#it’s a testament to how talented they each are on their own

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

Now that the boy geniuses have gained the notoriety and visibility they deserve I’m amazed that people still say how depressing phoebes music is. Have they still not listened to Julien’s solo projects? Her music is painfully beautiful but so sad it churns my stomach. I literally feel it physically and as a result I can only listen to it for so long before I have to take a break.

[pawyuta]

𖦁ׅ ࣪ ׂ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 . . ៵ ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆

‘when i talk to you oh, cupid walks right through, and shoots an arrow through my heart . . ꒰ ♪ ˊ͈ ﾛ ˋ͈ ꒱ ੭ ~ and i sound like a loon, but don't you feel it too ? confess i loved you from the start . . ಇ’

[rafecameronssl4t]

Thunderstruck || NFL Player!Rafe Cameron X DCC!fem!reader

Summary: As a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, fraternizing with the players was strictly off-limits. However, being the team’s coach’s daughter afforded you certain privileges, and you were able to pull a few strings for Rafe.

Warnings: nothing really

Word count: 1,599

A/n: if this does well, might do more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader :) send me any requests!!!

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @yoonitos

As the music blared through the stadium, you stood front and center, commanding the field with every precise movement of your iconic routine to AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

The crowd’s energy was palpable, a roar of excitement that matched the electric rhythm of the song. Dressed in the iconic blue and white uniform of a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, you knew all eyes were on you the second you all moved into formation.

As a four-year veteran of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, the dance felt like second nature to you. Your smile never faltered as you executed the routine flawlessly. The first game of the year was always memorable, with the excitement in the stadium buzzing through the air.

Fans were filled with anticipation for the Cowboys’ upcoming season. As you executed each precise kick, turn, and cheer, you felt the collective heartbeat of the stadium pulsing in time with your own.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as the spotlight followed your every move. The crowd’s roar echoed in your ears, a testament to the excitement of the first game of the season.

Rafe had just joined the Dallas Cowboys after being offered the spot, and tonight was he debut with the team. As he jogged onto the field, the energy of the stadium washed over him. Amidst the chaos, his eyes were drawn to you.

It wasn’t just your position at the front and center of the formation that caught his attention, but the confidence and skill you radiated. Intrigued, he turned to one of his teammates. “Who’s that?” Rafe asked, nodding in your direction.

Chris, his teammate, followed his gaze and smirked. “That’s Y/n. Coach Johnson’s daughter.” Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The coach’s daughter?” Chris chuckled, giving Rafe a friendly slap on the back. “How haven’t you seen her around, dude? She’s one of the hottest girls on the cheer team.”

Rafe’s eyes remained fixed on you as you executed flawless high kicks and sharp turns. There was something about you that captivated him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. You moved with a grace and precision that spoke of both natural talent and relentless hard work.

As the routine built to its climax, you prepared for the iconic jump-split. The crowd held its breath, and then erupted in cheers as you all landed perfectly. Chris leaned in, shouting in Rafe’s ear over the deafening applause. “Remember, you can’t be seeing any of them, right? Especially Y/n. It’s part of the contract.” Rafe chuckled, giving a resigned nod. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

But as he watched you take your final bow, the applause still ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were someone worth breaking the rules for.

~

After the game, you and your teammates strolled through the bustling hallway, still basking in the post-performance adrenaline. You and the other cheerleaders were busy toweling off the sweat from the night’s game, the familiar routine a comforting end to a high-energy evening.

Spotting your dad leading the Cowboys team towards you, you waved excitedly and jogged over to him. His face lit up with pride as he greeted you with a side hug, his voice filled with warmth. “Hey, kiddo! You were amazing out there, as always.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you couldn’t suppress a delighted giggle.

“Thanks, Dad,” you replied, your smile mirroring his. As you walked alongside him, discussing the game and upcoming plans, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A subtle sense of curiosity drew your gaze over your shoulder, where you locked eyes with an unfamiliar guy.

Your dad noticed your glance and affectionately patted your side. “That’s Rafe. You know, the really talented guy I offered the spot to from the Outer Banks?” Around him, the other players playfully slapped Rafe on the back and teased him with knowing grins.

Rafe grinned sheepishly, accepting the good-natured ribbing from his teammates. Turning back to face your dad, you hummed in response.

~

“Where is Y/N?” Kelli’s voice echoed through the pre-game excitement backstage, cutting through the chatter and preparation of the cheerleaders lined up, ready to go onto the field. Panic surged through you as you hurriedly made your way over, adjusting your hair and straightening your top.

“I’m here! I’m here,” you called out, slipping into position just in time. Kelli, raised an eyebrow, her keen eyes taking in your slightly disheveled appearance. Kelli stepped closer, her demeanor stern. “Sweetie,” her hand reaching up to gently touch your face. You looked at her in confusion as she rubbed your chin, then showed you her thumb smeared with your lipstick.

“I—” you began to explain, but she shook her head, “Not right now,” she hushed firmly as she brushed away stray strands of hair that had fallen across your face. “Have fun out there, ladies!” Kellie called out, her voice projecting over the backstage buzz.

With a deep breath, you led the charge onto the field, the exhilarating pulse of Thunderstruck fueling your every move. The routine flowed flawlessly, each kick and turn executed with precision. The cheers of the crowd blended with the music, creating an electrifying atmosphere that drove you to perform at your best.

Later that night, after another Cowboys victory, you found yourself in the locker room, wiping off your makeup. One of your teammates, Kelcey, approached you with a curious expression.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as you returned the gesture, glancing at her through the reflection in the mirror. “Did you hear what happened after tonight’s game?” she asked, sitting on the bench and swinging her legs.

You paused, turning to face her. “No? What happened?” you asked, intrigued. Kelcey looked around briefly before leaning closer. “Y’know that new player? Rafe Cameron. Well, he showed up late on the field and Coach Johnson was furious,” she explained.

Your mind raced. One thing your dad valued the most was punctuality. “I think Coach was even threatening his spot! What was he thinking, he’s only been on the team for a week!” Kelcey shook her head in disbelief.

~

As you stretched in the locker room, your dad walked in, his authoritative presence immediately commanding attention. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, pulling up a chair to sit facing you, his expression a mix of warmth and concern.

“Hi, Dad,” you replied with a smile, continuing your stretches, hoping to appear nonchalant. His gaze lingered on you, scrutinizing every detail, his face unreadable.

“Everything all good?” you asked, sensing his unease and hoping to dispel it. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, everything’s fine, sweetie,” he said, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Listen, Kelli mentioned you were running late before the game. You’re never late, Y/N.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension with a light laugh. “Dad, I scuffed up my boots, so I had to fix them,” you lied smoothly, hoping your tone was convincing enough. He nodded slowly, though skepticism lingered in his eyes. “Really? Because you know what’s funny? Rafe was late to arrive on the field too.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back in the chair, studying your reaction.

You threw him a look, feigning innocence. “What are you trying to say?” “That’s just a coincidence, right? I don’t need to be worrying about my daughter and one of my best players, do I?” He raised an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that made your heart skip a beat.

You forced yourself to maintain your composure. “No, Dad, you don’t need to worry,” you assured him, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade you were putting up. Your dad sighed and gave you a look you knew too well, a mixture of concern and fatherly protectiveness. “Sweetheart, I’m not stupid.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words, feeling a pang of guilt. “Dad, I never said you were—” But he cut you off, leaning forward slightly. “Rafe is a good-looking guy, I get it. And well, of course, you’re a stunning girl who happens to be a cheerleader for his team, so naturally—”

“He’s a really nice guy, Dad. And he cares for me, I know he does,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, your eyes fixed on the ground to avoid his piercing gaze. Your dad watched you in silence for a moment before sighing deeply. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice softening as he looked at you intently.

You looked up at him and nodded your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, it is.” Your dad stood up and walked over to you, his demeanor shifting to one of tender support. “Well, I want you to be happy, okay?” He smiled at you warmly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, feeling a wave of relief.

“Thank you, Dad,” you smiled gratefully at him. You pulled him into a hug, and he kissed the top of your head, his embrace comforting and familiar. “You’re looking more and more like your mother every day, y’know,” he whispered, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Whenever I see you out there on the field in your uniform, I have to double-look because I think it’s your mom.”

You both chuckled softly, a stray tear escaping and running down your face. Your dad pulled back slightly, using his thumb to gently wipe away the tear. “Try not to be late next time, yeah? Don’t want Kelli on my back.” You chuckled and nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Got it, Dad.”

[imloyaltoscoups]

i'm ready | yoon jeonghan

After seven long years, you finally find yourself in a place of true peace and contentment. The journey to this point hasn't been easy - the scars of heartbreak and betrayal ran deep, and it took time to heal and rebuild yourself.

But you did it. You persevered through the nightmares, finding strength in your own resilience and determination. With each passing day, you focused on your own growth and development, pouring your energy into your studies and your personal pursuits.

Completing your PhD was a milestone, a testament to your dedication and perseverance. It wasn't just an academic achievement: it was a symbol of your triumph over adversity, a tangible reminder of how far you've come since the pain of your past.

Along the way, you learned valuable lessons about self-love and self-care. You realized the importance of prioritizing your own needs and desires, of carving out space for yourself in a world that often demands so much of us.

The first years were undoubtedly the hardest. You struggled to find your footing, grappling with the weight of your emotions and the uncertainty of starting over. You were cautious with those who approached, wary of opening yourself up to the possibility of hurt once again.

But with time, you learned to trust yourself again. You rediscovered your worth and your strength, and you refused to let the pain of your past define you. You learned to allocate love and care for yourself, recognizing that you are deserving of the same kindness and compassion that you so freely gave to others.

You pause mid-packing, taken aback by your friend's unexpected enthusiasm. They shake the ticket with excitement, their smile infectious despite your initial reluctance.

"Y/N!!! We're going to Koreaaaa!" they exclaim, their voice filled with enthusiasm.

You hesitate, the memories of your past trip to Korea still lingering in the corners of your mind. The thought of returning to the place where so much heartache had occurred fills you with a sense of apprehension.

But before you can voice your concerns, your friend speaks up again, their tone resolute. "You're okay now, right? So it's okay to visit that country again. And besides, who knows when we'll have the chance to see our friends first ever exhibit. If you're worried of bumping with that piece of shit. Don't worry—I'll give him a piece of my mind. Maybe even a punch and a chokeslam for good measure!... I should have been with you when you went there" she pouted.

Their words catch you off guard, but you can't help but laugh at their fierce loyalty. Despite your reservations, their unwavering support gives you a glimmer of courage.

"Alright," you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "This is for our girl."

With a newfound sense of determination, you resume packing, knowing that this trip will be different from the last. Armed with the support of your friend and the strength you've gained from overcoming your past, you're ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. And who knows? Maybe this time, Korea will hold new memories of joy and adventure, rather than pain and heartache.

As you arrive at the exhibit of your best friend, you're filled with a sense of pride and excitement. You rush forward and envelop her in a big hug, a smile spreading across your face.

"Congratulations queen, you did it!" you exclaim, squeezing her tightly. "I'm so proud of you for pursuing your dream of being an artist. Look at the crowd!"

She returns the hug with equal enthusiasm, her eyes shining with happiness. "Thank you so much! I couldn't have done it without you guys. You two kept on pushing me to do this and here we are."

She then shows you around the exhibit, pointing out each piece with pride, you can't help but marvel at her talent and creativity. Each painting tells a story, a reflection of her passion and dedication to her craft.

As you admire her work, she offers you two a glass of champagne, a gesture of celebration for this momentous occasion.

"Cheers to you and your incredible talent," you say, raising your glass in a toast. "May your art continue to inspire and captivate audiences around the world."

She clinks her glass against yours, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Thank you, and cheers to our friendship. I'm so grateful to have you two by my side."

Together, you three sip your champagne and continue to explore the exhibit, basking in the joy of this special moment shared between friends. And as you revel in the beauty of her art and the warmth of her friendship, you know that this is a memory you'll cherish for years to come.

Time pass by and your best friend excuses herself to greet other visitors, you nod understandingly, letting her immerse herself in the moment. Beside you, your other friend suddenly excuses herself to rushed off to the bathroom, leaving you alone amidst the bustling gallery.

As you scroll through the gallery, admiring the artwork, a familiar voice calls out your name. You turn around and are surprised to see Jeonghan standing there, holding a glass of champagne. To your own surprise, you feel no shock or hurt at his presence. Instead, you feel a sense of calm and resolution.

"Hi," he says, his voice tentative as he approaches you. "How are you?"

You offer him a small smile. "I'm doing better than ever," you reply confidently. "I got my PhD and now I'm planning on doing my residency."

Jeonghan's eyes light up with genuine pride. "That's amazing," he says, offering his congratulations. "I always knew you would achieve great things."

You exchange conversation for a while, catching up on each other's lives. Eventually, Jeonghan takes a deep breath and admits once again that he is truly sorry for the pain he caused in the past.

You nod, feeling a sense of closure wash over you. "I've forgiven you," you say simply.

His eyes widen with hope, and for a moment, you see the flicker of longing in his gaze. But before he can say anything else, a commotion interrupts the moment.

A little kid comes running towards you, calling you "mama." You glance down and see your baby boy, and you can't help but smile as you scoop him up into your arms.

"Where's Papa?" you ask, and just then, a voice responds—a man carrying your one-year-old daughter.

Jeonghan stands frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as he takes in the sight of your family. You introduce your husband to him, and as you do, your baby boy innocently asks who the man you're talking to is.

"He's one of the singers mommy used to love," you reply gently, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

Jeonghan introduces himself to your family, his emotions held back as he struggles to maintain his composure. But as the moment stretches on, you can see the glass in his hand trembling, a silent testament to the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Mama, can we look for Tatie?" your baby boy asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

You smile down at him and give a nod. "Of course, sweetheart. Let's go find her," you reply, your heart swelling with love for your children.

Turning to Jeonghan, you offer a polite smile. "It was nice meeting you again," you say sincerely.

Your baby boy tugs at your hand, eager to leave. "Goodbye, Uncle!" he chirps before running off with your husband and daughter.

Jeonghan watches them go, his face a mixture of shock and sadness. You offer him a sympathetic smile before turning away to search for your best friend.

As you walk with your husband by your side, his arm wrapped around you protectively, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. You lean into him, grateful for his unwavering support and patience.

"Thank you for being so patient love," you murmur, pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

He smiles down at you, his eyes filled with warmth. "You're very brave, you know that," he says simply, his voice filled with admiration.

You feel a surge of gratitude for the life you've built together, for the love and happiness that surrounds you. And as you continue to search for your best friends, you realize that maybe visiting Korea isn't so bad after all, especially when you have your family by your side.

In that moment, you realize that the greatest revenge you can provide to Jeonghan is finding your own happiness without him. And as you find your own people who cherish and support you, you know that you've already won.

part 1, part 2

....... ≿━━━━༺JEONGHAN༻━━━━≾ .......

[gardenwons]

I'm still your boy daydreaming  ִֶָ☾。

SYNOPSIS: As graduation draws to a close, Jungwon, who has quietly pined for you for years, remains daydreaming.

PAIRINGS: Whipped bff!jungwon x unaware!reader

GENRE: college!won, fluff, some angst(?)

A/N: listened to “the cutest pair” by Regina Song, but in wonnie’s pov!

Jungwon watched as you anxiously bit your fingernail, fixated on the projector while the professor droned on about the upcoming graduation details.

Amid the collective buzz of nerves and excitement, you were determined to get everything perfect for this special academic moment. Sensing his gaze, Jungwon breath hitched as you turned to glare at him, saying, ''For a summa cum laude, I'd expect you to pay attention, won." With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, deciding to ignore your own advice and drift into distraction. Jungwon blinked away the image of you that had been stuck in his head for the past hour and straightened his back, finally focusing on the topic at hand.

For years, Jungwon poured all his energy into his studies, making academics his sole focus. In contrast, you seemed to glide effortlessly through your responsibilities, seamlessly balancing your love for baking while maintaining excellent grades. Your natural grace and effortless talent captivated him, turning his admiration into something more profound.

Being president of the student council, Jungwon frequently found himself in need of support, and you were always there— covering missed classes, updating him on quizzes, and even bringing him homemade cookies. Each time he received those sweet treats, he adoringly traced every chocolate chip, imagining you in the kitchen, preparing them just for him. Your small acts of kindness and your effortless charm only deepened his admiration, turning him almost into a fanatic.

To Jungwon, you were the epitome of support and sweetness—the kindest, most lovely person he had ever encountered. Your presence was as delightful as strawberries and as warm as chocolate, and he found himself completely captivated. Any affection you showed him made him blush furiously, a reaction you took as just part of his normal demeanor. His attempts to hold your hand, which you happily reciprocated, left him almost fainting, his heart racing with every touch and glance.

As junior year passed, both of you grew older and more mature, with Jungwon's gestures evolving from shy touches to confidently resting his arm around your shoulders. His boldness extended to occasionally inhaling the comforting scent of your hair... secretly of course. Whenever another guy approached you, Jungwon would wrap his arms around you and flash a sweet, knowing smile. “Hi, lovely. Shall we?” he’d say, his gaze casually drifting to the suitor whose hand would hang awkwardly by his side, holding sad flowers.

With a nonchalant smile, you’d cling to Jungwon, blissfully unaware of the advances you were turning down. To you, his protective presence felt natural, yet for Jungwon, every touch and moment with you was a testament to his deep affection and longing.

Jungwon was convinced that you must have feelings for him—how could you not, given the way you were with him? It seemed almost cruel to be so affectionate and loving if you didn’t truly feel the same. His eyes, always filled with love and adoration, had been that way since he was 16. Now, as he stood at the brink of adulthood, he felt an overwhelming urge to finally ask you the question he’d carried in his heart for so long.

Before the big day, you and Jungwon found yourselves huddled in a café, finalizing details and perfecting his valedictorian speech with your help. As you focused on your own tasks, writing notes to help him with, Jungwon couldn’t help but steal glances at you, his eyes blinking slowly as he tried to conceal his smile. Over the years, he had brushed off the constant teasing from classmates and possibly the whole student body who shipped you two together, fearing that acknowledging it might push you away. But in that moment, watching you immersed in your work, he was overwhelmed by the realization of how deeply he loved you. Jungwon knew with certainty that no one could love you the way he did, "Don’t you think we’d be the cutest pair?” Jungwon asked, his gaze fixed on his screen, too shy to meet your eyes. His words were accompanied by a soft, nervous smile. You giggled at his question, finding his hesitation endearing. “We already are, silly.” you replied warmly.

Hearing your response, Jungwon let out a breath of relief. His eyes slowly lifted from the hair that had fallen across his forehead, his fingers nervously fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. As he looked up, he was met with your radiant, reassuring smile.

You reached across the table and gently took his hand in yours, giving it a tender squeeze. Jungwon’s heart raced as he felt the warmth of your touch, his nerves melting away. The simplicity and sweetness of the gesture made his feelings for you all the more intense. As he gazed into your eyes, he couldn’t help but think how incredibly fortunate he was to have someone as special as you by his side. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, and Jungwon knew, with absolute certainty, that he never wanted to let go.

…

As Jungwon delivered his speech, his gaze move across the sea of students and faculty before finally settling on you. Despite his dislike to public speaking, he spoke with a confidence fueled by his desire to inspire others and make you proud. With each word, he poured his heart into crafting a message that can resonate deeply.

As he reached the end of his speech, he paused for a moment, his voice tinged with emotion. “To hope is to live,” he said, “I still have a dream to reach, and achieving this was already a step towards it.” His hands trembled slightly as he concluded, his shyness evident in his final words of gratitude. “Thank you, everyone.” As the applause filled the room, Jungwon’s eyes sought yours again, hoping that you could see just how much this moment meant to him.

After a few more speeches and the excitement of the ceremony, students began tossing their mortarboards into the air. Jungwon made his way through the crowd, clutching a bouquet he had carefully prepared for you. His heart pounded with each step as he approached, only to find you already wrapped in the arms of Sunghoon, your boyfriend.

Sunghoon was the only man you seemed to notice with his advances, the only one who somehow slipped under Jungwon's radar. How could he have been so blind? Despite the sharp pang in his chest, Jungwon forced a smile as he neared you both, his other hand fidgeting and squeezing around his toga, struggling to mask the ache of his unspoken feelings. He offered Sunghoon a congratulatory nod, who returned it with a warm smile and a heartfelt “Congratulations.” Jungwon’s gaze shifted back to you, and he saw you squealing with excitement, your joy infectious.

When you finally turned to Jungwon, you greeted him with a tight hug. The embrace, meant for him alone, now enveloped him in a bittersweet moment. The scent of your perfume, which he had imagined would be his exclusive reminder of you, was now mixed with the warmth of Sunghoon’s presence. The hug that was supposed to be his alone felt like a cruel twist of fate, making his heart ache even more as he realized that the affection he had longed for was now shared with someone else.

Jungwon, feeling like a coward in the midst of his emotions, stood before you as you beamed with pride. “I’m so proud of you, my boy,” you said, your eyes brimming with happy tears as you cupped his face gently. Jungwon’s own eyes were clouded with sadness, the tears he fought so hard to keep at bay finally spilling over. “I’ll always be your boy, yeah?” he whispered, his voice barely above a tremor.

You laughed softly, your laugh like a bittersweet melody, leaving a tender kiss on his cheek, your affection clear but the meaning unmistakable. “Always, Jungwon,” you replied, your words carrying a platonic warmth that seemed to echo louder in his heart than he could admit.

Jungwon stood there, his heart aching as he realized how deeply his own feelings contrasted with yours. The kiss he had hoped would signify something more was a gentle reminder of the reality he had tried to ignore. The warmth of your embrace and the affection in your voice only served to amplify the distance between your hearts. He sniffled quietly, nodding and biting his lip to hold back the disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him. Even as he forced a smile, though it was a hollow expression trying to be happy for you and your new chapter with Sunghoon.

Jungwon was left with the crushing realization that he was merely a boy daydreaming of a future that would never be his, longing for a love that remained forever out of reach.

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | prologue

Summary: The first encounter.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: 18 in this part)

Word Count: 837

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A/N: Oh, hello Dr. Barnes. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

The university loomed before you, the ivy-clad walls and gothic spires stood as testaments to the centuries of academic excellence. Renowned for its rigorous standards, the prestigious institution drew in the brightest minds from across the globe. You stepped through the grand archway, the air humming with the energy of countless scholarly pursuits, each echoing through the hallowed halls. 

You haven’t long turned 18, now a freshman, driven by a passion for creative writing. Your nights were spent hunched over notebooks, pouring your heart into stories and poems. Determined to make the most of this opportunity, you reflected on your talent that earned you a place here. With the best and brightest. It was a new chapter of your academic journey, and it started today.

Dr. James B. Barnes is a brilliant literature professor yet, reserved. His reputation preceded him– known for his profound insights and standards, he was feared and revered by his students. As you approached his office, your heart began to race. 

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, stood a heavy oak door with a brass nameplate glinting in the dim light. You took a deep breath and knocked firmly. Creaking open the door, you revealed Dr. Barnes. Sat behind a cluttered desk, his gaze lifted from a pile of papers, meeting yours. Piercing yet thoughtful, there was a moment of silent assessment. 

You felt the weight of his scrutiny as you stepped inside. The room smelled of leather with a faint trace of whiskey. 

“Good afternoon,” you begin, trying to steady your voice despite the nerves. “I’m going to be joining your advanced English literature class.” 

“Ah, yes,” he responded, his tone measured. “You must be the freshman. Please, have a seat.” 

You took a seat in the heavy leather chair opposite his desk. The two of you exchange a few professional courtesies, keeping the conversation brief but charged with mutual respect. You could sense that he had recognized your passion, and you were determined to prove yourself. 

~

A week later, you found yourself attending his class, surrounded by fellow students. His presence was commanding as he stood at the front of the room. A masterful blend of critical analysis and profound insight, his lectures were delivered with authority. 

Your hand raised after a particularly challenging lecture, Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a nod.

“Yes?” 

“I have to disagree with your interpretation of his work,” you say, your voice clear and confident. A stark contrast from your first meeting with him. “I believe his use of fragmented narrative serves as a challenge to the notion of a singular, authoritative voice, rather than to obscure meaning.” 

The room fell silent, all eyes turned to you. Dr. Barnes regards you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. 

“Interesting perspective,” he replied, keeping his tone cool. “However, I would argue that the fragmentation serves more to reflect the chaotic nature of postmodern existence.” 

You don’t back down. “Isn’t that chaos a direct challenge to traditional narrative structures? He seems to be inviting readers to find their own meaning within the disarray.” 

Your heated debate ensues, intellectual electricity cranking the air. Your classmates watched, their gazes swapping between you and Dr. Barnes like they were at Wimbledon as you exchanged arguments. 

Initially, he was annoyed by your boldness, yet you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. You thrived on pushing boundaries and testing limits, in particular, with those you found intellectually stimulating and authoritative. Leaving everyone, including Dr. James B. Barnes, captivated.

“Your argument is well-crafted,” he concedes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I look forward to more discussions like this.” 

As the weeks passed, Dr. Barnes’ class quickly became the highlight of your week. A battlefield of ideas in each session, a place where you could push your intellectual prowess. Dr. Barnes, though initially reserved, seemed to relish the debates as much as you did. 

One chilly autumn afternoon, you lingered after another stimulating class as the other students left. The room fell quiet, as though itself was in thought and reflection. Dr. Barnes noticed and approached you.

“Good work today,” he said, his tone less sharper than usual. “You’ve brought a new energy to these discussions.” 

“Thank you,” you smile, a rush of pride coursed through you. “Your classes challenge me in ways I never expected.” 

He nodded, “To challenge and to inspire, that’s the point of academia. Keep questioning, you could go far.” 

You smiled again, your cheeks becoming flushed. “I’m glad you’re not tired of my questions yet.” 

“On the contrary,” he said as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that caused your heart to race. “I find them… refreshing.” 

The flicker of something unspoken passed between you, a deeper connection yet to be explored. His words echoed as you left the lecture hall, the promise in his eyes lingered. 

What were the boundaries between student and teacher? And, could they transform into something more profound? 

- - -

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[eunxhan]

❝ A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism. ❞

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Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ hii can u do a ticci toby x cannibalistic gn reader?

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Greetings! I apologize for the late response as i got more focused on working on my ocs — This is quite short compared to my other works but I do hope you'll like this one! I've searched on how cannibalism works just to make sure.

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — GORE!SUGGESTIVE! I do not condone this kind of behavior in real life situations.

Reader ⨾ CANNIBALISTIC!GN!READER. YOU/YOURS

Words used ⨾ 624 words 3,502 characters

Character ⨾ TOBIAS ERIN ROGERS (Ticci Toby)

Art credit ⨾ @/kousomii on tumblr

Links ⨾ My Navigation

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Toby felt a strange mix of fascination and horror when he first encountered you. You were out, eating the corpse he just sliced up. He couldn't help but wonder how you got into your current situation, what led you to become a cannibal, and how you were able to maintain the facade of being a normal, functioning member of society.

Toby sometimes feels tempted to try what you are eating, but he always stops himself from actually doing so. If you manage to have some influence on him or try to convince him, he'll do so.

So whenever he goes out to do his missions, if you were allowed to he would let you follow him to clean up his mess. If you weren't, he would come back with a bag full of the parts you prefer.

If you happen to have a biting habit, whether biting yourself or someone else. He's be fascinated by it as he also have a biting habit, he doesn't mind you biting him as he doesn't feel that much pain as long as you let him bite also. He just watch you bite him and look at the bite marks, just don't bite him when he's in a sour mood.

If you cook them, Toby is intrigued and impressed by your skills as a cook, especially if you have a talent for preparing human flesh in a way that's palatable and delicious. He enjoys the idea of sharing a meal with you that is both unique and delicious.

He may or may not say some jokes about you being a cannibal. Toby's sexual jokes about you are him comparing your appetite for human flesh to his imagined prowess in bed. He'll make crude remarks, such as "You're tearing through those organs like you'd rip through a woman's panties."

Toby's indifference towards your post-feast appearance is a direct reflection of his own descent into depravity. Once disgusted by the mere thought of cannibalism, leaving him numb to the grotesque reality surrounding him but who knows? He's also a killer.

He knows that he himself isn't much better, for he too has stained his hands with blood and consumed human flesh. His ambivalence towards your plight is a twisted acceptance of their shared fate, a grim acknowledgment that they have both become monsters in their own right.

For Toby, he just eats the people he chops for survival and if you happen to have a different reasoning Toby listens to your dissection of cannibalism with a mix of repulsion, curiosity, and a twisted sense of familiarity. The gruesome details of how your body processes the consumed flesh, the nutritional benefits, and the sensory experiences, all serve as a morbid testament to the transformation you have undergone.

As you delves into the biological aspects of cannibalism, Toby's mind can't help but conjure vivid images of digestion, the human body breaking down its victims in the most base and primal of ways.

With the knowledge of cannibalism fresh in his mind, Toby's approach to his missions takes on a new, more methodical quality. Instead of the wild, frenzied attacks that once characterized his hunts, Toby now dispatches his victims with a chilling efficiency.

With each slash of his blade, Toby is careful to target specific organs, his actions driven by the newfound knowledge of their nutritional value. He takes the time to slice off limbs, and as he does, he can't help but recall yout descriptions of the sensory experiences. A strange, twisted thrill courses through him as he works.

Once he's collected his bounty, Toby methodically collects the parts into one bag, taking care not to mix the organs with the flesh. You'll be eating with no problem in your mind.

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Ꮺ ⨾ I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED.

[cheynovak]

The Road to Clarity - part 1  

 

Summary: Y/N is a photographer, loving her job in New York. During a shoot she worked with her now boyfriend, Tom. They soon started dating. Now three years later her life takes a turn and when she flies out to Texas, she meets Jensen, a rancher with a teenage daughter Samantha. 

Warnings: slow burn, romantic, nothing to explicit -> yet

English is not my first language  

Words:  3730 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

Y/N had always loved the way her camera captured life. In a city like New York, where everything moved at a breakneck pace, photography was her way of freezing time, of holding onto the moments that mattered. Her days were filled with shoots, editing sessions, and gallery meetings, but her nights belonged to Tom. 

She met Tom on a crisp autumn afternoon. He was the model for a high-profile fashion shoot, and the moment she saw him, something clicked. His chiseled features, confident demeanor, and the way he carried himself—it all drew her in. What started as professional banter quickly turned into late-night conversations, shared dinners, and eventually, love. 

They had been inseparable for the past three years. Y/N often marveled at how lucky she was to have found someone like Tom. They complemented each other in every way—her quiet introspection balanced his outgoing charm, her artistic vision complemented his natural talent in front of the camera. When he proposed under the soft glow of the Brooklyn Bridge, she said yes without hesitation. 

But love, Y/N was beginning to realize, could be as fleeting as the moments she captured on film. 

It started with little things—a text message he quickly hid, unexplained absences, and a change in his behavior that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Y/N tried to ignore it at first, brushing away her unease as paranoia. But the doubts gnawed at her, growing larger and more insistent with each passing day. 

One evening, while Tom was in the shower, Y/N's curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated for a moment, heart pounding in her chest, before unlocking his phone. She wasn’t prepared for what she found. Dozens of messages, photos, and late-night plans with someone else. Her worst fears confirmed, she felt her world collapse in on itself. 

Tom emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing out behind him, and saw the look on her face. There was no need for words—he knew she had found out. 

"Y/N, I can explain," he started, but she cut him off. 

"Don’t," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "Just… don’t." 

The apartment that had once felt so warm and safe now felt suffocating. She needed to escape, to put as much distance between herself and this betrayal as possible. Without a word, she grabbed her suitcase, threw in whatever she could find, and walked out the door, leaving Tom standing there, drenched in the silence of his own making. 

At the airport, she stared blankly at the departure board. She had no plan, no destination in mind—just the overwhelming urge to be anywhere but here. Texas. It was the first place that caught her eye. A place far from the towering skyscrapers and the painful memories they held. She bought the next ticket out and boarded the plane, leaving behind the city that had given her so much, yet taken away even more. 

As the plane lifted off, Y/N stared out the window at the sprawling city below, the lights glittering like a thousand broken promises. She let the tears fall freely now, each one a testament to the love she thought she had, the life she thought she was building. 

-- 

Texas greeted her with open skies and a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold she felt inside. She rented a small cabin on the outskirts of a quiet town, far away from the hustle and bustle of city life. The days passed slowly, the rhythm of the rural life a stark contrast to the frenetic pace she was used to. She spent her mornings walking along dusty trails, camera in hand, capturing the beauty of a world that seemed so far removed from her own. 

One day, as she was photographing a field of wildflowers behind her rented cabin, swaying gently in the breeze, she noticed a young couple lounging near a tree. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen, the girl with long, flowing hair and the boy with a mischievous grin. There was something so innocent, so pure about their presence. Y/N raised her camera and snapped a few shots, the soft click of the shutter almost lost in the rustling of the leaves. 

The couple noticed her, and she waved them over, smiling. They approached, curious and a little shy. 

"Hi there," Y/N greeted them warmly. "I hope you don’t mind—I couldn’t resist capturing such a sweet moment." 

The girl blushed, her eyes sparkling with young love. "No, we don’t mind at all. Can we see?" 

Y/N showed them the photos on the camera’s screen. The girl gasped in delight. "These are beautiful!" 

"You two make a lovely picture," Y/N said, feeling a pang of something bittersweet as she looked at them. They reminded her of a time when she, too, had believed in love that simple and untainted. 

"My mom has a darkroom at home," the girl said suddenly, her voice filled with pride. "She used to develop photos all the time.” Y/N’s curiosity was piqued. "A darkroom? That’s rare to find these days. Where do you live?" 

The girl pointed off toward the distance. "Not far, just a couple of miles down the road. You should come by sometime!” The boy nudged the girl gently. "We should get going, Sam. It’s getting late." 

Samantha nodded, smiling at Y/N giving her hand. "Samantha, Sam for short, It was really nice meeting you." 

"You too, I’m Y/N" She replied, watching as they walked away, hand in hand, disappearing into the twilight. As Y/N stood there, the camera hanging loosely from her neck, she couldn’t resist capturing one last image of the young couple. They walked hand in hand toward the setting sun, their silhouettes framed perfectly by the golden light. She clicked the shutter, knowing that this moment, like so many others, would be one she would keep with her. 

-- 

The following week, Y/N found herself at a quaint café in town, her laptop open in front of her. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as she sipped her drink, her focus on editing the photos she had taken over the past few days. The images of the teenage couple were among her favorites, and she found herself drawn to the warmth and innocence captured in each shot. 

As she worked, the familiar sound of a truck pulling up outside the café caught her attention. She glanced up just as the door swung open, revealing Samantha and a man who looked to be in his early forties. He had light brown hair, slightly tousled, and sharp green eyes that contrasted with his weathered face—features that suggested years of hard work under the Texas sun. 

Samantha’s eyes lit up when she saw Y/N. She waved enthusiastically, her smile as bright as ever. Y/N smiled back, motioning for them to join her at the small table by the window. 

“Hi, Y/N!” Samantha greeted her cheerfully, sliding into the chair across from her. The man followed suit, offering a polite nod. 

“Hey, Samantha,” Y/N replied warmly, turning her laptop so they could see the screen. “I was just working on your photos. What do you think?” 

Samantha leaned forward, her eyes widening as she took in the image of herself and her boyfriend walking into the sunset. The colors were rich and vibrant, the mood of the moment perfectly captured. She gasped, her excitement bubbling over. 

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, this is amazing! I love it!” 

Y/N smiled, pleased with the reaction. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted to capture that feeling—you two looked so happy.” 

The man, who Y/N assumed was Samantha’s father, peered at the screen, his green eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “That’s a great shot, but I thought you two had broken up?” 

Samantha’s expression shifted instantly from joy to irritation. She shot her father a sharp look. “Dad, seriously? You don’t understand a thing, do you?” 

Y/N watched the exchange, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the tension between them. It was clear there was something deeper going on beneath the surface. 

Her father sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if searching for the right words. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Sammy. You’re young, and sometimes boys aren’t as true as they seem.” Samantha crossed her arms, her voice defensive. “I know that, but we’re fine. It was just a stupid argument, okay? We’ve moved past it.” 

Y/N, sensing the need to diffuse the situation, gently interjected. “It’s clear from the photos how much you care about each other. Relationships can be complicated, especially when you’re young, but it’s the love and the connection that really matter.” 

Samantha’s expression softened as she glanced back at the image on the screen. “Yeah… you’re right. We do care about each other. I just wish Dad would stop worrying so much.” 

Her father gave a small, resigned smile. “It’s my job to worry, Sam. 

The moment of tension eased, and Y/N felt a sense of relief. She closed her laptop, feeling like she had intruded on a private moment. “Y/N, would you mind sending me a copy of that picture?” Samantha asked, her voice lighter now. “I’d love to print it out and hang it in my room.” 

“Of course,” Y/N replied, smiling. “I’ll email it to you tonight.” 

As they got up to leave, Samantha’s father paused, glancing back at Y/N with an expression that suggested he wanted to say something more. His green eyes flickered with a mixture of hesitation and thoughtfulness, but after a brief moment, he simply nodded and walked out the door, following Samantha. 

Y/N watched them go, wondering what he had been about to say, but she didn’t dwell on it for long. Instead, she packed up her things and headed back to her cabin, where she spent the evening editing more photos, including the one Samantha loved. True to her word, she sent the image to Samantha later that night, feeling satisfied with the day’s work. 

-- 

A few days later, Y/N found herself wandering through the small town, her camera slung over her shoulder as always. The sun was warm, casting a gentle glow over the streets, and she felt more at peace than she had in a long time. As she passed by the local high school, she noticed a group of students gathered around a bulletin board, hanging up posters and flyers. 

Curious, Y/N walked over and saw Samantha among them, carefully pinning up a large picture of a race with bold lettering announcing a charity event. The flyer explained that the race was part of a school project to raise money for a local cause, and the image captured the excitement and energy of the event perfectly. 

“Samantha!” Y/N called out, waving as she approached. 

Samantha turned, her face lighting up when she saw Y/N. “Hey! What do you think?” she asked, gesturing to the poster she had just hung up. 

“It looks great,” Y/N said, admiring the picture. “You’re doing this as a school project?” 

“Yeah,” Samantha nodded enthusiastically. “We’re trying to raise money for a new sports field. The schoolpaper is doing a big feature on it, and we want to get as much coverage as possible.” 

Y/N smiled, already anticipating what was coming next. Samantha’s passion for the project was infectious, and Y/N could see how much it meant to her. 

So,” Samantha began, her tone hopeful, “I was wondering… would you be willing to take some pictures for the schoolpaper? I know it’s a lot to ask, and we don’t really have a budget, but it would mean so much to us. We’re hoping you might be able to do it for free?” 

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Of course, I’d love to help out,” she said warmly. “I’m happy to do it.” 

Samantha’s face lit up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much, Y/N! This is going to make a huge difference.” 

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of fulfilment in being able to contribute to something meaningful. “Just let me know the details, and I’ll be there.” As they chatted about the upcoming event, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. The more she immersed herself in the community, the more she realized that this small town had given her something she hadn’t expected a new home. 

-- 

The day of the event arrived with a clear, bright sky and a gentle breeze that carried the scent of grilled food and sweet treats from the stalls lining the field. Y/N had chosen a light blue summer dress, the fabric swaying around her legs as she moved. She’d even bought a new pair of cowboy boots, a nod to the local style, and felt a little thrill at how they clicked against the ground as she walked. She was trying to fit in with the laid-back yet distinctly Texan vibe of the town, and from the friendly nods and smiles she received, she figured she was doing a decent job. 

The event was held at a large open field, which had been transformed into a lively fairground. There was a race track with wooden horses where kids lined up eagerly for their turn, a children’s rodeo that drew cheers and laughter from the crowd, lasso-throwing contests, and a variety of stalls offering everything from smoked brisket to homemade pies. The high school cheerleaders were busy running around in their uniforms, selling tickets for the upcoming football game, their energy infectious as they chattered and laughed, adding to the festive atmosphere. 

Y/N wandered through the crowds, her camera slung around her neck, capturing the vibrancy of the day. She photographed the wooden horses mid-race, the concentrated faces of children trying to lasso a wooden calf, and the rows of colorful stalls filled with local treats. Everywhere she looked, there were moments worth preserving. 

As she scanned the scene for her next shot, she spotted someone who immediately caught her eye. Dressed in all denim—jeans, a button-up shirt, and a well-worn cowboy hat—a man stood at the lasso-throwing area, his tall frame and broad shoulders making him stand out even in the crowd of similarly dressed locals. He had a short, neatly kept beard that added a rugged edge to his features, and as he moved, there was a calm confidence in his every gesture. 

Y/N raised her camera, zooming in slightly, and watched through the lens as he skillfully threw the lasso, effortlessly roping the target. There was something about him that made him different from the countless other men she had seen that day, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Maybe it was the ease with which he carried himself or the quiet intensity in his expression as he focused on the task at hand. 

She snapped a few shots, capturing the moment as the lasso looped perfectly around the wooden steer. As she lowered the camera to check the images, she noticed him glance in her direction. Their eyes met briefly, and she felt a small jolt of surprise when he nodded and smiled, acknowledging her presence. There was a warmth in his smile, a subtle charm that seemed to suggest he was used to being watched but wasn’t bothered by it. 

Just as Y/N was about to return the smile, Samantha popped up beside her, nearly startling her. 

“That’s my dad,” Samantha said with a grin, clearly proud. “He wins at the lasso game every time. It’s not even fair, really—he’s been doing this since he was a kid, and owning a cattle ranch doesn’t hurt.” 

Y/N looked back at Jensen—now realizing he was Samantha’s father—throwing another perfect lasso. It suddenly made sense why he seemed so familiar, even though she hadn’t met him properly before. 

“So, he’s an expert, huh?” Y/N replied, watching as Jensen accepted a small prize from the booth operator with a casual wave of his hand. 

“Yeah,” Samantha said, rolling her eyes playfully. “He’s good at just about everything when it comes to ranch stuff. Mom always said he could rope the moon if he wanted to.” 

Y/N chuckled, amused by the image that conjured. She turned her camera back to the scene, snapping a few more pictures of the other contestants, but she found herself glancing back at Jensen every so often, intrigued by the man who seemed so much a part of this town yet somehow stood out to her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. 

“Want to meet him?” Samantha asked, noticing Y/N’s lingering gaze. 

Y/N hesitated for a moment. “Sure, why not?” she finally said, feeling a mix of curiosity and something she couldn’t quite name. 

Samantha led the way through the crowd, weaving between people who greeted her with familiar smiles and nods. As they approached, Jensen looked up, his green eyes bright with recognition as he saw them coming. He tipped his hat slightly, a polite gesture that felt almost old-fashioned but perfectly in character. 

“Dad, this is Y/N,” Samantha said, introducing them with a wide smile. “She’s the photographer I told you about—the one helping with the school paper.” 

Jensen extended a hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve seen you around town a few times. You’re doing some good work with that camera.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, shaking his hand and noticing how warm and strong it felt. “I’ve been enjoying capturing the spirit of the town. It’s a lot different from New York.” 

Jensen smiled, a touch of humor in his green eyes. “I figured you were a city girl.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What makes you say that?” 

He glanced down at her new cowboy boots, then back up at her with a playful grin. “Let’s just say you’ve got a bit of a city way of dressing.” 

Before Y/N could respond, a group of men called out to Jensen from across the fairground, waving him over. Jensen tipped his hat to Y/N with a slight, respectful nod. “If you’d excuse me, ma’am,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle Texas twang, before turning and heading toward the group. 

Y/N watched him go, her mind still turning over his words. She glanced down at her boots, wondering what exactly he had meant. “What’s wrong with my boots?” she asked, turning to Samantha, a hint of confusion in her voice. 

Samantha burst into laughter, the sound light and teasing. “Nothing’s wrong with them, I promise,” she said, grinning at Y/N’s puzzled expression. “My dad’s just old-fashioned. He can tell those boots are brand new—he’s used to seeing people in well-worn work boots around here. He wasn’t being serious, just poking a little fun.” 

Y/N let out a relieved laugh, realizing that Jensen’s comment had been more about teasing than criticism. “So, it’s not about me looking out of place?” 

Samantha shook her head, still smiling. “Not at all. It’s just his way of saying he noticed. You’re doing just fine—better than fine, actually. You’re fitting in more than you think.” 

Y/N smiled, feeling reassured. “Thanks, Samantha. I guess I’ll just have to break these boots in a little more.” 

“Yeah, maybe do a little more walking in them,” Samantha said with a wink. As the day wore on, Y/N continued to move through the fairground, her camera clicking away to capture the vibrant energy and joyful moments of the event. The wooden horses, the excited kids, the colorful stalls—all provided ample opportunities for great shots. Yet, despite her best efforts to focus on everything happening around her, her attention kept drifting back to Jensen. 

He seemed to have an effortless way of commanding attention, even when he wasn’t actively posing. His tall, broad-shouldered frame and confident, relaxed demeanor made him stand out naturally. Y/N found herself repeatedly drawn to him, her lens finding him almost instinctively, as if he was the centerpiece of her day. 

Jensen moved through the fairground with an easy grace, interacting with people, participating in games, and generally embodying the spirit of the event. Each time Y/N looked through her camera, he was there—his presence somehow adding a special quality to every shot. His laughter was infectious, his expressions genuine, and his movements so natural that he seemed to glide through the day with an effortless charm. 

As she followed him around, Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. It was as though each snapshot of Jensen was more than just a photograph—it was a moment captured in time that held a kind of magic. Her favorite shot of the day came when Jensen was in the middle of a hearty laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling with joy. His perfect white teeth gleamed against the backdrop of the fairground, and there was something so incredibly captivating about the way he looked in that moment. The raw, unguarded joy he exuded made the photograph feel alive, brimming with the essence of the day. 

Y/N looked at the image on her camera’s display, and her heart skipped a beat. The way Jensen's laughter was caught mid-air, the way his eyes crinkled with mirth—it was as if she had managed to capture a piece of his soul, and it was both thrilling and slightly unnerving. The fluttering in her stomach intensified, and she found herself smiling, unable to shake the feeling that there was something profoundly special about this moment. 

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden light over the fairground, Y/N knew that this day would be one she wouldn’t forget. Jensen had unwittingly become the focal point of her photographs, and she couldn't deny that he had also become the focal point of her thoughts too.  

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[bitchy-craft]

Let's Give You A Confidence Boost | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find a confidence boost for you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

It's important to recognize that your journey is uniquely yours, filled with experiences that have shaped who you are today. Embrace the qualities that set you apart from others, for they are the very essence of what makes you special. Your strengths, talents, and even your challenges have contributed to your growth and wisdom.

As you navigate through life's twists and turns, remember that you possess the inner strength to overcome any obstacles that come your way. Every setback is a chance to learn, adapt, and come back stronger. Embrace your journey, and let your confidence shine.

Pile 2:

At times, it's easy to underestimate your own potential, but I want you to recognize the incredible capabilities that lie within you. Take a moment to reflect on your accomplishments, both big and small. Each success is a testament to your dedication and hard work. Your journey is a collection of achievements that highlight your resilience and determination.

Believe in your abilities, and trust that your unique perspective and skills bring immense value to any endeavor you pursue. Don't shy away from challenges; instead, view them as opportunities for growth. The world is waiting to see the greatness you're capable of achieving.

Pile 3:

Life is a series of steps, each one taking you closer to your goals and aspirations. Amidst the uncertainty and self-doubt that can sometimes cloud our minds, it's crucial to remember just how resilient you are. You've weathered storms and celebrated triumphs, proving your ability to navigate through life's highs and lows. While it's easy to be critical of yourself, I encourage you to acknowledge your progress, no matter how incremental it might seem.

Each step forward, no matter how small, is a testament to your determination and courage. The path to success is rarely linear, but your willingness to persevere despite challenges speaks volumes about your character. Keep moving forward with unwavering confidence in your potential. You've got this!

[shakesthewizard]

Hi please explain about fabianxadaine???

Okay since you asked so nicely here's the fucking thing about Fabadaine

First, some background info

Before we dive in, you should know a couple things. For one, I'm a firm bad kid polycule truther. You could truly pitch me any pairing/grouping of those kiddos and I could find a really ineresting and/or sweet dynamic to eat the drywall about

You should also know that I'm gonna most likely remember some details during this analysis - if you spot them, please let me know by putting them in a bottle and throwing them into the ocean.

Second, some character meta

Adaine O'Shaughnessey is a girl with a lot of courage. It's sort of her defining character trait. The idea of "a wizard with an anxiety disorder" brings to mind someone pretty timid, who's afraid of speaking their mind. But from her first appearance, we see clearly that to Adaine, her disorder is pretty explicitly medical. On her first day of freshman year, she's already talking back to her horrible parents and trying to stand up for herself. Long before she gets access to medication, her disorder hinders her the way an asthma attack might; it has no bearing on her willingness to do the courageous thing.

Relatedly, Adaine thrives under adversity. Not abuse or mistreatment, mind - what I mean is that she likes it when people push back at her a little, so that she has opportunities to test her ideas and opinions against dissent. Look at her dynamic with Aelwyn in season three. Those two bicker and banter; they poke at each other, but it's how they're expressing things like concern or pride.

You could argue, probably well, that this is a product of sisterhood, and a product of their history in particular. But I think there's more to it than that. We see throughout the show that Adaine is a person who cares about exceeding; about learning and growing and achieving great things. It's classic wizard.

Adaine is the child of the wealthy and the important, and that shapes everything about her. It influences her struggles; her abandonment issues in particular. But it also shapes her goals, her values, and her attitudes. She seeks recognition for her skills and her labor, and she wants the people she loves to challenge her so that she can grow and make them proud.

Fabian Seacaster is the son of a famous man and a natural talent. His showmanship is clear and evident from the first moments we see him, and it's reflected in his character build from the start. He's a Champion Fighter, after all.

This showmanship is, frankly, a testament to Lou Wilson's masterful understanding of characters. That single trait can be picked apart to help us understand everything about him.

Fabian is a showman because he was raised as the scion of an up-and-coming house; given every tool he needed to learn his parents' skills, and to prepare him to take the Seacaster name when the time comes.

Fabian is a showman because he believes wholeheartedly in his own greatness. His whole life, he's been surrounded by tutors whose whole job it has been to mold him into the perfect son, and they were paid enough to care about doing it right.

Fabian is a showman because he knows he's earned his own arrogance; wealth or not, pampered lifestyle or not, we see him scold his fencing teacher when he goes easy on him. Fabian isn't blinded by his privilege (or at least not entirely) - he genuinely cares about being the best, and he'll give up the luxury if it means greatness.

Fabian is a showman because he's deeply anxious. Bill and Hallariel clearly love their son, but being the only child of a world-famous pirate, tasked with being their emissary to Solace for future generations, is an unbelievable amount of pressure. Fabian has to be perfect to the world outside. He can't just be good; he can't just be great; he has to be Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Son of the Famous Bill Seacaster!

Fabian is a showman because he has to figure out who he is, somehow. Who is he, outside of his father? He certainly doesn't know, but suddenly he realizes he has to know, for his own sake. So he does what any kid does when they're trying to figure out their identity - they act out.

Finally, what I understand about Fabadaine that nobody else does

Fabian Seacaster and Adaine O'Shaughnessey are the children of the wealthy; the important. They're both second generation Solesians, sent out to represent their families. They're both ambitious people who are trying to achieve great things outside the expectations of their parents. They're both proud and straightforward, prioritizing their values over social niceties.

Adaine and Fabian both carry the swords of their dead fathers.

To put it simply - Fabian and Adaine are really good foils for each other, and I dislike when their dynamic is reduced to classic highschool boyfriend/girlfriend tropes.

As an example, a number of fics I've read have Fabian pursuing Adaine, and that simply doesn't hold up. Let's be honest here - Fabian has terrible taste in women, and has a bad track record of making the more self-destructive choice whenever romance is on the table. I have no doubt he likes Adaine, but he would also know that she'd hold him accountable and challenge him when he makes stupid choices. No, Adaine is the one initiating here.

The thing that really draws me to this pair is because both of them need and want to be challenged, but each of them has a different attitude towards challenging others, and it makes for an active dynamic that can evolve in a lot of interesting ways.

You know what, check back later. I need to write fic about this.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Days Eleven and Twelve

The Different Beatle Arrivals outside apple are interesting to me. 

Ringo: arrives first, in the passenger’s seat, has a chummy remark for his driver, a cheeky grin for the camera, and a kind nod for the scruffs. 

John and Yoko: arrive second, in the back of their on-brand, white thing, with no acknowledgement of anyone (and Yoko accidentally goes for the front door then changes directions when she sees John going around the side)

George: drives himself, glances over his shoulder, locks his car door, and goes in. Again, no acknowledgement. 

Paul: walks, studiously ignores the camera, bestows a condescending nod at the scruffs. (shouldn’t be sexy. Is. what else is new?)

Everything the scruffs said was perfection. Where are their parents? Who is taking care of them? Do they not go to school?

So glad for the boys that they took a day to hide from the cameras. I hope they all traded meaningful items of clothing and meditated and circle jerked and told each other how brilliant they were. (Oh gosh. Can you all imagine a circle-jerk plus yoko? Her and Paul furiously compete over who can hold John's eye contact?)

Short queens making the beatles look like child-labor supporters. 

Look at that cute little impish grin. What do we think? Did George and John actually have a punch-up? George Martin went out of his way on at least two occasions to say that they did, in fact, come to blows. But I didn’t see any evidence on John the next day, and they both seem extremely comfortable joke-fighting here, where I don’t think they would if they’d real-fought a week or so ago. I don’t know, I think it’s very up for debate. But if they did, I actually think it would be a testament to the importance of the John and George dynamic. We always say how it shows how much John must’ve cared about Paul to sprint down the road and jump his fence over a missed recording session. What would it say about how much John must’ve cared about George if he punched him when he said he’d quit?

Either way, their *meaningful* rendition of “You are my sunshine” is heart-melting.

Yoko, the og sad beige mom.

Add juggling to Ringo’s talents in his cabaret/circus act with Paul.

Every old man obsessed with “tough, acerbic Lennon” needs to have “My rock and roll finger is bleeding, my rock and roll finger is hurt” played on a loop in their heads every time they open their mouths until they shut up. 

Paul, why are you literally strong-arming Glyn into the studio? This man does not know how to touch another person.    

Maybe they kept Magic Alex around just for laughs? It’s good to hear anyway, that they are fully aware they’re being conned. 

The way George and Paul just in sync jump into their old choreography. 

The way they could really have just gone off and done their own things while Glyn finishes setting up. But the idea just doesn’t occur to them. Why would they want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else? 

I feel like John right now because I’m like enjoying Paul’s sexy drumming face and then the camera switches and I’m like Oh Yoko you’re so pretty. And is this another *meaningful* cover? I’m going to have to make a list of all these and go through after I’m done with this and see which ones I think actually have a double meaning. “My baby left me” by Crudup. My main evidence here being Yoko’s Jim Halpert expression as John’s singing this at Paul.

How to get Paul to stop messing with your shit. A demonstration by Ringo Starr. 

John is Not having Paul reading their bad press for the cameras.

And today, it’s John that needs a little Ringofection. I wonder if it had anything to do with “Aaaaall I want is youuuuuuuuu. Everything has got to be the way you want it toooooooooo.”

George looking at Ringo’s jumping jacks. I agree. 

“Richard Rogers has got nothing on this boy. . . . Ah, sometimes, John, I don’t know.” “I just make it up as I go along.” “Oh, is that how you do it?” Again. He’s being silly, but he really does think you’re the smartest boy in the whole wide world, John. I hope you know that. (he definitely does not know that.)  

ICONIC. One of my favorite moments of the whole series. Not a glance at each other. Perfectly synchronized.

Any particular significance with Dicky Murdock that anyone knows about?  

Another favorite moment. The absolute marshmallow softness. Oh to have footage of Paul teaching John guitar chords on one of their childhood beds.

Not going to say it again, but boy am I thinking it.

Someone needs to make a compilation of all the times someone’s been caught giving John and Paul a WTF look. 

[abitohoney]

Hustle - CH2: Undercity

AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, Ran & Reader, Established Relationship, assassin reader, Fluff, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, horny idiots in love, Dom/sub, Dom Sevika, sub Reader, Humor, Banter, Choking, Spanking, Teasing, Light Sadism, Begging, Strap-Ons, Lesbian Sex, Aftercare, Gambling, Smoking, lack of understanding card games, totally winging this shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, reader is not the most graceful creature, but Sevika adores reader all the more for it, Jealousy, Marking, Orgasm Delay, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Hurt/Comfort, a Yordle OC that we will likely never see again but I had entirely too much fun writing, 69 (Sex Position)

Word Count: 8.6k

Summary: Looking to make your nights with Sevika a bit more… exciting, you suggest making use of your shared talent for playing cards. Together, the two of you take the Undercity, and even Topside, by storm. And what’s more exciting than the thrill of winning, or watching your opponents whine and gripe in defeat, or earning far more coin than the two of you could possibly spend? The release of pent-up sexual desire that seems to come with each and every win, that’s what.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

The dimly lit alley Ran had designated as the spot for the first several stages of the tournament was nothing special. Set deep within the lanes, the air was some of the thickest and nastiest, but it was nothing either you or Sevika weren’t accustomed to. Despite that, you had hoped Ran would have found something at least a little more cushy than the rickety old table and chairs sitting along the brick wall. Ran assured you it was only for the first stages, then once most of the weaker players were weeded out, the final stages would be played at the Last Drop.

“So do you remember all the signals?” you asked Sevika quietly as the two of you took seats opposite one another. Ran had gone off to fetch your first opponents- a couple of young suckers per Ran’s testament- leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

“I already told you,” she said around her cigarillo and brought a lighter to the end, “I got it.”

“Okay,” you replied, not so certain you believed her. Your gaze followed her hand as she put her pack of smokes and lighter back into the pack at her hip, then flitted back up to her face, your brows furrowed.

“What?” she asked, smoke billowing from the corners of her mouth after she took a quick drag.

“So obviously you do not remember all the signals.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes dramatically. “How do we tell each other to fold?”

She said nothing, clearly not recalling nor interested in admitting it.

“Blowing smoke from the right side of your mouth.”

“Knew that already, princess.”

Liar.

“And how might I signal you to fold if I don’t have a cigarillo?”

“Sounds like a you problem,” she sneered, tapping her cigarillo against her ashtray. The one you’d made her. “You really want a smoke?”

“What? It’s not like I don’t get enough secondhand from you,” you pointed out. It was true, but you were in all honesty willing. She had a thing for shot-gunning the smoke into your mouth, and you enjoyed it far more than you cared to admit.

“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shake of her head. She passed you her own cigarillo before pulling out a fresh one for herself.

After taking a quick drag, you peered down to the end of the alley, verifying no one was there before leaning across the table. “Hey. Check this out.”

Sevika raised a brow when you motioned for her to lean closer. Despite the obvious suspicion, she leaned in closer.

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve if things aren’t looking too good,” you said with a smile before reaching behind her ear and pulling back with a card.

You gave her your biggest, cheesiest smile.

She deadpanned.

“What?” you asked incredulously. You thought that was damn smooth. You could quite literally pull a card from your jacket sleeve without anyone seeing the motion.

“Just don’t get caught. I don’t want to have to clean up your mess,” she grumbled with another shake of her head.

“Oh stop being such a grump. I probably won’t even need to do any sleight-of-hand tricks. We’ll clean this first set of chumps out no problem.”

Hearing someone approaching from the side street, you both sat back in your chairs and put on your best poker face. Just as smoothly as you had pulled the card from your sleeve you slipped it right back in.

Based on initial impressions, Ran was spot on. The two young men that approached your table with Ran in tow behind them looked dumber than bricks, especially the larger man whom you weren’t too fond of the look he gave you. Like you were going to be the mark in this game.

Idiot.

“Alright girls, whose dealing?” he asked after taking a seat to your right.

Both you and Sevika cringed- visibly- and yet the fool took no notice.

Correction- imbecile.

“House deals,” Ran said as they stepped up to the table.

Ensuring you made eye contact with Sevika, you scratched the right side of your nose, indicating the larger man as the mark– the weak player. Not that she needed you to tell her that. Anyone with half a brain could see this guy had no clue what he was doing. His cocky attitude was a complete sham.

Sevika’s lips twitched at the corner. You knew she wanted to smirk at the absurdity, but both of you were schooling your expressions, even if it may not have been necessary with those two.

Both men ended up being no competition just as expected. To the point that Sevika and you rarely needed to use any signals. You alone had won every single round easily. They both had obvious tells, the smaller man making nervous eye movements and tapping his foot, the larger one grinning haughtily whenever he thought he had a good hand.

Bored out of your mind, you decided to spend your cleverness on something else fun.

Taunting your girlfriend.

“Clearly didn’t afford that by playing cards,” you sneered with a nod to Sevika’s arm.

The larger man snickered at the jab, while the other flitted his eyes worriedly between you and Sevika. Sevika raised a brow, but the moment she caught your shit-eating grin, her own lips curled into a smirk.

“Big words coming from someone who can’t afford decent clothing.” She nodded to your simple all black outfit as she drew a card from the deck.

More snickering.

Your brows furrowed.

Touche.

Sevika knew damn well why you- an assassin- dressed for function rather than aesthetics, but she still loved to get you riled up by insulting your garment choices.

“Don’t need fancy clothes to enjoy luxury,” you replied and tossed several more coins into the pot.

She chuckled mockingly. “Yeah? And what kind of luxury does a girl like you have?”

No more than her honestly, but that wasn’t the point here.

“A girl like me has a woman back home who’d buy me the stars in the Piltover sky if I asked her to.”

Another derisive chuckle.

Sevika raised her bet as well while sneering, “Couldn’t catch a woman in that getup so you bought yourself one, hm?”

That had the large man damn near bellowing with laughter. Even Ran had released a quiet, breathy laugh from where they leaned against the wall opposite you.

“Didn’t pay her a damn thing,” you scoffed, “She came onto me entirely of her own volition. Couldn’t and still can’t keep her hands off me.”

“Probably just to choke out your bratting,” she jeered, rolling her cigarillo from one corner of her mouth to the other.

The movement caught your attention and you lost your focus for a moment, too enraptured by the tip of her tongue rolling the gold filter between her teeth. And fuck that haughty smirk of hers was distracting as well. Those dark, thick, soft lips curled so deliciously…

“Only if I want her to,” you replied in a bit of a daze and with far less bite than your previous retorts.

It wasn’t until you caught her brow raise in your periphery that you finally pulled your eyes off her mouth.

You heard the smaller man at your left cough awkwardly. After a quick glance around the table, you realized it was your turn.

Shit.

Get your head in the game.

You couldn’t lose to these chumps. You glanced down at your cards. It was a damn good hand.

Fuck it.

You threw all your coins in, then watched the smaller man and Sevika both fold. However, the larger man called it, matching your bet.

Then came the showdown, and there was no holding back your shit-eating grin as you tossed your hand onto the table.

“Read ‘em and weep,” you sneered.

His own cocky smirk wiped clear off his face the moment he saw your hand. He tossed his own down, cussing and slamming his fist on the table.

Lips curled into a cocky smile, you leaned over the table, arms encircling the pile of coins to pull them in. You barely made it halfway across the table when your hand was snatched up by the wrist. Your eyes slowly drifted from your winnings to the offending fingers firmly wrapped around your skin, then up to the face of the owner.

“You cheated!” he spat, droplets hitting your face from where the larger of the two men stood towering over you.

“I suggest you release my hand,” you replied calmly, but your smirk had downturned into a frown, disgusted by the unwanted contact.

“You’re not leaving with my coins you filthy little chea-”

The fool’s snarky remark was cut short the moment you spotted him reaching for something in his pocket– a weapon. Sevika must have noticed as well, blade drawn beneath her cloak, her chair and the table scraping across the stone as she immediately stood to protect you.

Ran had also pushed off the wall, twin blades drawn and ready.

It didn’t matter though. In less than a second you had the asshole on his knees, back to you, greasy hair in your fist, head pulled back, and one of your daggers pressed to his delicate throat.

His hands hovered in the air, shaking in fear. Tendrils of smoke curled up into his face from where your cigarillo lay forgotten on the street beside his knees.

Fucking coward.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snarled. Your gaze darted to the other guy who now stood just a few feet away, fingers twitching at his side as if debating on reaching for his own weapon.

"You think I won't slit your buddy’s throat right here in front of you?" you taunted. You pressed the edge of your dagger hard enough against his throat to draw a drop of blood that spread along the edge of the blade.

“You- You can keep the coins. They’re yours! Just- Just don’t kill me!” the man on his knees stammered, sounding damn near tears with how his voice trembled.

Pathetic coward.

You bent down, eyes still locked with the smaller man, and whispered into his buddy’s ear, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “That’s right. It is mine. And you’re going to stay the fuck away from me and this tournament. You try to call me a cheat to any of the other players and I won’t hesitate to take your ass out for good.”

“Yes! Anyth-”

His whimpering cut off as you violently shoved him away to fall on his hands at the other man’s feet. He scrambled to his feet and turned to face you, fear evident in how he cowered and shook.

With a sadistic smile, you locked eyes with him and brought the edge of the blade to your mouth, licking the blood off with one, long, exaggerated swipe of your tongue.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” the other, clearly smarter, man whispered.

You watched the two of them run off down the alley, the dumber one nearly tripping over several crates when he looked over his shoulder to see if you were following. The only one following was Ran, but at a rather leisurely pace, likely tagging them to ensure they didn’t get any more stupid ideas.

Slipping your dagger back into its sheath at your hip, you wondered if perhaps your little show was a bit too much. In all honesty, you’d been itching to use your daggers for far too long. You’d been so desperate to take someone out you even had the gall to waltz into Silco’s office and ask if he had anyone he needed to be taken out. Of course he just gave you a bland, ‘Business was running smoother than usual.’ speech.

You rolled your eyes at the recollection and turned to Sevika, startled to find her expression wildly… well… wild. Some sort of odd mix of stunned and very, very turned on.

Clearly you hadn’t gone too far.

“You alright?” you asked with a cocky grin while you strode up to where she stood near the wall.

“That was… impressive,” she admitted with her own hint of a smirk.

Oh, did that stroke your ego real nice.

“Yeah?”

She said nothing, just watched you from down her nose as you stood toe to toe with her and well within her space.

"You like seeing me take control, don't you? Gets you hot and bothered, doesn’t it?" you sneered, dragging the tip of your finger down along the shiny gold collar of her top. Without giving her a moment to respond, you pressed both palms against her chest just below her shoulders and shoved– hard.

Her back hit the wall, knocking a small, startled grunt from her. To your surprise she let you continue your little act, merely lifted a single brow and continued to smirk down at you.

“You like seeing me bring grown men to their knees, don’t you?” you asked, emphasizing the word with an obvious brush of your knee between her thighs. That earned you a small twitch of her curled lips.

Perfect.

"Wonder how easily I can bring you to your knees," you purred, dragging your nails down over her exposed abdomen before dipping them beneath the waist of her pants. You could feel her muscles beneath contract at the sensual touch, her smirk faltering just briefly before schooling back into that cocky, cool facade she always wore.

“Real cute,” she jeered.

“What’s cute?” you asked, brows furrowed at what was likely meant to be an insult.

“That you think you have any control over me.”

"Oh I think I have some control over y-"

Your retort was cut short when Sevika suddenly grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and spun you around, shoving you roughly against the wall.

"Oh I know I have all the control, princess," she sneered and pressed her knee between your legs, mimicking the same thing you'd just done to her. "Don't I?"

As was tradition, all your confidence melted away with that simple action. Any possible quip left your brain the moment she rubbed that lovely, thick thigh of hers against your clothed heat.

And fuck were you hot.

Apparently that little game and the subsequent tussle got both of you pretty riled up.

"I asked you a question," she growled, pressing her thigh harder against you.

You gasped, biting your lip to fight back the desperate moan that hung in your throat.

With her metal hand still gripping your jacket in her first, she let her other hand slowly trail down your front, the wide spread of her fingers lightly grazing your nipples.

“I-” you struggled to remember what she’d even asked you, too lost in the feeling of her fingers slowly dragging lower, down your abdomen and toward your pants. Too lost in how her pupils seemed to grow just a bit wider when you sucked in a breath at the tease of her fingers slipping beneath your waistband. You held that breath, hoping to give her extra room for her fingers, to coerce her into continuing that descent.

“Answer me, or I stop,” she threatened while her fingers dipped beneath your panties.

“Sev- I-” you stammered as you released your breath. The air suddenly became even thicker and harder to breathe than usual as your arousal and desperation continued to build. “Can- Can you repeat the question?” you asked weakly.

A single brow raised. She wouldn’t give in so easily.

“Please Sevika,” you pleaded when her hand ceased its descent, the tip of her middle finger just above your aching clit. It took every ounce of willpower to remain still for her, your body urging you to just rock against her hand and thigh- take what you wanted without her permission.

“Who’s in control here?”

“Y- You,” you admitted, fingers clawing at the brick wall behind you, itching to touch some part of her, force her hands down, pull her in for a kiss, anything to ease the need burning low in your belly.

“Do you have any control?”

“N- No,” you admitted, shaking your head for emphasis. “You have complete control.”

“And you like it that way, don’t you?” she sneered, lips curling into a wicked little grin.

God yes.

“Yes,” you replied with a nod.

Her lips curled even higher and she released your jacket to run the back of a metal finger across your cheek. “That’s my good girl.”

Those simple words, though you’ve heard her speak them plenty of times before, threatened to take you out at the knees. Her praise. Her recognition. Her adoration. All something you’d never known you’d need so bad. And you were her good girl. Nobody else could claim that. And you knew that did it for her as much as it did it for you.

And then that blissfully thick finger of hers finally slipped over your clit and through your wet slit, just the tip curling inside.

“Oh fuck Sevika…” you keened as pleasure rang through your lower half.

“Seems you’re the one who got– what was it you called it? Hot and bothered?” she taunted.

You didn’t even bother trying to argue that. She was right, and you just wanted her to stop the teasing and start fucking you.

“Fuck, just slides right in,” she groaned as she slipped her middle finger deep inside.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth you held back the urge to moan. You may have been at the end of an otherwise deserted alley, but there was no telling when someone might show up. And as she started sliding that long digit back out, curling it to drag along your walls, all you could do was bite down harder to muffle the pathetic mewl that managed to escape.

“Uh uh,” Sevika scolded, her metal thumb pressing down on your chin and coaxing you to release your lip. “Those lips are mine to bite. Not yours.”

More than happy to give her that access, you let your jaw go slack, lips parting. Your hungry gaze drifted from her intense eyes to those soft, plush lips of hers, anxiously waiting for them to connect with yours.

She must have noticed your desperation, playing into it by ever so slowly dipping her head lower to line her mouth up with yours. As she slipped her finger back inside, palm rubbing along your clit, she let her lips ghost over yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan spilling past your lips with a shaky breath. The bricks beneath your nails dropped tiny flakes as you clawed along them harder, frantically trying to suppress the urge to touch her.

Warm breath, scented with hints of spice and smoke, fanned over your lips as she chuckled. That laugh- derisive, demeaning, mocking- damn near broke your restraint. A pathetic whine was all you could manage in protest.

“You’re just dying to touch me, aren’t you?” she sneered, slowly slipping her finger back out but keeping her lips a mere hair's breadth away from yours.

Your fingers clenched further, more of the brick crumbling into your hands. Lips so dry, you needed to wet them, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk your tongue slipping out too far and touching her without permission.

“Trying so hard to be a good girl for me, hm?” she taunted, finger delving back inside.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Think you deserve a reward?” Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “And what should that be?”

“A- A kiss?” you asked softly.

She released a low, husky laugh, her breath suffocatingly hot against your dry lips. “So predictable.”

She tilted her head in the opposite direction, her nose brushing along yours. But rather than finally giving you the kiss you both knew you deserved, she not only left her lips hovering tauntingly close, but she pulled her finger out– completely.

“Oh fuck no! Please Sevika, don’t stop,” you begged, eyes flying wide open in panic. Pleading eyes met sadistic ones. Before you could further protest the loss of stimulation, she slipped her slick-coated finger between your parted lips. Obediently, you wrapped your lips around the digit and allowed her to jam it clear to the back of your tongue. Your eyes watered in a mix of desperation to ease your ever increasing arousal and determination not to choke.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and clean that up,” she husked, mouth still dangerously close to yours.

You moaned, the bitter taste filling your mouth as you licked and sucked her finger clean, but dreaded that this might signal the end of your little romp.

As Sevika removed her finger from your mouth, she pressed down, forcing you to let your mouth hang slack. Before it was even halfway out, her lips finally crashed against yours, tongue delving inside to swipe over yours and gather any remnants of your arousal.

No longer able to contain yourself, your hands flew up to grasp the collar of her top, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss.

She growled into your mouth, but to your surprise, rather than punish you she pressed her knee between your legs again.

The moment you pulled back to gasp at the sudden stimulation she took the plush of your bottom lip between her teeth and clamped down.

Pain radiated from those tiny points, eliciting a soft whimper. That pain was short-lived though, quickly replaced with the delightful sensation of her lips wrapping around your swollen lip, tongue licking soothingly along it before dipping back inside your mouth.

When you started grinding against her thigh, her kiss suddenly turned hungry- frantic. She damn near devoured your mouth, tongue invading every crevice, teeth clacking against yours and nipping at your tongue when you tried to match her fervor.

Then her hands were everywhere. Metal fingers wrapped beneath your chin, pressing hard against your cheeks and holding you in place as she shoved that wet muscle deeper. Warm, calloused fingers slipped beneath your shirt to grope a breast, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh almost painfully hard.

Unable to compete with her kiss, you attempted to slip a hand down the front of her pants. Your fingers barely made it beneath the waistband when her metal hand fisted in your hair and yanked, forcing your head back and breaking the kiss. You gasped, sharp pain radiating from each strained follicle, only for pleasure to follow in its wake.

Soft, wet lips trailed down your jaw to your exposed neck, teeth sinking into the flesh as Sevika sucked and marked your skin clear down to your collarbone. The hand beneath your shirt ripped the cup of your bra down and lifted your shirt, exposing a breast to the warm, moist air.

Abandoning your attempt to get into her pants, you instead threaded your fingers into the silky black strands of her hair while she brought her mouth to your breast.

She wasted no time leaving her mark there too, sucking hard enough to leave little love bruises that would bloom into a colorful reminder later. Her breath was hot and heavy against your skin, nearly as much as your own.

You continued to grind against her, sinking your nails into her scalp when she took your hardened nipple into her mouth and bit down.

“Fuck, Sevika,” you panted. Your extremities ached. Pleasure radiated from every point of contact. Your scalp– where she relentlessly gripped your hair so tight you couldn’t move. Your cunt– where it rubbed along her thick, muscular thigh. And your breast– where she fervently squeezed, pinched, sucked, and bit the sensitive flesh.

Something rattled at the end of the alley, startling you and ripping you from your reverie.

Sevika released your nipple from her mouth to glare down the alley.

Everything went silent, save for the heavy breaths between the two of you, as you both watched and waited for the source of the noise to present itself. To your relief, a stray black cat appeared from around the corner. It paused for a moment, glanced at the two of you standing there, nearly out of breath, then continued down the street until disappearing past the opposite wall.

Sevika stood fully upright, her chest heaving against yours, the fabric of her top teasing over your exposed nipple.

You peered up at her with lust-filled eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, an obvious hunger behind them.

“Drop your pants and bend over the table,” she growled, giving your hair one final tug before releasing it and stepping back.

You blinked. “What?”

“I said, drop your pants and bend over the fucking table,” she snarled, baring her teeth as her lips curled back.

Oh fuck.

Your legs nearly gave out at the implications of that demand. The absolutely ravenous way she looked at you– spoke to you.

Clearly this competitiveness, your confidence, the dangers of your collusion– it all riled her up real good.

Clearly there were more rewards to reap than just the coins and disappointment of your opponents.

And clearly Sevika was incredibly impatient.

She immediately pulled her harness and strap-on out of her pouch, wasting no time stepping into it as you stood transfixed and astounded.

Was she really going to do this? Right here? In a public alley?

She finished hooking everything up in record time, her narrowed eyes rising to meet yours.

“You either get those pants down or I’m going to rip them off your ass,” she threatened.

Guess that answered the question.

Hesitantly, you walked past her to the table. It was still littered with your coins, forgotten after the slew of distractions. You turned your head to peer down the vacant alley to the main street. It wasn’t a popular street so to speak, but there were plenty of people that knew of the tournament, and Ran could come back with the next opponents at any moment.

You slowly began unbuttoning your pants, hands shaking in a combination of trepidation and excitement. With your thumbs tucked beneath the waistband, you glanced over your shoulder at Sevika as she approached you.

“Are- Are we really going to do this here? In public?” you whispered. “The next match isn’t too long from now. People could show up any minute.”

“Then I guess you better stop stalling and do what I-” she paused dramatically, placing both her hands over yours. “- said.” She growled out that last word, simultaneously pulling your hands- and subsequently your pants and underwear- down with enough force you were astonished your clothing didn’t tear.

“Sevika!” you yelped. It fell on deaf ears though.

Sevika chuckled, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Now, do I need to help you bend over too, or is that something you think you can handle by yourself?”

You huffed out a frustrated breath. She could be so damn brash sometimes. Yet, you’d be lying if you tried to claim it wasn’t something you actually enjoyed.

“I can handle it,” you hissed.

Another mocking chuckle. “Of course you can, princess.” she taunted, trailing her fingertips- both metal and flesh- across your bare asscheeks while you bent over the table.

You rested on your forearms, cheeks hot with embarrassment and arousal. Your pants and underwear sat at your ankles, and you were bent over more than far enough to reveal your underside and all its… glory. For a moment you debated whether you wanted to turn and watch for the possible onlookers as your girlfriend fucked you in the alley, or if you’d rather just hide your face in your hands and be oblivious to any audience. Either way, you were definitely in for a railing judging by how riled up Sevika seemed. Likely wouldn’t be walking right for at least a week. The thought of that, rather than filling you with dread, filled you with desire.

Wasn’t like Silco would be giving you a job anytime soon anyway.

Sevika’s metal fingers skimmed up to your hip, gripping it firmly while her human fingers ghosted up along the inside of your thigh. You sucked in a breath, holding it along with your lips between your teeth as she inched closer and closer to the apex.

“Mmm. Already so wet you're dripping down your thighs,” she teased.

You said nothing, not trusting your ability to speak when her fingers were that close.

“And here I thought you were worried about me fucking you right here. Seems you rather like the idea.”

Her finger paused, just before reaching that delightful point.

And you should have known she was just trying to goad you– trap you. It was so fucking obvious. But your mind was already scrambled, clouded with need. So you took the bait.

“Of course I’m worri- oh fuuuck.” Your barely snarky retort dissolved into a wanton moan the moment Sevika slid her middle finger ever so slowly through your wet slit.

Your eyes fluttered shut, her taunting chuckle echoing in your head.

“Didn’t quite catch that. Got something to say, princess?”

Wiser, or maybe just even more distracted by how she teased her faux cock through your folds, you kept your mouth shut that time. Instead, you focused your attention on attempting to remain quiet. But with each slide of the strap, you felt that restraint quickly crumble.

“Sevika,” you whined.

“Hmm. What’s the matter baby?” she cooed.

“Stop- Stop teasing. Please.”

The toy dragged further through your folds, the tip grazing your clit and drawing a sharp gasp from your throat.

“Not teasing. Just making sure we get this nice and wet before I fuck you.”

Bullshit.

Well, maybe not entirely. She was getting it wet and teasing you.

Your thoughts ended there when you felt her finally guide the tip inside.

“Ready?” she husked and moved her human hand to grasp your other hip.

With your eyes closed and your breath held in your chest, you nodded. There was no warning for what she was about to do though. Rather than ease it in as she typically did, she slammed her hips against yours, burying the entirety of the faux cock in one fell swoop.

“Fuck!” you cried out as the startling pain of that sudden intrusion left you seeing white behind your eyelids. Your hands clenched into fists, teeth clamping down to fight off the pathetic whimper you felt building in your throat.

The pain subsided almost instantly though, replaced by a warmth that spread clear from your core down through your thighs. “Fuck, Sevika,” you whimpered. You shifted your feet and tried to relax your body. Unfortunately she had to make that more difficult for you, releasing one of her low, dark chuckles that made you both furious and undeniably turned on.

Gods, you would never get used to her glorious voice.

Even after all the time you two had been together, her voice still held the same power to make your legs weak. But it went beyond just her voice. It was how she used it to tease, taunt, and torment you in the most arousing way. As if hearing your own thoughts, she used that husky voice of hers to further provoke you.

“What’s the problem now? Hm? Thought you wanted me to stop teasing.” The snarky, cocky tone of her words contrasted wildly with how her hands slipped beneath your shirt to soothingly caress your sides and lower back while you adjusted.

And fuck did you need it. She had brought one of her larger dildos. One that filled you so completely that you swore if it were so much as a fraction longer or wider she’d be splitting you in two.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and reluctantly peered down the alley. It seemed, at least at that moment, you two had not been discovered yet, but she’d only just begun.

She moved her hands back to your hips, giving them a squeeze to let you know she was going to pull back out. She did so slowly, dragging along your walls and with it a long, drawn out moan from you.

Starting with sharp, deep thrusts, she pulled out slowly each time only to ram back in hard enough to make the table shake and the items that littered it to rattle and scatter.

“Sev- we- we need to hurry,” you huffed out between thrusts. “Someone- could- show up- any- minute.”

“Let them,” Sevika grunted as she snapped her hips. “Maybe they could learn-”

Snap!

“- a thing-”

Snap!

“- or two.”

Snap!

Had you not felt so hazy, so impaired by the pleasure coursing through your lower half, you would have rolled your eyes at that cocky-ass comment. Instead, you put what little you had into trying to push back against her- quicken the pace and drive the toy deeper.

“You really are too impatient,” Sevika sneered. After she pulled back out, rather than driving right back in she brought her flesh hand down across your back end, pulling yet another startled yelp from you.

“Damnit Sev-” you whimpered while she gently caressed your stinging flesh.

“Did you forget who’s in control here?”

…

She slowly bent over your body until her chest pressed against your back. The tip of the dildo threatened to slip out at any moment. With her lips brushing against your ear she whispered, “If you really want something, you know what to do.”

Her husky voice and warm breath tickling across the back of your neck had you shuddering and involuntarily clenching, nearly pushing the toy completely out.

“Sevika please,” you begged, legs trembling from the effort to remain still.

“Please what, baby?” she husked as she ran her nose along the back of your ear and slowly pushed the faux cock back inside at an angle so sharp your knees nearly buckled when it hit that sweet spot that always left you seeing stars.

You inhaled sharply, then released it in a long moan.

“Mmm,” she hummed, mouth to your ear again, “You do make such pretty sounds for me. But you’re gonna have to use your words if you want something.”

As much as you hated trying to form words while you were in such a daze, you knew how much she enjoyed hearing you struggle. Hearing you beg. And you knew it would always be worth it. She rewarded you so well, each and every time.

So you sucked in a shaky breath, tried to clear your mind, and gathered the words you needed to speak. Then out they came, with a rush of breath and a pathetic whine when you felt her fingers tease across your throbbing clit.

“Sevika, please fuck me harder– faster!”

She chuckled into your ear. It was taunting, sinister, and so very fucking sexy.

“As you wish, princess.”

She stood back upright, leaving you missing the wonderful contact of her chest to your back. At least until she made you forget all about it with the sudden jolt of her hips, burying the dildo deep inside you.

She wasted no time setting a brutally fast and hard pace. Each time she delved inside you swore she somehow went deeper, pulling moan after moan from you without restraint. And with each powerful thrust- her thighs smacking violently against your ass- the table shook hard. Coins and glasses rattled, some scattering and toppling off the table. Neither of you gave two shits though. You were in an entirely different world, lost in your own bliss. And Sevika, well, she just didn’t give a shit about anything other than you, your pleasure, and her own subsequent pleasure.

Then, without warning, you felt Sevika’s human fingers slip through your hair, grasping a handful before sharply yanking your head back and up.

You released a sharp cry, pain searing through your scalp. Your hands scrambled and clawed blindly through the air, back arched so sharp you were unable to find purchase upon any part of the table. And then her metal hand was under your shirt, dangerously sharp talons grabbing at your breast and providing you just enough relief of your weight to turn that pain at your scalp into mind-numbing pleasure.

“Oh dear god,” you groaned.

“That’s right baby,” Sevika huffed as she continued to downright pummel you from behind, “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

There simply were no words to describe how good you felt. Not when her metal fingers expertly pinched, teased, and pulled your nipple. Not when your back arched so far it left your muscles singing. Not when her cock angled so sharply it hit that fucking sweet spot with literally every plunge. Not when your scalp screamed in ecstasy at the harsh treatment.

No longer were the sounds of the shaking table the loudest thing echoing through the alley. No, it was the squelching noises of her burying the strap deep inside your sopping cunt over and over. It was your moans and mewls, your begging for more, your chanting of her name like a mantra.

“Fuck, princess,” Sevika huffed, “Making a real mess.”

You heard nothing she said though. All you could hear was the blood roaring in your ears while she all but rearranged your insides and you climbed closer and closer to that peak.

You felt her metal hand slide further up your shirt, clear up to your delicate neck. Those dangerous fingers wrapped around your throat, all while she kept up her pace, railing you without mercy. You knew what was coming. You knew what she was going to do. And she knew you wanted it. Needed it. Yet, she waited. Merely rested those cool digits against your hot, sweaty skin, teasing you.

“Sevika!” you keened, “Please!” Somehow, through your delirium, you managed to bring your hand up to hers and squeeze lightly, urging her to do it. “I- I’m so close, please.”

She brought her mouth to your ear, her breaths coming out fast, ragged, and burning hot. “Any- thing- for- you- baby,” she grunted out between thrusts.

And then, she finally applied pressure, squeezing just enough to leave you reeling, head spinning and pleasure spreading further through every fiber of your body.

“Oh god, fuck me Sevika!” you cried out. But it wasn’t your voice. It was deep, guttural, animalistic, and wildly needy.

Unbeknownst to you, exactly what you had feared would happen, happened. Two people showed up at the end of the alley. Stopped dead in their tracks.

Enforcers.

Two of them. Young and obviously new.

“Hey! Hey ma’am! Do you need help?” one of them called out when they spotted you being pulled by your hair and choked by a large woman with a dangerous metal hand.

Sevika heard them, but she did not stop. She turned to face them, not faltering even for a moment, a sick smirk painting her face.

“Fuck me Sevika! Fuck me! Fuck me!” you groaned repeatedly, still oblivious to anything beyond the mounting pleasure low in your belly.

“That- answer- your- question?” Sevika sneered.

The two men exchanged glances, faces flushing bright red before they muttered a quick apology and scurried off.

Sevika turned back to you, bringing her mouth to your ear one final time. “Baby- can- you- hear- me?” she huffed out.

You did, though just a faint echo. “Yes,” you groaned.

“Can- you- cum- for- me?”

You weren’t exactly in control of your body at that moment, but you could feel your climax approaching, every muscle in your body tensing.

“God, yes!”

“Do it.”

Then, you fell. A choked sob ripped from your throat, her name spoken breathlessly as your entire body felt weightless. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. She fucked you through it, expertly knowing exactly when to slow down and release the pressure on your throat. And had it not been for her augmented arm beneath your chest, you would have collapsed against the table in an exhausted heap. But she held you up, released your hair, and pressed her body against yours while the two of you panted heavily.

It took considerably longer than usual for you to come down from your high, body thrumming and singing in post-orgasmic bliss. When you finally did, you realized Sevika had wrapped both her arms around your torso, keeping you upright and your back held tightly against her chest.

Fuck.

But good god the strap still sat inside you at that crazy angle, and you desperately needed to sit down. Your leg muscles screamed from being overworked.

Who knew standing still while being fucked silly took so much leg work?

You knew. That was certainly not your first time with Sevika. And it certainly wouldn’t be your last.

“Sevika,” you huffed, “I- I need to sit down.”

“Gonna have to pull out.”

“I know.” Even still, you dreaded that part every time.

Sevika carefully lowered you until your forearms rested on the table again. Then, with her hands on your hips, she slowly pulled out.

“Damn princess,” she said in awe, “You made a real fucking mess.”

“I doubt it’s all mine,” you said through gritted teeth, the withdrawal of her strap both overstimulating and leaving you feeling empty.

“Mmm,” she hummed, “Think you’re wrong.”

After she slipped fully out, you noticed her step up beside you in your periphery. You turned your head to find her proudly displaying her very slick-covered dildo. And her very saturated pants.

Your heavy-lidded gaze drifted up to her face.

Her dark lips curled into an absurdly haughty smirk.

“Real proud of yourself, huh?” you asked with a roll of your eyes.

She said nothing, just drew those lips even higher. Lips you were dying to have on you while you finished recovering.

“I’m not so sure I can stand right now,” you admitted sheepishly, cheeks heating with embarrassment. That would certainly fuel that ego even more. Sure enough, she grinned wide enough to reveal teeth. Little did she know that from that angle it gave you a perfect view of her tooth gap.

Fucking cute.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked before bending down to pull your pants back up.

“Nothing,” you lied, but your tone easily gave that away.

She gave your ass a good swat, and even with your pants providing some protection, she still nailed it hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you.

“Should make you clean this up with that mouth of yours,” she threatened as she stepped out of the harness.

“You aren’t serious are you?” Had you been back at your shared place, you would have gladly done so. But you were not about to get on your knees in that dirty ass alley.

Her chuckle echoed down the alley while she wrapped her arm under yours and hauled you upright. “Bet you’d do it if I told you to. Wouldn’t you?”

You were about to tell her to fuck off when the words suddenly disappeared from your mind. She’d carefully spun you around to hold you tightly against her body. Her smirk had softened into one that you knew meant she was admiring you. You rested your hands on her chest, just beneath her shoulders, eyes flitting between hers and those soft, dark lips.

“Look at that,” she said softly, her voice raspy, “Fucked you so good you cried.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. You hadn’t even realized it had happened until you felt her wipe the wetness away from your cheek with her thumb.

“Such a pretty girl,” she said even softer.

Your heart damn near leapt from your chest.

You wanted so desperately to stay like that, with her holding you so close and just staring down at you like you were the only person on the planet. However, your legs disagreed, and she was only making them weaker.

“I really need to sit.”

She chuckled and helped you over to one of the chairs. After taking a seat herself, she guided you to straddle her lap, facing her.

You smiled at her. ‘Dopey’ as she would so lovingly call it. But in reality, it was more of a love-drunk, bashful sort of little smile. You were crazy about this woman, beyond just the wild sex like the two of you had just enjoyed. Especially when she wrapped her arms around you and caressed your lower back with both metal and flesh fingers, all while wearing a smile you think could have arguably been her own flavor of love-drunk, or dopey.

With your arms draped over her shoulders, you let your forehead rest against hers. Both of you were covered in a fine sheen of sweat but neither of you could have cared less. You both simply grinned at one another, relishing in the calmness of the other’s breath. The rise and fall of your chests.

“So is this the plan?” you asked after a moment. You felt Sevika’s forehead shift against your own as she raised a brow. “We collude and cheat our way through each game and then fuck each other stupid afterward?”

She chuckled, her chest shaking against your own and your smile grew wider.

Gods did you love her laugh.

“No, I don’t think so, princess.”

Your expression turned crest-fallen. “Why not?”

“ We are not going to fuck each other stupid. I will be fucking you stupid.”

“Oh of course. My bad,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “Cause clearly I could never fuck you so good.”

She simply smirked.

Snarky son of a-

“I will admit that mouth of yours is pretty good.” Her gray eyes dropped to your now upturned lips for a moment, then back to your eyes.

“Really?” You admit I’m good at- well- giving you head?” you asked, your cheeks flushing.

“Mhm. Just not that good,” she teased.

“Oh, here we go. Can’t just say something nice, can you?” you asked, pulling back this time as you rolled your eyes dramatically.

“No more than you can stop running that mouth,” she sneered.

Before you could retort, she slipped her metal hand behind your head and pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips parted in a soft sigh, and you thought for sure she’d take the opportunity to dip her tongue inside, but instead she just parted her own lips and pulled you closer to her chest. Her nose rubbed alongside yours, soft lips pressed so gently to yours. It made your heart flutter. Amazed you with how she could go from fucking you so wildly to teasing you and then to giving you such tender affection. Blew your damn mind. In the best way.

When Sevika finally broke the kiss, you couldn’t help but whine at the loss, but you still felt a smile creep across your face when you saw the adoring little smirk she wore for you.

“After this next game, let’s head home and properly clean you up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Wait. Next game. Oh god.

You two just fucked in the alley and… didn’t you hear somebody else then?

Oh fuck.

“What?” Sevika asked, apparently having noticed your wide eyes.

“Did- Did someone catch us fucking here?” you asked quietly.

“Not just someone,” Sevika chuckled, “Two young enforcers.”

You couldn’t decide if that was more funny or horrifying. “What- What did they do?” you asked in awe.

“Asked if you needed help. Apparently thought you were in distress,” she sneered.

Oh god.

“And what did you tell them?” You asked the question, but you weren’t so sure you wanted to hear the answer.

“Nothing.”

“What?!”

“You told them yourself.”

You searched your memory banks for a moment, brows furrowed in concentration while she simply smirked at you. “I did not say anything to anyone.”

“Oh, you had a lot to say, princess.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm, how did it go again?” Sevika hummed.

Fucking faker.

“Sevika,” you chastised, “What the hell did I say?”

Sevika’s smile curled higher, and you knew you didn’t want to hear whatever she had coming.

“Oh Sevika. Oh Sevika fuck me! Fuck me!” she replied in the most cringe-worthy, shrill, mocking tone. Her smirk just grew the moment your lips down-turned. “Don’t worry baby, you didn’t really sound like that.”

Thank god.

“No, you sounded like a damn animal. Growling– deep and low. Thought you were going to sprout fur.”

“Fuck you, Seivka. I did not,” you pouted, but something told you that even though she was toying with you, part of it was actually true. Your stomach flipped and you swallowed hard. Had you really acted like that? In front of two… enforcers?

“You sure did,” she sneered.

Good god, if it weren’t for that twinkle in her eye, that pure amusement mixed with adoration, you’d have hauled off and smacked her right there. Instead, you just sat on her lap, cheeks burning red hot, arms across your chest, and pouting like a petulant child.

“C’mon now baby, no reason to be mad,” she cooed.

For a moment you thought she’d just mock you more, but to your surprise she gently took your chin between her thumb and forefinger, guiding you to face her. Her smirk had softened, making it harder for you to be mad at her. Then she really drove that home.

“You think I don’t like seeing you like that– so lost in your pleasure? Every little sound you make is music to my ears, baby. Don’t ever be ashamed of enjoying yourself.”

Your pout turned into a small smile.

Her eyes fell to your lips. Her own lips tugged further at the corner, then pulled you in for a short, but tender kiss.

Any remaining embarrassment, resentment, anger– it all melted away right then and there. You relaxed into her kiss and rested your hands on her chest.

When she pulled back, you both smiled at one another again. One would probably think you two were fucking nuts. Going from arguing and bickering, to fucking nasty, to sweet words, back to the snark followed by another round of mushy shit. And honestly, you two were crazy. But you were crazy about each other.

“Let’s gather up our winnings and get ready for the next match, hm?” she suggested.

You nodded in agreement and slid off her lap. As you bent down to pick up your coin bag, a thought popped into your head. “So what did the enforcers do when they heard that?”

“Apologized before running off brighter red than even you get.”

You both had a good chuckle at that.

“Serves them right, nosy fuckers,” you laughed.

That was how most of your subsequent games played out over the following few weeks. The two of you stealthily colluded and cheated your way through each match. Occasionally a fight broke out, usually involving someone calling you out on cheating, but the two of you easily brought each one to an end, and never had either of you actually been caught. But one thing that did take place after each and every game was you two fucking each other’s brains out. Sometimes you made it back to the privacy of your shared place, but more often than not you two did the deed right where the games took place.

And the two of you milked damn near every man and woman of the Undercity dry. To the point you two had to be one of the richest in all of Zaun. Or at least the Lanes. So without any further competition in the depths of the Undercity, you and Ran came up with a new plan.

Piltover.

CH3>>

[binibininghermosa]

Lover

Prompt: Reader serenades her husband Sanji with Taylor Swift's Lover.

Reader’s Name: Mc (Stands for Main Character but made it look like a name)

Note: This moment STILL takes place in the future from my “Giving Him the Love He Deserves” series. It can be a standalone, but it ties in with the story I’ve written before.

Under the twinkling canvas of the night sky, the Thousand Sunny sailed steadily, cutting through the velvety darkness of the Grand Line. The air was filled with a sense of calm, interrupted only by the soft murmur of the crew, each engaged in their own activities. Amidst this tranquility, Mc, the ship's talented singer, stood at the center, her voice weaving a melody that seemed to harmonize with the very essence of the ocean.

With a gentle yet powerful voice, Mc began the bridge of Taylor Swift's "Lover," her eyes fixed on her husband, Sanji. The crew watched in awe as she serenaded him, her words caressing the air like a tender embrace.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?" she sang, her hand reaching out for Sanji's. Their fingers intertwined, a silent yet profound connection, as she continued, "With every guitar string scar on my hand, I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover."

As she sang, Mc twirled gracefully, her lithe form moving effortlessly around her much taller husband. Sanji's eyes, usually filled with confidence, were now softened with a mixture of emotions, his heart swelling with the depth of her words.

"My heart's been borrowed, and yours has been blue," she continued, her voice carrying the weight of their shared history, the trials they had faced together. "All's well that ends well to end up with you. Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover," she declared, her hand placed dramatically over his, a silent vow sealed in their intertwined fingers.

Sanji, despite his usual composed demeanor, felt a lump forming in his throat. He was captivated by her sincerity, her words striking a chord deep within him. As she sang, "And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me," he couldn't help but wink at her, his playful nature surfacing even in this intimate moment.

"And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover. Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever?" Mc's voice filled the air, carrying the weight of a promise, a commitment that went beyond mere words. The crew watched, their expressions ranging from amusement to deep appreciation, witnessing the love between the two.

As the song reached its crescendo, Mc approached Sanji, her hand resting on his cheek, her eyes locked onto his with unwavering determination. "Take me out, and take me home," she sang, her voice trailing off into the night, leaving behind an echo of profound love.

Sanji, overwhelmed by her heartfelt serenade, wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice choked with emotion. "I love you, my darling wife,” he whispered, his words a testament to the depth of his feelings.

The crew, touched by the intimate moment they had witnessed, exchanged warm smiles. Love, in all its forms, was a force that bound them together, a reminder of the family they had become on this ship. In that moment, under the starlit sky, Mc and Sanji stood wrapped in each other's arms, their love story an eternal melody, echoing through the vast expanse of the sea.

══════════════════ Thank you for reading! I love giving Sanji an adorable smitten wife. He deserves that.

Check out the Masterlist too!

Stay tuned for more Future Fluffs aboard the Thousand Sunny, starring Mc and Sanji’s adorable married life, and the Straw Hats joining in on the fun!

Don’t miss out on the fluffs:

Breakfast in Sunny

Caught in Act Inspiration to the version of the song here. Timestamp 3:05. How I imagine Mc's voice soft and emotional.

[mirrorbvllhoon]

FATE (Orpheus!Heesung x Eurydice!Fem!reader)

I lost everything

Become an undead monster

But now

I know what I have to do (I know)

Follow the blood testament

₊˚ ✧ Fate (Dark Blood)

WC: 1.8k Warnings: mentions of death/dying and that's all I think (?)

There once lived a young man bestowed not only with beauty, artistry and grace that no other mortal had ever possessed, but blessed with a beautiful voice and a talent with words as well, his name was Heesung, whose existence was blessed by the great Apollo, the god had bestowed him with a talent to sing and play the lyre, bewitching everyone who surrounded him, neither enemies nor beasts could resist the power of his melodious voice and his ability with the lyre, and although many had dreamed of being with him, his heart already belonged to a beautiful young wood nymph, y/n.

Y/n, not only loved Heesung, but his talent as well, there was no other nymph in the forest or woman on the earth who adored his voice and his talent as she did, she loved every part of Heesung, when he was playing, people were bewitched, coming from everywhere to contemplate the view and listen to his melodies, a creation of him, however she stayed there to listen to him even when everyone else had left, as if hours didn’t exist and time was frozen, sometimes Heesung got jealous of his own talent and how it captivated the young woman.

“Why do I feel you love my music more than you love me?” He had asked one time, in the intimacy of the presence only the two of them shared under the moonlight, his hand still playing, the music of his made even the wind enamored to sing and dance with the leaves of the trees and the rivers flow.

“Don’t be foolish my love, I love your music because it comes from you, and I love you, it’s only natural from me to love your music as well” the young woman had answered before kissing her lover’s cheek and rested her hand on the nape of his neck.

Days and weeks had passed and anyone who had the privilege of attending the young couple’s sacred wedding, could swear by any god and temple, how they longed and loved for each other, there was no other mortal love who could be as pure and sincere as Heesung and yn’s.

The couple was ready to be promised in marriage, already in their wedding attire, the two of them stood in front of Hymen, the god of marriage, who they hoped could bless their sacred union, but oh were they wrong, did they even know the fate awaiting them?

“Although you’re meant to be, life is beautiful for it is ephemeral, time is tickling and perfection is not meant to last” said the god, who far from blessing them had given them one last chance to separate their lives and reconstruct their fate, but oh, fate is not meant to be constructed or deconstructed, it is just meant to happen,

Although fear crippled in their love, and the same tried to break their perfect wedding day apart, the sweetness of their young love kept arising, until one cruel day where the gods of fate decided to mischief, chaos arose from one singular mundane scene.

There was y/n who with the rest of her nymphs, stood in the middle of their forest, dancing and enjoying herself in the gift the gods had blessed them with, when a young foolish shepherd of name Aristaeus saw her, and astonished by the beauty of her, beauty that he desired but couldn’t have, started to make advances and eventually chase her, because what mortals always desire is what they cannot have, and his ambition cursed the young woman and her lover to an imprecation that not even the cruelest mortal was boarded with, as y/n kept running and finally found rest in a secluded area of the grand forest, fate again, decided to toy with her, she was barely regaining her breath when she felt a pair of fangs in her talon, a snake had bitten her and as if her life hadn’t been important the snake left, crawling to the forest after completing her task, in a second instant she exhaled, awaiting to be transported to the underworld, her lasts thoughts were of her short life with her now husband, remembering how Hymen had advised them of the fate that awaits him as well.

What a surprise did Heesung find, when he arrived at the forest to search for his wife, she hadn’t arrived at sunset, as she always did, he found the nymphs, he found the dead shepherd who perished by the same bite of fate as y/n, but in the darkness and cold of the night, he couldn’t find his lover, and when he finally did, he was faced with her cadaver, and as the night was full of death and darkness, life had left y/n’s body so many hours before, he held her close to her chest, as if hoping that the gods would bring her back for only a glimpse of time, but it never happened, she was far gone.

And with the cloak of Nyx abandoning the sky, and the sun arising on the blue canvas, Heesung, full with grief played his lyre and sang, being this the only things remaining that could remind her of his lover, in that very moment every object in this earth and sky, whether it had life or not, every mortal good or evil, rich or poor, wise or fool, every god and goddess learnt about the pain he was bearing through his powerful melody that could move them to sorrow and grief.

Full with lamentation, Heesung arrived in the presence of Zeus, hoping that he, of all gods and goddesses could grant him his one true desire; to have y/n back, however the olympian god couldn’t interfere in the affairs of the underworld, as it was his brothers domains and not his, nevertheless he encouraged the Heesung to descend to the underworld, and ask it’s king, Jay, for help.

Once Heesung had arrived to the deepness of the underworld he encountered cerberus, the three-headed dog, who guarded the underworld for any mortal to trespass, but with the melodious symphonies that his voice and lyre made, the dog stayed down, and allowed the young mortal to trespass, the same happened when Heesung encountered with the boatman Charon, who moved by his symphony, agreed to allow him to cross the styx river without any cost.

Jay and his wife, the rulers of the underworld, were surprised to say the least, when the young man’s presence entered their domains.

“How dare you, a simple mortal, to invade my domains? You should tell me your motives unless you want to perish in the abyss for eternity” scolded Jay, his tone deep and strong, his voice resonating through the valley of the dead.

“I’m begging you to allow me to retrieve to the world of the living my beloved y/n..:” Heesung started talking, but his words weren’t enough to demean the feelings that burdened  him, so with his lyre he started to sing, about the life that was taken away from them, of love and sorrow and lost, of fate and it’s bittersweet ways and of the pain that y/n’s departure had left him with.

The whole tartarus stopped, the furies for a moment forgot to punish the sinners and thieves to shed tears, the captive souls in the styx stopped their laments and cries, Sisyphus stopped rolling his stone moved by the youngster’s voice, and even Jay, the king of the dead, shed an iron tear.

Finally, Jay asked for y/n’s presence to be brought before them, when the young couple reunited with a passionate kiss and a hug full of love and hope, the king had one last commandment for the couple, before they could depart for the path to the living world, and hopefully, for their merry life awaiting them.

“Y/n must follow you Heesung, you will have to lead her way, and you are not allowed to look back for her, for if you do so, her soul will be taken back to the depths of the tartarus and you will lose her again”

The young couple looked at each other, before giving the underworld’s king thanks and preparing themselves to start making their way upwards to the living land, with Heesung leading, and y/n following; but Heesung was afraid, afraid that the god, with mischief boiling in his olympian blood, had tricked him, each step he gave, he couldn’t hear her lover’s step following him, or her voice humming a melody he had composed time before, he couldn’t hear her breathing, as if she wasn’t there, yet Heesung stood with his head up, and tried to not succumb to the temptation of looking back, scared to loose her or scared by the feeling of having lost here even before walking towards the earth.

When finally the light of the sun had touched their skin and engulfed their eyes, and when he stood his feet on the earth’s grass, he succumbed afraid of being tricked and losing her lover before even having her, he looked back, and in that very moment, Y/n was engulfed by the underworld, and taken aback cursed by the inhuman love Heesung had for her, the same reason Jay had given him that task, he knew that for Heesung, that would be impossible, for he loved y/n.

Days passed and Heesung swore to never love another woman, because in his eyes and heart there was no place for another woman, there was only y/n. So he played the lyre full of melancholy and love, putting the air and the trees to dance with the spring of the night, and the birds to chipper with the haze of the sun, moving the world with his music full of the love he had for y/n.

But Hymen’s prophecy hadn’t been completed, for a group of jealous women, who couldn’t understand how such a being full of love, music and poetry couldn’t dare to love again, they decided to end his life as a punishment, throwing his lyre to the river, where a group of muses transformed it into a beautiful constellation that would embellish forever the cloak of the night, remembering for eternity the love that once upon a time moved the world with it’s melodies.

But for Heesung, death was far from a punishment, for in the afterlife he could reunite again with his beloved, and in dead they could live the life, life itself had taken away from death, death couldn’t tore apart the love Heesung had for y/n for even in death his soul crawled towards her, engulfed in her presence he could find peace, to this day the couple walks along the styx river, sometimes Heesung is leading her and looking back to see her beloved following, other days it’s y/n going upfront, but no matter who leads or follows, they always look back, longing for the presence of the other, and the safety of knowing that they’re not alone, hoping that once they drink from the lethe and allowed to step on the earth again, fate will reunite them again, for one life or death or a thousand of them wasn’t enough to contain their love.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

a/n: Hope that you enjoyed reading this story, feel free to comment, reblog or like <3

tags: @solfolgi

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. Ban had always been the only paint her. So she took the matter into her own hands and now she was the one behind the canvas. Ben was curious as to his wife painting. He would proudly hang the paint in their house, no matter how bad it was. Because their future children could see their mother's effort. Thanks!! :))

A Masterpiece of Love

Benedict bridgerton x female wife reader

Benedict Bridgerton had always been the artist in the family. His paintings adorned the walls of their grand estate, each brushstroke a testament to his skill and passion. His wife, Y/N, admired his talent and the way he poured his heart into his work. She loved the way his eyes would light up when he spoke about his latest project, the way his hands would move with grace and precision as he brought his visions to life. Benedict had always been her muse, capturing her beauty and essence in countless portraits.

One evening, as Benedict was busy in his studio, Y/N found herself wandering through the house, gazing at the paintings that told the story of their life together. She paused before a particularly stunning piece, a portrait of herself that Benedict had painted on their first anniversary. It was breathtaking, capturing her in a moment of pure joy and love. As she stood there, a thought began to form in her mind.

Benedict had always been the one to paint her, to immortalize their love on canvas. But what if she turned the tables? What if she could capture him, just as he had captured her? The idea both excited and terrified her. She had never been particularly skilled with a brush, her attempts at art always ending in frustration. But the more she thought about it, the more determined she became.

Y/N decided to take matters into her own hands. She would paint Benedict, no matter how long it took or how difficult it was. She wanted to create something that their future children could look at and see their father's brilliance, and more importantly, their mother's effort and love. It would be a symbol of their partnership, their equal contribution to the family legacy.

The next morning, while Benedict was out visiting his brother Anthony, Y/N snuck into his studio. She felt like an intruder, surrounded by his tools and unfinished works. She took a deep breath and gathered the materials she needed. She set up an easel in a corner of the room, where the light from the window would fall just right. She then took a seat and began to sketch.

Her first attempts were clumsy, her lines awkward and uneven. She found herself growing frustrated, her hands not cooperating with her vision. But she refused to give up. She spent hours each day in the studio, practicing and refining her technique. She studied Benedict's paintings, trying to understand how he captured light and shadow, how he brought his subjects to life. Slowly, she began to improve.

Y/N worked in secret, only painting when Benedict was out or otherwise occupied. She wanted it to be a surprise, a gift that would show him how much he meant to her. She imagined the look on his face when he saw the finished piece, the pride and love in his eyes. It kept her going, even when she felt like giving up.

One afternoon, as she was putting the finishing touches on her painting, she heard the door to the studio creak open. She turned around to see Benedict standing there, his eyes wide with curiosity. She quickly moved to block his view, her heart pounding.

"Benedict! You're not supposed to be in here," she said, trying to sound casual.

He raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "And why is that, my dear wife? What are you hiding from me?"

Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "It's a surprise. You're not allowed to see it until it's finished."

Benedict laughed, a warm, rich sound that filled the room. "Alright, I won't peek. But I'm dying to know what you're up to."

She smiled, relieved that he hadn't insisted. "You'll see soon enough. Just a little more patience, my love."

The next few days passed in a blur as Y/N worked tirelessly to complete her painting. She poured her heart into it, capturing every detail of Benedict's face, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the gentle curve of his lips when he smiled. She wanted it to be perfect, a true reflection of the man she loved.

Finally, the day came when she was ready to reveal her work. She called Benedict into the studio, her heart pounding with anticipation. He entered the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the easel in the corner. She took a deep breath and stepped aside, allowing him to see the painting.

For a moment, there was silence as Benedict took in the sight before him. Y/N watched nervously, searching his face for any sign of his reaction. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his lips.

"Y/N... this is incredible," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I had no idea you could paint like this."

She felt a rush of relief and pride. "I didn't either. But I wanted to create something for you, something that showed how much you mean to me."

Benedict crossed the room and took her hands in his, his eyes shining with love. "You've done more than that. This is a masterpiece. Our children will look at this and see the love and effort you put into it. It's a testament to our partnership, our love."

He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she felt tears prick at her eyes. "Thank you, Benedict. For believing in me."

He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. "I will always believe in you, Y/N. You are my muse, my inspiration. And now, you have created something truly beautiful."

He hung the painting in a place of honor in their home, where it would be a constant reminder of their love and partnership. Every time he looked at it, he felt a surge of pride and admiration for his wife. And Y/N, in turn, felt a deep sense of fulfillment and joy, knowing that she had created something that would be cherished for generations to come.

Together, they continued to build their life, their love growing stronger with each passing day. And as they looked forward to the future, they knew that whatever challenges they faced, they would face them together, their hearts and souls forever intertwined.

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

Alastor and Voxes rivalry is so funny because, aside from their differing perspectives on technology, they really aren't all that different personality wise. They're both master manipulator's that like being the center of attention, they're insecure about the fact that they need others for their power and success (Alastor with his soul owner, who I agree is Roo unless proven otherwise, and Vox with his fellow Vees), and they overestimate how powerful they truly are on their own until getting hit with a major dose of humility (Vox in "Stayed Gone" and Alastor when he nearly got killed by Adam). Heck, maybe these exact similarities may have contributed to their rivalry in the first place.

I adore them. Vox is my third favorite. He was my second but then Lucifer made his grand appearance. TBH I pretty much love all the characters but those three rank the highest by far.

I'm pretty much obsessed with Alastors relationships with everyone. His relationships with everyone beside Rosie and Nifty are oddly complicated. I pretty much walked into the show with the assumption that everyone out for their own. All cut throat and not caring who they step on to get ahead. Which we still sort of get but we also got hit with... found family and relationships-of sinners in Hell. I was going to make a whole post about it last night but it got late so I postpone.

They are both calculating showmen. Emphasizing their words and meaning with large arm movements and such. What I find more alluring is Alastor is more subtle about it but its more captivating. Alastor does do grand movements with his arms and hands. But he can make a grand entrance just by being silent. Either moving by shadow or in his battle, he was revealed to Adam buy standing still and quietly waited for Adam to take notice of him when the smoke clear and flew towards him. Which is quite a testament to his talent and skill as an entertainer and showman that he can command attention without doing anything. Vox is more flashy. I love how he enters a room. Even the less flashy entrance of him walking to his control room in "Stay gone". It was commanding attention even if the room was empty.

Both are similar but both are prideful but I think Vox is less so. Vox realize there's strength in numbers. I think one of the reason why Alastor more adamant about being independent and not relying on others is because of his contract. He lost the right to his own soul for relying on help of someone else. His reluctance to have aid and his pride is his downfall. Which we only starting to see happening.

I desperately want to know what exactly went down between these two. One of my first few post was about those two, and I still incline that's what mostly happen but also it was layered with more things im unaware of. They were clues they were once friends and how Vox reacts, it clearly ended by Alastor. Alastor referring Vox with "Old pal" is so condensing and mocking to further insult Vox.

I doubt we get it but I hope we get a flash back episode about these too. Their friendly banter between each other would be so entertaining. They would jab and jeer at each other preferred technology consistently.

I also want the same between Husk and Alastor. I'm positive they were friends before their deal. At first watch my impression was Husk gambled it away to Alastor in a drunken night of unable to stop gambling. But now the more I think of it the least probable it seems. It appeared turned to him. I think they arrange a deal with two outcomes. One that more favorable to each lord but did a game to finalized the true outcome of the deal. I was gonna make a post about that, probably next week tho.

I think Vox character becomes so complex when it comes to Alastor. Because Vox biggest shortcoming is he gets overly emotional. Which is ironic as he is the most mechanical character in the show. I believe he quite the strategist. Which what really got him to become an overlord and his main role in the Vees. I really hope season two show him really utilizing this ability and make him a proper 'villain' with it. He shown to be level headed and calm but then, the mention Alastor to him he goes of the rails. What interesting his emotions about Alastor is multilevel and complex. He feels so intensely about Alastor but the problem is...he feeling multiple emotions about Alastor intensely. It would be SO easy if he can just feel one thing. Either it be pure hate, pure heartbroken, pure rage, pure nostalgia, pure adoration. But no, he feels them all at once and its overwhelming. He needs to ruin and destroy Alastor or bring him down so he can at least feel he can in control. He needs to control Alastor to at least figure out how to control his emotions for him.

Vox in generally is a man who typically knows what he wants and typically get what he wants. Vox wants Alastor to acknowledge him and accept him, Either it be positive of negative. He wants a relationship with Alastor again either be love,mentor/protege/friendship...or what he settle on, rivery. But Alastor not really giving him that. Alastor barely register Vox since his return or acknowledge him as a rival. Alastor never takes Vox seriously, its all a big joke to him. Its drives Vox out of his computer chip mind. Vox is compelled to prove Alastor the Vox is to be taken seriously. He only feel valid when hell get the attention and acknowledgement from the only person he ever want it from in Hell. Alastor probably knows this and purposely ignores Vox when it doesn't demand his attention to further irritate Vox.

I love seeing fanart or fics that showcase how complex Vox can be. He not two dimensional -despite his face being one. That Vox ventures to take the opportunity to kill Alastor while weaken but when Vox facing reality and force to witness Alastor struggling, Vox in up defending and protecting him. While mumbling to save face that he only make Vox look cowardly if he killed Alastor in his pathetic state and only Vox has the honor to kill Alastor.

He doesn't want Alastor gone. He wants his vexation with Alastor gone, he wants his inadequacy caused by Alastor gone. But as the easy solution to solve those issues is to get rid of Alastor...which he sort of wants. But then again he doesn't. If Alastor gone, a part of Vox self is gone. Alastor is such a large part of Vox, that Vox would feel lost and empty if Alastor was truly gone. Alastor is Vox motivation and driven purpose to prove himself worthy. Alastor gone there's no push for Vox to be better in any aspect. Business, power, himself etc. He would never find much joy again when the victorious high of killing Alastor himself wears off.

Vox seemed disinterested in life in conversations until He discovered Alastor was back. The information brought new life to him. He is driven mainly by Alastor.

I am curious how Alastor feels about Vox. I'm sure more recently he more annoyed by Vox and disgusted by Vees business ventures but enjoy one upping him. But does he ever reminisce their better days together and miss Vox companionship? Feel the loss of their friendship. I want to say there are times he does but he better grasp at compartmentalizing and does not dwell on it too often.

I been wondering one of the reason that cost the rift that Vox has some type of recording Alastor that Alastor did not improve of. It seem that Alastor may not mind modern technology as there was a very clear picture of him. But since of that recording that ended their friendly relationship. Alastor took that as a lesson and distort any recording of himself to prevent it happening again. Might be another call back for "This face is made for radio." Tho, I think that phase might be more of his mixed heritage in the early 1900s.

I am looking forward Vox having more role to play in season two.