be here. Dante knows how fast a human can run. He checks behind the tombstones, but the jock simply isn't here. Like he just disappeared.

There's a shift in the air. Dante stands still. Even for a cemetery, it's too quiet. Not peaceful. Tents. Restless. Dante's just trotting back when he knows. The reader feels something, too, that pricking in the hind brain that sets the hairs standing. Dante flicks back the red tails of his duster and pulls out his gun.

Reader: "Woah! Are those guns real?!"

Dante flexes his bicep: "'Course they are, babe!"

Reader: "No! I mean th-!"

Bang! A murder of crows take to the air. The only thing more unnerving than the mist and the gunshot is the cold hard gleam in Dante's eye.

And something in the tombstones growls.

Basically, there's probably some small hellgate in the area. Weak demons are leaking through.

The plot turns away from Heather's and fake suicides and mental illness into an '80s horror slasher flick in which Dante and the reader survive and work together to break the hell gate. Dante's dad might end up dead in the process, not by his hands but just because. Alternatively, Dante decides that he's turning 18 in a couple of months and soon the law won't be able to chase after him. He doesn't know what he's going to do with his life, but he sure as hell isn't letting big blood Dean drag him anywhere anymore.

Either way, it's implied that Dante finds his calling through this story.

And becomes a demon hunter.

Demons might have been possessing people or killing people and making it look like suicides so they can drain the humans of their blood when they're brought to the morgue. A bunch of lesser demons serving a relatively stronger demon.

It serves a similar effect as the sensationalization of fake suicides in the musical's plot. Only now the reader forged the suicide notes and set up the fake suicides in order to protect them both. There's no way the law was going to buy the truth.

The reader still has to deal with Heather duke, Heather mcnamara, the horrors of the hierarchy of the high school. They deal with Miss Fleming and the assembly. Is Heather McNamara from actually committing suicide, but then there's still a demon attack that they have to somehow protect both of them from. And this is taking place in the '80s, so there are no cell phones and the landline is cut.

The hellgate was dormant under the boiler room in the high school.

If Dante got possessed, we could still have some Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) and the reader shoots him but it's Dante so he survives!

Whatever was possessing him was nowhere near as good at fighting as a human.

Cherry flavored slushies. Dante drinks cherry flavored slushies, and when he sings I thought emotional part where he accidentally reveals thoughts of suicide, he tries to brush it off with humor, as always.

Still our favorite chaotic half demon.

Cherry flavored slurpees and pizza and teenage detective work that dpuble as dates. Dante doesn't give a s*** and just wants to be pointed in the direction of the fight. The reader is actually doing research and carefully trying to piece together what is going on. Dante provides whatever he knows on demons. And hell.

Dante: "Yeah, my dad is the legendary demon Sparda. My mom and brother died in a demon attack on our house and that's why I'm in foster care."

Reader: "Okay... Sounds fake, but okay..."

Dante gets shot right in the chest. Reader freaks out, but still manages to blow up the hell gate with a bomb and thermals. To collapse the whole gymnasium, which is empty.

They crawl out of the dust. Shaking, a lot to process all at once.

Then there's a whistle. And impressed whistle. The reader looks up. It's Dante, standing strong and straight and waving at dust like he's not squirting blood out of the hole in his chest. "Now, that was some fireworks! Remind me to invite you to my next birthday party."

And that was when the reader believed that he was actually half demon.

Plot twist a faculty member opened the hell gate and it's Miss Fleming the hippie.

I wanted to feel more 80s than it sounds here, and other than that that's all I've got.

Edit 8/20/21

The reader wears the blue Heathers uniform. Short grey skirt and all.

Or if you don't like skirts, then trousers. Tight, flattering trousers. Dante loves to watch how they pull in all the right places.

The two of you are hanging out upstairs in his room, talking about the deaths. The read is worried, fretting over the mystery, flipping through pages in their notebook; Dante sprawls next to them, half hanging off the bed, head in their lap, yawning. The front door opens and bangs shut. Dante springs out of his seat. Suddenly, he wants to get out if the house.

"Hey, do you want some ice cream? Dairy Queen, strawberry sundae, you and me. C'mon!"

Big Blood Dean stomps upstairs. "Dante! Get yer worthless ass in gear! We gotta a job, you gotta go on a supply run-"

Dean barges right on in. Looks at Dante. Looks at the reader. "You got company."

"S'there a problem?" Dante sounds cool. Too cool. He's on his feet and wandering about the room, like he's bored. The reader tenses. Dean is huge, but he somehow looms beyond his size.

Dante does his careless waltz. The reader can't take their eyes off Dean. Like a frightened animal. How can Dante expose his back like that?!

But by getting up, he's put himself between you and his adoptive parent.

"Get rid of them," orders Dean.

Shrugging, Dante pats your knee. "Alright, c'mon, babe." He leads you by the elbow to the window. You still keep an eye on Dean. He's glaring.

Dante throws open the window and bows. "After you!"

"Um, the front door is...?"

He's not serious.

"Go on!"

He's serious.

Hesitant, you stick a leg through and let him push you the rest of the way out. Then he slips out, too

"You come back here, boy-!"

"See ya, old man!" Dante slams the window shut.

"Is he going to lock you out?" You ask as you shimmy down the drain pipe.

"He can't. You broke my window lock."

Dante buys two Sundaes because he doesn't want to share; after he polishes off his, he's snatching bites of yours.

He used the "Nevada account."

(Update 9-20-21)

And this whole story would be even better with JD!Virgil instead.

Virgil didn't have time yet to harden from the demon attack before Big Blood Dean adopted him.

This is all much the same as with JD!Dante, except that Virgil gets darker (not that Veronica!Reader knows how bad it is; they didn't accidentally murder Heather together) carries a gun and everything.

In the big final fight, Virgil runs out of ammo. Demons have cornered him. It's the house, his Mom, Dante, all over again.

One blink later, the demons are all dead, slashed open. Virgil shakes as he yanks on the handle in his grip, and pulls out the blade from a soft belly.

Yamato. How did it get here? These demons are unrecognizable, like dead carrion at a butchers. Did I do this? He thinks, distant and fuzzy, as he watches his hands like watching a film as they flip his sword.

Humans are weak. Humans are wretched.

The reader's smile passes through his mind.

... Perhaps not all humans are... Deserving of death.

They're just weak. Virgil flicks gore off the sword, and heads to his house, looking for Big Blood Dean.

He didn't like the way Dean had scared you with the "Norwegian in the Boiler Room" talk, anyway.

(Spoilers: Dean doesn't live. And Virgil loves you, but this was mostly for him. It's the tipping point, and afterwards he chooses his demonic heritage over humanity. But less "kill them all" and more "purge those who dare cross our path- but don't tell Reader, they get upset easily." What they don't know can't hurt them- and you have Virgil to thank.)

You two definitely run away together at the end. Off to explore knowledge of demons and Hell and whatever else.

You want to seal off the Hellgates that are being all over the world.

Virgil wants to level-grind.

It's couples-time, really.

[asphodelon]

A note about Asphodelon Tarot 2nd Edition

TLDR: I’m discounting the entire batch to B-Grade prices. ($29 -> $19)

I recently learned of some potential quality issues in this batch. At the time of this writing I don’t believe the more serious flaws (e.g. visible damage on the cards) to be any more widespread than is normal for a mass-produced product. What troubles me is that the new printer I was trying for this run switched the card stock out from under me to something lower quality. I paid over $150 in shipping and custom sample fees to confirm the look and feel of the cards before proceeding to mass production, so you can imagine I’m not happy about this.

As a one-person show, I can’t simply try again; I spent a significant amount of money up front to produce this batch since I didn’t do preorders. (Due to the risk of something like this happening, too--I hate being right sometimes.) Additionally, since the decks are sealed, I can’t individually quality check them. So I figure the best compromise is to just discount the entire batch and be up front that it may have flaws.

If you previously purchased a deck through my Bigcartel store, I’ll be issuing you an automatic refund for the difference of $10. 

As for if I’m going to be doing another print run... I don’t know. Definitely not until I at least break even on this batch, and not until after the holidays at this point. So in the meantime, if you want a big discount on a somewhat-imperfect deck, this is your chance!

(And just to be clear, the majority of decks won’t have visible flaws. It’s just the card stock that isn’t ideal.)

Thanks in advance for your understanding. <3 

[taeescript]

IX. Script of the Angel (m)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!freader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 4.8k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned. chapter warning: mentions of self-harm and infidelity; depictions of blood and murder. 

𝔞/𝔫 >> topics discussed in this chapter may be brief, but they are serious. please take the warnings mentioned above seriously. if at any point this makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading. 

previous part || series masterlist || next part

Jimin pulls up to the house, and his GPS beeps to tell him that he has arrived at location. He observes the scene from his spot in his car. He then steps out, walks to the door and rings the doorbell.

“Did you forget something?” Liza’s mother opens the door with the question. “Oh!”

Jimin gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you ma’am, but could I ask you a few questions? S.F.P.D.” He flashes his badge.

A few days ago, he had discovered that a vehicle had been rented out under the name Jeon Jungkook. Consequently, he had put in a request to his friends at the station to inform him of any and all movements of this vehicle. His friends had laughed at him, sending him quickly away as they did not have time to do this for him. Jimin thoroughly pleaded his case and had been given a simple tracking program in which he had used to follow Jungkook around today.

Liza’s mother steps out of the house and quickly closes the door behind her. However, she is not fast enough to hide Liza peering out from Jimin’s observant eyes.

“Your daughter?” he asks.

She becomes flustered. “I…You…Yes. Sorry, who did you say you were?”

He holds out his badge again. “S.F.P.D.”

“R-Right. I see your identification.”

The badge is put away.

“It’s just that we don’t usually have policemen coming to our doors and well, I didn’t want to scare Liza, my daughter,” her mother continues.  

“It’s not a problem, ma’am, and I’m very sorry to have to interrupt your day like this.”

Shaking her head, she waves his concern away.

“Would you be available to answer a few questions right now? It won’t take much of your time,” he tells her.

She nods.

“Did you have any visitors at your house today?” he starts.

“Visitors? Well…” she rambles off a few names and then stops. He hopefully looks on and exhales only when she speaks again. “There was also a man who stopped by. A few minutes before you actually.”

Finally, he is getting somewhere.

“I see. This man you speak about. Have you seen him before?”

“No. That was my first time. I think he worked for an insurance company? He wasn’t even supposed to be at our house; he was looking for a Mrs. Fallon perhaps down the street,” she tells him. A sudden thought dawns upon and she gasps, horror splashing ugly across her face. “He’s not some criminal, is he? Heavens! He seemed like such a nice man as well!”

He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. Could you tell me a little more about him? You said he worked for an insurance company?”

The woman is extremely nervous. He can read it off her body language as she continues to tug at the hem of her shirt. His previous words had not been any consolation to her at all. He appeals one more time.

“Truth be told, I’m here investigating claims about a group assuming fake identities to sell illegal goods to occupants in this area.”

“You don’t think….!” she holds a hand over her mouth.

He shrugs. “We’re not too sure yet. However, if you help answer some of these questions, we’d be able to track down this group quicker.”

“O-Of course! The man showed me some papers. I couldn’t get a real good look, but I think I saw a logo on there. That one with the giant “L” and the twigs that stick out on the side. I can’t remember the name of the company, however…” her voice trails off.

She doesn’t need to explain further as Jimin recognizes the logo.

“Not a problem. Well, that’s all for today. Thank you so much for your time, ma’am,” he nods and begins to leave.

“That’s all? I haven’t even given you the name!” she calls after him.

“You’ve been very helpful!” he shouts behind him, “Have a good day and stay safe!”

He enters his car quickly to prevent her from calling out at him again. The logo she had explained is one he is familiar with. It is one he’s seen often at the building two blocks away from the station, and he knows for a fact that Jungkook does not work for that company.

All Jungkook had done was talk to the woman. They had barely exchanged enough words for her to even remember who he was. However, he was also clearly not there to sell any type of insurance.

If so, what had Jeon Jungkook been doing at that house then?

…................

“Excuse me, would you be able to tell me where I can find this gentleman?” she slides the wallet sized photo of herself and said man to the receptionist.

The pretty lady on the other side faintly smiles upon seeing it. “Your husband?” she asks.

Krystal blushes. “Oh no. He’s my boyfriend. I was hoping that maybe you can locate him.”

The lady’s eyebrows furrow upon her words. “Is he missing? I can direct you to the Missing Person’s Unit.”

“No!” Krystal immediately blurts, “Sorry. I mean, he’s not missing. He had told me previously that the station had called him in for an interview? He’s not involved in any crime. They only wanted to ask him some questions.”

Her fingers fly across the keyboard while chewing on her pen. After a few moments, the receptionist looks back up at Krystal for a brief moment. “What did you say his name was?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

More typing. “Ah, yes. He came in quite some time ago. I have him signed in to visit the Homicide Unit with Lieutenant Wang.”

“Ah, would you be able to direct me to the Lieutenant?”

“Well, I can’t just have you going in…” the receptionist bites her lips in thought. She scratches something down on her notepad before her head snaps up again.

…...............

Namjoon and Jimin had returned from their lunch break. Jimin had only been planning to go down for a quick sandwich at the cafeteria but he had been dragged along by Namjoon to go to the nearby Thai restaurant. It all started when Jimin had observed that Namjoon had an unopened lunch bag on his desk.

“Youngji made lunch for me,” Namjoon had said.

Perhaps this is the opportunity to bring up his suspicions on Jungkook; he hadn’t spoken of the matter to Namjoon for a while now. In fact, he hadn’t even told his supervisor about the vehicle tracking he did a few days ago.

“Oh? What did she make you?” Jimin had innocently asked. How he regretted the decision.

The entire time they were out, Namjoon had complained about his wife’s cooking – especially her renewed passion for cooking green foods (for a brief time, Youngji had stopped). His complaints had paused while they were physically partaking in their lunch meal, and Jimin had thought Namjoon forgot about it, but on their walk back to the station, Namjoon began ranting again. He hadn’t even had the chance to bring up Jungkook’s name let alone his recent observations.

“I don’t even like green beans. I try to tell her, but she insists on making them because they’re healthy,” Namjoon groans, “How does one tell their wife to stop cooking for them?”

Jimin sighs. “Maybe simply saying ‘Please stop cooking for me’.”

That causes Namjoon to roll his eyes. “This is why you’ll never get married. You can’t just tell your wife that her food sucks. I have thick skin when it comes to speaking up to anybody else, but her… I’d rather just down it.”

“You didn’t though. You threw it out and we went out for Thai instead.”

Namjoon does not seem to hear what Jimin has said; as they are walking into the station, he harshly jabs Jimin in the ribs.

“Namjoon what – ” Jimin glares at his friend.

Namjoon nods his head in the direction. “Hot girl, alert. Like 10/10.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “You’d better not let Youngji catch you saying that…” his sentence trails off when he notices the girl who stands at the receptionist’s desk.

She is immensely pretty. Her light brown hair hangs in waves down her back and her smooth, long legs are accentuated under the black skirt she is sporting. She is also wearing a body-hugging turtleneck that wraps around her athletic body, naturally drawing attention to her flushed curves.

“Damn,” Namjoon whistles lightly under his breath, “Do you think she’s a good cook?” 

This time, Jimin fails and the laughter bursts out. The sudden sound draws both the receptionist and the beautiful woman’s attention towards the two of them.

���Lieutenant!” the receptionist calls over.

The two men shuffle over like shy school boys.

Now that they are standing closer and that they could see her face, they are even more impressed by her natural beauty. Her make up is light and makes her skin appear soft and dewy. Her bright eyes greet theirs and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, an unconscious seductive gesture in their minds. When they finally reach her, she beams them a smile of perfectly aligned white teeth.

“Howdy,” Namjoon goofily says. He clears his throat once and tries again. “Um, hello. I’m Lieutenant Kim Namjoon.” He extends a hand.

Krystal shakes it.

“Detective Park Jimin,” Jimin introduces himself sequentially.

She takes his hand as well. He notes how warm yet strong her grip is.

“They’ll be able to help you better,” the receptionist smiles.

“Oh?” Jimin tilts his head at the question.

Krystal opens her mouth to explain the reason she is at the station when Namjoon interrupts before she can speak.

“It’s rude to make a lady wait and stand here. Perhaps I’d be able to invite you to his office so the two of you can talk comfortably there?”

“His office? Are you not the Lieutenant?” Krystal asks, slightly confused.

Namjoon laughs. “Yeah I am. But uh… I just remembered that I, um, have some business to take care of for the other… thing. I mean, case. I have to take care of a meeting to see a case.”

Jimin glares at Namjoon.

“You’ll be left in capable hands though. Detective Park is the best in our unit,” Namjoon says. He gives them a quick wave and the wiggle of his brows towards Jimin before leaving the station despite having just returned to it.

Jimin wants to hit Namjoon, but he really could not leave the mysterious stranger standing by herself. He turns to Krystal again.

She is regarding him with a slight grin. “He’s a strange one, isn’t he?” she comments.

“You can’t even begin to imagine,” he returns with a roll of his eyes, “This way.” He leads her towards the elevators up to his floor.

“I’m really sorry to be a bother,” she says while they wait. She waits until he has pressed the button before continuing, “It’s really nothing much. I’m just looking for somebody.”

“If you’re looking for somebody, shouldn’t you be speaking to the MPU?”

“MPU?”

“Sorry, slip of the tongue. Missing Person’s Unit.”

She scrunches her nose. “He’s not missing… He’s somewhere here. The last time we spoke he told me he had been called in here, so I thought to try my luck. Perhaps you’ve seen him?”

Her words are confusing to Jimin. They don’t make sense.

The lights above head start to slowly flash as the elevator comes down to meet them. 

“I’m sorry, this is probably really bizarre right now; I haven’t even introduced myself formally. I’m Krystal,” she extends her hand again. It awkwardly hangs there for a quick second before she retracts it a second time, remembering that they had already exchanged handshakes.

Jimin gives her a warm smile. She was nervous, for some strange reason. “Not to worry, Krystal. Do you have a name?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” she says.

“No, he isn’t,” Jimin mumbles. “At least for now,” he keeps that part to himself. He turns back to Krystal. “I saw him. He came in to do an interview for me.”

He is not fast enough to conceal his disgust at the mention of the man’s name.

Krystal catches the brief microexpression, however. “Please don’t tell me that he’s in trouble.”

“Oh! So you did see him! Would you be able to tell me where he is staying currently? I tried to call him earlier but he was busy…”

“I could. But first you are his…”

“Girlfriend.”

Ah. So this was the woman Jungkook had mentioned. Again, he is relives the bitter taste in his mouth from when Jungkook had told him that he had been out with another woman. Jimin tightens his fist when a thought crosses his mind.

“Girlfriend, you say?” he repeats. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

She nods, animatedly. Krystal is excited that she had been able to bump into the handsome detective. He seemed to know about Jungkook’s whereabouts in this foreign city.

“He’s staying with a friend of mine. I could give you her address, if you’d like,” Jimin tells her.

She takes his bait. “Her…?” she repeats silently to herself.

“Is something the matter?” Jimin asks.

Krystal looks back up at him with a smile. “Nothing!” she says, “I’d appreciate that a lot, Detective Tuan.”

Jimin nods. He writes out your address on a piece of paper and hands it to her. “I hope you find him,” he encourages her.

The elevator doors before them open and wait for its passengers.

“Mhmm,” Krystal says. The initial excitement her voice held is audibly dampened. She thanks him and walks away.

Jimin enters the elevator alone. There is a knowing smile on his face. Perhaps this lady would finally be able to get Jungkook out of your life once and for all.

…...............

We all have that thing, don’t we? That one thing we know we should not do, yet we succumb into its temptation each and every time because it’s so good. Despite it destroying our body, the thought of not being able to yield torments the passing thoughts in our mind and coaxes us to believe that it is okay.

Let us listen to it this one last time. Just this one last time and we promise ourselves that we will never do it again. Just this one last time and we will then walk away. That is the argument we have and boy.

We’ve lost.

The feeling of absolute bliss washes over your body as you stand in the shower, allowing the hot water to run across every inch of skin. It feels like a large warm hand that massages your shoulders, calves, back – each muscle on your body. You are aware that the temperature is too high but it feels too good for you to turn it down.

After avoiding the studio for so long, you had finally brought yourself around to go back to it. Min had been ecstatic when you walked in. You had not seen each other in a little over two weeks and with you not responding to any of her nor mutual friends’ calls, she had thought something had happened to you.

Min is your best friend. There is no doubt about it. The two of you shared everything so Min had been slightly disappointed when you failed to tell her why you had suddenly disappeared.

You had taken out the large canvas from your bag instead after the initial hug ended. You rolled out the painting and asked Min for her opinion.

“It’s a little… sporadic,” was all Min could say.

“Sporadic… that’s one way to put it,” you grimaced, “I don’t like it. But it’s nearly complete, and I don’t have time to make a new one.”

“Are you making it for a client?”

“No.”

Min was seen biting the inside of her cheek with all of your mysteries. You had felt bad so you told her, “Remember that guy I told you about? It’s for him.”

Her eyes seemed to light up now that you were speaking again. “Oh yeah! Jungkook! You had been working on it for quite a while, right?”

You nodded.

“Well, how about I go out and get us our favourite donuts from the bakery? I know good food always helps me get over artist’s block!” Min had offered. Before you could tell her otherwise, you were looking at the back of your petite friend rushing out the door into the autumn wind.

With not much of a choice, you had settled down at your usual corner. The studio was quiet. There were a few people here and there, but they were mainly minding their own business. They gave you a small smile as you walked around collecting your usual art utensils.

Once you were sitting in front of the painting again, staring at the blacks, navy, bruise-like purples, you started falling into darker thoughts - the same thoughts that are infesting you now that you are alone in the shower again.

You grab the shampoo and start lathering it into your hair.

Baekhyun… How many years has it been since that happened? Why was it that he continued to torment you like this despite the fact that he was gone? The most difficult moment had been the few weeks right after the incident. Every little thing you did, you were reminded of him. You couldn’t even go out without breaking down into tears; going out meant walking on the path to the studio that you had done so many times with him.

It had taken time, but slowly you thought your wounds had or were at least beginning to close. Yet, Jimin had opened them when you discovered he was still searching for Baekhyun. It wasn’t entirely Jimin’s fault. He was only doing what he thought was right. Still, he shouldn’t have hid it from you.

You blamed that for your moment of weakness. Seeing yourself physically wounded made you think of the wound that had been reopened in your heart. It made you think of the safe haven you used to have with the man you loved. They had been so close to saying their vows – till death do us apart – that was only supposed to be the case when they both grew old. It wasn’t supposed to be their truth so early on.

Baekhyun, am I allowed to fall in love again?

Turning the water off, you step out of the shower. The blast of cold air that hits you makes you tremble, and it is like a clear ring of water in your muddled pool of thoughts.

You shake your head, causing droplets of soapy water to fly everywhere.

You are not in love with Jungkook. There is absolutely no way that can be true. You are grateful to him for being there when you needed – and that is quite often lately. However, you could not find another reason for your speeding heart and dizziness you felt whenever he came home. Could he really be the one to blame for all the moments of breathlessness and chest aches?

Is it okay for me to have new feelings after losing you?

The mirror has been fogged up and you wipe away the condensation with a hand. Peering back at you is a tired girl with long, dark hair that is plastered to your cheeks. Your skin is flushed pink because of the heat and pressure of water. Your lips are flattened and slightly downturned. Your eyebrows are unkempt, and a pimple pushes it way at the side of your nose and all along your T-zone. Fingernails are too long because you have forgotten to cut them; still with chipped pink polish coating the pinky.

You let out a low chuckle. Who would love someone as broken as you? Your eyes dart to a pair of tweezers that sit on the shelf. You pick it up and observe how sharp the edge of the metal object is. You press your fingertip on it until they dig in and you feel the familiar lullaby sting of pain run from that sensitive area down your spine.

You didn’t need to actually draw blood to feel it. Your body is already messed up enough that this is where you momentarily pause.

The one person who had always been there as your supporting foundation is long gone. You had not found the strength to admit it, but you had been flailing in quicksand for a while now.

What’s a house without its foundation? It can only sink until it becomes no more.

You press harder, sending another chilling flash over your body. Your breath quickens and you feel that your lips are dry, although you have only stepped out of the shower.

Is this what others have felt? The addiction that comes the moment you start.  

You close your eyes, forcing your body to continue when the sound of a door being slammed shut scares you.

The tweezers fall to the floor.

…................

Shit.

Jungkook thinks as he takes off his shoes. There are still dark brown spots on it despite him intensively scrubbing them for five minutes straight in the car with a cloth. He contemplates on throwing his jacket on the ground, but seeing the state of shoes, he needs to be careful. Bending down, he picks them up and decides then that he must burn them.

He is so engrossed in his thoughts he doesn’t notice that he is not the only one home.

Looking around the floor, he finds the closest source of water and strides to it. He lets the water from the kitchen tap run until steam rises from it in which he then proceeds to take off his clothing. He throws in both the jacket and his stained white shirt. He then presses them down until the scalding water hits his own skin.

He hated acting out like this without a plan. He hated it with such a passion, but he hated even more the reason he went out and did it. His kills were always methodically thought out and never without reason. That homeless man in the alleyway shouldn’t have said anything when Jungkook walked by. He should have stayed mute, crammed in that dark corner, and harassed the next person that walked by. Not him. No. That decision only resulted in him lying lifeless in his own bloodied mound of dirt.

How could he have let somebody into his car? How was it even possible that he had allowed someone to monitor him to this extent? To have somebody take this much control of his life.

Each stab, a way to release the frustration he felt to his unknown attacker.

He is reminded of the knife at that moment. He should dispose of that as well. It was likely not possible that they would be able to trace the kill back to him – many people died out in the streets each night – but he needed to be careful, nonetheless.

He drains the water and watches the red-brown liquid swirl down the drain. Lifting his white shirt, he sees that the stain is still there. With a clenched jaw, he throws the heavy cloth against the wall, creating a loud smack.

The kill should have calmed him down. He should be feeling much better, but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels worse than before because now he has lost a perfectly good shirt and a jacket along with his pride.

With one hand braced against the counter of the kitchen, he takes out the bloodied knife from his pocket. He fumbles to flip it open but cannot due to the temporary paralysis on his fingers from drowning them in the hot water. Bracing the bulk of the item against his side, he forcefully digs into it with his fingertips. It slips and nicks his bare skin on the side.

…...............

You had had to sit down on the floor after your scare from Jungkook slamming the door shut. The unused tweezers had lain beside you for a while before you could pick it back up and return it to its spot. You busied yourself with getting dressed and going out to greet him.

As you throw the long-sleeved t-shirt over your head, you let out a bitter laugh. You were too weak to even do something like inflict pain on yourself. Jungkook’s perfect timing of returning home had stopped you.

You are twisting your damp hair into a bun when you hear a loud yell from the kitchen area.

“Fuck,” Jungkook snarls. It is deeper than it should have been. He had been aware how much force he had been trying to use to snap the knife out. The self-inflicted wound above his hip continues to ooze, mocking him red in his anger.

“Jungkook?!” You run towards him. You turn the corner and see him shirtless in the middle of the kitchen, one hand holding his side with a reddish liquid running between his fingers. “Oh my god! What happened?”

He feels the drape of your wet hair against his chest before anything. You are immediately by his side, putting your hand over his to place pressure on the wound. Not bothering to ask why he is standing without a shirt, you look up at him concerned.

“My hands slipped while I was trying to take out the knife,” he explains to you.

Again without questions, you lead him to the couch and order him to sit down. He obeys and you leave momentarily to get the first aid kit. When you return, you start to dress his wound. Everything is starting to resolve until Jungkook suddenly chuckles, wincing when it causes his wound to slightly tear.

“Jeon Jungkook!” You reprimand.

He grips the couch while you pour medical alcohol over it. “How ironic,” he says, voice laced with fatigue.

You had thought your heart had fallen out of your chest when you found him bleeding. All the worst possible scenarios had suddenly flown across your mind, and you thought that you were going to watch him die before you.

Not again, your heart has screamed before you could stop it.

Even now, as you were faced before the relatively small but deep wound, you could not stop the racing sensation you felt both mentally and physically.

“What are you talking about?” you say.

He hears the tremble in your voice. How strange.

Lilacs. That is what he is smelling from your shampoo.

“I’m usually the one to patch you up when you’re hurt. Now it’s the other way around,” he sighs.

“You haven’t even begun to explain what you were doing, trying to take out a knife while standing shirtless in our kitchen.”

“Our…” he laughs again.

You had fully been meaning to smack him for making it harder for you to clean the wound until it registers in your mind what he had said. What you let slip.

“You said ‘our kitchen’. I thought I was only a tenant here,” he says.

“Well you’ve… I mean… Y-You are…”  you stutter.

Jungkook rests his head back, feeling an extreme form of tiredness on his body. Everything that had happened that day comes crashing down, knocking his breath out completely. It is as if somebody had thrown consecutive punches and he is now feeling its after effects. His stalker, the random kill, this self-inflicted wound.

You mumble something.

“What was that?” He is knocked out of his thoughts. He looks down at the top of your head. The wound has been covered but your fingers linger on his body, and he feels their coldness on his heated skin.

You mumble again.

He is tired, but you have been kind enough to help him with any questions. He can at least humour this by being patient towards you.

You don’t know what has come over you. You hadn’t meant to say it, but Jungkook’s words had flustered you. You let a single word slip out and it had acted like a key to unlock the next ones that tumble out.

“I like…” you whisper, your voice still buried beneath the veil your hair creates. You don’t even know if you truly mean what you are about to say.

You feel his fingers slip beneath your chin and tilt your head up to him. He stares at you with an unwavering type of patience and attention.

“It won’t help if you keep whispering what it is you want me to hear to my chest. Talk to me like this,” he says slowly, holding your eyes with his. There is an intense fire blazing when you meet them.

Your palms prick as they start to sweat. You gulp and wet your lips.

“I like you!” you blurt, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks immediately after, “I know it doesn’t make sense but – ”

He silences you with his lips.

...................

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 (open): @yoonchrisgull

[wobinofylisse]

Gonna ask what your thoughts on Ophion are, so ya can rant about him

Haha, what if I stole your art for this ask @justlarkin ☺ Okay so it’s pretty obvious that I love this big dragon man and his arc as a character is really cool. So quick shout out to old Ophion for being thrown out of the story entirely because they probably don’t know how to write 2 Ophions at once and I kind of get that because having them both fight over you or ending up with one while the other is forced out just feels really wrong. Anyways since Ophion makes me :bighearteyes: this is gonna be essay length. I’ve sort of partitioned off each segment so if you want to jump around that’s fine.

Old Ophion

Young Ophion (personality)

Young Ophion (protagonist)

Date Quest

Ending Thoughts/Rating

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So old Ophion works as an interesting villain. He believes that through conquering the world he’ll be able to bring back his wife and like, considering Olympus and the large amount of people that live their.

That’s fair.

But after existing for eons he’s slowly forgotten his motives and all that remains in his mind is the end goal, no longer even aware of why but he still knows he has to. It’s a drive that’s so strong in his mind he’s willing to hurt others around him and even the reason he plots his coup of the Tycoons.

His memory of his wife has vanished so thoroughly that when the MC appears he doesn’t even recognize his wife’s soul. Something that is always one of the first things a character related to the exiles picks up on, even if only subconsciously.

When he summons young Ophion who literally paralyzes everyone in the room just by existing, his first thought when approaching you isn’t to follow the orders of his elder, something that he strongly believes in. His first thought is to embrace the wife that he’s missed for so long, even choosing to protect her over following his own beliefs of seniority and subsequently seeing just how far his older self has fallen.

It’s interesting to see that even though his sense of duty to claim the world remained, when he was confronted by his wife he neither recognized her or swayed from his duty to save her. It instills a sort of sadness in me that I’m not sure how to put into words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Anyways that’s enough about old Ophion. Let’s talk about the present and how young Ophion is getting along with everyone. When young Ophion arrived in Tokyo (after his initial appearance) personality wise he wasn’t too dissimilar to his older counterpart. He was still relatively cold to others and he still held the general ruling class opinion that most of the tycoons hold. However over time he’s become warmer towards others and learns to let go of grudges. Even to the point that he’s aware of Aizen’s plan from the start in Valentine Jail but instead of putting a stop to it, he sets up a way to end it at any point if need be and let him go through with it. While initially unaware of Aizen’s feelings, after learning them he forgives Aizen and even goes pretty light on his punishment. His growth as a character is thanks to the protagonist and he’s constantly changing to become a better version of himself for them.

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Literally cannot have a long post about Ophion without going into his relationship with the protagonist. At the start he views the protagonist as his wife. Potentially as either her reincarnation or simply a vessel without her memories. Irregardless of the case, he chooses to devote himself heart and soul to them. He neither tries to change them to become more like his wife or even chases after them as he would truly do for his wife. Whether it was something he always knew or something that slowly made it’s way in. He knows that the protagonist isn’t really his wife, that they’re their own individual being separate from her regardless of her soul being present. Ophion while it may become difficult to tell with just how loud he is about his love for his wife. Understands that you are your own person. He understands that you may choose to love someone else but in his heart he truly believes that in the end you will choose him. He’s willing to wait as long as it takes for you to see it. Although he isn’t just going to stand around doing nothing till you decide to fall into his arms. While he won’t stop you from loving another, he will actively make his move. In his valentine quest he buys a section of Roppongi so that he can spell out your name in the lights of the city. It’s an impressive gesture but even so he feels that it not only wasn’t enough but he’s even worried that it wasn’t enough, that you would even make fun of him for it. However this gesture is his attempt to seduce you, not his wife, but you. The successor to her, one that shines so brilliantly he would do anything to prove his love. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since it’s not officially translated I’ll just give a brief summary of his date but for the actual full thing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQ2U3dlXnlc Are you gonna post this video every chance you get? Bitch I might! Ophion drives you to a helipad, takes you up into a helicopter, PROPOSES to you, leaps out of the helicopter mid-flight with you in his arms and then takes you home so he can preform his husbandly duties. THIS MAN. OPHION SAYS NO TO PRE-MARITAL SEX! KING SHIT!

Also quick end note here. He’s aware that you won’t live forever and eventually your time together will come to an end. But he will never stop following you and will search for your soul no matter where or what form it may take, just as he has for his late wife.

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Hnnnng How could I go through this entire thing without even mentioning that he’s hot too! He better button up those pants before he learns that I’ve got a serious case of the munchies! This man has shown that he canonically gets more powerful while naked and he is one of few characters that has been shown full frontal nudity in this game that’s rated T. This man’s slussy is OUT AND POPPING

10/10! no 100/10 This man deserves the world and the stars not only in this reality but any that we may find ourselves in. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to create a character that can take his place and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo​ )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95​

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist               Masterlist 

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

[ordinaryschmuck]

Starkid Musicals Ranked from Worst to Best

Salutations to you, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Welp. I finally did it. I've watched the entire Starkid musical library, and I must say, most of these plays fit my writing style perfectly:

Humor that is cynical yet random

Leaning in with comedy while sprinkling in some well-executed drama

An understanding that any type of story works as long as the cast of varying personalities of characters is dynamic enough to result in some phenomenal chemistry.

This is in almost all of their plays, excelled through fantastic writing and stellar performances driving the overall quality. And it inspired me not only to review each musical, but also ranking them all from worst to best. Or, more accurately, least good to most good. Because even at their "worst," Starkid still provides a funny, enjoyable experience that will keep you laughing with its comedy and your toes tapping with its catchy music. So strap in as I go in-depth into how Starkid proves how they are the masters of humor and melody.

(I'll also provide links to each musical, which is all for free on YouTube, so you can check them out yourselves. Just know that their early work is impossible to enjoy without subtitles, so you might want to have Closed Captions on when watching.)

#12-Holy Musical B@man-Everything about this play makes it seem like it's the weakest to me. The jokes, songs, and characters in Holy Musical B@tman just don't hit as hard as Starkid's other plays. It's still good, but compared to their best, the cracks show a lot more. That is, except for the ending. Not only is there a great speech that shows what makes superheroes so beloved, but "Super Friends" might just be my favorite finale song Starkid has ever put out. Holy Musical B@tman may not be the best, but it's at least worth the time.

#11-Firebringer-This was stupid. Really stupid. Funny as f**k, but still pretty stupid. Although I will give credit to one of the central pairings being LGBTQA+...Even though it makes little to no sense based on the characters' previous interactions. But in fairness, Starkid really sucks at writing good romantic relationships, so at least Firebringer has the benefit of being gay. And as we all know: The gayer, the better. The play is still stupid, though.

#10-Me and My Dick-The world in this musical makes little to no sense. Penises and vaginas are sentient and can communicate with their humans. And yet the penises and vaginas can also talk with each other, form relationships, leave their humans, and reinsert themselves into others--Yeah, it makes no sense...But, DAMN, is it funny! Every joke and innuendo Me and My Dick has about human anatomy works, and I could not stop laughing at each of them. Especially the names that were given to the vaginas, which are just...I mean, I'm laughing just by thinking about them. That should tell you how funny they are. This play might be illogical in every way, but if you turn your brain off and watch it for the humor, you'll definitely be in for something fun.

#9-ANI: A Parody-What's weird about ANI is that its best qualities are also weaknesses. A good chunk of the jokes are hilarious and expertly delivered. The issue is that most of them are about taking potshots at the Star Wars prequels, which might be the laziest jokes to make in a Star Wars parody. Then there's the soundtrack, having several songs that are a bop to listen to. The problem is that ANI suffers from the same issues as Tarzan and Brother Bear: Yes, technically, it is a musical, but it's one where none of the characters sing, and some people in the background do all the singing instead. It's all an odd balancing act of quality content made through questionable choices. ANI is still an entertaining play, but the force isn't as strong with this one.

#8-Black Friday-This might be the least funny play that Starkid has ever put out. Not just because it leans extra hard into drama, which was pretty effective during certain scenes. It's just when there are jokes in Black Friday, they tend to fall flatter more here than they did in other plays. Also, the plot of Black Friday might not be the best one to play straight. The serious moments work best when focusing on the characters and their personal struggles, but through the big bad that's supposed to be threatening? Not so much. Even if it was meant to be funny, well, I wasn't laughing. And believe it or not, I consider that to be the best judge of whether or not something is funny. That being said, while Black Friday isn't the most humorous Starkid musical, it's still pretty good. The characters are excellent, the songs are awesome, and the story is somewhat easy to follow. I would have appreciated a few more laughs, but I can respect these talented people wanting to challenge their strengths.

#7-Starship-This play feels very...Disney. It follows a familiar formula we've seen several times: The main character wants more than what he has in his crappy life, miraculously gets the exact thing he wants, falls in love with a girl in a short amount of time, faces off against a campy/over the top villain, realizes the hand he's been dealt isn't so bad, and in the end, gets what he wants anyway. Starship is still pretty entertaining through its jokes, characters, and songs, but it also feels weird that Starkid leans into these tropes when they would eventually make a much better play by making fun of them. The end result is not bad in the slightest, but it's also nowhere near their best.

#6-A Very Potter Musical-Starkid's first production, and boy, what a start to something wonderful. Every one of their gimmicks and motifs is present in A Very Potter Musical. The use of parody to playfully mock characters and stories they love, making songs that are as funny as they are emotional, and creating characters that work because of their lines and the actors' performances. Oh, and also, it's funny. And it’s not just through a parody angle, like making Cedric be a perfect boy who's always smiling. It's also funny through its jokes that work, even if you ignore the fact that it’s a parody altogether. Case in point, there are these two bits, one involving Voldemort and Beatrix with the other involving Ron and Hermoine, that are written and delivered so well that I was in tears much more than with any other Starkid play. When watching A Very Potter Musical, you'll not only understand how parody works, but you'll also gain an understanding of why Starkid turned out as successful as they did.

#5-The Trail to Oregon-What can I say? I'm a sucker for comedic dysfunctional families. And seeing a family of idiots make their way to Oregon via The Oregon Trail parody? Yeah, that's a win for me. The play may be another family road trip narrative, which some people might get sick of at this point. But because the dynamics and comedic chemistry everyone has with each other are on point, the end result proves that you don't need an original story to tell an entertaining one. Although I will say that out of all of Starkid's productions, The Trail to Oregon has by far the worst ending. Without giving anything away, the play spends way too much time on this one stupid joke that any of the characters could make. Comedy is defined by personalities, as are most things, so making the joke work for anyone is a bad move when this one, in particular, doesn't fit as well for some characters as it would for others. Plus, the finale song "Naked in a Lake" is a really poor choice to cap off this musical. It's catchy, but to me, a finale song should encapsulate everything about the story, characters, and themes. Not paying off a joke that I honestly wouldn't want the payoff for. So while the ending could have used a lot more polish, that doesn't change how The Trail to Oregon is a pretty funny play that I won't mind revisiting when I have the chance.

#4-A Very Potter Sequel-Hey, sometimes a sequel is better than the original. Sure some jokes don't land, and some story beats aren't as impactful as they thought they were (Serious Black's introduction, for example), but there are far more improvements to this play than the last one. The performances are stronger, the jokes are funnier, the music is catchier, and the characters are much more entertaining in this play than in A Very Potter Musical. Especially new additions like Lupin and Lucious Malfoy, who provide great comedy and sublime drama at times. And Umbridge. Sweet Mother of all that is holy, Umbridge. While A Very Potter Sequel never made me laugh to tears as the first play did, twice, Professor Umbridge carries the comedy so well that she surpasses all of that. Plus, on top of it all, this play nails its ending through a bittersweet note that really captures what makes Hogwarts so special to these characters. I always feel like Starkid's plays tend to lose steam during the last few minutes, but A Very Potter Sequel is one of the few instances that it just builds and builds to a perfect ending. A Very Potter Sequel might not always hit the right marks, but the results are just magical when it does get it right.

#3-The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals-This one is pretty clever. The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is one of those stories that manages to be explicitly hilarious yet implicitly disturbing. For instance, people suddenly bursting into perfectly choreographed musical numbers in a world where songs are exclusively diegetic is pretty funny (especially through the characters' reactions to it). However, knowing what happens to these people and why they sing and dance so expertly helps make the whole situation pretty dire. It's an excellent balancing act that not many stories can accomplish. And while The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals leans one way or the other at times, it's still all handled really well. Oh, and also, you know how most people say the villain song is the best one in any musical? Well, technically speaking, nearly every song in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is the villain song. Including the finale, which is just too brilliant for me not to give a round of applause. If you're a person who unfortunately doesn't like musicals either, I'd say be more than willing to give this one a chance. It's funny, catchy, and if you think of the implications, pretty damn disturbing.

#2-A Very Potter Senior Year-...You know how Avengers: Endgame is a bit of a mess, yet people still love it for how much of a perfect (sort of) finale it is? It's the same regard with A Very Potter Senior Year in my eyes. It's far from a masterpiece, but the many, many solid scenes that cap off this series help make me willing to overlook the mistakes. The characters, callbacks, and overall message about how things end was done so expertly well that I physically can’t hate this one. I can understand how it's more of an ok play when compared to the rest of Starkid's productions, but sometimes, ok is wonderful.

#1-Twisted: An Untold Story of a Royal Vizier-...It's Twisted. Everyone loves Twisted! And how could they not? Everything about this play just screams Starkid at their best. The comedy is uproarious, added with the fantastic delivery of the actors and the characters' personalities. Everyone feels as though they have one step in reality and the other in insanity. This, to me, seems like the best type of character work when going for the parody angle. Parody is about giving slight yet snide remarks toward the work you're mocking, which I feel works best when characters drop the suspension of disbelief audiences have when enjoying such a story. And Twisted definitely nails its satire in not only poking fun at Aladdin but also making jokes towards Disney as a brand. From their movies to their inside jokes to their formulas to even their corporate dealings with Pixar, nothing about Disney is sacred in Twisted. But on top of being funny, Twisted might just be the most successful Starkid has been with telling some really compelling drama. The jokes allow themselves to take a back seat to let serious moments play out, and even comedy is added, it provides more for the experience rather than taking anything away. You see this not only through the actors giving it their all but even through some really gorgeous and heart wrenching musical numbers. Oh, and also, Twisted has the best Starkid soundtrack, featuring songs that are epic, funny, and, as I said, heartbreaking. You cannot get better than this and, if you want to get a friend interested in Starkid as a whole, this might be the play for them. Scheherazade may have a thousand tales, but his one is a tale I wouldn't mind hearing for a thousand nights.

And that's about how I feel about Starkid and each and every one of their plays. Odds are your ranking would be much different from mine, and I'm all for that differing opinions. Feel free to make your own ranking if you want because I'm honestly curious where fans would place these plays above or below others. I'm relatively new to enjoying their work, so I have no idea what the consensus is. I do know one thing, though: If Starkid can still be incredibly entertaining through over ten years of content, then I am excited to see what they can accomplish next in another ten years.