#is so difficult and they never pay you enough and just the job world in italy is smth so scary and like fuck change fuck change fuck change

[deadrlngers]

literally losing it as we approach graduation day and while yea ofc i'm incredibly happy of reaching this point it still gives me some anxiety to do the presentation but mainly the concept itself that everything is going to change from that day on. i will not be a student anymore which is smth i've been all my life and i don't have a job and just,,what will i be then what's my place in the world what contribution i'm giving what's my identity what's-I'M LOSING IT SO BAD

[simpjaes]

DAY-SHIFT. (p. sh)

― part one here! After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided. or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 14.5k 

CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.

NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!! 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Avoidance.

That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.

It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities. 

The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.

You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life? 

The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?

Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world. 

For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work. 

Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”

You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again. 

That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day. 

Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you? 

Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out? 

After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just–

You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans. 

You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?

You refuse to fucking find out.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

From:...[ HRatyourjob@workemail.org ]

CC:...[ parksunghoon@workemail.org ]

BCC:...

Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.

[insert your name here],

The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines. 

Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.

Thank you,

HR

Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.

Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.

The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.

But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.

Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either. 

The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you” before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle. 

Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you. 

Maybe you’re still overreacting.

Or maybe you dreamed all of this up. 

You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.

And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.

You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?

You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him. 

And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.

You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him. 

Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him. 

Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t. 

And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something. 

From:...[ parksunghoon@workemail.org ]

CC:...

BCC:...

Subject: Mandatory Advising

[insert your name here],

Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late. 

Thank you,

Park Sunghoon

Division Manager

000-000-0000 ext. 000

Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously? 

You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath. 

In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.  

So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature. 

Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?

“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes. 

It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest. 

“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk 

You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?” 

You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath. 

“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual. 

Not anger. Not disappointment. 

He looks worried.

“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.” 

You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.

“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.

“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”

You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of  “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again. 

You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.

“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.

“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor. 

“I will reiterate then.” 

You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you. 

“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”

Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.

“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.” 

You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?

“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.” 

You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.

So this is it? 

So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.

“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation. 

“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”

Now you feel a bit…pissed off.

Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?

What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy. 

You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.

Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?! 

Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it. 

Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching. 

Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?

“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.

You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office. 

“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”

“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”

“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”

“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?” 

Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call. 

But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.

Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?

Fuck.

Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both. 

And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out. 

“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense. 

“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”

“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?” 

Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.

So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people? 

“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”

Oh, he’s actually stuttering.

“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”

In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it. 

Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.

But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera. 

You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers. 

And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.

But you…

You’ve seen him dirty. 

Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.

“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.

Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.

“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky. 

There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.

You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”

“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles. 

Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?

“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.” 

He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues. 

“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.” 

Silence. 

“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”

You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him. 

“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance. 

His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.

 To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too. 

Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep. 

“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”

“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.” 

He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you? 

You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.

“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”

More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe. 

“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.” 

“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated. 

You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before. 

“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.” 

Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?

Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from. 

“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll.  “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?” 

Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further. 

“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.” 

You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone. 

“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”

Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him. 

“Maybe.” 

You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe. 

“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.” 

He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion. 

“Did you take advantage of me?”

He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself. 

“Would I let you do it again…?”

Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?

God, hasn’t he already let you?

“Yes.”

Pause. 

“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”

“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose. 

“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”

Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off. 

Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?

Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you. 

He wants you so badly.

“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”

“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”

“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone. 

“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow. 

“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”

Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?

Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work. 

“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it. 

“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock. 

Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?” 

You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder. 

Click. 

“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”

“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant. 

“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain. 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute. 

Far too cute. 

“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.” 

Tame?! That’s what he calls tame?! 

You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.

Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary. 

“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”

You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him. 

“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.

 “No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”

You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt. 

You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers. 

“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”

A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.

”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you. 

 After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.

All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels. 

You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—

“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”

Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.

He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this. 

In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online? 

At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?

Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it. 

“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”

The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?

”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound. 

He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt. 

“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons. 

And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you. 

If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him. 

And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all. 

He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt. 

There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare  up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.

The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.

He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage. 

You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper. 

“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”

You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself. 

His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over. 

Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him. 

“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”

You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs. 

His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to. 

You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.

“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants. 

He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now. 

“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”

Oh. You lost your train of thought. 

Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more? 

So cute. 

He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them. 

You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs. 

“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly. 

Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?” 

God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…

You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you. 

“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”

You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence. 

But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that. 

“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth. 

You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.

His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this. 

But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–

“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.

“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth. 

The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to. 

 A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue. 

And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply. 

He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks. 

It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–

Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier. 

He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.

Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple. 

He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this. 

It feels better than jerking himself off. 

“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be. 

You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time. 

“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”

You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin. 

“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”

And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you. 

“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”

That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you. 

You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans. 

He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it. 

And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.

“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you. 

Oh, his cock. It’s right there. 

Oh.

His face– 

“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”

You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.

“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”

Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath. 

God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.

And not just anyone. His lips. 

You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it. 

He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you. 

And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising  himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you. 

He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you. 

You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”

You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now. 

You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once. 

Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids. 

Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you. 

“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.

You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.

It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him. 

“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”

You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh. 

“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-” 

“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”

You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand. 

“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.” 

You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now. 

But��he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying. 

“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”

You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.

So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you. 

You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable. 

“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”

You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long. 

He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base. 

“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”

You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing. 

You’ve still only given him nothing. 

And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp. 

“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”

He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.

You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest. 

“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them. 

Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.

And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.

It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you. 

All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair. 

The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear. 

“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”

Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah. 

“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe. 

“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”

You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly. 

“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.

Quite fuckable, even. 

You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly. 

“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”

Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls. 

You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.

“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”

You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair. 

“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you. 

“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”

You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him? 

Honestly, who gives a fuck?

You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it. 

The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips? 

That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his. 

He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.

So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.

Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him. 

“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?” 

You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general. 

“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth. 

“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter. 

You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear. 

“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.” 

You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.

Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.

Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.

There, you look at him. You really look at him. 

What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him. 

“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”

You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips. 

You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.

As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks. 

Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants. 

You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–

“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can’t keep looking at you,”

You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing. 

“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”

Oh. 

“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.

 “Oh–shit.” 

It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound. 

“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”

“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”

He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it. 

To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–

He kisses you. 

After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.

He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.

And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety. 

You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…

He’s soft. Gentle, almost. 

Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking. 

You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection. 

Intimacy. 

And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you. 

“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.

It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed. 

“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode. 

You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice. 

“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work.  I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–” 

Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work. 

“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”

“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”

Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.

“Absolutely not?!” 

“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?” 

Sunghoon stares at you before smiling. 

“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”

You lend a half-joke gag at him. 

“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”

Sunghoon thinks hard.

“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”

“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”

“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”

“Oh, I’m personal business now?”

“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.” 

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.” 

“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.” 

Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?

“Who else has applied?”

“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.” 

You pause.

“Why?”

“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”

“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”

You damn fucking right you have.

“How many are still in the running?”

“Two.”

Oh, this job is soooooo yours. 

“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”

Oh, he thinks you want him that badly? 

“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”

“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!

[eddiediaaz]

hi guys, i am kind of ashamed and embarrassed to have to do this, but i figured it can't hurt to ask. basically i am really struggling right now (i know a lot of us are). i need financial help, so i set up a ko-fi page ☕

any kind of help would be so appreciated and i am so grateful for anyone taking the time to read this little post.

long story short: because of situations completely out of my control, i lost my job in vfx after almost 8 years and i am now forced to switch careers. i'm going back to school and can't find a part time job even tho i have been working non stop for 15 years. financial aid will only cover my rent, so i absolutely need to work 20 to 30 hours a week to cover the rest of my living expenses, but it's really hard to find a job. i am also currently over 10k cad in debt from my film school loans and credit cards.

signal boost would be appreciated, if you can 💕

my situation in more details under the cut for those who are curious

i was working in the vfx industry as a 2D compositor since 2016 (i have worked on over 40 films and tv shows), but in december of 2023 i lost my job due to the hollywood strikes (as expected, and as it should—i fully support the strikes). this was supposed to be temporary for a couple months where i could get unemployment benefits (only 45% of my usual salary though). unfortunately, on may 31st 2024, my government announced that they are significantly cutting the funding & tax credits for the vfx industry where i live. what does this mean? mass lay offs. thousands of canadians and other people in the world working in the industry are losing their career, including me. there will only be about 20% vfx jobs left where i live by 2025. vfx shops and production houses have already started to close doors here. i'm still mourning this career i have been working in for 8 years and loved, even tho it's been difficult and demanding at times (lots of overtime), but there are just no jobs right now (unless you are a senior vfx artist with decades of experience) and the future will only get more bleak. i could move abroad and follow the industry that is already moving somewhere else, but i don't want to do that on my own (i am already super lonely as it is!!) and i can't afford it.

my unemployment benefits will run out by the last week of september. in 4 weeks. i've been sending resumes everywhere, both online and in person, but i am just not getting anything in return. even tho i have over 15 years of experience working in various jobs and i have never been fired from anywhere. even tho my resume and cover letters are solid because they have been approved my professional counselors (a free service for people under 35 where i live). so much for they're hiring everywhere...

since my vfx compositing skills are very niche and not really applicable to much else, i decided to go back to school, taking college classes in the admin and excecutive assistant fields, since it's something that i think would be good for me and there are lots of jobs for that here. i will be getting some financial aid, but it's nowhere near enough to survive. it will only cover my rent, and that's because my rent is super cheap for my city. my college classes start on september 30 and i am excited for it, but also very stressed because i still don't have a part time job.

i've been living on my own with a small salary for over 10 years now, but it truly is the first time that i'm struggling this hard. i honestly don't have anything worth selling except some taylor swift perfumes, which i sold this week. i also have over 6k of credit debt and another 4.5k of school loans left to pay. at the bare minimum i will need about $1.000 CAD/month to cover my other bills and expenses after rent, hence why the need for a job ASAP. i am desperate and my mental health has been a huge mess. this is why i decided to open my ko-fi accounts. not that i'm expecting much, but anything can help, i think.

i don't have much to offer in exchange, except gifs? i'm wondering if (cheap, low price) gif commissions are a thing? i have no idea know, but i set up a poll on my ko-fi page to see if anyone would be interested.

thank you for reading if you've made it here, it's appreciated 💖

[foxintheferns]

I'd love to see Jacob with a single mama. I'd love it if he imprinted on her while she's playing with her little one on the beach. She could be Charlie's niece who he helped move to Forks to give her a fresh start with the little one. I'm thinkin the kiddo is about 1-2, old enough to walk/play in the sand but still young. I can see Jacob being the best papa ever and the pack just LOVING on the kid <3 Please and thank you! <3

Thank you so much for your patience with this one! Because I made you wait so long, I made it a long one <3. Loved writing such sweet lil fluffy stuff. Please enjoy :)

A/N: AU where Jacob and Bella aren’t toxic & weirdly obsessed with each other, and he has his own life and experiences outside of her! Period.

HOME

You sat on the sand with Lydia between your legs, her wispy, silky auburn hair blowing between your fingers with each soft gust of the salty breeze. You faced the ocean, La Push beach surrounding you in all of its striking glory.

Lydia babbled as she played with the sand, her back to you and her arms and legs quite literally covered in the granules. It would be her second birthday in two months, and you couldn’t understand where the time had gone. She grew so quickly, her chunky little arms and legs getting longer by the day, and you wished desperately that you could pause time.

Your ex boyfriend Noah, Lydia’s father, hadn’t wanted much to do with the raising of his child.

You looked down at the side of her sweet face, the buttery soft skin of her cheek glowing with the orange light of the afternoon. It was despicable that anyone could not want to love this tiny human, you thought, that anyone would even consider leaving her by choice. But that was exactly what Noah had done. His booze and his gambling was far too important to him to bother with the raising of a small child.

It made you angry; you felt a relentless and almost violently intense need to protect her. From everything ugly and awful and false in this world, even if that meant her own father. He had never treated you right, always gone for nights at a time doing who knows what with God knows who. The pregnancy had been an accident, but his reaction was not what you’d expected. He’d seemed to be on-board at first, but was never there for you during your difficult pregnancy. You thought back to how your muscles had ached as you were on all fours scrubbing the bathroom floor that one Saturday night, seven months pregnant and inconceivably exhausted. He had come home after being gone for two days, reeking of liquor and barely having time to slur out his angry question of what you were planning on making for dinner before he’d passed out on the living room couch.

You had been expecting Lydia’s birth to snap him back to reality, to throw things into perspective for him. But the man you had practically grown up with, together since 18, had missed her birth.

“Got caught up at work,” had been his excuse when he showed up at the hospital the next morning. Even the labor and delivery nurse had thrown him a glare.

When Lydia was 3 months old, you were forced to go part-time at the job you’d loved, the one that could actually lead somewhere. Without Noah’s help, childcare was next to impossible. Your neighbor, Jess, a stay at home mom of three, was kind enough to babysit Lydia with her own children for a few days out of the week, but you felt awful not being able to pay her much, if anything, most weeks.

After over a year of trying, of desperately hoping and yearning for the man you had once loved to be a father to your sweet girl, you’d finally thrown in the towel. Noah had made it clear that he had no interest in being a dad, and in one of his more blacked-out stupors, had even remarked that if the two of you hadn’t gotten pregnant, things would’ve been easier. Better.

Noah had been gone 11 days, his longest absence yet.

You’d packed your minimal belongings, gathering Lydia’s too and putting them into her tiny suitcase with strawberries on it.

Your mom had passed when you were 16, and your dad was very much like Noah. Oh, how patterns repeat themselves. You didn’t have much of a support system to fall back on when shit hit the fan.

The one person you knew would answer if you called was your Mom’s brother, Charlie.

“(Y/N)?,” his gruff, tired voice had come through the phone that early Tuesday morning. You knew it was probably only 4am in Forks, where he was, but he’d still answered the phone.

“Uncle Charlie…,” you’d whimpered shakily, “I-….”

You didn’t even know where to begin. Uncle Charlie had always been so good to you, checking in and asking how Lydia was frequently. He’d been one of the few people you’d called to share the exciting news of your pregnancy with, and had been ecstatic, urging that you come visit him and your cousin Bella as soon as you could.

“What’s goin’ on? You okay?”, His voice had become suddenly alarmed, and you’d heard the shuffling in the background of him getting up and out of his bed.

Leaving with Lydia was something you’d been wanting to do for a while, but you didn’t think you could actually follow through with it. Saying it out loud felt impossible.

“I need your help,” you’d whispered, your voice low and on the verge of breaking.

That was two weeks ago now.

You sat on the soft sand with Lydia, her tiny fingers gripping your leg for support as she pulled herself up, and you thought back to the fear you’d felt that day. Charlie had immediately paid for a planet ticket for you and Lydia to fly up to Port Angeles. He didn’t waste a moment in inviting you to come stay with him. He’d been clearly enraged, barely hiding his distaste for Noah’s behaviors once you’d let the floodgates open and told him everything you’d been hiding for months.

“Jesus, (y/n). I thought you guys were doing good, I-… I thought he was different, honey. I’m so sorry, kid,” Charlie had spoken into the phone after the words pouring from your mouth had finally come to a halt once you’d gotten him caught up on the current status of your relationship with your baby’s father. You hadn’t realized it, but you’d been hiding it from practically everyone. Your cousin Bella texted you often, and she knew some of the details of how absent Noah had become, but even she didn’t know the extent of it. You were a single mother, from the moment Lydia was conceived, you’d accepted that. Noah was never a dad to her.

“Mama! San!” Lydia’s tiny voice shrieked out as she grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it in front of her, some of it spraying in the breeze and landing across your chest and arms. She tentatively waited for your reaction. Her eyes scanned your face, her pink cheeks pulled into an ecstatic smile. You laughed, shaking your head, and wiped the rough granules off of your skin as you nodded at her.

“Yes, sand!” You picked up a handful of it, holding it out to show her and letting it spill through your fingers. She shrieked again, excited by your intentional dropping of the sand, and jumped several times, her little legs barely able to lift her half an inch off the ground.

You’d been down at the beach in La Push almost every day now. You’d gotten settled in to the extra bedroom at the Swan’s house, and you couldn’t help but feel like a burden, so you went out with Lydia often. Charlie and Bella had insisted, several times, that they were grateful to have the two of you. That they didn’t feel burdened by your presence. A toddler definitely wasn’t the quietest or most polite house guest, but Lydia was truly the best thing you’d ever done, and you prided yourself that you’d managed to raise such a good tiny human all on your own.

She was kind, and gentle. She loved animals, she loved making new friends. She watched the world around her with curious and eager eyes, anxious to explore and see and feel. She laughed and laughed and laughed; she was the giggliest baby you’d ever seen.

Bella offered to watch her whenever you needed a break, and you hadn’t asked for one yet. She was practically begging to babysit Lydia at this point, which had surprised even her; she wasn’t much of a kid person.

You didn’t want a break. You were soaking up this time with your little one as much as you could. You felt free, for the first time in a long time.

The beach felt like home now, and Lydia seemed to think so too. Every time you walked with her down the dirt path toward the beach, she would screech and try her best to run towards the glistening ocean. You’d been at the beach now for an hour or two, and you reached into your bag to pull out more baby sunscreen for her.

“Lyd, come ‘ere babe.” You reached out, gently pulling her to you, and her eyes landed on the pink bottle of sunscreen. She knew the drill at this point, and gingerly leaned against you as you rubbed the cream across her tiny little shoulders and arms. She giggled and smiled as the cold sunscreen landed on her skin.

“Eeee!” She cried, slapping her small hands against your leg as she pulled her face away in protest to you trying to spread the sunscreen across her cheeks. She still stood in place though, squeezing her eyes shut and pouting as you rubbed it in.

“Thank you, baby. Such a good girl,” you cooed as you snapped the lid of the sunscreen closed and placed a kiss on the tip of her little nose. You continued to pepper her face with smooches until she was a screeching, giggling mess on the sand, her arms and legs flailing every which way. You tickled her, both of you laughing loud enough for the sound to travel over the noise of the rolling waves hitting the beach.

After the tickle attack came to an end, you grabbed some strawberries and blueberries from your bag, pulling open the Tupperware container and holding it out to Lydia. Her eyes lit up (strawberries are her all time fave) and she eagerly grabbed at the berries with both hands. After several minutes of snacking, her mouth and face was stained pink and red, and her fingers were sticky. The sand was still warm, although the breeze was starting to cool off a bit.

“Let’s walk, yeah Lyddi?,” you asked, getting up from your large towel and brushing the sand off of your legs. She bounced around beside the towel, falling a few times onto the soft sand as she lost her balance. You held your hand out and smiled down at her, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She reached out without hesitation, allowing you to envelope her tiny hand in yours, and let you lead her down towards the water.

You walked across the gentle waves, only going far enough so that the incoming swells flowed across your feet and ankles. With each wave hitting the shore, Lydia giggled and gripped your hand firmly, picking her feet up as quickly as she could to run from the water as it approached, only to run back towards it when it receded. You bent down, releasing her hand to skim the ocean water, wetting your fingers to clean the berry juice from her face.

As you were wiping your thumb across the soft skin of her chin, you saw her eyes flicker to something behind you, down the beach. Her gaze was intent and focused, and you glanced over your shoulder to see what managed to catch her constantly fleeting attention. A group of four tall men coming down the beach, kicking a soccer ball amongst their group. Their laughter was just reaching your ears now, and they were coming close enough that you were able to make out their faces.

They were quite large, and all but one of them were shirtless. The image rang a bell: they looked like they could be some of the Quileute boys you’d heard Bella mention were her close friends. You knew the beach was on the local Quileute reservation, but it’d been relatively empty in the days you and Lydia had been spending there, and you’d only seen random tourists walking along the beach occasionally. Bella had complained jokingly to you that these friends of hers were annoyingly always shirtless, impossibly large and tall, and that her boyfriend Edward wasn’t the biggest fan of them.

You smiled when one of them looked down the beach towards you and Lydia, and he seemed to return a polite smile at first, but his face melted into an odd expression when your eyes met. It was an indecipherable look. A look you didn’t understand.

He stopped walking, his body halting while his friends continued to move down the beach ahead of him. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was about to wave or come towards you, as if he recognized you like an old friend. The peculiar expression lingered for a moment before he pulled his eyes away quickly, and you saw his mouth moving as he seemed to speak swiftly to the men around him. His friends stopped walking as well, all turning to face him with bewildered expressions. The eye contact between you had been longer than a typical interaction with a stranger, but you felt oddly unalarmed. You were struck with an odd sensation that felt like you recognized him too.

He was the tallest of the group, his shoulders wide & strong. His frame was long and lean, and he happened to be the only one wearing a shirt, though it was a black cut off tank that didn’t cover much of his chiseled musculature underneath. You brushed the encounter off as random and probably explainable, trying to ignore the odd and unfamiliar sensation that prickled across your entire body like electricity.

You turned back to Lydia, but her curious eyes were still locked on the group behind you, wonder filling her face. A smile crept onto your lips as you watched her blink, her long lashes framing her wide eyes. She was beautiful. She was always so curious, so interested. Strangers made her nervous, like any two year old, though, which is why you were utterly bewildered when she broke away from your grasp and started toddling down the shore towards the group of men. You shot up from your lowered position, chasing after her.

“Lydia!” you called, your feet picking up pace.

It was amazing just how fast a two year old could be when they suddenly decided they had a destination in mind. You caught her under the armpit just as she almost fell across the wet sand in her run, and your knees hit the soft sand as you almost fell yourself. You panted, holding onto her and unable to stifle back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What the heck! Lyd-,” you started, looking up from where you grasped her. She was frozen, staring up at something.

She’d managed to close the distance between the two of you and the men, quickly enough that the soccer ball they’d been passing around as they came down the beach was only feet away now. You followed her gaze, and saw two large hands come down to swiftly pick up the ball. Your eyes moved up more still, until they landed on the face of the man you’d just locked eyes with moments before.

His gentle brown eyes were wide, his jaw slack and his expression yet again incomprehensible. You still had a smile on your face, and his eyes flicked down to your grin, the corners of his own mouth lifting up slightly. He gestured toward you with the arm that held the soccer ball.

“You’re, uh, Bella’s cousin?” The sound of his voice was rough and deep. Your grin faltered to make way for the suprised expression that came across your face.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Um, you know Bella?” You asked, taking the brief moment to get back up onto your feet and readjust the flowy fabric of your sundress that had gotten ruffled up in the capturing of your tiny escapee. You still held Lydia’s hand, and she stayed unmoving by your side, watching the tall man with the same awed expression. A grin spread across his face, and his eyes maintained the same electric glow they’d had from the moment you’d looked at him.

“Bella’s one of my best friends, yeah. She’s told me a lot about you…and… uh Lydia, right?” He spoke gently, his eyes glancing down at the tiny human to your right. You looked down at her, too, and she smiled timidly up at the man, stepping slightly behind your leg shyly. You beamed back at him, nodding and running your fingers through the soft silky baby hair on the top of Lydia’s head.

“Yeah, this is Lydia,” you replied, ruffling her hair until a soft giggle fell from her lips.

“I’m Jacob Black,” he glanced beyond him briefly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “those are my buddies Quil, Embry, and Jared. You’re (Y/N)?”

You glanced briefly over to the other three men, though they were now immersed in their own mumbled conservation several yards away; one of them was watching you with interest and flashed a warm smile back at you.

You nodded, turning back to Jacob.

“That’s me,” you answered with a shrug and a smile. When you met his gaze again, his eyes were intense, almost pained, his pupils wide. That electric feeling ran through you again. The eye contact between the two of you lingered each and every time it occurred, as if it was an inconvenience to pull away from it for both of you. Jacob knelt down on one knee, tucking the soccer ball under his arm. His eyes only broke away from yours to glance down at Lydia, who was still watching him intently from her place next to your leg.

“Hi, Lydia, it’s nice to meet you,” he murmured gently, “I’m Jacob.”

There was a hesitation, and you were just about to encourage Lydia to say hello to Jacob, but to your surprise she broke away from you once more, ambling across the sand and reaching her arms out towards the soccer ball Jacob held under his arm. In her uncoordinated stumbling over the sand, she started to fall forwards. Before you could even begin to reach to catch her, one of Jacob’s large hands came out in a flash to support her, stopping her mid fall.

“Woah, buddy, careful there!” He exclaimed, a chuckle coming from his chest.

At the sound of his laughter, your baby beamed up at him, her expression suddenly delighted, and after a moment, a giggle erupted from her own little body.

Your eyes widened, shocked as you watched her laugh, Jacob’s large hand still holding her up off the sand. His eyes flickered to you as you broke into surprised laughter as well, and soon the three of you were a giggling mess. Lydia adored making adults laugh. It was the phase she was currently in: to laugh at everything anyone deemed amusing, and it was common that she would even fake laugh to get you to laugh, which would often result in a real fit of hysterics from the both of you

You were astonished that she’d warmed to a stranger so quickly, especially such a large man - a category of human that toddlers tend to decide is terrifying for no reason.

As the afternoon started to bleed into evening, you and Lydia got to know your new friends. Lydia was very opposed to moving away from them, interested in the soccer ball and jumping around in the sand. Jacob continued to stare intently at you every moment that his eyes weren’t required to be on something else, and you didn’t mind it. His energy was warm and gentle, and even his friends seemed to find his behavior entertaining, chuckling and whispering to eachother every time Jacob’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds too long. You couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to your face with his stares. You hadn’t really felt this noticed by someone, a man, in what felt like forever. And he was absolutely noticing you. He was doing more than notice you. He was ogling at you, drinking the sight of you in like fresh air for a suffocating man. His eyes turned gentle and soft whenever they fell upon Lydia, and he spent the time as the two of you spoke truly attending to her and her endless toddler games, showing earnest interest in the shells she had picked up and started to stack on one of his feet.

“Oooh, wow, now that one’s pretty. Definitely my favorite one yet.” He carefully examined the newest purple shell Lydia had found and handed to him for inspection. She smiled and clenched her fists in excitement, eagerly racing to find more shells in the sand to bring to him.

His eyes slowly found their way back to yours as you sat beside one another. You smiled softly, and he returned it, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling them gently.

There it was again, that electricity.

Six Months Later

It had been a whirlwind, these past six months. Meeting Jacob Black had changed life entirely for you and your daughter. After that night on the beach, you, Charlie and Bella had visited the Blacks’ home a few times, joining them for bonfires and pizza dinners whenever a hockey game was on tv. Bella seemed adamant that you visit Jacob often, even Charlie seemed surprised with how eagerly she encouraged you to join them and hang out with the Quileute boys. You’d met Jacob’s father, who seemed to welcome you into his family without hesitation within moments of meeting you. He had peered at you with an intensely inquisitive expression, something that reminded you of the odd gut feeling you hadn’t been able to shake…that your new acquaintances were far more interesting than they let on. There was just something about them, and it felt like a secret club you were looking in on, one that caused the hushed, private conversations that seemed to happen frequently in their presence. You’d spoken to Bella about your encounter with her friend right after that first night on the beach. As the rest of that week had passed, Bella had begun acting suspiciously around you. Within days of her odd avoidant behavior, she finally sat you down to tell you things that challenged your perception of the world, forever.

Vampires and werewolves.

Insanity, right?

Bella had explained her relationship with Edward, and you hadn’t believed it at first.

Like, at all. Who would?

In fact, you thought she’d been completely off her rocker, crazy.

That was, until she’d claimed that Jacob had something to do with it, too.

“You need to go talk to Jacob,” she’d urged, “only he can explain what you need to know.”

You’d been absolutely confused, unsure what Jacob Black had to do with anything, especially with this absurd tale of vampires.

“I’ll watch Lydia. Go,” she’d insisted, practically pushing you out the front door. You were insanely curious; you’d never had any reason to question Bella’s mental competence before, and with her frantic efforts to get you to talk to Jacob, you had to know what this was all about. You still of course doubted the absurd story, but wanted to get to the root of the craziness, naturally.

When you’d arrived at the Black’s house, it seemed Jacob was expecting you, and he’d grabbed your hand gently, pulling you towards his little makeshift garage in the back.

You’d spent hours with him that night. Jacob had tried, while his eyes watered and his voice shook nervously, to explain the wildly unbelievable, and yet somehow completely sensical and validating reality of his ancestral destiny.

“I know, (y/n). Please, believe me, I know this sounds crazy,” he’d said as he anxiously paced across the garage, his eyes flashing to your face for your reaction.

You’d shaken your head, trying to connect the dots in your mind. It matched up with the absurd story Bella had told you, only this time he was speaking of wolves, wolves with the instinctual duty to protect from the supposed vampires Bella become involved with deeply. Wolves that were not wolves, but men. Men that included Jacob and his friends.

“Come with me,” he’d finally insisted sternly as you’d silently refused to accept the words he spoke, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

He’d led you outside, to the dark treeline, and placed his hands up in front of him before you could protest.

“Listen, I know this is gonna be hard to see, (y/n). I didn’t wanna have to do this but I need you to understand. There’s so much more to this world than you think there is. Please,” he’d begged, pulling you into a tight hug, his eyes wildly urging yours to listen to him, his shaky voice reducing to a whisper against your hair, “I understand if you never, ever want to be a part of this. But you deserve to know.”

You’d shaken your head, bewildered.

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

He stood back and started to pull his pants down, and your eyes widened, your eyebrow cocking up in confusion. A smile flashed across his lips.

“Remember what I just told you. I’d never hurt you, okay?”

Your mind flickered to the story he’d just spent the last hour telling you, but your brain simply wouldn’t allow you to defy logic to consider the possibility that the man was truly actually about to turn into a wolf.

And yet, you stood there with your jaw slacked open and your eyes wide, your body frozen as he stepped back several feet, his body twitching and trembling and twisting oddly before…

A ripping sound rang out, a wildly violent sound that came from deep within his body. The sound echoed against the trees, before it fell hauntingly silent across the dark backyard. Within less than a moment, a massive red brown wolf was standing before you, his huge head only inches away from your face.

Your mind didn’t comprehend the sight, the reality too unreal and too intangible to wrap around and understand. Those same brown eyes you’d come to know and feel safe in stared back at you intently from the massive wolf’s face.

It was the last image you remembered before you’d fallen to the ground, slipping into a shock driven unconsciousness.

When you’d woken, you had been in Jacob’s bed, an ice pack being gently repeatedly pressed to your forehead and neck.

It had been a rude awakening, but one that had forced open your eyes to a world that quickly became home for you, lifting the veil of reality that you’d come know.

Jacob’s next explanation was that of the concept of imprinting. That night, after you’d settled and moved out of your state of shock, started speaking real words again, Jacob expressed why he felt it was necessary to expose you to his world. He’d explained the ancient way of imprinting, what it meant for him, what it meant for you. That first day on the beach, the way he’d look at you, that electricity. It all made sense now.

“It’s you, (y/n). Now that you’re here, I will follow you anywhere. Even if you don’t want to be part of this, I’ll always protect you and Lydia from afar. Always. I can’t imagine a world anymore without you, a life without you. The moment I saw you, I felt it. My heart was yours,” he’d murmured, his arms around you as he rubbed your back to calm your tremors that had come across your body as you tried desperately to adjust to your entirely new concept of existence.

That felt so long ago, now. You’d met the Cullens soon after you were welcomed into the world of the supernatural, joining Bella in her secretive lifestyle of hiding the direct truth from Charlie, only letting him in on what he absolutely needed to know. Charlie was over the moon that you and Jacob got together; he pissed Bella off with how openly he approved of your relationship with Jacob over hers with Edward. Jacob didn’t feel right having you live in a spare bedroom at the Swan house, and had practically demanded you move into a home on the reservation with him. He’d jokingly insisted that it wasn’t his fault, that the imprint had forced him to need you in his sight at all times. You didn’t resist, elated to finally feel welcome in a home with your Lydia. And it wasn’t hard - Jacob made that incredibly simple. He so openly loved Lydia nearly as much as he loved you. Sometimes, you wondered how deeply the imprinting had impacted him. He accepted it and took it on with respect. He never pressured you to be anything but there, in his life. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest or even really notice how slowly you were allowing him into your heart. The relationship you had with Jacob had begun as a deep and true friendship, but the imprint connection was impossible to ignore, and there was undeniable attraction you felt for him, even beyond his beautifully kind heart and spirit. You held hands constantly, even before you’d established any sort of romantic connection. The first night Jacob had kissed you, you’d expressed your hesitation at pulling him into your life. You’d gotten used to men not wanting much to do with a single mom, after Noah had made it clear that you and Lydia were essentially a burden in his life. You were scared, not only for your own heart, but for Lydia’s. You couldn’t bear to bring another man into her life only for him to reject her like her father had. But Jacob? He’d adamantly refused to let your anxieties overcome you. He loved you, he’d insisted. All of you. Lydia was part of you. So, he loved her. It was that simple to him. He was often just as anxious when Lydia was out of his sight as when you were.

You remember the first time Lydia had called Jake ‘Dada’, several months after you’d been exposed to this world of fantasy. Lydia had gotten so comfortable with him, more comfortable than she’d been with any person, besides you, before. She babbled with excitement every time she heard you or Charlie or Bella mention him, and begged to see him frequently. Once you’d moved into the small red house with Jacob, she’d jump and squeal every time his truck pulled into the driveway at the end of the day.

That day she first said the word, you’d nervously glanced at his face, searching for his response.

She’d been holding his hand, walking along the shore at La Push. It was winter by this point, but Lydia needed her regular beach walk, and was bundled in her tiny red puffer jacket and white hat. She’d stooped down to pick up a shell, gripping it in her small fist, and jerked her hand out to him, dropping the shell into his hand.

“Dada!” She’d squealed as she waited for his approval of the shell.

His eyes had lit up and an expression of utter shock, which had quickly shifted into ecstatic bliss, moved across his features. His eyes had flashed to yours, and he clearly struggled, with everything in him, to hold back a massive grin. He was unsure of your reaction. Your eyes had melted back at him, and you were completely unable to resist the smile that crossed your lips. His dark eyes had turned glossy, and he’d looked back down at Lydia’s impatiently waiting face as she’d stared up at him, grasping the shell and embracing her in a massive bear hug. She’d laughed and shrieked, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

At Lydia’s 2nd birthday party, the whole pack had celebrated with you and Jacob at Billy’s house. The rest of the boys had happily taken on the role of proud uncles, practically fighting over who could hold her whenever you brought her over.

Life was peaceful, and you’d taken on a job at the La Push Farmer’s market. Childcare was a breeze now: on any given day while you were at work, either Sue & Charlie or Emily would eagerly babysit Lydia if Jacob was out on patrol or working his shift as a mechanic at the local bike shop. Lydia now had a family that was larger and more loving than you could have ever dreamed for her.

And you couldn’t ignore the fateful gift that you’d received too. Jacob Black was yours, and you were his. And you knew that, without a single doubt, he’d protect you and your daughter with relentless fervor for the rest of your lives.

You were safe. You were loved.

You were home.

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. aemond | rook's rest outtake.

— pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

— type: outtake from this series

— summary: aemond considers regicide.

— word count: 1,214

— tagging list: @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @callsignwidow @emilynissangtr

Aemond takes slow, measured steps—twigs and broken branches crunching underfoot, the air filled with smoke from dragonfire, Sunfyre lowly grumbling in pain as he curls further round his fallen rider—unsheathing Blackfyre from its scabbard.

He curls his long, gloved fingers round the pommel, gripping it tightly.

His chance—this most opportune moment—has finally arrived. He’d reluctantly bided his time, but now it has paid off.

He needs finish the job. Vhagar’s fire had not been enough.

Aegon will be dead—not that he ever deserved a thing he was given to begin with; it should’ve instead been his. All of it. The throne—with you sitting upon his lap; his lovely, beloved niece as his kind-hearted, gentle queen—the conqueror's crown resting easily upon his silver brow, your womb heavy with his heir. The Seven Kingdoms at his feet.

He will right uncountable wrongs.

He will get it all back.

Starting with you.

He will save you from yourself.

It will be his first decree once he is crowned—once he is coronated before the masses; ordained as King of Westeros by the Gods themselves—that the bastard Cregan Stark return his beloved niece; his lover; his betrothed; the mother of his future children; his future wife and magnificent queen to him at once.

Elsewise, if his demands are refused, he will fly North, root the traitor out of his pathetic stone castle, and put him to the sword before taking back that which should have remained by his side all along. He will have his southron armies destroy his entire kingdom as recompense for stealing one of his things.

It has always been his responsibility to look after you.

You.

Your delicate, feminine body.

Your gentle heart.

Your too-fragile mind.

A mind he’d thought for so long he solely held in the palms of his hands—had thought belonged to him, had believed thought of naught else but him—he had taken countless measures when the two of you were only children to try and ensure as much—just as his did and does you…at an inconceivable level now. Your name—the words beloved and niece—in constant circulation within.

It has made conducting Small Council meetings…difficult. The inability to concentrate on any one thought that isn’t you.

Once he has you back in his possession, all will be well. Things will calm and return to what he needs them to be.

His loving niece.

How good it will be to know where you are at all times finally: locked safely within his chambers, which only he shall possess the key to. Your life will be perfect. He will spoil you with fine, decadent things, and you will be grateful. He is sure of it.

And he will have Maester Orwyle remove that revolting parasite from inside you. And once he is ready, he will give you a new child to love and carry and grow in your perfect, royal womb.

Left to your own devices, you prove clearly helpless. Unable to think properly for yourself.

Look at the damage you have already wrought. He knows the blame still yet lies heavily with his mother—his grandsire—but you must shoulder a portion of it as well.

You broke his heart. Have driven him to the brink of madness.

How…how could you be so selfish? You have never been before. Never. Not his beloved niece. You’d never behave in such a manner.

Always kind and selfless was you. Always.

Perhaps your whore mother is to blame, then, for this sudden change.

Yes. It is she that is to blame! She had wanted the North, and so she handed you over to that revolting northern dog to take to wife to have it.

She will pay for it. With fire and blood.

Killing Rhaenys is only the start.

He won’t stop until he has you back.

He will seek vengeance to no end.

What else does he have to live for now? You are the only person in all the world who ever treated him with genuine kindness. Who ever loved him unconditionally. The only one who ever understood him. The only friend he ever had.

He can’t wrap his mind around the expectation that he is to bear his existence without you now. He can’t fathom it.

You are his purpose.

Mayhaps the blame partly falls upon himself as well. He’d made a promise to take care of you—to keep the two of you together—and how many times has he now failed you in that? He should’ve gone to you the last night where you’d been present at the Red Keep—present within your rightful home—and taken whatever measure was necessary to make you his at last.

Coaxed you gently into bed—you’d been so like a frightened young fawn that day when the two of you were reunited; had been so shy in his arms, so innocent. His teaching you about your own body and his had been cut far too short as children. He’d needed more time.

He always needed more time when it came to you.

None would ever be enough.

Not even eternity would be.

Gods, how he fucking needs you back. Needs you with him every fucking moment of every day. Always within his hand, within his eye’s sight. Or otherwise, safely locked away.

He takes step after step until his brother’s broken body lies before him. Half-burned and bleeding—limbs turned the wrong way—choking on himself.

A few more steps now and he will finally—finally—be in control at last. Everyone will answer to him. Everything will be as he wants it to.

Including you. Most of all…you.

His beloved—

“Your Grace!”

No.

No.

He turns his head, looking slightly over his shoulder, silver strands slipping down his back, watching as Ser Criston approaches.

He clenches his jaw so hard, he fears cracking his teeth under the pressure.

He should kill them both. Neither shall be missed. Criston as Hand. What a jest.

He will not be his. He does not need him, or require his services.

Aemond kneels, retrieving Aegon’s catspaw dagger from the burnt forest floor.

Criston drops to his knees.

Aemond steps quietly toward him and begins to raise the blade.

He is so close to having what he wants now.

What he needs.

One slice.

And then another.

It will be done.

He is standing behind him now.

One slice.

And then another.

It will be—

“Ser Criston!” Calls someone from behind.

And when Aemond turns, a handful of men in full armor come toward them.

“Is His Grace alive?!”

Aemond sheathes the dagger, anger radiating from him. Pure loathing.

Malice.

Ruined. It is all fucking ruined.

He begins heading back toward Vhagar, seething.

He will win you back. One way or another, he will.

This war is not yet over.

Not nearly.

And when he becomes king? Fuck clemency.

He will be a tyrant.

It is now the only way.

They’ve all left him no other choice.

He needs be in control.

Of everything.

Most of all?

His beloved niece. It will be the best thing for you. In time, you will see. Will understand that all he does, he does for you. In your best interest.

Uncle Aemond knows best. It had been his mantra at one time when it came to you. It shall be again.

[y3ager]

STORYTIME I (26 F) FUCKED MY SUPERSTAR CLIENT (24 M) AFTER MONTHS OF SEXUAL TENSION!

— ‘i’m a manager for a pretty big music label and my client is the biggest dickhead in the world but i fear i fucked him after one of our usual arguments.. 😵‍💫’

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, smut, porn not much plot, hate(?)sex, cunnilingus, cowgirl, reader gets called ‘mama’ and ‘boss’, unprotected sex, mild choking, musician!eren, manager!reader. minors do not interact.

my first collab entry MAKE SOME NOISE YALL WTF!!! but no seriously thanks so much to @k9nto for letting me join your event i had a blast writing this! hope you all enjoy! 🤭

YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED SOME annoying people in your life. in kindergarten, a boy taunted you by picking up one your fallen hot pink knocker-balls and refusing to give it back to you. in high school, some chick named tiffany ripped down all of your junior class president posters that you spent weeks designing and printing out on the highest quality paper. your college advisor had been completely useless, you’d still be dragging yourself through your bachelor’s degree if you didn’t stay on your toes and realize the classes you were dropped in were a waste of time. but all of these people, and many more that have slipped your mind, shaped and molded you into the woman you were today. strong, tenacious, independent, a go-getter who never gave up and thus was able to reap her hard work, in the form of three nice crisp degrees and a never pitiful bank account.

but eren yeager, grammy award winning singer, songwriter and musician, with multiple weeks spent at the top of the billboard hot 100 and 200 charts, millions of units sold worldwide, and stadiums packed to the brim, took the fucking cake.

you were warned he’d be difficult. every manager he’s assigned quits before one of them ends up in a body bag. none of them have a single nice thing to say about him, and he finds that hilarious.

for better or for worse, you took the challenge because you’re a sucker for them. nothing in life comes easy, and you figured that the managers before just didn’t come hard enough. maybe eren’s fame and status made them falter, but such a fate wouldn’t befall you.

you dragged him to his magazine shoots, you kept his mouth in line during interviews, you kept his socials clean. he was never a second late to rehearsals and recordings. he was a reflection of you, and if you were perfect goddammit he was going to be too.

until today.

“i’m not putting in another extension, eren. the label is starting to get really irritable. we need to go to the studio now.” you furiously swiping along your ipad, pacing around the singer’s deluxe hotel room. while you’re dressed for the day in clean crisp clothes, sharp stilettos, and jet black lace front expertly melted and laid, eren’s still in the bed. the covers are everywhere, his shirt is next to a couple pillows on the floor, and he’s laying on his back eating a croissant from room service, paying you absolutely no mind. it takes everything in you to not chuck your device at his big head. “i’m serious. get. up.”

“and i said i’m not,” he mocks your assertive tone, voice oozing in sarcasm. “going.” he coughs, obviously faking. “my voice hurts. can’t make those greedy bastards money if my vocal chords ache. they’ll live.”

“you are on a strict deadline this era. if you want to catch award season, this album needs to be finished and dropped in the next month. amidst the press tour, your window of recording time is dwindling fast.” dates in your digital calendar glare at you, red and angry. every time you check something off your to do, ten new things pop up. you feel your jaw clenching, teeth gritting together uncomfortably.

“i’ve won enough awards. i don’t care. i’m not getting up.” eren finally raises up from the bed, narrowed green eyes meeting yours. it’s fire against fire, an unstoppable force that is a manager determined to do her job versus an immovable object, a musician who’s not budging from his spot. “it’s my album. it’s my music. i finish it when the fuck i get ready. that label will burn before they drop me.”

“if you don’t follow contract, they will drop you. they put a lot of money into you-”

“money i made back for those dumbasses-!”

“they are your bosses, without them-”

“they need me way more than i need them-!”

“get,” you toss your ipad over to a small couch, storming over to the bed. you snatch the edge of the covers and yank hard. enough is enough. if he won’t get up, you’ll make him get up. “the fuck out of this bed, eren, now!”

“you need,” the cover is yanked back, tugging you forward along with it. you lurch momentarily before righting yourself upwards, leaning back to give yourself more leverage in this childish tug of war you find yourself in. “to calm the fuck down, ___. i’m not going and that’s fucking it.” eren may be lean, but he’s toned like a MMA fighter, muscles rippling under tan skin when he calls upon them. another tug and you topple onto the california king bed, one expensive heel sliding off your foot and falling across the room.

your heads snaps up from the covers, brow furrowed deep in anger. “stop being so fucking difficult, you moron!” emotions welling, you grab one of his arms, preparing to drag him out of this bed. your to do list is a nagging itch on your brain that by the grace of god you are going to scratch. you’re not about to let this bad-with-authority dickhead best you when all he has to do is record a fucking vocal.

“oh, we’re doing this?” easily, too easily, so easily that you register your back hitting the soft bed before you realized he even grabbed you back. he pins you down easily, slightly calloused hands grip your upper arms firmly, pushing them down. he places his legs other either side of your hips so yours are forced in between them, but doesn’t keep you from writhing to free yourself. “whatever fucking—stop doing that—chip you have on your shoulder, you need to fucking solve it because shit’s not going your way today. i’m not going and that is final.”

the tussle leaves you two of you panting, eyes boring into each other’s. eren’s long chocolate brown hair is disheveled not only from a night’s sleep but from this impromptu wrestle. small beads up sweat trickle down his naked chest. your writhe again, and he presses down against you, a synonymous hiss sliding through both of your mouths.

“i hate you, eren.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, ___. looks like you wanted an excuse to feel up on me.”

“oh, like you wanted an excuse to hump me like a mutt?”

there’s another beat of silence as you two watch each other. eren’s hands tighten their hold just a tad before he presses his hardening length hard against your clothed cunt. against your better judgement, your head tilts back and a small moan fights against your bitten bottom lip.

eren hums lowly, his dick bulging against the constraint of his boxers. “hate me too much to actually fuck me, huh? i’m only worth a dry hump.”

oh how eren frustrates you. how he makes even the simplest things in life painstakingly difficult. how he makes you want to smoke ten packs of cigarettes after a day of dealing with him. but oh, how handsome he looks under the lights at photo shoots. how his deep, smooth voice reverbs in your ears. how his fingers move so deftly on his guitar, as if it’s merely an extension of his body. who wouldn’t fantasize about that late at night, him bending you over and snatching down your pants to fuck the stress out of you, or yourself knocking him down a peg and making him beg to let you cum inside.

“shut-” another roll of his hips makes you gasp. “up..”

“i want you, ___,” eren confesses. his hips don’t falter, his cock becoming hungry for release. “i want that pussy. i wanna fuck that little attitude out of you, can i? i see how you look at me and i stare right back.”

you shiver, hand rushing to undo your dress pants and feel more of eren’s dick against your dampening cunt. his hands work with your perfectly, yanking your pants down. it’s a whirlwind of clothes, your sweater, bra, your other shoe.

eren reaches up to grab your breasts, rolling them in his palms, squeezing the supple flesh, pushing them together. “oh, pretty girl. pretty fuckin’ tits.” leaning down, he kisses down your sternum, stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. he wastes no time grabbing your thighs and licking a nice, long stripe against your drooling cunt and sucking on your clit.

your back immediately arches up and your hands fly to grip eren’s hair, tugging at the locks and pulling him in closer so you can feel everything. “oh my god, eren.” the singer’s not shy at all, audibly sucking at you and reaching up to twist and pinch your pebbled nipples.

with another languid lick eren pulls himself away. he pulls his boxers down on and off, freeing his dick from the constraint. he rubs the thick, weeping tip up and down your slit, staring hungrily at the juices leaking out. the feeling of it makes you shiver in anticipation.

“mmm, mm-mm.” you push yourself up. “let me get ‘n top..” there’s a greedy look in your low eyes as you place your hand on eren’s solid chest and lay him down on the bed.

“take charge here too, huh?” your forwardness makes him chuckle as he watches you straddle his waist. “okay then. ride me.”

you brace yourself on your toes as his hand and yours grasp his shaft, directing it to your pulsing hole. you slide down gingerly onto him, his size quickly stretching you out. “ahh, fuck, eren. fuck…”

“you got it,” he assures you, one hand on your thigh as you sink lower and lower, taking him in inch by inch. he bites his lip at the wet tightness of your walls, squeezing and sucking him in. it makes him throw his head back, a couple of small pants escaping his mouth. “mmhm, fuck that pussy feels so good. take that dick, boss.” his hand raises only to land on your ass check with a sharp slap.

you start out slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the wideness of his dick but that quickly gets old. you’re soon addicted to the feeling of him fitting inside so perfectly. gripping his free hand in yours, you swivel and raise your hips faster and faster, effortlessly, desperate for that feeling of him pounding that oh so sweet spot. your juices slide down his length, the slap slap slap of your ass against his muscled thighs filling the room. “‘s so big, feels so good,” your voice slurs.

eren hisses from his spot under you, eyes trained on where you two connect. mouth slightly agape, he watches your cunt swallow him up and the fluid that leaks out. “yes, mama. keep fucking me just like that. feels.. f-fuckin’ amazin’…” his hands grab your plump ass cheeks, fingers digging in hard as he thrusts his hips up, driving the tip of his cock even deeper inside you and pulling a loud moan from you. “keep goin, mama, ‘m almost there, don’t stop, please..”

his pleading make you clench even tighter around him, and that feeling deep inside your tummy aches for release. you place a hand around his throat to better balance yourself, relishing in his low groan. your thighs quake and tremble, your hips meeting his eager thrust perfectly. “oh, my god; oh my god. i’m— shit!” you throw your head back in ecstasy, cumming hard enough on your client’s dick to leave you numb.

“aw, fuck, boss.” eren thrusts up to push his cum deep inside, holding you against himself to ensure a single drop doesn’t leak. “take it, take it..”

the two of you are left panting hard, bodies sweaty and gleaming with the afterglow of sex. you gingerly pull away, cunt left sore and spent from a round of sex months in the making. eren reaches over to caress your ebon lips, admiring the smooth, wet feeling once you roll onto your back. “no more attitude from you, yeah?”

“no more attitude from the man reduced to calling me ‘mama’ and begging to cum either, i’d assume.” your teasing laughter is cut off by him purposefully sinking three fingers deep inside you. “mmh…”

“mhm, sure.” roles reversed, eren climbs on top of you and stares down with green eyes aflame with lust through his tousled brown hair. “now i want to see what i can make you call me.”

[compact-turtle]

yandere bounty hunter x gn!reader headcannons...

Concept: Yandere Bounty hunter x Reader 

Tw: Kidnapping, Obsessive, Possessive, delusional yandere, Yandere Behavior, stalking, brief mentions of SA (not by the yandere), harassment, brief mention of death, 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who spends his days doing assignments. He’s one of the best at his company and in the country. He comes across a case that offers big bucks. Enough that allows him to retire early and live lavishly for the rest of his life. 

-He reads over the case details. Interestingly, it’s just some rich kid who ran away from their parents. He was expecting some master criminal mind who had over thirty federal charges. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who takes a few days to find you. Not like it’s that difficult. You were messy and left clues everywhere you went. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who spends a few weeks in the city watching your every move. He studies your routines, habits and everything in between. He convinces himself that he’s just doing his part of the job. 

-Eventually, he creates an encounter between you two. He introduces himself as someone new to the city. He’s looking for some friends to show him around. You jump at the opportunity to be his friend. 

-For the next few weeks, you both spend a considerable amount of time with each other. Whether it was going to the movies, eating at restaurants or doing shopping trips. You were so sweet and naive offering to pay for everything since “that’s what friends do.”

-He finds it endearing watching you stumble over the simplest things. How you seem so lost in the world without him to guide you. 

-One night, you call him in hysterics. You tell him about your landlord who’s been harassing you. He’s called you vulgar things, threatened to force himself upon you, and a multitude of other horrendous acts. Your landlord has even issued to kick you out if you don’t comply with his demands. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who knows you aren’t used to this due to your sheltered lifestyle. You’ve never had to worry about the horrible people out there. He decides to call in a favor from an ex-bounty that owes him. 

-Within a few days, the landlord issues are taken care of.

-You invite him into your apartment to celebrate the wonderful news. It’s small and cozy. The walls are a creamy white with a wooden floor to match. A strong smell of you lingers everywhere. 

-You cook him dinner and for a moment, he imagines life together. You’d be his darling little spouse who waits for him at home. He’d be a charming husband who provided for you two. Life would be amazing. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who confesses his feelings for you right then and there. You’re taken back but the thought doesn’t disgust you. In fact, you’ve been feeling some type of endearment for him as well. 

-You both decide to make it official and become a couple. That night, you both fall asleep in your bed after spending time with each other. 

-The next few months go by perfectly. He’s moved into your apartment and spends every day attached to you. You’re so gentle and he enjoys indulging in your hobbies with you. His favorite thing is when you kiss him before bed time. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who wakes up to the sound of something in the apartment. He goes to investigate and finds another bounty hunter. He quickly takes out the other hunter but comes to a realization. 

-it’s not safe here anymore. 

-You wake up finding him standing over another body. You begin to freak out asking for answers. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who comes clean about everything. His job, your parents, and the money involved. His heart breaks as you burst into tears. You yell at him through sobs accusing him of never loving you. 

“Don’t ever say that, sweetheart.”

-Eventually, he knocks you out and ties you up. He puts you in the back of his car as he drives to your parents’ home. For the next few days, his mind is a wreck. You refuse to talk to him. You won’t kiss him or even look at him. He knows it’s from the shock but it’s driving him mad. 

-However, he keeps his eyes on the prize. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who delivers you to your parents in one piece. They’re overjoyed to have you back. They pay him more than the original price tag. He takes the money and leaves. 

-For the next few months, things began to fall back in place for you. You were hurt and afraid after what occurred. However, you were healing after being placed in therapy. Your parents even with you and sorted out family issues that caused you to run away. 

-You think about the bounty hunter, every now and then. You miss him and hate him all at the same time. Yet, you were starting to let go. It was better to forget that time with him. 

-Until…

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who returns to your life. He’s set up a perfect little villa in the countryside where nobody can locate you. He kidnaps you in your sleep and whisks you away. 

-You wake up in a panic afterwards. Yandere Bounty Hunter who attempts to calm you down. He explains about how he waited before the dust settled to pick you up. He chose somewhere secluded where you can raise a family together. If you don’t want children, then he’ll settle for raising some pets with you.

-It’ll be perfect just like how the two of you discussed back in the apartments. 

-Don't worry, he's retired from his job. He knows how much you hated it.

-He kisses you and hugs you in his arms. It’s been so long since he’s done this. He’s missed every inch of your body since you left him. 

-It’ll be ok though. He understands that you need time to adjust to your new home. It also doesn’t matter if you decide to run away later. After all, he’ll still find you no matter where you go. 

-Hopefully, your parents hire another bounty hunter to find you soon. 

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I must say: I’m genuinely impressed by how creative all your stories are. I have three questions related to your writing process, if you don’t mind.

1) How do you stay motivated to keep creating?

2) Where do you find inspiration?

3) have you ever had an idea for a scene that you struggled to execute? How did you work through that to write the scene?

I love your stories! I look forward to every chapter of Charlie McNamara.

1) Motivation to create has never been an issue for me -- there's always some new thing to write about! My issue, and the issue faced by a lot of other writers, is the motivation to stick with a project to completion. That's hard. Everyone's got a hundred "works in progress" they'll never touch again because they took a break and when they came back, their attention was on something new and shiny.

My solution to this? Money.

The reason I started Curse Words as a web serial and opened a patreon for it wasn't because I ever expected to be able to make a living as a writer. I'm as surprised as anyone that so many kind people have put their support behind me and let me keep writing these fucked up stories instead of getting a real job. I did it because I wasn't getting my projects finished. I was doing what we all do; getting three quarters of the way through any given project and then finding something more fun to work on instead. And when you risk disappointing readers by doing that, well, that'll get you back in the seat over the little bumps, maybe pull you back to a project a few times. But when people are paying you actual cash in return for consistent output, on time, to story completion? That's a way bigger motivator. Even if it's just one guy. For a long time, I had one patron! It was enough! It worked! It's not about making a lot of money, which is borderline impossible as a writer (again, I still can't believe my supporters are so generous enough that i can make this my career). But it acts as some level of both proof that your work is valued, and an active obligation on your part to keep producing it on a consistent schedule. My readers are giving me something valuable for this. I can't let them down.

Sorry, I'm sure you wanted a more uplifting kind of answer. But that's just what works for me.

2) I've never really been sure how to take this question. This is basically the age-old 'where do you get your ideas?' and it... doesn't have an answer. You think of a thing and you write about it. As you resolve the problems and inconsistencies in the thing, that fills out more and more of the world of the story.

Angel is born of a mediocre Goosebumps book called Chicken, Chicken. There's a part in the book where the protagonist, slowly shapeshifting into a chicken, rips all his feathers out every morning in an attempt to slow the transformation. The book isn't really about that but it stuck with me for a good two decades until, stuck in the house for two months at the beginning of Covid, I wrote Angel.

Void Princess and The princess in the Tower are both me musing on the old 'princess kidnapped by a dragon' trope. I get really fixated on this trope for some reason; I have four or five others swimming about in my head that aren't full stories ready for the page yet. Wasting Time is just the song Pushin' the Speed of Light, World Builder was written in a fever right after watching Jacob Geller's The Shape of Infinity, Copykate was initially going to be a SAYER fanfic but required enough alterations to the setting that it worked better as a story of its own. The inspiration is out there, the ideas are out there. It's just a matter of practice to turn them into stories.

3) I try to avoid scenes that are hard for me to depict, but this isn't always possible. I'm aphantasiac and struggle a lot with scenes that have a lot of heavy visual elements. Scenes where there's a lot going on that needs to be fairly precisely depicted are tricky, too.

One particularly difficult scene for me was a fight scene in Time to Orbit: Unknown. There's about six people in a small room fighting over the fate of a bunch of other people who are not present, and the reader needs to be kept up to date on the physical positions/activity/intentions of all the combatants, the villain explaining what he's doing and why (lying), the protagonist figuring out that he's lying, the physical condition (injuries, being restrained, et cetera) of all of the combatants, and the fate of the half of the crew not in the room, all with enough detail that the reader can understand the stakes, consequences, and enough of the moment-to-moment logic of the fight that nobody's decisions are confusing. The whole thing is very fast paced and... it's a lot. It's always a difficult balance in these scenes because you want to be detailed enough to keep the reader following everything they want to follow, but you don't want to dramatically slow down the story by describing every detail. If you're using a limited viewpoint, it's a blessing and a curse; you can avoid narrating the stuff your character can't see or isn't paying attention to, but you also have to find a way to get across information that your character might not be able to see, either by forcing them to see it or by having it conveyed in some other way in the scene. With busy scenes like this, I like to work backwards -- decide what specifically the reader needs to know, decide what is needed to get the characters to the places I want them at the end of the scene, and write a scene with as little as possible in it except for those two things. Sometimes, communicating those two things requires a bit of setup.

In Curse Words, there's an ancient magic spell passed down a family line from parent to child. It's a communication spell that allows people to see through each others' eyes and hear through their ears. Before the existence of long-distance wireless communications, this sort of information transfer was enormously powerful; wars can be turned with that power, trade networks created or conquered. It made its family enormously powerful, to the point where they're the most powerful magical family in the world even in the time of the story, with the spell long buried and its advantage lost to an age of mobile phones and cameras. It's massively influential to the worldbuilding of the story.

I introduced it for one reason and one reason alone -- I knew that eventually, I would be writing a climax to the story where a lot of people were doing a lot of things in a lot of different locations, and the protagonist was only going to be in one of those places. And I knew that I was going to need some way to tell the audience what the fuck was happening while he was running around in caves and shit.

[its-time-to-write]

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day. 

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared. 

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.  

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town. 

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.” 

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice. 

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do. 

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience. 

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities. 

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain. 

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air. 

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to  each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in. 

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard. 

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out. 

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing. 

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped. 

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack. 

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up. 

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes. 

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth. 

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared. 

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath. 

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better. 

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs. 

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist. 

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie. 

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five. 

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms. 

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back. 

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.” 

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

[nicksbestie]

Nooks And Crannies - M. Sturniolo

a series

part two (read part one here)

Summary : You always seem to be somewhere in the bookstore Matt works at, never buying anything, just reading, and while Matt is technically not supposed to talk to customers for so long while he's on the clock, he can't help himself.

Warnings : none yet!

Word Count : 1134

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : introduction of the reader's point of view!! i'm going to try to avoid the use of y/n as long as possible, don't hate me if it gets thrown in every now and again though! sometimes it's unavoidable <3 enjoy!

You had just moved to a new city, where you didn’t know anything, or more importantly, anyone.

You were so excited for the change of pace. While you were a person who absolutely hated change, sometimes, when it is desperately needed, it can really spin your world upside down, and you previously hated being right side up. After moving in last week, you had spent nearly twenty four hours out of every single day unpacking and trying to set up your apartment so it really felt like home. You were feeling cramped, and you knew that you absolutely had to get out and do something. So, you were walking the downtown streets, loving the fact that this city was walkable, and really just exploring. 

You were getting fresh air, and learning your new surroundings, familiarizing yourself with what was around you. You made a mental list of all of the places that you wanted or needed to visit. You were coming out of a furniture store when you spotted the cutest building on the corner, vines encasing the roof and coming down around the windows. It looked absolutely beautiful, and you wondered if the name of the shop had been named for the plants hanging on it, or if they had been planted to match the name of the shop, as engraved in the stone read “The Ivy”. The paint on the window said “Bookstore and Coffee Shop”, and below were their hours. 

It was only the middle of the day, so you knew that they were still open, and you pushed the door open. A gentle ringing went through the shop as the small silver bell above the door told people that there was a new person coming into the store. You saw the cashier glance over to see who had come in, flashing you a gentle smile before returning to the person that he was checking out. You smiled back, immediately feeling welcomed in the shop as you looked around, noticing just how cozy it was. One of your first thoughts was that you would love to get a job here. You had your rent paid through the first month, and you still had your old job, as it was a virtual, and flexible career, but just in case things went awry, you would love to work at this adorable store.

You went over to the coffee shop first, ordered something to drink, and once you got it, began walking through the aisles, picking up book after book, stacking them in your arms. You didn’t have a luxurious amount of money to spend, even though your job did pay you well enough to be comfortable, so you loved to go sit at bookshops and read for hours there when you had time. That was exactly what you planned to do today, since you didn’t have to be home for a couple of hours. You were looking around the shop, in the back corner, when you noticed the same worker who had been working the cash register now stocking shelves, and reading one of the synopsis on the books. He didn’t notice you, and you didn’t try to catch his attention, simply taking note of the fact that he was there. 

You moved into another aisle, running your hand along the books on the shelf before the tips of your fingers hit something metallic. You wrapped your hand around it, tugging it forward, but it didn’t move. You couldn’t see exactly what it was, as it was inside the inner corner of the shelf and the shadow made it a bit difficult to make out the shape. Thinking that maybe it was stuck on something, you pulled to the side, planning on pulling forward next, but the entire bookshelf moved. It wasn’t loud, the bookends holding the books tight and still so they didn’t fall off, and the bookshelf shifted to the right. You noticed light coming out from the small break in the shelves, and you realized the thing you had pulled on was a handle. You admired how silently the bookshelf slid, and since it wasn’t locked closed, you opened it more, going into the tiny room behind it.

There wasn’t a massive space behind these bookshelves, but there were two big bean bag chairs next to a small table, carpeted with a colorful rug, and all of the bookshelves were double sided. You set your books down next to the chair, on the floor, setting your coffee down on the small table between both chairs. You didn’t want to risk knocking it over onto the books since you hadn’t bought them. You noticed there was a small throw blanket sitting in the other bean bag, and you sat down on the comfortable chair, setting the blanket over your legs, before taking a drink of your coffee and picking up the first book on your stack. You fell into the story, completely losing track of time as you turned page after page.

You had no idea how long you had been sitting there, but just after you picked up your second book, completely fascinated with the synopsis of it and dying to read it, you heard the bookshelf slide open and a person step in, immediately turning his back to you, clearly having not noticed your presence yet. He turned around, and you immediately recognized him as the employee from earlier, and his cheeks tinged slightly red as he recognized that there was someone else in the room.

“Oh. You’re… in here.” 

You set your book down, beginning to feel like maybe you were somewhere that you shouldn’t be, and you stacked up your stuff, moving to stand.

“Should I not be? I’m sorry, it wasn’t locked, so I thought-” 

You were cut off by him shaking his head and speaking.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just… never see anyone in here.”

Relaxing back into the chair, you thought about his words.

“Really? Nobody? It’s amazing back here, you’d think it would be crowded.”

He shook his head again, having his back turned to you again as he picked a book off of the shelf.

“No. Most people can’t figure out how to open the shelf, they think the handle is decorative. So I come in here to take my break.” 

“Oh, well I can leave! I don’t want to cramp your space.” 

He turned back around with the book, sitting down, taking the name tag off of his shirt and setting it next to your coffee. It read “Matt”. He saw you looking at it, and spoke again. 

“I’d tell you my name, but you’re reading it, so.” 

You smiled, laughing a little, introducing yourself, and he smiled back. 

“My break is only thirty minutes. You should stay.”

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[asgardianhobbit98]

Four for Valentine: Week 3 "Eavesdropping"

Fandom: DC, Nightwing, Batfamily

Pairing: Nightwing / Female Reader

Important tags: Probably the most overdone trope in the world but hey, it’s Nightwing fluff, we deserve more Nightwing fluff; fluff; proposal; eavesdropping; established relationship; female reader.

Summary: You overhear Dick and Bruce talking on the phone and find out Dick is wanting to borrow money... This sets off some alarm bells in your mind as their relationship is so strained it must be something very important for Dick to ask for money. Turns out, though, that it's not all as bad as you thought it was...

Written for my "Four for Valentine" event 🩶🩷

Tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @nowandthane

if you want to be removed or added to my tag list, please let me know 🩷

You had been done with work maybe two minutes earlier than usual. Yet, in those few moments before he noticed you, you managed to overhear enough to scramble your brain completely.

Dick was on the phone with someone you deduced to be Bruce – not because you were in any way a detective like Dick, but because you literally overheard an annoyed ‘Bruce’ come from Dick’s mouth.

Awkwardly standing behind him, you listened in on what was going to become a life changing moment of eavesdropping.

It wasn’t like Dick had any secrets from you to begin with, so eavesdropping wasn’t perhaps the reason behind why you suddenly felt so awkward. It was more the fact that, quite honestly, Dick’s relationship with Bruce was.. complicated. And on top of that Bruce was a very intimidating character all on his own. So you didn’t want to interrupt in the slightest in fear that he might get annoyed with you (not that Bruce ever could get annoyed with you). So you stayed right there on the side of the street, staring at Richard’s back as you overheard everything…

“It needs to be perfect. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, I can’t just give – But it’s just a little… Yes, I know. I know. I know what I said. I just can’t afford this one right now. I’ll pay back… Really? No, I want to pay back. Thank you Bruce. I mean it. I owe you one. No, I do. Thanks. Bye.”

Once he hung up, he turned to find you awkwardly stood behind him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, which was unusual as Dick was really difficult to scare. The man had a sixth sense or something, probably from his time at the academy.

“Did you just overhear-“

“No! Not at all,” you were quick to say.

But inside, that lie didn’t quite cover the beating of your heart and the worry spreading through your chest. Dick would never borrow money from Bruce because of their complicated relationship. So what was so important…

Assuming it was you that he was speaking of was something you were comfortable with. After all, this man had devoted himself to you since that day, three months into your relationship, that you’d caught him mid mental breakdown in the shower… and you had jumped in, clothes on, to just hold him. He went through so much. So much pain. So much anguish. He saw such horrors as a detective in Bludhaven. You just wanted to be there for him. So of course you were. Without judgement. Without fail. And apparently he’d had little to no such support before. Because from that day on, Dick had been in love with you.

You’d fallen for him a bit earlier, but once his love was locked in, you only fell deeper in love with him. He was so gentle, so caring, and so extremely goofy… Just to make you laugh, smile…

Perfection. He was perfection to you. And so, you didn’t feel it was a presumption to think he had been speaking about you. The only thing your brain was trying to figure out was what he was borrowing money for.

…

He drove you home, as always.

You didn’t live together yet, but you practically did.

On the days that he could get away from work to pick you up from your job, drive you home safe and walk you up to your door, and subsequently enter after you invited him in for dinner or a movie marathon or to just talk, Dick didn’t go home. He had clothes in your closet, his own set of towels, his own bar of soap. And you had the same objects in his flat.

Why the two of you didn’t live together yet was mainly because Dick was a little reluctant. Not in a bad way. But he was worried for your safety. He never brought his work home unless it was too much on him and he needed to talk or cry to you, but he was terrified that “work” would follow him home some day and it would put you in danger.

You weren’t quite sure why, considering Dick always managed to put everyone in jail. And if he didn’t, then Bludhaven’s protector, Nightwing, sure did. Still… you let him fret about your safety and you didn’t push him on the subject.

You hadn’t mentioned living together for three years now. It had turned into a comfortable routine to simply pretend to have daily sleepovers.

But as Dick walked you up to your door that afternoon, using his own key to unlock it for you, you were quieter than usual and forgot to offer the usual invite in.

He tried to ask if something was the matter but you just kept up the ‘no no! I’m okay!’ façade as best as you could.

The routine continued as normal for a while after that; the gentle homely everyday life the two of you had created, where Dick would sit himself down at the kitchen counter with some reports he wanted to finish, or read through, whilst he watched you cook happened just as always.

He cooked sometimes too in the beginning of your relationship but that hadn’t lasted long as he was, quite honestly, useless in the kitchen. You blamed his childhood where he’d literally had a butler. He blamed the fact that he was just better at other things. Whatever it was he was better at, you used to joke, you hadn’t seen it yet.

He’d always chuckle and pretend to be hurt before pressing kisses to your temple, hugging you tightly.

This evening was a little different from others though. He finished some reports. You cooked. He would look up and stare at you… And that was where the difference came in. You wanted to turn around and catch his gaze as usual, send him a little loving smile… But you didn’t. You were too caught up in the conversation you’d overheard, not sure why. Your mind was trying its hardest to come up with something: a reason for why Dick would borrow money for you…

Of course Dick noticed that. He was a detective, and a damned good one when it came to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked once more. There was a mixture between worry and haste in his words whilst he stood to move over to you.

You were absentmindedly stirring the boiling pasta which wasn’t needed as much as you were doing it, but it was something to avoid his loving gaze. He hugged you from behind, and you instantly leaned back into the hug, enjoying his little kisses and his little nibbles at your neck. “You’re quiet and you’re avoiding me. You never do that.”

True. Even if you were sad or upset about something, even him, then you’d never become distant.

Humming in delight at his show of affection, you let go of the wooden spoon and let your hands rest on his arms around you. “I’m sorry, Dick. I don’t mean to worry you.”

“So something is wrong?”

“No… I don’t know.”

He let go of you to gently turn you, catching your gaze with a tilt of his head. “What do you mean?”

You desperately reached out to hold his hands, just to touch something and to ground your thoughts a bit, because honestly you weren’t quite sure why you were so fixated on this but… you were.

“I guess I sorta overheard your phone call earlier…”

“Oh…” His eyes grew big, and he tensed.

Oh no.

“Love, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but why were you asking Bruce for money?”

Dick shook his head quickly, “Wait no, this isn’t…” Dick sighed. “Just. Stay there. Well, don’t let the food burn I guess but stay there.”

He suddenly rushed off, leaving you with more questions than anything else, really.

“Dick? Wait where are you going?”

He grabbed his jacket and just reassured you it was all okay and that you shouldn’t go anywhere… then he left.

Huh? You stood, dumbfounded, in the kitchen, pasta boiling, sauce bubbling…

And now you were less worried, and more confused. Dick hadn’t seemed weirded out or like he was off to never come back, he just seemed stressed about something not going his way and you really had no idea what was going on.

Fighting the urge to get a little upset about his lack of communication, you finished cooking and prepared two plates of food.

In the end, you ate yours all alone, and put his plate in the fridge for him.

You cleaned up the kitchen, you watched the sun go down over Bludhaven, you stared at the clock, you paced for a while, you tried to watch TV for a while…

Hours later, you gave up waiting and moved to the shower. You sent a couple of worried text messages with no response. You got ready for the night as best you could despite the growing pit in your stomach.

Did he run out for good after all?

Had something happened?

He had seemed stressed, maybe he didn’t drive safely?!

…

At some point during the night, you’d heard the key enter the slot and the front door open. It wasn’t like you could sleep, after all, so you’d propped yourself up on your elbows and waited. It was Dick’s footsteps that entered. He shifted around a bit by the door, then his steps disappeared into the flat.

Confused, and at this point a little hurt despite not knowing what to be hurt about, you just laid back down and turned onto your side.

What a strange day.

…

Not quite sure if you got a lot of sleep in or not, but at least aware that you had fallen asleep now that you knew Dick was safe, you were suddenly stirred awake by Dick crawling onto the bed.

He sat on his knees next to you, reaching for your shoulder to wake you, but paused when he noticed you move your head to look at him. It was dark as all hell in the room, so you only saw his shape for a while. Until he bent back to turn the lamp on behind him.

You squinted your eyes for a bit as they got used to the light, noticing him shift his hand to hold something out to you, but not seeing what until a bit later and…

Once you saw what it was, you just sort of stared.

There were even more questions in your mind now. He had run out for this!? Was this the thing he wanted to buy that he required Bruce’s help with!? If so, you understood why because… this ring looked expensive. Not only that, but you saw the little black box had an insignia from a rare jewellery store which one couldn’t find anywhere but in Gotham City.

Had Dick really gone all the way to Gotham just now to… “What’s this?” you asked, voice filled with sleep.

“A ring.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him. “I know but… Dick, I asked earlier-“

“It was this. I saw this a couple days ago when I visited Bruce.”

Huh? When had Dick been to Gotham? So many questions…

“I wanted to get it for you. It’s… It’s perfect.” He was still sat there on his knees, both his hands holding the little black box open for you to see.

You were still half asleep in bed, head lifted from the pillow, sheets wrapped around your body snug. “What… Dick I don’t get it.”

“Marry me.”

OH.

“I mean…” Dick laughed a bit awkwardly, “Do you want to marry me?”

Were there still questions that you had? Yes. Many. And a lot of them were going to be answered those days before the wedding when Dick decided to come clean about his secrets, but for now… For now, you were elated.

This silly man had driven to Gotham to get the ring once he understood that you were beginning to get onto what he was planning… For what? Just so he could still surprise you?

Probably. He liked surprising you.

So of course you laughed. A little bit at him rather than anything else. He looked a little miffed by this reaction, so you were quick to sit up in bed and reach your hands out to lovingly cup his hands holding that… insanely expensive looking ring. Which you loved, by the way. Even if you were scared of wearing it in fear of breaking it.

“This is what this was all about?” you asked.

He nodded his head, his blue eyes clearly not quite sure yet of whether you were okay with this or not.

So, you were quick to smile at him and nod your head to ease his mind: “Yes, silly. Of course I want to marry you. You didn’t have to ask. And you didn’t have to get such an expensive ring. All I ever need is just you.”

He smiled. Oh did he smile. It only made this moment even more precious to see him smiling this much.

After three years with him you didn’t think you could see any new sides of his, but that smile… that smile was different than anything you’d ever seen before. That smile was adoring and devoted and close to crying all at once… and you loved it. It was a special smile, you’d find out. One that only happened during a couple of special moments in his life. Like right now when he looked at you through a new lens of love.

“All I ever need is you too. But I wanted to get you the most perfect ring, to show you how much you mean to me.” He leaned over and pressed a long, deep kiss to your lips, before pressing his forehead against yours, noses touching as he slipped the expensive ring onto your finger…

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Lucky Break Prologue

Yandere Straw Hats x fem!Reader

5k words

I finally got this done, boy did it take longer than I had planned. I’ve worked hard on this and will continue to, so I hope everyone who takes the time to read this enjoys it! This fic is for the most part going to feature platonic yanderes, and the reader insert does use she/her pronouns.

There isn’t much One Piece stuff in this chapter, but there will be in the next.

Next

When you’re a kid, everything seems so simple. You look around at the world around you and assume you know exactly how your life is going to go. After you finish high school, you’ll go to college and study for a major of your choosing. Immediately upon graduation, you’ll get a job in your desired field, and have a prosperous career to be proud of. Somewhere along the way, you’ll get married, maybe have some kids, and eventually enjoy a comfortable retirement where you will look back on your life with nothing but pride!

Yeah right. What a joke.

If provided with the opportunity to go back in time, you would kick your child-self’s ass for her naivety and optimism. How dare she foolishly get her own hopes up for a good and easy life. 

Okay, so maybe you’re a little bitter, but who could blame you? Who isn’t disappointed with how at least one aspect of their life is going? It’s perfectly normal. Though, admittedly, for you it was wayyyy more than one aspect. 

For starters, your job sucked. Not an uncommon complaint, but one that wore you down dramatically. Being a waitress was hell, but what could you do? You need money to live just like anyone else. Not that you were making much, not if the late fees were anything to go off.

You couldn’t get a better job because the more desirable jobs were all long since taken. Well, what few jobs you could apply for given the lack of a college degree. Oh yeah, you’re a college drop out. Much to the intense disappointment of your parents. They kicked you out when you told them and have hardly spoken to you since. 

Seriously though, what did they want you to do? Keep going to school in hopes that you’ll magically figure out what you want to and go into horrible debt in the meantime? It’s easy to tell someone to keep going to college when you're not the one paying for it. You don’t understand how you’re the bad guy for not wanting to take your student loans to the grave.

It didn’t help that the friends you had have all slowly fallen out of contact with you since you moved away. You thought that maybe starting new somewhere else would be refreshing, foolishly not realizing how difficult making new friends as an adult is. You had some coworkers that you go along with well enough. They had even talked about meeting up outside of work to just hang out, but these plans never fully came to fruition thanks to conflicting schedules. 

Whatever. Dwelling on it isn’t going to help you. You need to focus on the here and now.

Currently, you were on a bus, and not to go to work this time. No, you were going to indulge yourself tonight with a little urban exploration. Today’s target was a somewhat recently abandoned mall. It’s been closed for around a year now, long enough for retailers to take what they wanted and for cops to be beginning to lose interest in constantly patrolling it. It was still under surveillance, but nothing you didn’t know how to navigate. 

You spent a couple weeks scoping out the place, a nearby cafe made it easy to do so without raising suspicion. There wasn’t any on site security to worry about, you just had to keep an eye out for the occasional cop car that would drive by. They only stopped to investigate if there was a car in the parking lot near the building. This wouldn’t be a problem for you given your lack of a personal vehicle.

The plan was straightforward. You’d already identified an entry point while poking around the building at night, an employee only door with a busted lock. It took a bit of elbow grease to jerk it open, but there wasn’t an alarm rigged to it, so it was perfect. All you needed to do was make sure no one spotted you as you went in, and you would be golden.

The bus was slowing to a stop, and it was your turn to get off. Shouldering your backpack, you scooted to the edge of the seat in preparation. As soon as it stopped, you were on your feet and hurrying to the door. The mall was only a couple blocks from here in a rapidly failing part of the city. The only businesses around there were the aforementioned cafe and a couple of thrift stores. Fortunately, your way in was facing away from those stores. As long as a cop wasn’t driving by as you snuck in, no one would see you.

As you made your way there, you could feel the excitement setting in. You didn’t have much in your life to look forward to, this was one of the few things that made you feel alive. The thrill of getting in and out without being caught was addictive if you were being completely honest with yourself.

There were other pros to it, too. Sometimes you got lucky and found something valuable that you could pawn. A forgotten piece of jewelry, a dropped phone, some abandoned tools, you never knew what you were going to find. Even if you didn’t find anything, it was fun to be able to explore an old building with no one around. It gave you this sense of adventure your life was otherwise devoid of.

Granted, there were risks. Cops being the biggest one. Having a criminal record sounded less than ideal to you. There was also the concern raised by the fact that you did this completely alone. If something went wrong and you got seriously hurt, no one would be likely to find out until it was too late. That, and the threat of encountering someone dangerous.

So far, you’ve gotten lucky, only ever personally running into a couple of other urban explorers that were fortunately perfectly nice. There had been a few other close calls, but you were able to avoid detection those times. Your mom used to harp on this, saying one of these days you would get killed or kidnapped while doing this. Maybe she was right, but you couldn’t say you cared that much.

At least you wouldn’t have to go to your next shift!

You shook your head at the depressing thought. It’s not good to think that way, even if it was how you felt.

The mall was just ahead now, you looked around the parking lot for any indicators that anyone else was here. Nothing. It was completely empty. Good. Despite your excitement, you keep your pace casual, not wanting to attract attention.

Taking a cursory glance around, you don’t see any cop cars on patrol. You’re officially out of sight of the nearby businesses, so you shift into a power walk, wanting to get inside quickly while no one is around. You put on some disposable gloves and also pull a facemask out of your pocket and fasten it onto your face. Partially in case the air is bad, but also to protect yourself in case there are any security cameras.

The door takes a good few pulls to open up, but that’s fine. You do one more look around, and upon seeing nothing, you go in. The second the door shuts, you’re thrown into darkness. You fish a flashlight out of your backpack and click it on. It became immediately apparent that you were not the first person to discover this way in, the walls were already covered in graffiti. That and there were some heroin needles on the ground. You know, the usual signs of life.

You carefully make your way down the hall, trying to make your way into the main part of the mall. The air was musky, the smell easily cutting through your mask. It was far from pleasant, but you’ve smelled worse. At least you weren’t smelling any shit (yet).

The door at the end of the hall was easier to open than the last, no resistance at all. You peek out, looking for anything concerning before stepping out. There was natural light coming in from some sliding glass doors nearby. Looks like this place used to be a Macy’s or something like that. Lingering near the glass doors wouldn’t be a good idea, so you hurry off away from it. Once you’re in the main part of the mall you shouldn’t have to worry about being spotted from the outside.

The former maybe-macy’s was picked clean, they didn’t leave anything behind besides the counters and some flyers advertising a long since past sale. No shelves, no mannequins that would give you a heart attack if you saw them out of the corner of your eye, nothing. 

Outlets in malls were typically very thorough when cleaning out after closing, you doubt you’ll find anything valuable here unless some other explorer left something behind. Oh well. You do this more for the experience than anything.

You found the way out pretty quick and took in the sight of the abandoned mall. Even after being closed for a year, it still had a certain beauty to it. The research you did on the mall told you it was built in the early 70’s and the architecture reflected it. The ceiling had a quirky pattern to it, with blocks of it being solid and other blocks being glass to let natural light in. 

There was also an artsy metal structure that climbed all the way up to the second floor, and a big water fountain that acted as the centerpiece. Granted, all of this was decorated with a layer of broken glass from the shattered guardrails on the second floor, but still. This kind of decor was rare to see in modern malls, with all of them wanting to be as plain as possible. This was a pleasant change of scenery.

You meandered through the open space, glass crunching under your boots with each step. The escalators were right ahead of you. Like the guardrails, the glass on was also shattered, but that didn’t matter. As long as the stairs were in one piece, you could still climb them. 

You had a specific destination in mind for your visit here. Yes, you would like to see every nook and cranny, but the movie theater was especially exciting. You’ve never been in an abandoned theater before, so you were dying to see it and made a beeline for it.

It was damn near on the opposite side of the building, but that just gave you a chance to see what other places you could check out later. While many people find places like this unsettling at best, you found an odd sense of comfort in it. Part of it was the silence. Provided no one else rocked up, the noisiest thing you would hear would be some birds flying through.

There was also the nostalgia of being in a mall and seeing the familiar, albeit vacated, stores you remember from your childhood. Malls simply aren’t what they used to be, and it’s nice to reminisce on what once was. Sure, it’s not like you could afford to shop at one, but just being able to walk around and window shop was enjoyable. At least you could still do the walking around part even when they’re closed.

As you make your way down the second story walkway, you take note of all the signs of life around you. Lots of spiders have set up shop with massive webs in every corner to make meals of the local insect population. Nests were crammed into the spaces in between letters on the remaining signs, and although you haven’t seen any, there are enough droppings here to indicate the presence of a thriving rodent society. That means there’s probably some stray cats lurking around here, too. You hope you get to see one. There’s a laser pointer on your keyring and some treats in your pockets just for such occasions. 

You look up and are thrilled to finally be at the theater. There are blank rectangles on the wall from where movie posters used to be. The sign that used to display movies and showtimes now simply says closed. Well, technically it says ‘CL S  D’, but you got the drift.

The lobby is surprisingly intact. The ticket and snack counters are both still here, even the glass around the ticket counter was unbroken. Some of the old snack machines still remained, which surprised you. It was faint, but you think you could still pick up on the smell of popcorn. It could also just be a placebo effect but shh. 

You hop over the snack counter to see what’s back there. The first thing you notice is how sticky the floor is, your boots sticking with each step. The remaining machines are in rough shape, but that’s to be expected. The nozzle on one of the slushie machines was snapped clean off, and the doors on the popcorn machine were just gone. You meticulously opened all the drawers and cabinets, hoping to find something interesting. You didn’t. Just some garbage and rat shit. 

Moving on, you head towards the really exciting part. The showing rooms. You can’t help but pick up the pace as you run into one, only to feel a touch disappointed. It was completely gutted. The screen, the chairs, nothing was left. Who the hell even wanted a bunch of old ass movie theater seats? Where did they go?

There was a problem though, the area near where the screen would be was completely flooded. You shine your light up to the ceiling and are baffled that there’s no hole for this much water to leak through. Where the hell did it all come from? It also smelled weirdly fishy? The fish smell was so potent that it almost distracted you from all the mold on the fabric covered walls. Yikes. “N95 mask don’t fail me now,” you mumbled under your breath.

Whatever. Spinning on your heels, you head for the stairs to go to the top of the room. They’re creaky and the carpet is coming off of them in bits and pieces. 

There really wasn’t much of a reason to come up here beyond it just felt like the right thing to do. You decide to peek through the window to the projection room. Surprisingly, it’s very cluttered in there, it almost looks like a storage room. Oh, you’re definitely going to have to go in there!

… But how?

Now that you’re thinking about it, how do you even get inside one of these? It must be behind some sort of staff only door. You hope it’s not locked, there was a lot of stuff in there.

You rush down the stairs, ecstatic at what a good find this was. Once you’re in the hallway, you whip your head around to locate any possible entrance, and you find it. A plain, unmarked door between two of the theater rooms. Bingo. You twist the knob, but it doesn’t budge.

Not bingo.

It’s unlikely that the keys for this door are still here… but you can’t just let this go. After testing the fortitude of the door with a few kicks and yanks, you resolve to look for the key despite the low odds of actually finding it.

The most likely place it would be would be a main office or something. You head back to the lobby, that’s probably where the door to one would be. The beam of your flashlight flits over the surrounding walls in search of a side door.

Some fallen ceiling tiles and wires almost hid it from you, but there it was. You pick up what looks like a snapped off broom handle and use it to push the debris out of the way and keep the wires off you while you try the door, praying that this won’t also be locked. 

It doesn’t turn. Dammit! Out of sheer frustration, you give it a violent shake. It snaps clean off, the knob from the other side loudly clattering to the ground. Looks like your luck is coming back around.

The door still takes a bit of rattling to shake loose the remaining bits of the old locking mechanism, but it finally creaked open. Wasting no time, you hurried in, observing the new area. While it was dirty, it was untouched by graffiti and general vandalism. It’s a simple long hallway with two doors. You get to the first and open it up, greeted by the sight of an old bathroom. 

The mirror above the sink doubles as a medicine cabinet, so you decide to check it out. When you pull it open, the whole door comes right off. Oops. The cabinet in question didn’t have anything interesting in it, only being occupied by a bottle of tums, some nail clippers, and a box of dental floss. Thrilling stuff.

You move on and head for the other door. Surely that has to be the office. The door clicks open again, thank god. You grin to yourself, it is the office. The desk is right in front of you and in good shape, not appearing to have been tampered with this past year. Excellent.

It’s surprisingly clean in here. There is some dust, but not nearly as much as you would have expected. The desk itself is old and made of wood. It honestly looks way too nice to have been left here. The chair is, weirdly enough, not present. What, that was worthy of being taken but not the desk? Whatever. It’s not important.

You’re quick to start rifling through the drawers. Paperwork, pack of gum, more paperwork, some pens, a few paperclips, even more paperwork… it’s not looking good. Your heart is sinking with each passing second. You squat and look under the desk as a last ditch effort. Your light reflects off something. Keys!

There’s a strip of tape attached to them, like someone had taped them to the underside of the desk rather than using one of the drawers. An odd decision, but who cares? These might be the keys you need! 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you run back to the possible projector room door. The key ring has several keys on it, so there’s a bit of trial and error to go through in your attempts to unlock it. Your heart rate steadily picks up as you go through each key with no success. It’s not until the second to last key that you finally hear that much anticipated ‘click’. 

The door is surprisingly heavy, you really have to pull to get it open enough to slip through. It loudly slams shut behind you and you’re met with the sight of two staircases. The room you saw through the window should be on the right. 

The stairs are carpeted but not as worn as the ones in the theater, making them less of a tripping hazard. Dust is being kicked up with each step, you can see clouds of it flying through the air and clinging to cobwebs.

Now you’re at the top and there’s another door. This one wasn’t locked. The room itself honestly resembles a boiler room to you. Pipes and cables were running along the walls, and the walls weren’t painted. There was a table in front of the window where the projector would have been.

That’s not what made you want to see this room though. Shelves were along every wall and they were loaded. You’re gonna need both hands for this. Luckily, you have a lantern type of flashlight in your backpack just for situations like this. You fish it out, click it on, and set it on the projector table before turning back to the shelves. 

There were lots of boxes, so you grab the nearest one and bring it over to the table to go through it. It’s full of what you think are spare parts for a projector, though you don’t know enough about this stuff to be sure.

The next box has some old broken lenses. Then one with tools. You even found some film, but it seemed blank. You held it up to the light and saw absolutely nothing. You suppose it makes sense for all these things to be in here, but you can’t help but wish there was something more exciting. 

You pull down another box, this one from the top shelf and open it expecting to see glass cleaner or something like that, but instead you find another, smaller box. You pull it out, and it looks like a jewelry box. There’s an image on the top of it: a skull and crossbones that’s biting what looks like a wand. Interesting. It kinda looks like something you would see on a pirate flag. What were those called again? Jolly Rogers? Yeah, that sounds right.

You give it a little shake and hear something clatter inside it. Trying to open it, however, is fruitless. It’s locked. All the keys you got earlier are way too big to fit the hole, but you think it should be easy enough to break open yourself at home. 

A genuine smile spreads across your face, you found something cool this time! The jewelry box goes into your backpack, and you’re about to resume your search when you hear something. It sounds like voices in the hall.

Quickly, but quietly, you snatch your lantern to turn it off and creep down the stairs and towards the door to try and listen better. There are two sets of footsteps but only one voice.

“-nd today WE are doing an overnight challenge in a haunted abandoned mall!”

You cringe. Oh great. Youtubers. Liars too based off that comment about the mall being haunted. In all the research you did on this place, you never saw so much as one ghost sighting.

Huffing out a sigh, you know that your fun is going to be cut short. There’s no telling whether or not these idiots parked right by the front door. You need to get out before cops show up. That, and you don’t want to accidentally end up in one of their videos. You can practically see the title now: “REAL ghost sighting at ABANDONED mall??? SCARY!!! (NOT CLICKBAIT)”

No thank you.

Lucky for you, you’ve already got a nice find, so at least you’re not leaving empty handed. You wait until they go into one of the theaters to leave the room, carefully easing the door open and closed. After a moment of thought, you lock it, too. You want this to be untouched when you come back. Naturally, this means you’re taking the keys with you. They can’t be that important to anyone if they got left behind like this.

Your escape from the mall and trip back home was uneventful for the most part. You were able to leave unnoticed and before cops got there. The youtubers did, indeed, park at the front door, so it was only a matter of time. 

The apartment complex you lived in was kinda run down, but overall not that bad. Sure, it was dingy and the bathroom had a mold problem, but it kept you warm and dry so things could be worse. 

After entering your apartment, you immediately lock your door behind you. No sense leaving it unlocked and letting some creep in. With that taken care of, you drop your backpack by the couch and go to grab some tools. 

You unceremoniously plop yourself onto the couch and toss a screwdriver and hammer onto the coffee table. You bring out the old jewelry box and really look at it now that you’re in a properly lit room. The dust was really caked on, prompting you to use your sleeve to wipe away the bulk of it.

The picture was very detailed. The skull and crossbones were painted beautifully, even the small wand looked lovely. The box was wooden, expertly varnished. You already feel bad that you’re going to have to break this open. Hopefully you’ll be able to keep the damage to a minimum, that way you can use it for yourself after this.

Experimentally, you try to pull it open again. It does have some give to it, but not enough to actually get it open. You grab the screwdriver and wedge it into the sliver of space between the lid and the box. You try and pry it open. It creaks a little, opens up slightly more, but stops short. Okay, time for the big guns.

Using your feet to hold either side of it in place, you grab the hammer, aim, and bring it down on the screwdriver handle. You hear a crack, but it’s still closed. You raise your arm and bring it down again, harder this time.

CRACK

Both the plastic screwdriver handle and the lock shatter from the force of the blow. You discard the hammer onto the floor next to the bits of handle and throw open the box.

There’s only two things in there. A rolled up piece of paper, and a necklace. The pendant on the necklace sports the same image as the top of the jewelry box over a bronze lattice patterned circle. You gingerly pick it up. It’s thin and feels brittle, like you could snap it in half without much force. What’s the point of a necklace being this fragile? 

You set it back down gently and pick up the paper. It’s almost as bad as the necklace, it looks very old and is crumbling around the edges. Slowly, you unfurl it and see there’s a message scrawled onto it with red ink.

“Congratulations on your lucky find

I wonder what desire you have in mind

Close your eyes, make a wish, and break the pendant in two

Whatever you want most will come to you”

An eyebrow quirks up and the strange rhyme. What, was this left by a genie? You sigh, and here you thought you might get something valuable out of this. 

Still… What would it hurt to play along for a second?

You grab the pendant again and examine it while you mull over what to wish for. Money? Nah. Money can be earned, however difficult it may be. If you’re gonna be using some sort of (allegedly) all powerful magic necklace, it should be something more unobtainable. What do you really want?

If you’re completely honest with yourself, you hate where you are in life right now. The monotony, the loneliness, everything. You need a new start. A new start with some new friends. Friends that actually give a shit about you. Anyone that loves you for you. Yeah, that sounds good.

Leaning back, you close your eyes and make your wish. You’re not sure you need to say it out loud, but do anyway, “I wish to have a fresh start somewhere new. A place with adventure where I can be loved.”

The pendant snaps in half easily. You hold your breath and wait. Nothing. You crack an eye open. You’re still in your same old apartment. Of course you are. Why did you think that would work? How childish.

Even though you expected this, you can’t help the wave of bitterness that washes over you. Angrily, you stuff the broken pendant into your pocket and grab your backpack. You stand up to go put this shit away, but…

You fall through the floor.

The floor didn’t break, it’s like it just ceased to exist. As you fall, everything goes black, and there isn’t a sound to be heard besides your own screaming. What’s happening? What’s going on? Shit, was that stupid thing really magical??? Was it fucking cursed???

Trying not to panic wasn’t even being considered, how could anyone not freak out from this? So here you are, screaming and crying while holding onto your backpack for dear life as if it’s going to help you right now.

Suddenly, you can see light coming from underneath you. You’re torn between being relieved to see light and being terrified that you’re about to splatter onto the ground. A wave of warmth hits you, carrying the smell of sea water. You realize that the ‘ground’ beneath you is actually a huge body of water.

And then you’re in it. 

There wasn’t enough time to prepare for the sudden immersion. Water flooded into your open mouth and you scrambled and flailed in an attempt to get to the surface. As you break the surface, you’re coughing and hacking the salty water out of your lungs. You weren’t anywhere near the ocean, how are you suddenly fighting for your life in one?

You whip your head around and are horrified to see absolutely nothing, No land or ships in sight. Oh my god. You’re going to die out here.

“HEEYYY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

You attempt to spin around to identify your potential savior, but a wave hits you, knocking you under the water again. Dammit, no! Not like this! 

Miraculously, you get back to the surface again, and the second you do, something grabs onto your shoulder and pulls. And pulls. And keeps pulling. You went from almost drowning to feeling like you’re flying over the surface of the ocean. In an attempt to feel some semblance of security, you grab onto whatever is holding you. 

It… it feels like a hand??? No, that doesn’t make sense, who could be pulling you along like this with their hand???

“Luffy, you need to slow down! You’re pulling her in too fast!”

You try to look over your shoulder to see what the hell is going on, and through your hair you think you can make out what looks like two people on a small boat. The boat is already very close and rapidly getting closer. Way too close!

THWACK

And everything goes dark again.

[teapartyprincess4two]

HOT TAKE/ UNPOPULAR OPINION

(AGAIN)

Okay, someone commented this on my last post & I’d love to continue the conversation.

Reminder: this is just an opinion and I don’t mean to offend anyone 💗 I am not offended or bothered by this comment, I just want to share my opinion. We can all have civilized discussions and it’s okay to disagree!

—

1. Very true! He HAS claimed to be the founder! They even refer to him as the founder of the brand on instagram posts, promotional videos, and on the update messages they send. But I also don’t understand how him not actually being the founder affects anyone. Literally at all. The world kept rotating, our hearts are still beating, literally no one is going to die over this. It’s fine.

2. Prices vary for multiple brands, not just his. It’s up to you whether you’d like to splurge on something nice or not. Personally, I couldn’t justify the purchase because it’s CHAPSTICK. But, I do spend more money on other items such as foundation (Rare Beauty) or even lipstick/lipgloss (Fenty Beauty). At the end of the day, when you add this item to your cart and type out your card information, it’s your choice whether you actually purchase it or not. Sure he’s advertising his product, but never is he forcing you to finalize your purchase. I’d like to add that you’re paying for the brand and the name associated with it, but if you would just like a chapstick. Just a regular ole chapstick. They sell some (like I said) at CVS and Walmart that do the job just fine.

3. Nowadays it’s very difficult and rare for ANYONE to have a completely original idea. I’m sure he never claimed to have INVENTED chapstick. Instead, he INNOVATED on a preexisting concept alongside a group of professionals (cause let’s be honest you need a team to guide you, especially when it’s your first project) to reimagine and conceptualize his idea. There are actually a variety of aspects that make his product unique. For one, it’s bigger than most chapsticks you find at the store. Secondly, it comes in extremely unique flavors. And lastly, it dispenses differently. So, no, he didn’t “create it all on his own,” but I’m sure he put in the necessary amount of brain power to MAKE it his own. Let’s take a look at other brand owners such as Selena Gomez and Rihanna. Selena and Rihanna didn’t INVENT makeup, they just made their products unique and that’s what people fell in love with. These celebrities have teams working alongside them to fulfill these dreams and ideas, but still work as the FACE of the brand. Nick did and is doing the same thing.

3. I think it was obvious that his brand and product is owned by a company. Unless Nick and his brothers had enough money to literally build a whole factory, gather materials, and then go through the process of hiring an entire staff of employees before ever actually creating and finalizing a marketable product, then yes it’s obvious the product is owned by an outside company. Everyone needs someone to help give them a kickstart, almost like a ‘sponsor.’ Surely none of us believed Nick was actually cutting pineapples and creating chapstick flavors in a secret lab.

4. I can’t speak on the ‘false claims’ this company has made, but even then: a lot of companies find loopholes. Either that, or they lie by omission. And a lot of companies OWN other companies. It’s just business.

5. If you feel personally exploited by Nicolas Sturniolo (he’s literally just a YOUTUBER) because you VOLUNTARILY purchased overpriced chapstick, then I’m sorry to break it to you but you have 1st world problems.

At the end of the day I’m just here to write and read fanfiction and these are just OPINIONS. Take them how you will, disagree if you want to, but cancel culture is gross. Let’s focus our efforts on positive things & if you truly feel the need to scratch your cancelling itch, cancel someone who actually did something wrong. Lol just love each other guys.

I’d like to close this off, and officially end this topic of conversation with this: It’s just chapstick guys. Just chapstick.

Meep moop

[miura-ayme]

Scaramouche X Reader

I just wrote this for my Wattpad story but thought it would be nice to publish this

CW: Implied Yandere Behaviour, Implied Obsessive and Possessive Behaviour/Thoughts in the end, sort of Manipulation(not a lot)

NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE YANDERE BEHAVIOR AT ALL, THIS IS JUST FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES

Your mom kept on asking you to go out on a date with her rich friend's son and you soon caved in and agreed. He was described as a decent man.  After hearing about how he was polite, kind, and had a good sense of humour, you thought it would be a worthwhile opportunity to give him a chance and get to know him better. You thought it would be an excellent opportunity to give him a chance and get to know him better.

Your first date turned out well, too smoothly. He treated you well even more than you imagined. You could tell he had a lot of money. Although you had some doubts about this person initially, you found yourself pleasantly surprised by his behaviour on the date. He was respectful, kind and had a great sense of humour, and it was clear he had enough money to be able to provide for himself and you potentially. 

You felt a connection and it seemed like the beginning of a promising relationship. There was one downside though, his possessiveness. You noticed that he was becoming increasingly possessive and jealous over the course of the evening. He wanted to know where you were at all times and you began to feel uncomfortable. You knew this wasn't a healthy relationship and you knew you had to end it. You had to make a difficult decision: end the relationship before it got too serious and preserve your safety and independence, or stay and risk your own well-being. So after your last date, you ghost him.

 You hated confrontation and he seemed to have given up trying to reach you. You felt relieved and guilty at the same time. You knew it was the right decision, but you wished you had been able to talk to him and explain your feelings. You hoped he would understand and forgive you. You knew deep inside he would never forget what you did to him since you seemed like the first woman he had ever seen other than his own mother and he seemed to have an attachment to you, a strong and deep one as well. You were afraid that he would never get over the hurt you had caused him, no matter how much you wished it wasn't true.

You wanted to deny him so badly, but you too missed his presence and treatment.  but alas there was nothing you could do. You just decided to proceed to work and live as if it never happened.

You wish you could.

That was when you saw him surrounded by assistants. Now you know where he got all his money from. You couldn't deny that you were doing financially better than most people like a whole majority better than most and the firm you're currently employed at isn't just any it's top 5 in the world and your position there wasn't high but it was high paying. You were proud of the fact that you worked hard to get to where you were and that you weren't relying on anyone else to support you. You were determined to keep working hard and continue to rise up the ranks at your firm.

You avoided him for the time being; your focus was solely on achieving success. The whole week wasn't difficult at all because you kept yourself busy with work. You were determined to prove that your success had nothing to do with him. You refused to be distracted. He was in his office most of the time. He was the one who had given you the job and had always been looking out for you. You felt guilty for avoiding him, but you knew that you had to stay focused and not let him distract you. He was the one person who could derail your plans.

One day he called you into his office. When you entered you felt the same possessive aura you felt on those previous 3 dates you had with him. Despite all the warnings that he was a distraction, you still couldn't help but feel a connection and familiarity with him. His presence had a strong, almost magnetic pull on you, and you felt drawn to him even though you knew it could ruin your plans. "You called, sir?" you asked as if you never knew the man in front of you. He nodded and motioned for you to sit down. He cleared his throat and spoke, measured and precise. "I think it's time we talked about our relationship."

Oh... after those words you just wanted the floor to collapse under you. You did not want to talk about how you ghosted him. You felt embarrassed and ashamed, unsure of what to say. You took a deep breath and looked up at him, ready to apologize. "Look, I'm so sorry for all I did to you. We weren't meant to be but I know I never had the right to ghost you," you said before anything could get worse. "That's not what I wanted to talk about. I meant our relationship."

 Oh... "Uh, is there anything else to talk about?" you responded, nervously. "There is a lot to talk about." He continued, "I want to talk about our relationship and I think it's important for us to understand each other. Can we talk about it?" You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions.

 You knew this conversation was going to be difficult, but it was necessary for both of you to move forward. "Please give me another chance. I know I wasn't at my wits about when we first started seeing each other but I promise I'll be better." You hesitated, not sure what to say. He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperately waiting for a response. You took a deep breath and said,

"Let's talk about it... Scaramouche." His name... You knew it like you were familiar with it since the dawn of time but you've only met him for a month.

 "Thank you!" He sounded so desperate for you. You felt an inexplicably deep connection with him that you couldn't explain. It felt like you had known each other for a long time, even though you had only met a month ago. You wanted to give him another chance, despite your initial doubts, because you felt that he was worth it and that he could be the right person for you. You decided to take the risk and open yourself up to the possibility of love, giving him the second chance he desperately asked for. "I will spend time out with you again. Just don't rush things, please." you said to him smiling softly, "Yes! Thank you! I promise this time it will be a pleasure," you thought this would be pleasant, it had been a while since you went out with anyone but what you didn't understand was that Scaramouche never changed. In his head, he thought of all the ways to make you his, one way or another. "I know you'll make it worth my while," you replied with a knowing wink, looking forward to the prospect of spending time together. What you didn't know was that Scaramouche already had a plan in motion to make you his own. He smiled devilishly, not yet revealing his intent - he wanted to make you his in the most romantic way possible.

"So... When's the next date?" He asked, smirking. It seems like his personality is back. "I don't know. I'm free Thursday-Sunday night." Scaramouche smiled at the thought. "Perfect," he said. "Thursday it is. I'll come by your place at 8 pm." With that, he gave you a quick kiss and walked away, leaving you to ponder the implications.

[mountainmaven]

Just some random thoughts as I know I haven't been very active on here in recent months.

I'm still enjoying volunteering at the library - however I am trying to protect my time a bit more and really limit the days/hours I'm there. Because as of this past Saturday, since March I've volunteered 380 hours. I'm still hoping that it will turn into a paying job next year (I think I'm still hoping for that - it's a little complicated). But we'll see.

My Little Free Library hasn't seen any activity in months but I still update it regularly. I guess I grossly overestimated how much my little community would use it. Honestly since volunteering at the library I should have known better because most of our activity comes from people who don't live up here. Oh well. It's okay, I still like seeing the little library on my property every day.

I'm still working out regularly and feeling so good, and getting strong. I had taken up running in the early summer but had to take a break due to IT band issues that were affecting my knee. But since I've been getting regular massages that has been helping. (so yeah I've started getting massages - the therapist comes to the house - it's SO great!). I hope to start up running again soon. I just need to do it. I honestly never thought I'd enjoy running but even at 56 you can start new things and find out you really like them!

I've also started doing some reiki healing and that's amazing too. I have another session this weekend.

We got our updated flu and COVID vaccine boosters this past Sunday and yesterday I was exhausted. I felt fine, no other symptoms other than an achy arm - but no sick feeling, no headache, no tummy issues - nothing. Just so exhausted that I ended up taking a nap that lasted somewhere between 3 and 4 hours. I have no idea, because I don't know when I fell asleep exactly. I just know I saw the clock at 10:48 AM, next thing I knew my youngest daughter was calling me and it was 3:11 PM.

My spiritual practice is really feeling so natural now, and I love that it's a part of my every day life.

I've started doing art again and that feels wonderful - I don't stress if I'm not doing art every day or whatever, I just let it flow naturally and that's so freeing. Obviously if I was making art to make a living that would be different, but this is just a lovely hobby for me and I'm finally treating it like such.

Reading has been a bit difficult lately, I'm not sure if it's just that my time is being used so differently now that it's harder for me to focus on reading. It doesn't help that I've had a lot of duds lately when it comes to books LOL. But I keep trying and I guess that's what matters right? Again no pressure associated with it and not stressing about it.

I know the world is a massive dumpster fire lately but I can't stress enough the importance of unplugging every now and then and just living your life and doing things you enjoy, and ignoring world events for a bit.

I hope all of you are well, and that you have things in your life that make you feel alive, and happy.

[slasherscream]

I loooveee your Until Dawn stuff!!! I'd love to hear more about Until Dawn yanderes and a darling who doesn't have good self care habits/forgets to take care of themself ❤️

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER WHO DOESN'T TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days.

- Josh never makes you feel bad about how hard it is for you to take care of yourself. Suffering from mental health issues of his own, he knows how difficult day to day living can be. While the way you treat yourself does worry him, he chooses to focus on fixing the problem by taking care of you himself. Making sure you eat. Going on walks with you so you're not always inside the house. Running you a bath. Every cheerful "thank you" that you give him over the smallest of actions makes him feel like he's finally found his purpose in life: you.

- Sam is a diligent and disciplined person overall and these traits easily extend to taking care of you. Once she's in your life, there is no more "forgetting" about self-care. At first she'll just try and remind you. Gentle pushes here and there. If this doesn't work, she'll simply take over. You've made it clear that you're not dependable when it comes to caring for the one thing Sam is most passionate about, so now she'll do the job for you. It's in your best interest to let yourself be taken care of. Sam never gives up.

- Chris worships you too much to question your judgement on anything. Who is he to tell you how to live your life? He's lucky you allow him to breathe the same air as you, frankly. Still, he hates the way you treat yourself. You're everything that's wonderful and perfect in the world but you neglect all your daily needs. You don't eat. You miss sleep! You overwork yourself. It's enough to drive him to the brink of madness. He solves this problem by waiting on you hand and foot. You may not care about yourself, but Chris is your doting servant. There'll be no more need to bother yourself with the petty aspects of daily living. Chris will worry about everything for you!

- Hannah is your loyal lost puppy. She adores you and hates that you don't care about yourself at all. She views you not taking care of yourself as a cry for help. For her help! You're just testing her, to see if she's paying attention, to see if she cares. She doesn't know why you won't just ask her to take care of you. She'd do anything for you if you asked. But maybe you doubt her devotion to you. You won't doubt it for long though, once Hannah has figured you out. She'll prove just how much she adores you. There won't be a doubt left in your mind.

- Emily is angered by the way you treat yourself. As if you're nothing. The fact that you're hers should be enough reason to take care of yourself alone. Still, you seem to relish self-neglect and abuse. She takes care of you, but lets you know the entire time that you should be doing it yourself. Not because she's unwilling to do it, or dislikes doing it, but because she worries. What would happen if she wasn't around? How far would this habit of neglect go? With the spiteful way she speaks, you'd never guess it was love fueling her actions and not irritation.

- Mike as a person can be separated into two distinct people: Mike before you and Mike after you. He's a much better person after he becomes obsessed with you. You bring out the selfless caretaker in him. In a lot of ways, he thinks you're helpless. Truly, you may not even be all that bad at caring for yourself. But Mike worships you in his own way: you deserve the best and anything less being provided for you irritates him. It's unlikely you'll ever meet Mike's standards when it comes to self-care. That's no real issue though, Mike will happily do it for you. In fact, he insists. Make it easier on yourself and let him pamper you. At least this way being taken care of is still "your" choice.

- Beth, despite being the youngest Washington sibling, is truly the most responsible. Taking care of others is nothing foreign to her. She'll rise easily to the occasion of being your caretaker, but will never make you feel as if you're a burden. She takes care of you quietly. Sometimes it'll be easy to forget she's doing it at all. That's the way Beth cares for everyone. For you, she'd go to the moon and back without so much as a grunt.

- Jessica is a little at a loss. She's used to people taking care of her, not the other way around. Still, she loves you and you worry her. So she tries to step up and be mature for once in her life. She'll actually communicate with you, unlike the other yanderes. She wants to know what you think you need help with. That's where she'll start, with instructions. From there she'll branch out into helping you fix the other aspects of self-care that you neglect. This is new territory for Jessica, but for you she'd learn to do handstands on water if you needed her to do it.

- Matt has been dutifully helping you with self-care long before he was your boyfriend. The only thing that's changed is that he was more afraid to push you when he was just your friend. Now, as your boyfriend, he's a little more brave when it comes to doing what needs to be done. "I really think you should eat just a little more, honey." / "Could we go to bed? It's pretty late... you have class in the morning." / "You just got home from work, let me do that." / The longer you're together the braver he'll be about taking care of you. While he wants you to be happy, he knows deep down that you being healthy is more important. So even if it irritates you, even if you snap at him sometimes, he'll push himself to take care of you. For a people pleaser like Matt, it's a big step.