#stardom part 2

[lavendergalactic]

(/genq) what media is um chronoir from cuz they look verysuper cool and I wanna get into it

they're vtubers! chronoir is a joint channel by the vtubers kanae and kuzuha from nijisanji, they make music too :3

i reccomend you look up "chronoir english sub" on youtube if you wanna get into them

[dynamitekansai]

March 21 Hamamatsu ◆QQ vs STARS Mayu Iwatani, Hazuki & Hanan defeated Saya Kamitani, AZM & Miyu Amasaki.

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Language! Part 2

[1 - 2]

The speech bubbles are a little odd, a holdover from when I used to draw these small and all on one layer and canvas.

Somehow, some way, Splinter’ll always catch them and make them pony up to the swear jar! Darn ninja dads, I swear, it’s like they can hide in the walls or something

Anyway, thought it would be fun to hint at Splinter having a life and acquaintances from his time in yokai society, in that weird way that parents have when they mention a crazy skill they picked up from their mysterious life before parenthood that their kids have no knowledge of yet. Plus, it’s interesting to think about what Splinter does in his day. He loved entertaining and stardom, I doubt he’d up and quit forever. His voice is the last thing truly his after his transformation, I’m sure he’d use it somehow to keep doing what he loved! He’s also a ninja warrior specifically trained to fight the supernatural, that probably comes with some pretty fun skills!

My mom once stole a boat and sailed to an abandoned condemned island for a whole couple of days, a story which cropped up once and then wasn’t explained until years later, much to my intrigue. She’s so calm and well collected, it was crazy to hear the shit she used to get up to lol

[dilfluvrr10]

Joost x music journalist!reader where joost invites them for a show and they thinks its for work but actually he did it bc he likes them 🤭

Guysss I just wrote thisss. This is my first fanfiction I've ever written, pls pls pls feel free to send through any feedback good and bad. I really hope I managed to satisfy your request. Thank you <3

Lmk if you're interested in a Part 2

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮ The Interview ╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

I looked through my closet unsure of what to wear, do I go concert or casual tonight? This was going to be huge for my career, interviewing THE Joost Klein, so of course I was stressing over every detail. I settled on a classic little black dress, nothing too much, enough to make a good first impression. I glanced at the time repeatedly while doing my makeup, the closer it crept to 7:00pm, the more anxiety started eating at me. I packed my bag and drove to the venue, practicing each and every question, my facial expressions, my laugh, my smile, every detail. I admit, Joost was an attractive man, a confident man, and a great musician, maybe that’s why I was so worked up. That’s definitely why I was so worked up. I’d been following Joost’s career before his stardom reached an all time high after Eurovision, I had to remind myself to keep my composure and leave any fangirling behind.

When I received the invitation I was absolutely thrilled, jumping up and down like I was a teenage girl again. However, it was different from the usual press releases I’ve received, addressed to me specifically instead of my publication. Despite my usual professional demeanour, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. When I finally arrived at the venue my anticipation only intensified. I glanced in the rear view mirror one last time, ensuring every hair was in place, took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. I had been instructed to enter through the same way production entered and meet Joost in the green room before he was expected on stage. Backstage was buzzing, ensuring everything for tonight’s performance was perfect. I navigated through the organized chaos, my heart pounding with each step closer to the green room.

There he was sitting around a table laughing and joking with his friends in Dutch. “Heyyy you’re here! I’m so happy you came”, his signature smile plastered on his face causing one of my own in response. He told his friends we were doing an interview and to so kindly leave, each one greeting me with that European charm before exiting the room. He gestured for me to sit down where comfortable. He sat loosely on the couch, adorned in black jeans, a white button up paired with a black tie and his signature thick rimmed glasses and gloves to tie it all together. God black was his colour. His cuffs rolled up, revealing a scatter of tattoos on his forearms and biceps. I sat on the chair closest to him but not on the couch next to him, trying to keep it as professional as possible. I really wanted to squeal, ask him for a photo and tell him all about how much his music resonated with me.

“Thank you so much for the invitation, I really appreciate this Joost”, my nerves slipped away as we began talking, his energy warm and inviting. “No, no, I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now actually…” his words hung in the air, his eyes darted around my face as if he was unsure how I would react. “Really, you know me?” I was stunned by the idea of Joost being aware of my work. A soft smile played at the corners of his lips as he nodded. “You’re works amazing, you have this way of talking to people that just…opens them up, you know?”, the sincerity of his words hit me hard. My heart fluttered and I felt my professionalism slowly decay. He shifted in his seat adjusting his pants and clearing his throat. He was feeling the change of mood too. As I thought of something to say to change the subject I noticed his gaze kept falling to my lap. My dress had lifted a bit, my thighs exposed a little. I began to feel hot and bothered, my cheeks burning red, his subtle smirk didn’t escape my notice, only adding to my discomfort. He clocked on to my embarrassment, shamefully, it fed him with confidence. “I used to watch your videos on YouTube, when you were working independently. Seeing you now here in front of me…you’ve really, grown up” he cooed with a meaning I couldn’t quite grasp. I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the rush of heat that grew in my body. “Thank you Joost, that means a lot coming from you,” I replied, hoping to steer the conversation back to professional grounds. “So, how are you feeling about tonight’s concert? Any pre-show rituals?”

He chuckled, the sound sultry and pleasant. “Just hanging out with my friends, like you saw. We try to keep it light and fun. Music is about connecting with people, so I try to keep that spirit alive before I go on stage.” I nodded, jotting down notes even though I recorded interviews on my phone. It was more to keep my hands busy and give me something to focus on other than his heavy gaze. Our conversation flowed easily after that, and the interview wrapped up nicely. He stood up, offering his hand to help me up from the chair. His touch was warm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’m glad we finally got to meet,” his eyes held mine for a heartbeat longer before he glanced away, a hint of shyness creeping into his demeanour.

Just then, one of his crew members popped their head into the room, announcing that it was time for Joost to get ready. He turned to me, his smile back in full force. “Enjoy the show. I’ll make sure you have a great view.”

I smiled back, my heart fluttering again. “I’m sure I will.”

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Helloo!

Idk if you take requests , but could you maybe write a fic with Human!Alastor and male!reader where reader exaggerates his whole personality to comply with everyone else and is easily exhausted from it and Alastor "relaxses" reader in that way ?

Thank you in advance and have a good day !

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE ]

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A/N: This request really made me brainstorm but I've decided to break it into 2 parts. I hope you'll enjoy it! As always kindly lmk the artist of the fanart so I can tag them and give proper credit! ❤️

WARNINGS: [ SLIGHT NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SUGGESTIVE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ FLUFF…if you squint ]

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx

“You're on air in ten minutes, Y/n. Pick it up before the host gets restless!”

Your so-called manager barked from the dressing room doorway, giving one last glare your way before strutting off, grumbling a string of curses you'd learned to ignore.

“Asshole…” you scoffed, turning back to the striped mirror of your vanity; the large bulbs that lit it gave enough light in the old stuffy backstage space, illuminating every detail of your appearance.

Not one thing could be out of place.

You wouldn't allow it, committed to your role as a rising preformer in the golden age of the stage, and conditioned to perfectionist standards from years of tribulations

Suffering behind a practiced smile won you your stardom. The ambiguous beauty you possessed helped immensely in your success on the silver screen, but the truest contributor to your fame was appeal.

Humourous, intellectual, but most crucial, sex appeal.

That's what kept your admires enthralled, permanently put you in the limelight from the start, and inevitably earned you considerable amounts of money.

You weren't opposed to being called a child of Dionysus himself, envied by those who wanted you. Still, the burden of putting on a show for everyone every day without giving them a glimpse of your faults was excruciating.

Yet, you chose the burden over sulking in the darkness, remaining among the ordinary when you so clearly had the makings of a star, and your status of high popularity among the masses was proof of it.

So be it if your cheeks ached from smiling at frivolous fans that your laugh sounded less like your own the more you forced it, that flirtations of others felt like empty praises, or that every project you agreed to felt less and less stimulating.

So fucking be it.

Fame is fickle; you knew this all too well, but your existence felt meaningless without it.

Empty.

All the world's riches, the undivided favor you garnered from the public, and the sparkling awards cluttered your penthouse display shelves…

Even with all that at your fingertips, you had yet to feel seen…

Seen and truly adored.

“Two fucking minutes! Get your ass in position. This interview is being broadcast live, remember?” your manager harped at you from the hall, causing you to grunt in frustration before yelling back, “Would you shut your trap?! Fucking hell…I'm coming!”

You set aside the whiskey glass in your left hand, ran your right through your recently styled hair, and checked your reflection one last time.

“It's only a radio show. One little interview and you can go home and get black-out drunk…” the idea of spending some much-deserved time alone after running around doing a press tour brought a sad smile to your face as you stood and exited the dim room.

This would be your last stop, an interview with Louisiana’s prided radio host, and the last person you'd need to put a show on for before returning home.

“Finally…” your manager grumbled as you stepped into the hall, giving you a once over as the two of you strolled down the hall towards the host recording area, “Don't fuck this up. People say this ones a real talker and can make or break ya..” he mumbled begrudgingly.

You paid his incessant pestering no mind, flashing him a suave smile as you both stopped before a heavy door, “Don't tell me you're starting to care about my reputation now? Thought you only saw me as a nice money grab…”

Your smile grew as laughter bubled in your chest, seeing the other slowly become agitated at your backhanded comments.

“Why, you little-”

“Oh, don't be rude, sir. You'll spoil my good mood, and god knows sour spirits bring bad luck,” you smirked, enjoying the scrunch of his nose as his expression reflected his true nature, but before he could snap, you pushed the door open and slipped into the soundproofed station room.

What a fucking pain he is…

You cursed the raging man outside, sighing softly as the sound of jazz lingered through the air and the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with a distinct cologne engulfed you.

The space felt and looked inviting, relaxing even, but what caught your attention was the man who occupied it.

He sat in a desk chair across the small room, facing a table full of controls and a mic to match. His face was lowered from the device, glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose as he stared at what you assumed was a script for your conversation with him, but the simmering amazement overtook your curiosity about the paper he held you felt hearing him hum along to the song he was airing.

You didn't dare move an inch closer, satisfied with watching and listening to him from afar, oddly entrapped by the silent allure he cast.

It was no mystery that people loved the sound of his voice. You'd be fooling yourself if you said you hadn't found his commentary enchanting, but looking at him in the flesh, you were sure he'd flourish on the silver screen like no other.

He could indeed win the eyes of many…

Yours especially, and to some degree, he had already, but you hesitated to admit it even as he turned to face you.

Oh…. he is a beauty, that's for sure…

That was the singular thought in your mind as he smiled, standing from his seat before approaching you with all the confidence you'd merely portrayed.

“Hello there. You must be Y/n L/n. I'm Alastor Hartifelt. It's a pleasure to meet you, my friend!”

His voice was as smooth, melting into the background melodies inexplicably, and your heart lightened immensely as he held out a hand for you to shake.

“The..the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Hartifelt..” you inwardly scolded your delayed greeting, losing track of your practiced charm relatively quickly in his grasp. Still, in seconds, you recovered from the blunder while returning his smile.

Alastor took you in with a glance up and down your figure, cataloging every detail of your appearance out of habit, but when his gaze met yours, one thought crossed his perceptive mind.

Longing?

How curious…

You hid the familiar emotion well; seeing past the veil of contentment wasn't tricky, and though he was tempted to bring it forth.

You two shook hands briefly but firmly. Alastor stepped back, gliding his hand out to mention towards the recording station. “Come, have a seat, and please call me Alastor. We will be on air after all; formalities aren't necessary for an engaging broadcast.” His smile grew, emitting an unearthly kindness as you nodded in understanding before sitting in the chair opposite his.

“You make an excellent point, Alastor. I hope we enjoy each other's company.” You chuckle softly, feeling a tad nervous for a reason unknown but genuinely harboring a rise in excitement, hearing him respond promptly.

“I have no doubt we will…” Alastor muses more to himself, a delicate edge to his voice as he trailed behind you, and a certain twinge of intrigue rattled your spine at the implication.

For the first time in a long time, you weren't dreading the inclinations of your fame, gradually succumbing to the sparks of joy Alastor evoked with the most straightforward words and becoming surer of the fact as he took his seat next to you.

“Shall we begin?” he implies cheekily, and you reply in a quick, witty fashion, “We shall.”

————-

“Care for a drink, my friend? I believe we’ve earned ourselves a cold glass of whiskey… that is, If your evening is unreserved.” Alastor made the offer moments after switching your respective microphones off, quickly arranging the recording panel to a specific setting as he listened for your response.

Your mouth moved quicker than your mind; a distinct rush overtook at the thought of spending more time with the charismatic radio host, “I'd be delighted to join you. I must agree that our interview went quite well. It's rare to have an easy conversation with a stranger these days..”

Alastor raised a brow, sparing you a glance as he finished sliding keys and flicking switches into place to keep a calming stream of music lingering in his broadcast, “So, I'm still a stranger to you?… My, and I thought we were getting on so well…“

He spurs you casually, an air of hurt in his expression, and it stuns you, causing a red hue to rise on your cheeks, “Th-that's not at all what I meant, Alastor…” Your lower head twinges of embarrassment staining your consciousness, and for the third time that evening, Alastor had chipped away at your charm.

He enjoyed it….

Seeing you falter and conform to his standards, though you didn't need to, at any time, you could've remained indifferent to him and taken your leave the moment he shut your mic off, but you remained.

Solely because you'd grown attached to him or the defect he had on you.

Humbling, genuine understanding, but above all else, validation.

“My dear, I am only poking fun. I take no offense to your words, and I hope you'll grant me the same courtesy!” Alastor reached for you, thumb and forefinger slipping under your chin to lift it, and you obeyed his gesture with a soft smile. “Oh…I…”

You paused, swallowing thickly as he raised himself from the chair, head lowered toward yours as he stood above you.

Had he always been so tall?

So brooding?

You weren't entirely sure, but your heart raced, every nerve in your body tingled with anticipation as if you were a deer caught in his headlights, but you couldn't retreat or evade him.

“You what?..” Alastor cooed quietly, chocolate eyes on fire with an emotion you'd long forgotten but returned subconsciously.

Control.

You needed to be back in control, or the next breath between you two might lead to something…

Your mind played scenario after scenario, beginning to short circuit as he peered down at you, lips only inches from yours, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek. His touch is searing, warmer than those you'd felt before, intentional, and your entire being buzzed in his grasp as if in a drunken stupor.

He was dangerous… able to tear through your facade easily, which was terrifying.

Polarizing.

Don't let him get any closer…

Keep him at a distance…

You've only just met him...

Warnings rang in your head, but your eyes lowered to his lips, and your voice remained quiet as you responded to his question.

“I" 'd like to have that drink before the night ends. Wouldn't you?"With a gentle nudge of your head and a soft laugh, you draw away from Alastor's touch. The space between you increases, and the ability to breathe becomes less strenuous as you stand to your feet, collecting your overcoat before slipping it on, "I'm not familiar with the city yet, so I'll leave it to you to show me around." The chipper in your tone amuses Alastor; you'd perfected the art of illusion so well that in the clutches of what some might consider an intimate moment, you balked and reclaimed sensibility like it never occurred, though you wished for it to carry on further.

He'd met and spoken to his fair share of actors, learned their ticks and telling habits, and used it against them when he saw benefit in toying with them.

However, being able to see right through you evoked another motive for the host, and he dared to think it was mutual.

"Well, I'd be honored to show you the ins and outs of this lively town I call home so long as you promise to keep up," Alastor retrieves his coat, a heavy jet black trench withered accents paired with matching hat, stylish in all the right ways -presumably warm to be in. Still, you were sure if he ventured into the night dressed like that, any stranger would fear him.

They had good reason to, but you didn't need to know why.

Not yet…

With a coy smile, you followed Alastor out of the station, matching his strides as he paved the way to a nearby speakeasy, "You'll find it quite entertaining, my friend. Few visit at this hour, but my dear Mimzy puts on a vine show regardless!" Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Alastor being infatuated with another, for what reason you weren't sure, but your disappointment flashed clear in your eyes that he took it upon himself to clarify his remark.

"She is an old and loyal acquaintance. Nothing more. Nothing less."

You perked up at the explanation, face burning with a blush as you raised both hands to dissuade his interpretation of your expression, "I understand. You needn't explain anything to me-"

Alastor halted in his tracks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he peered at you curiously, "Hm, so you did assume we were something to begin with?..."

Shit, was I that obvious?...

"Not at all..." you lie, as calm as ever but internally conflicted.

How could he go about messing with you so boldly?..

And why did it excite you?..

"Your eyes say otherwise, my friend..." he counters your nervous reply with a smug smirk, beginning to walk off as if he wasn't toying with your head, "My eyes?..." you whisper in response.

"They are the doorway to the soul...I've learned to walk through said doors, and you, my dear, hide a lot of fears behind them." Alastor chuckles, ears tingling as you reclaim your spot at his upon reaching your destination. Still, you're less concerned with the dark alley lit with a singular neon sign situated above a heavy lead door and more worried about what he is implying regarding your emotions.

Who was he to know anything?

Sure, he was pleasant to be around, an avid intellectual with a knack for continuing conversation with you, and you had no reason to believe he'd been faking his friendliness to you from the start...

That still gave him no right analyzing you, prod at your exterior with more confidence than necessary, and you intended to let him know it.

A glare beset your expression, mouth open to speak, but you weren't allowed to do so as the lead door swung open.

Alastor guided you close to his side as a gaggle of patrons spilled from the doorway, ranting and raving about the time they had inside. Their rowdy behavior irked him, but you did not comment on the matter as he placed a hand on your back to lead you inside after their dysfunctional departure.

“Drunken idiots,” he mumbled begrudgingly, and for the first time you'd seen the radio host truly bothered. He'd been so composed during your interview, inviting and flirtatious on and off the air, so getting a glimpse of his annoyed state felt like a treat.

At least you knew he had flaws, insignificant but telling ones.

“Um. Alastor, you can..” you paused, unsure if you wanted to let him know he was still holding onto your waist as he led you inside the dim speakeasy. Alastor hummed, irritation gone, and his coy smile widening as you shuffled alongside him. “Y-you can let me go now.”

“Oh, nonsense, my dear! I wouldn't want you to run into unsavory characters like the ones that just passed..”

He quickly navigated the lingering crowd, clearly familiar with the club's layout, and you marbled at its unique atmosphere as he led you through it. “I can handle myself, Alastor,” you tried again to reason, but Alastor was quick to give a response as he ushered you to sit at an unoccupied lounge chair complete with a table and lamp.

“I'm sure you can but I'm rather fond of keeping you close.” He sat next to you after setting his coat and hat aside.

What did he mean by that?..

“How selfish of you,” you feigned disappointment as he shifted to face you with a soft chuckle leaving his lips, “Would you be so kind as to forgive my greed for your attention?” Alastor stares you down, noting how you bite your lip, another nervous tick you'd yet to disregard in his presence. “I'll consider it if you buy me a drink or two..”

The suggestion was meant to sound confident, unmothered by the mounting pressure in your chest, but it came out breathless. You were sure that you'd mastered the art of indiffenece, permanently established a mask of charm, but as much as you wished to maintain the certainty…

Alastair disproved it with little more than a gesture or equally compelling word.

It was unsettling, intoxicating too, but undeniably riveting.

“A small price to pay,” he mumbled, eyes lowering to your lips as you laughed softly and leaned back to admire the other patrons roaming or dancing around. “I never said I was cheap..” you taste him, gaze drifting to him as he shifted closer. You wanted to jump out of your skin as his arm came to rest behind you, head lulling to ward your cheek as he breathed into your ear. The resulting warmth made you shiver, quickening your breaths, and your body tingled with intrigue.

“No…” Alastor affirmed your jest, free hand raising your chin, tilting your head to face him as he continued, “…but you are desperate to be loved. One might say that's just as inappropriate, mon Cher..”

His tone dripped with condensation, a sensual purr loud enough to drown out the jazz and chatter surrounding you, and for a moment, he was all you could comprehend.

You should've felt angry, unsettled even, but his words struck a more profound emotion.

Comfort.

You weren't crazy, a constant wonder for the masses to marvel at and never care about.

Alastor could see you.

He wanted to…

“And so what if I am? Why would it concern you?..” there was no harsh undertone to your question, and it earned a sultry hum of amusement from him. “You've interested me, so I must not ignore your charade. I'm partial to the truth of a person, and you, my dear, abandon it in the hopes of success..”

Spot on.

It is shamelessly hurtful but direct nonetheless.

You clicked your tongue dismissively, attempting to turn your head away from his grasp, but Alastor held you tighter.

A glare crossed your face at the brushing grip he established, but a pool of excitement rushed to your crotch as well.

“I'm not one of your scripts to read, Alastor..” you scoff, rolling your eyes to make your point clear, but he isn't affected by the arrogant gesture.

“My apologies if it seems that way, but my intention to know you, inside and out, is purely innocent...”

“I find that hard to believe…” you retort, very aware of the minimal space between you two, and it became harder to focus on anything else but his soft lips that were stretched thin into a smile.

God, I was doomed from the beginning… you think to yourself as you laugh at your shameless line of sight. “Believe what you wish, my friend, but I enjoy being the object of affection..”

“That's inappropriate to suggest,” you mutter, face burning with blush and your hands raising to grip his wrist and collar. Alastor hummed, amused by your denial, “Mm, I suppose it is…would you like another apology?”

You shake your head, tugging him in by the collar of his shirt, eyes lifting to his, full of determination, “A kiss will do just fine…”

He holds your gaze, checking for mockery, but there is none. “That's the first honest thing you've said all night, mon cher,” Alastor points out in a hushed tone, lowering his head to place a slow kiss on your lips as they pull into a satisfied smile.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx

I rewatched Heartstopper for this. Was it helpful? Yes. Did it make me cry harder than the first time I watched it? Also, yes. Will I forever love that show?… (yes). Again, this is just part 1! The second half is being drafted. Please look forward to it. I'm not sure it'll include smut…but I'll debate on that later.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He's so cheekyyyy but I love him for it hehe like he’s just the right amount of ‘cocky asshole’ ya know? ❤️ credit to creator!

[deceitfuldevout]

Country Club Films

Dark!Camstar!Rafe Cameron x Reader x Dark!Pimp!Barry

Word Count: +7,293

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Nsfw gifs, Misogynist/sexist remarks, Manhandling, Loss of virginity, Human trafficking, Dark web, Mentions of cheating/infidelity. Non consensual stepcest, Force drug usage, Rafe is a huge slut and Barry is a sick freak, Blackmail, Mind break, Manhandling.

Author's Note(s): This is going to be a one-shot. Don't ask for a part 2 if you're not going to like/comment/reblog. I'm trying to catchup with real life and it's kicking my ass. Give a bitch a break ffs.

Offline Rafe is known as the long-reigning Kook king. But online he's known as one of the biggest camstars on the East Coast. When Barry, his former pimp, offers him a one-last film offer, well he just couldn't refuse. After all, it was just this once, right? Rafe began his career as a prostitute at a young age. It started off as something he did for fun, but when his dad cut him off that’s when he began working for a streaming service. He needed that quick cashflow if he'd going to survive in the Outer Banks.

At first, it started off as a hobby. Rafe was into voyeurism, he found that out at a young age. To dominate someone while everyone else knew. In the beginning of Rafe's livestreaming career, he started off as a solo act. He loved messaging complete strangers online, he especially loved the look on these women's face when he pulls his cock out. How their expression would change, the sudden stuttering at the sight of it. He loves when their eyes would rake up and down his girth, knowing full well they were admiring the sight of it. He'd jerk himself off in front of the camera, rubbing at his thighs while taunting his viewers. Rafe would edge himself off for each tip.

Rafe knows he's well endowed. Him having a pretty face and nice body was the cherry on top. He made himself comfortable with this newfound stardom. Becoming a sex worker was the last thing on Rafe's mind. In a span of a few months, Rafe was one of the biggest online stars. The best part is, no one else knew who he was. He found a luxury apartment by the beachside to live in, that's where he did most of his work. He even invited some of his clients for a solo video.

It was more of a hobby for him, he would secretly record these women and keep it in his inventory. As long as he was getting paid and looked good doing so, he could care less what the other women looked like. To him it was strictly business. Old, young, single or taken, it didn't matter. For him it was a side hustle to get back on his feet. Hell, some of them were his dad's former clients. Rafe earned enough to get him a luxury apartment by the beach with the well-earned income and cushiony life.

If she had a pretty face, then he'd do it in missionary. If not? He'd fuck her doggy-style. He had fucked up one day after failing to pay Barry back. He may have underestimated the Pogue drug dealer when thinking he could get away with not paying him full price. When returning to his home he noticed a window had been broken, the T.V. had been running. When Barry breaks into Rafe's apartment in search of his money owed, the last thing he expects is a built-in porn set. There Rafe found him, currently watching his last performance on his brand new T.V.

It was as if the Pogue knew he was there, "Country Club...where's my credit for giving you that name," he stands up from the recliner. His expression wasn't mad, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It started off with Barry suggesting that he'd pay him back. Whether Rafe was willing to or not. He doesn't have a choice. Barry knew of his dirty little secret. He has enough evidence to ruin the Kook's polished image. So, for the past few months Barry has been his personal pimp. It became a regular routine.

Barry would schedule the meetings with clients to make it easier. A quick suck and fuck to cover rent. Rafe worked hard to get to where he was. This isn't a side hustle. It took skill to get to where he is. Rafe is one of the highest ranking members for a reason. The once proud Kook-king was owned by some Pogue. For the longest time Barry had almost total control over his business. Rafe had to work hard for the past few months in order to gain control again. Even after gaining access to his social media, it was Barry who called the shots.

Rafe would be notified by Barry of a latest client, they would meet up at the country club, where Rafe did most of his dirty work. That, and a motel nearby. For Rafe, the country club was a hunting ground. He'd often go for married older women with neglectful husbands. He would be the face of their business, but Barry would be the backup in case things got ugly (or if an unsuspecting husband were to walk in). Rafe's steaming channel became popular as well. His online alias? Country club. Like the place he'd pickup his clients.

It was the first time Rafe had been this confident in himself. He had finally earned enough to make a living and have liquid income pouring in. He would never have to worry about money again. But it wasn't enough for Barry. He wanted power, control and fear. So, what better way than to start blackmailing their clients? They had the wealthiest women in the palm of their hands. For them, paying off a blackmail would be cheaper than a divorce. Rafe knows he could get away with it too. He knew exactly what these prim and proper women wanted: A good and hard fucking. They wanted to be dominated, controlled and degraded to their heart's contempt.

It was surprising how many women of high society were into the downright nastiest things. Rafe can give them all that and more. Rafe would choke them, slap them around a few times, sometimes even reducing these women into tears. Yet they always came back soaking wet. Their husbands weren't enough. They needed a good fuck to escape the pressures of being a Kook. Call it an act of community service if you will. After getting into a brawl with a married woman's husband, Rafe decides that he doesn't want to take in clients anymore. Barry convinces him of a newer strategy: Live streaming for bids. Soon he was making an easy six figures. Rafe considers himself to be an expensive experience.

Now that he had a stable income with his streaming service, he can work from home. Usually for commissions or requests by his clients. So far Rafe had been enjoying his life after retirement. At that point Rafe didn't care what anyone would say. After spending some time in the industry, he had gained a new sense of confidence. Immunity, if you will. For his entire life, Rafe had gotten away with just about anything. He knows he's making almost as much as his father now. On a good day, even more. Barry was on his payroll and kept quiet about it.

There's only one thing Rafe missed about working in the industry: The rush. Rafe was going to miss the thrill of doing whatever he wants to a complete stranger. It made him rock hard just thinking about it. He could do whatever he wanted and they would beg for it. These women would beg for him to ruin them. The best part was, they would always come back for more. More, more, more. Rafe went as far as to sneak into the houses of married women while their husbands were away. He had earned a black eye and fractured rib after being caught. He thankful for not having to worry about that ever again.

Yet still, there's a part of him that yearns for that adrenaline, if only he could balance it with his regular life. Rafe wanted to spend time with his family more than anything. He knows that Ward had been giving him shit for missing his sister's recitals. He'll try to make up for that.

He'd just got off the phone with his sister, promising to show up at her next show. Barry had been messaging his phone nonstop. Rafe groans, what was it this time? Rafe decides to call him, "What's up?" a short and simple statement. Barry sounded a bit muffled on the other side, "I'm coming over, tomorrow, and I've got a deal you won't regret," he sounds confident. Rafe was curious by the humor in Barry's tone, "What is it?" now wondering what had made the dealer so excited.

Barry promised Rafe that he wouldn't bring up films as long as he was getting paid, but this? This was different, "We're about to become millionaires, Country Club," with that he hung up. Rafe groans, rubbing the back of his neck. He was enjoying his retirement while it lasted. Like his father, he would take any opportunity given to him. A chance at receiving a million dollars? Shit, maybe one last time wouldn't hurt. Rafe might just be looking forward to fucking whatever old crone paid for his time.

Rafe had emptied his schedule just to meet up with the Pogue. He set up studio, making a simple bed on the floor nice and pretty. He even added a few pillows for comfort. He then waits for Barry to arrive, to kill the time Rafe would snort a few rounds. He already indulged in his expensive collection of alcohol until his throat went hoarse. Rafe wanted to be as intoxicated as he could possibly be if he wanted to make it bearable.

A buzzing noise from his alert system indicated that Barry was already in the lobby. Rafe had let him pass through. It had taken the dealer a while to get upstairs. In the meantime, Rafe had popped a special pill to keep the party going. There's a loud slam on his door. Rafe opens it to find Barry hauling a large suitcase. He'd a little sweaty from the travel. It wasn't easy sneaking onto Kook territory. Especially if you were as notorious as him.

He watches as his partner hauls the luggage inside, cursing as he finally tosses it onto the living room floor. Rafe looks out to see if there are any onlookers before shutting the door closed. He locks it before walking towards it, "What is that?" to which his friend ignores. Barry hurries to where the camera had been set. As soon as he realizes it was ready, he goes for Rafe's laptop, logging in to prepare for a livestream. Barry is quick with his moves, wasting no time. He kicks off a few prop pillows until the mattress is bare. This confused Rafe as he was told he'd be using props for the video.

Barry orders Rafe to help with setting up the room, "Get this shit off,"

"What?"

"We can't let them know where we are, gotta make this place a little shitty," Barry informed Rafe that the client had a taboo fetish for non-consensual roleplay. He wants this place to resemble an abandoned building. So, both of the men put in the effort to make it look just like that. Rafe places an old worn-out mattress in the center of his room. Anything personal was discarded of.

By the time they were done the room it resembled a scene from a torture porn film. Rafe suddenly jolts to the sound of loud rustling coming from the luggage. Apparently, Barry wasn't specific to what kind of prop would be used either. Rafe turns to it, "What the fuck is in there...?" his voice is in all seriousness, "What the fuck is happening?" his attention is fully on the noise coming from the container.

Barry hurries to the case, his hands are quick to open it, "Our client wants us to use prop," that's when Barry reveals a woman who had been kept inside. He hauls her by the underarms and pulls her out the case. Rafe stares at the woman then back at Barry. He tries to read his face, nothing. In fact, Barry seemed like the only one that was perfectly calm about all this. He effortlessly lifts the woman out of the case, dragging her to the bare mattress. He ignores her muffled crying and returns to the camera. Barry wants the angle to be just right.

Rafe couldn't believe what was happening. He can't keep his eyes off the woman. Her hands and legs had been bound by duct tape. Her face covered with a satchel. She had been wearing a leotard--but it was the ballet shoes that had him in the chokehold. Rafe had a thing for cute, delicate things. A strange fascination of his were Ballerinas. As soon as he spotted those shoes his brain started to malfunction. It gave a sense of femininity that he wanted to protect. It reminded him of a special someone from home.

Barry informs Rafe that the clientele was a very important person on the Island. Their decision to start streaming, was Barry's idea. He made sure to turn on the bidding option to collect some extra cash. It was two birds with one stone. Barry shakes her by the shoulder a few times to give a good scare. He does it just show just how much stronger he was. Barry nods to his accomplice, ushering him to come over. Rafe is hesitant when approaching the two. Barry finally shoves her back down with a 'thud'. Rafe isn't bothered one bit by that.

Was it so wrong that Rafe had been emotionally numb to all of this? Maybe it was the dope or maybe a part of him really didn't care. Either way this would be the last time he would ever need to make another film again. The Kook sighs, "Let's make this quick, I have to get to my sister's recital," he begins to strip himself of all clothing.

"Sarah?" Barry questions,

"No, the other one,"

Barry smirks, "Almost forgot about that one,"

Rafe strips himself of all clothing before approaching the mattress. He circles around her, like a predator stalking its prey. He eyes her like a hawk, yet there isn't a single thought behind those blues. Barry is in charge of the camera work. He made sure hold it steady as Rafe got to work. This had been more than what Rafe was used to taking. He was more buzzed than usual, and he knew it. But did he really care? He felt good, and that's all that matters. Fuck, Barry was getting hard at the thought of it.

He's always had a thing for her, but the bitch thought she was too good for him. One thing he couldn't stand being was a stuck-up Kook bitch. Barry grits his teeth at the memory of her laughing at him. Now he was her only saving grace, “Her family, they're looking for her, and get this: Her daddy is a big-time figure on the Island, the dude is loaded,” he starts feeding Rafe bit by bit of a fantasy, leaving out the most important details.

Barry mentions one last thing: "The client wants you to break her in," he's dead serious too. For a moment Rafe pauses, "You serious?" His brows furrow, "She's never had dick?" He couldn't believe it. Rafe groans at the thought of it. She was a good girl who had gotten into some trouble, and now these bad men were going to ruin her. Rafe could practically feel how heavy his balls were. Fuck, he's never wanted pussy this bad before. There's something about an unused cunt that just gives a man an ego boost. If it's a show the client wants, it's a show he'll get.

Rafe pins her down with his body weight, he chokes her out, admiring the way she would try to fend him off. It was adorable, she really thought she had a chance. He taunts her pathetic attempts, "C'mon...try harder...let's see if you have a chance..." at this point he really was playing with his food, "See? You can't, because I'm stronger than you, I can do whatever the fuck I want," he rips the thin fabric off for a dramatic effect, "Your daddy's not here to save you," knowing that would only make her cry harder. Apparently, her stepfather was a very important businessman. One of the wealthiest in the entire Outer Banks. One who just so happened to have a very pretty stepdaughter. Rafe questions why the old man hasn't fucked her yet. He knows that if it were him, he already would've.

Rafe grinds his hips against her clothed sex. He groans, "How about I be your daddy? Huh?" he taunts, "Say it, say it slut," he grips around her neck again. He could barely hear the gurgled cry that came from underneath. Rafe didn't want to calm her down. It would be more entertaining for the audience if there was a performance. It was the thrill of the chase that excites him the most. Rafe wants her to be sobbing by the time he's done with her. He tears at her top, groping at the exposed flesh. He relishes in the feeling of soft skin. It'd been a while since he's hooked up with anyone. During the past few months, Rafe had only produced solo films. For once, he prefers a tight cunt over his hand.

Barry reassures him that there wouldn't be a thing to worry about, "Just go with the flow," he had already set up the starting prices. As the livestream started his fans began to swarm on. Rafe had been impressed by the number of viewers, had they really missed him that much? He held her against his bare chest. Rafe gropes at her bare chest while reading the comments. He rests his chin on your shoulder blade, taking his sweet time reading each comment. He plays along, “What do you say guys should we fuck her cunt or ass first?” A string of pings goes off from the laptop as it’s being broadcasted. Complete strangers were rooting for him to ruin her.

He chuckles after reading the comment, "C'mon guys vote in the poll ass or cunt first," as if she were a piece of meat. A sinister smile is plastered on his face. He held her by the neck, tilting his face towards her ear, "You're not a person, you hear me?" his fingers add more pressure, "From now on you're mine," his other hand caresses her mound. His digits tease at her clothed core, "This cunt? Mine," another 'ping' came from his laptop. He looks right at the camera, "How much can we get for her cunt? Do I hear $100?"

Rafe enjoyed playing with his prey. He loved to hear their whimpers for mercy. Barry reads a few requests, "The fans want you to slap her," of course, Rafe couldn't let his fans down. He shoves her down. He swats at her rear, admiring the way it ripples with each crack. His hand lands on it again and again, until she was writhing in pain. He then pulls at the remaining fabric. Now exposing her to millions of viewers. Rafe wasn't the least bit shy. He'd gotten comfortable with showing off his body to the world.

He motions for his partner to get closer with the camera. Barry approaches, unbuckling his belt to release his half-hard cock. He pumps it a few until it gets hard enough to stand. His cock now pressed against his abs, already leaking with precum. Rafe wanted full access to her, in order to do so he'll need a little help, "Hold her down, need some room," he held the camera so that Barry could cut some tape off. As soon as her hands were freed, she began smacking around. Both men laugh at the woman's feeble attempts. As if she could actually hurt them.

Rafe is having way too much fun with the struggle. Barry pins her hands under his knees, hard enough so that it would hurt. He hands over the knife to Rafe. He glides it along her thighs as a warning. In a few seconds her legs were freed, but only for a moment. Rafe got to work parting both of her legs. He uses his bodyweight to pin both of her legs down. His fingers already gliding up and down her slit. He presses his finger pads right on her core, rubbing it vigorously. Poor thing hadn't a clue who this stranger was playing with her cunt. He could be anyone, that's the part he loved the most.

Rafe loves getting his clients all worked up, sometimes to the point of tears. Until they're practically begging for him to ruin them. He knows his audience wouldn't say a thing if they thought it was roleplay. Most of his popular videos were darker fantasies. He's had his fair share of fucked up roleplays. His fans wouldn't so much as bat an eye if he were to smack her around. Rafe toys with the woman's exposed slit as Barry pointed the camera at them. Rafe spat at her mound, coating it with his saliva before teasing it again. Barry held her down while Rafe got to work on making her fall apart. He can't take his eyes off of such a pretty slit. Rafe's cock twitches at the sight of her slickened slit. He was transfixed by the sight of her tight cunt puckering at him. As if it were begging to be ruined.

Rafe doesn't waste any time diving him tongue first. He wraps his lips around the entrance, suckling at it like a starved man. Rafe starts with slow, strong licks. He made sure to look at the camera to capture a POV for the audience, before flattening his tongue against her mound. He presses the muscle along her slit, dragging it up and down. Rafe parts for a moment to spit a wad before lapping against her sex. He suckles along the sides, making sure to get her all hot and bothered. If there's something he's good at, it's eating pussy.

For dramatic effect, Rafe rubs his head from side to side, humming so that she could feel just how deep his tongue was inside her. Rafe retrieves for a moment, but only to tease the audience, "Bitches love when you bite it," Rafe jokes. He's had quite the experience as a giver. He knows just the right amount of pressure to bring a woman to climax. His teeth tease at her sensitive pearl. Her thighs quake from the pressure. Barry dares his friend to continue the torment, "Give it a pull, she can take it," and so he does. His thick fingers tug at her poor clit. A frantic cry is all he needed to hear before pressing the first digit inside. Shit, she was tight.

When he tries so curl his finger a howl of pain escapes. A swift kick lands right on his nose, landing with a loud 'crack' sound. Barry couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. Rafe backs away, retreating to inspect the damage done. That's when Barry mentions something he should've done earlier, "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, this one is still intact," he forces her legs apart, parting her folds to reveal what Rafe hadn't bothered spotting. Before Rafe could pounce on her, Barry pulls her up against him. He tries balancing the camera but eventually lets it rest on a chair nearby. That way he could have more control over her.

He grips the back of her knees, exposing her full to a very pissed off Rafe. He knows that the Kook always held a grudge. Once his mind is set, there's no stopping him. Barry decides to twist the knife, “They want you to break her in,” he lets her go, raising his hands in the air so that Rafe is free to perform. He pulls her in by the ankles, dragging her across the mattress. He flips her over, pulling his belt from his waist before swatting it at her a few times. He ignores her crying, only using more force when she tries to run away. He doesn't stop, not until she's screaming at the top of her lungs. But it's not enough for Rafe's bruised ego. She embarrassed him in front of his fanbase. He needs to make sure that never happens again.

Rafe presses his fat tip along her folds. He collects whatever slick is there, still glaring at the masked woman as if she were the scum on earth, "God I can't wait to rape this bitch," he uses his entire body weight to thrust forward. A howl of agony is heard underneath the mask as it starts to soak with tears. Rafe's nails dig into her hips, hard enough to break skin. He pounds deep into her tight cunt. Rafe groans, "Shit...that's some good fucking pussy," as he fucks her into the mattress. Rafe had trouble making her stay still. He keeps having to pull her back in. Barry, being the friend that he is decides to help Rafe out. His shoe lands on her back, pinning her to the mattress below. He held it right against the back of her neck, mushing it down every time she squirms.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin has Barry hard as a rock “Shit country club…I can hear you in her guts,” if that didn’t give Rafe the biggest ego boost he needed to continue. Rafe huffs at Barry, “Oh yeah?” His voice sounding cockier from the statement. He wraps his strong arms around her waist before lifting her against his chest. Rafe fell back with a 'thud', revealing to the audience a full view of his cock burred balls-deep inside. Barry held the camera carefully, he hovers the device over the woman's slit, pointing it to where Rafe's cock sunk in. He captures Rafe's thick cock deep inside her weeping cunt. His balls slapping against her skin as he fucked her like a feral animal. He’s had a good fucking before but not like this. This time he has full free range to do whatever he wants.

Barry nears the two, he wants a closer look at his pretty little victim. He pulls and tugs at her tits until a muffled sob escapes. He then starts to smack them around, letting them bounce as Rafe abuses her cunt. Rafe moans at the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock with each slap. When Barry releases them, Rafe is quick to take over, his hands grip at them as hard as he can. He groans at the feeling of her cunt pumping him. Barry’s eyes rake over her naked body. He could see the indent of Rafe’s cock inside her cunt, palming at his own growing erection. He takes his sweet time examining their pretty little victim. Barry presses his hand against the indent of Rafe’s cock, “Oh fuck…can you feel that?” His palm presses harder until a squeal is heard from under the mask.

Barry chuckles, “Shit, Country Club is fucking your guts out,” a crude remark. Rafe couldn’t help but grin at that remark. He’s always been well endowed, but hearing that his cock’s imprint could be seen? It went straight to his head. Then an idea hits him. Barry spits a thick wad in his palm, his hand reaches in between her legs. He starts to massage her slit, his fingers tracing that sensitive button right above her stuffed cunt. As soon as her toes start to curl he stops, giving her a moment to prepare for an orgasm. Then he slaps her sensitive bundle of nerves as hard as he can. He watches as her mound bounces from the impact. A howl of agony pours out from under the satchel as she tries her best to close her legs.

Barry isn’t having it. He forces her legs open while Rafe fucks up and into her channel. Barry encourages him to keep going, “You gonna get her nice and pregnant huh Country Club?" he taunts, knowing damn well what he was doing. Rafe growls into her ear, letting him primal instincts take over, "'M’gonna fucking breed you, you hear me? This cunt is gonna give me a baby,” he juts his hips faster. Sweat collects on his forehead, “Gonna show you off to the whole town, let them know that it’s my baby in there…oh fuck!” His breathing became erratic as he began to pick up pace. Rafe growls as his cock sunk back into her warm channel. He squeezes her tits, "Can't wait for these to get full,"

Barry huffs, now jerking off to the sight of it, “You gonna make her a single mom, Country club?” Barry jerks his cock at the sight of it. He groans at the sight of her abused cunt filled with Rafe’s spunk. He lets out a faint sigh, “Damn country club, didn’t know you were this pent up,” to which Rafe nears her ear, "Imagine that, you getting knocked up by a complete stranger," he huffs, "Can you even hear me?" Rafe reaches for the cloth, but before he could remove it, Barry swats his hand away, "No, not until we're finished," that was part of the deal, "Her stepdad is an important Kook," never stating who he was. Rafe hums with delight. If only he could see the look on the stranger's face after finding out his stepdaughter had been absolutely ruined for any other man.

Rafe came, hard. He made sure to drain his balls deep inside her pussy. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder blade, ignoring the wail from underneath the satchel. Rafe let's out a deep, gutteral moan, finally coming down from his high. He throws her limp figure onto the mattress so that he could catch his breath. He reads the comments section of his stream. Each fan would send a bid higher than the previous one.

This was the most bank he's made in a while. He reads the requests, making sure to take a mental note. Rafe returns to her, lying limp on the mattress. Her abused cunt leaking thick wads of spunk. Rafe couldn't help it, he just loved to shove his fingers in there. He'd play with her pussy, despite her whines. Rafe loves inspecting it, like some sort of toy he could use and abuse.

He flips her over, rubbing at her slit again. He bites his bottom lip, "C'mon....give me another one..." his fingers began to pick up speed. He waited to see the signs. When her thighs would quake before crumbling apart. He knew exactly what he was doing, "Ohh did I hit that sweet spot princess?" he taunts, "If you didn't like that, then you're gonna hate this..." Rafe wasn't done with her punishment, he wasn't even close to finishing. Rafe made sure to duct tape a vibrator to her inner thigh.

He parts her folds, pressing the round tip of the toy against her bundle of nerves. He then held her thighs together, using fresh tape to keep them closed. With the vibrator now pressed snugly against her pussy. He leaves the living room to grab a drink, asking if Barry wanted anything in the fridge. But the Pogue would rather jerk off to the pretty Kook trying to fend off an orgasm. Rafe returns with a cold beer in hand, he hands it over to the Pogue as the two men clink their drinks, saluting a 'cheers' to the fans watching.

They could hear her sobbing as her hips swayed for release. Both men mock the sounds that came from their victim. Barry and Rafe mimic her voice. Rafe was actually laughing at what he’d done. There was a smug look on his face as he re-watched part of the video. He's visibly smiling in it. A part of him wonders why Barry hasn’t joined in. A chance to break a virgin in? He doesn't know a single man that wouldn't take the chance. Barry lets him know, "The clientele wanted to see the best of the best, Country Club," he shrugs it off. Rafe doesn't think twice about it. He's too high to use his brain right now.

Rafe returns to where they left her. He reaches in between her legs, his thick fingers part her folds, letting his cum leak out. He whistles, "Shit....I really did a number on you," he could tell she was close and decides to help the poor thing out. What Barry says next came off as a challenge, "Bet you she's a squirter," only one thing can determine that. Rafe nods to the camera, "Get closer," he wants the audience to get a better look at how a professional does it. Rafe's fingers digits start stretching her drenched cunt again. Soon, they rapidly pumping in and out of her core. Then a gush of arousal pours out. Barry whistles at the sight of it, cheering on his partner.

Rafe hums, "Such a pretty pussy...." he moans, swiping his thumb at it. He collects the juices from her leaking hole, "I don't think she's ever came this hard," bringing his now slick digits to his mouth to taste, "Hmm...so fucking sweet," he purses his lips, "Little coppery," he could taste the tinge of blood on his tongue. It excites him, "I've gotta fill you up baby...gonna make sure you're nice and full," he squeezes at her breasts, pulling and tugging at the sensitive skin, “These are gonna fill in too," he latches his lips to a free breast, suckling at it like a starving man.

Rafe pops his mouth off for a moment. He swats at her tits, gripping them as hard as he can. A yelp escapes her lips before she's crying again. Rafe coos, "Shhh...shh...you 'needa calm down baby," he talks to her as if she were a child. Then an idea hits him, "We needa put some in her," which confuses Barry for a moment, "Her what?"

"Put some in her pussy, then she'll calm down," Rafe couldn't tell if it was because of the adrenaline or drugs. He doesn't care though, he’s in pure bliss right now. He wants to keep chasing that feeling. An idea hits him. Rafe retrieves an LSD tab from his pant pocket. He looks up at the camera. He sticks out his to tongue for the viewers to see, placing the drug on it. He lets it dissolve a bit before delving it deep inside her. His lips wrap around her slit as he suckles at the nerves. He knew those sick fucks wanted to see something with absolute filth in it. Why not go all out?

Rafe watches as she slowly starts to go slack. Her limbs flail for a moment before finally going limp. Barry couldn't help but laugh at her reaction. Rafe joins in, grinning from ear to ear at the now demobilized woman. Barry jokes, “She’s too doped up to know where the fuck she's at," causing Rafe to laugh ever harder. Both of them not realizing her feeble attempt to crawl away.

Rafe shakes Barry's shoulder, "Look at that..." he nears, crouching down at her, "So fucking cute..." for a moment he just watches her. Rafe tilts his head, "There's nowhere to run," he doesn't understand why she was still trying. He stands up, his leg pushes against her rib, shoving her to the floor. When she tries to pull herself back up again, he does the same thing only harder. Which brings him to the question: What would it take to really break her?

He flips her over, pressing his body against hers on the floor. She starts crying again when he sinks his cock in her. She's dizzy, scared and confused. Rafe is starting to get annoyed by the dramatics. He wraps both hands around her throat and gives a squeeze to shut her up. It does the exact opposite. She starts to cry even harder this time. Rafe grits his teeth, "Stop, stop crying," Rafe squeezes harder this time, intending to choke her out until she complies. Rafe shakes her a few times just to hear her cry harder. He could feel her walls pulsing from the lack of air. Rafe moans, thrusting his hips at the feeling of her squeezing his cock. He rolls his hips from the sensation. A deep, guttural moan escapes his throat. Fuck...she felt heavenly.

It had been four hours since then. Barry and Rafe would draw little tally marks on her skin every time they came. Soon the few lines turned into small groupings along her thighs and breasts. Barry had written a few words across her skin for the kick of it. Rafe had added some words himself just for the sake of it. ‘Suck me’ had been written on both breasts, ‘Cock sleeve’ was scribbled on her bare mound, ‘Cum dumpster’ had been scribbled on her rear. A few more tally marks could only be seen on her inner thighs. By the end of it the poor thing was brain dead. Her voice had gone hoarse from the hours of screaming.

Rafe felt sorry for missing his sister's recital. He'll have to make up for it. Right now he was just too fucked up to do anything. Rafe was drained, his balls are empty but hey, at least he's way richer. He shares a blunt with Barry. Both of them taking short puffs from the bud. Rafe was still cockwarming his new pet. Every now and then rolling his hips. It's not like she was there anymore.

They broke her, mind and body. As the prices began to rise, so did the poor woman's torment. Barry passes over the blunt. Rafe takes a few huffs. It was getting late and by then he was more than satisfied with the money they accumulated. Rafe closes his eyes, turning his head to his companion, "What do you think we should call it?" suggesting a name for the video. Barry pauses for a while. He turns to the Kook and grins, "How about....sibling bonding?"

Rafe pauses for a moment, turning to his accomplice, "What do you mean by that?" Barry only smiles back, "I think you know," "Know what?" a feeling of dread starts to consume him. There's a gut feeling that something was terribly wrong. All color drains from his face as Rafe releases the woman. He scrambles away from her. He's never sobered up so fast in his life. Rafe quickly changes into his clothes. He checks his phone to read the last few messages.

-Promise me you won't miss it Rafe! I'll message you when I get back home, ok? Love you ❤ 1:15pm -Where are you? I don't want to be late :( 2:49pm -You promised me you'd make it in time. 3:08pm -Never mind, your friend offered me a ride. 3:25pm

Rafe read the text messages over and over again. His hands can't stop shaking as he almost drops the phone. He doesn't look back, afraid of the unenviable truth, "I'm uh...I'm gonna head out, my sister she--she's waiting for me," just as Rafe was about to leave he hears Barry, "Sarah?" his face is expressionless, only his brows were raised. Yet his eyes were cold and calculated. Barry only ever gave that look right before fucking them over. The hell is he planning now?

"No..." Rafe answers. Barry purses his lips, "Is it...Wheezy?" as if he didn't know anything, "Oh...that's right, there's another one," as if he never spoke with her. Rafe turns to him now, obviously annoyed, "She's waiting for me at home," now demanding to leave. Barry raises a brow, "You think so?"

"I know so,"

"Sure?"

"Dude, why are you so interested in my sister?"

"Step-sister,"

"Listen man, I've gotta go, she's waiting for me," but before he could leave, Barry starts to laugh, "I think you know where she is, Country Club," and for a moment, Rafe pauses, he thinks about what Barry just said. Rafe faces Barry. He looks him dead in the eyes, "What the fuck are you saying?" he approaches the mattress, "What the fuck do you mean--" almost choking on his words, "...What do you mean by that...?" there's a strong feeling of despair that takes over his senses. Rafe felt like he was going to puke. Barry couldn’t help it, he knows he should’ve told him. But if Rafe knew he was fucking his own stepsister, well, he’d stop right there.

Rafe starts to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees, realizing the weight of what he had done. In the past few hours, the two men had put you through the most abusive experience of your life. Rafe used to be excited hearing the ‘ping’ that came from his comment section. To him, that meant money was being sent to directly into his account. Hearing them now made his stomach turn. Tears form in the corners of his eyes as he stares back at you, “That…that’s my stepsister--“

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Barry cradles her in his arms, as if they were a doting couple. Rafe couldn’t believe this was happening, “You’re sick…” he stumbles backwards. Barry glares at him, “You were balls deep inside her, but I’m the one who's sick?” he doesn’t give Rafe a second glance.

Money was tight and Barry needed to create the most depraved film yet. Something that was so hot yet so fucking wrong. Barry never mentioned who the buyer had been. The brother of Rafe's last affair. A married woman who had been blackmailed by the two men. After taking her own life, her brother wanted revenge. So, he waited, planned, and plotted while Rafe thrived while living in figure eight. He hired Barry as a part of his sick revenge scheme.

Barry of course complied. After all, it was mainly Rafe's fault for sneaking out to see said client. After losing one of their most valuable customers, Barry had to pin the blame on someone. Who knew it would produce one of the greatest film's he's ever made? It has an equal amount of shock and lust, combined into a four-hour long video. Barry lifts her up and into his arms. He cradles her against his chest, carefully removing the sack. For a moment, Rafe is in a state of shock. Only staring at them.

Barry gently cradles her face, he holds her up to Rafe, “C’mon Country Club, give her a lil kiss,”

Rafe felt sick to his stomach. He fell to his knees and Barry was capturing it all. His final end of the deal was being completed: Film Rafe Cameron having a break down in front of millions of viewers. His fans watched as Rafe started to scream at the top of his lungs. He held the sides of his temples. Refusing to believe what he had done. What he did to you.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Rafe wanted to to finish one last film then be done with it. Then he’ll quit and live a regular life. Rafe regrets ever missing your recital, he regrets not answering you sooner, he should've never started this thing in the first place. Never in his life had he abused someone to that extent. He felt a strong wave of anxiety taking over as he spilled his guts on the floor, puking out the alcohol from his system. Rafe began to panic, turning his head to face the screen as he stares back at the lens. Now the entire Outer Banks will know what happened.

[the-moon-devi]

WEBB Persona Chart: Notes

MIDHEAVEN // ASCENDANT at 2°, 7°, 14°, 19°, 26° or Libra/ Taurus can indicate gaining attention online for your beauty/fashion /creative endeavors.

GEMINI ASCENDANT in Webb PC is typically good in my opinion due to gemini being ruled by mercury. Mercury rules over communication, and technology. I've seen this in the pc of those who have a online presence! Geminis can also be very entertaining and creative so I think this also plays into the fact of why this can be a good indication of internet fame. Gemini is also represents the messenger, so typical geminis always have something to say!

EX: Rihanna has Gemini Ascendant at 19°, shows she's very active online, and this is due to her beauty line, and of course to communicate information regarding her business. Also shows her being talked about a lot in the media, and being seen as beautiful , with Her asc ruler (mercury) heavily venusian influenced, it sits in libra 5th house so this also shows fashion, and also creativity/fame etc! Her Mercury is also at 26°! 🤭

MARS IN 1H can manifest in two ways; You could either be seen as a sex symbol online, Or attract alot of animosity and feel the need to defend yourself constantly. This can also be seen as someone who is constantly arguing online.

EX: Kim Kardashian

Neptune 1H // ASPECTING ASC can show having this glamorous and dreamy presence online. From what I've seen this can really make a Star, and someone who influences others. This placement screams stardom to me, if you have this placement and your not famous online and not want to be then this could just manifest as you literally being nonexistent online, Or if your spiritual then this can show fame for your metaphysical talents! Neptune also rules illusions of course, so this may also show appearing one way online and being completely different in public. People with this placement always have very beautiful posts, and just give off the vibe of being whatever they want to be! May even benefit from manifesting fame online!

VENUS 10H shows you will definitely be seen as beautiful or even setting fashion trends (especially if you have aqaurian influence hitting your venus) Your online presence is heavily influence by your physical and fashion. This could even manifest as art, music, etc.

VENUS IN 3H can be similar to VENUS IN 10H, I say this because 3rd house is skills, communications, conversing with the outside, and social media. The only difference is these people may be noticed for their actual skills instead of VENUS IN 10H is just noticed because of their presence. VENUS IN 3H shows this could be your voice as in singing, and people also talk about how beautiful you are as well. I feel this can make a very popular person. And of course your voice and Intellect.

EX: Rihanna & Beyoncé

FAMA 1H/ LEO can show definite fame online for your talents. Whatever sign it's in can show what kind of talents this may be. I know this girl on YouTube (Nadirah Ali) who has Fama 1h Libra, and she's a model, her shoots are gorgeous!

LIBRA ASC // JUNO ☌ ASC / / JUNO 1H can show your spouse may be involved with your presence online, Libra can manifest different from time to time because it's also creativity, but in some way love or partnership will be involved. If you have Libra Ascendant paired with juno ☌ asc or 1h then this is even more emphasized.

EX: Beyoncé Juno 1H

VENUS ☌ WEBB (3041) online attention for creativity/ visual arts/ beauty. The sign/house these two are in can show how this energy may manifest.

FOR EXAMPLE: Venus ☌ Webb in Cancer 10h can indicate being seen as very nurturing and feminine online, you being a mother could be a big part of your reputation online. You may do a lot of wholesome, and comforting art. Maybe even cooking or home decor.

Venus ☌ Webb in Leo 9h can indicate traveling, and online you are very outgoing. You may seem foreign, and adventurous to outsiders. You could even become famous in foreign lands. You may be very open about your religion/beliefs online as well. You could be the type to go all out for the holidays, and post about this online.

Beyoncé has Venus at 8° ☌ Webb at 17° in Aquarius 3h, so this for one shows how she has really changed the internet game, and has a big influence with her aqaurius influence and also this number 8 energy which also represents change and of course 17 is a longevity degree. So she has a long lasting impact on the internet with her voice, and can feel like whatever she say goes. (I think this is also attributed to the fact she has Pluto in 11h, 11h/Aqaurius rules the masses/ global impacts.) This also shows her beautiful voice/ music!

MIDHEAVEN IN PISCES// AT 12°, 24° gives star qaulity again, this alone won't necessarily indicate your absolutely going to be a star but if you have any other fame indicators then this is a nice add on to have. Midheaven in pisces will most likely be seen as having a other worldly presence online, and truly beautiful!

EX: Rihanna Pisces Midheaven

MERCURY AT 5°,17°,29° shows recignition for your voice. This could be singing or even you just being funny, and making others laugh! Also teaching others.

SUN 7H // VENUS 7H adding onto what I said above about juno/Libra. This can also show that marriage/ relationships and your connection to others whether that be platonic or romantic, may impact your reputation online, and partners will be involved.

LILITH 1H may be outcasted, or feel like the bad guy when they get on the internet. Can result in someone who gets dissed alot online or rebels against the web in some way. This can also show jealousy, and having a big sex appeal.

PLUTO 1H obsession, stalkers, and jealousy. If you have this placement expect to be seen as someone whom is mysterious, and kind of intimidating. You could change something online or even be seen as someone who attracts a lot of people to them. You have a special affect on people online, and could either be hated or loved. You could also talk about taboo things online, and your online presence may go up & down. Also a sex appeal indicator.

MOON 1H seen as someone who cares, and the mother online. A lot of people probably come to you with their problems. May be the type to post a lot about motherhood, and feminine energies. May be seen as intuitive online, More prone to talk about spiritual things.

NORTH NODE 10H the internet is meant to impact your career/reputation. May be known for having a online presence. Most likely will be very influential.

EXACILBUR (9499) 1H // ASPECTING MC, ASC indicates having a HUGE impact online. Excalibur means being chosen, and having a path that can't be taken from you. So you'll see these natives appearing powerful, and having a breakthrough online!

1H LORD IN 5H shows going viral, you could be super young, and have a huge influence on the youth. More than likely you will be showing your creative talents online!

EX: When I tell ya'll.... I just had a feeling that Ice Spice had this placement..... And I was right. 😌 She definitely has become a trend through her mannerisms, and music etc lol, and she's definitely influenced the younger generation.

1H LORD IN 2H indicates you attract alot of abundance to you online. You could benefit from having a online business or making money online. This may even be a indication of a online shopper. The internet determines your finances.

1H LORD IN 9H shows learning online, and touching the hearts of foreigners. You may find a lot of luck, and knowledge online. This is a great indication of having a big audience, and people probably watch you online to learn from you! People most likely see you as spiritual, and wise.

1H LORD IN 8H are usually the ones who talk about esoteric topics online. They are seen as very powerful, and someone who changes the minds of others. Usually will have a huge impact on others, and can be seen as someone to be feared. They can attract a lot of hate and rumors regarding their personality, and what they stand for. If not popular online you will most likely be seen as secretive, and private. People may be obsessed with you, and see you as attractive.

EX: I know someone who has this placement, but I'm not going to say their name lol. I just want to point out how powerful their placement is, and how much of their presence enlightenented alot of people online. They are a mercurial ruled rising, mercury sits in the 8th house conjunct their North Node and Jupiter (in 8th). Their purpose was to spread enlightement and knowledge (jupiter). Their voice (mercury) was meant to be heard. Their mercury & Jupiter sits at 11° and Mercury at 9° in Aries. Not to mention they are very blunt, and have a very powerful way of speaking and asserting themselves. I'll give yall a hint but they were a black man. Fox News released an article that, they are a "Violent Cult Leader" (very plutonian but , in his defense it wasn't a "cult") Iykyk.

PLUTO 1H, SCORPIO ASC, 1H LORD IN 8H, adding onto what I said in the previous observation ⤴. I've noticed all of these placements in some way attract jealousy, hate, rumors for what they do. It may not always be as intense but they hold a lot of power and influence. People want to watch them, and they have the ability to uncover a lot of hidden truths, and taboo secrets. Pluto in the 11h can even give this vibe too, but they are even more so having a huge effect on the masses. They can change and bring back trends if they wanted to. They can change their interests regarding what they consume online too. Pluto in 10h has the ability to reinvent their public persona, this is very similar to pluto 1h as well!

10H LORD IN 12H your presence online may be hidden or spiritual. You can be seen as someone who has a healing presence.

MIDHEAVEN AT FAME DEGREES (5°,17°,29°) definitely will be famous online. 5° may manifest as going viral for a short period of time, while 17° and 29° will manifest in long term fame, and impact.

10H LORD IN 8H your online presence may include divination, spirituality, and sexual/taboo topics. You will be seen as mysterious, and powerful. (Definitely should have included this with the ♇ observations above ⤴ lol)

VARUNA ASPECTING SUN, ASC, MC OR IN 1H/10H/11H can show worldwide recignition, may attract a lot of praise especially if it's sun or 11h/10h just because sun is literally where we shine, and talents. 11h is goals, and accomplishments, while 10h is literally achievements.

STELLIUMS IN HOUSES/ 2 OR MORE PLANETS IN A HOUSE can show certains aspects of where your presence online will gain a lot of attention, maybe even what your known for doing. Signs can show the energy of this!

1H STELLIUM emphasis on you, your entire being probably will attract a lot of attention. You may be very bold

3H STELLIUM emphasis on your mind, and speech.

4H STELLIUM emphasis regarding your family, and upbringing.

5H STELLIUM emphasis on your talents, and your talents. Could be children, and creativity maybe even love flings.

8H STELLIUM emphasis on your power, your enemies. What you hide, and sex life. Also people may see you as very powerful, and somewhat mysterious.

GLO (3267) IN 1H shows you have a qaulity about you that shines. You have a luminous glo to you. This can be great for fame!

STARR (4150) IN 1H indicates becoming a star online, you are someone who is looked up to. Also great for fame.

<< WEBB (3041), GLO (3267), STARR (4150), FAMA (408) >>

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕯𝖊'𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖊

ℭ𝔥𝔢𝔠𝔨 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔒𝔲𝔱!

©𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Loretta Young (The Farmer’s Daughter, The Stranger, Love is News)— Her cheekbones!! Her lips!! Her big eyes and small nose and not quite classical features!! The planes of her face hypnotize me and her smile clears my mind of anything else. She’s an interesting beauty, not a standard one, almost in a Mads Mikkelsen type way (I repeat: cheekbones). Also I’m begging people to watch The Farmer’s Daughter, a charming rom com where my babygirl Joseph Cotten falls through the ice while skating because he got distracted by how pretty she was, and where Loretta puts on a 40s-bad Swedish accent and runs for Congress! Girlboss!

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies.... most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Loretta Young:

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face"

"First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you."

Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

"The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender"

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"Did a bunch of humanitarian work during ww2, pretty sure a shot of her from Shanghai express was the inspiration for one of queens album covers and also her in the suit in Morocco (1930) CHANGED LIVES. I’m sure she’s already been submitted but I wanted an opportunity to submit one of my favourite pictures of her for the poll"

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[hugsandharrystyles]

Are you wet right now?

Summary: You go on a vacation with your parents and their best friend's family. The only problem is their ridiculously hot son, Harry.

Word Count: 5,000+

Warnings: so much tension, teens being dumb, angst of course

Let me know if you want a part 2 with actual smut :))

You officially hate Harry Styles.

You hate his stupid hair, his stupid green eyes, his stupid hair, and especially his stupid abs.

You don't think from the minute your and his family stepped into the private resort you've seen him with a shirt on. And you get it, it's hot outside, and you're on vacation, but he doesn't even have the decency to put one on at dinner.

Honestly, the whole naked chest thing wouldn't bother you so much if he didn't get so much attention for it. The resort your and his family picked was private, but being a young, hot superstar makes you an easy target. It's almost as if this is the week all families with teenage girls decided to go on vacation.

It's the worst when you'll be goofing around with him like normal, and a group of girls in their bikinis crowd over him, not even sparing you a glance as they shove you out of the way. It's even worse that Harry does nothing about it.

You've known Harry since you were little. Your parents have always been friends, so it was kind of inevitable. You knew from a young age he was going to be something big- with his talent and charisma. You've watched from the sidelines how he's grown and came to stardom.

Though, you and Harry hadn't always been friends. When you were both thirteen, Harry had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was young and childish love, but it was sweet. You were his first girlfriend, and he was your first boyfriend. You even shared your first kisses together. You could never forget it. He was so nervous and shaky, and the kiss was inexperienced, but it was probably the best kiss of your life.

Until you were with Harry at a birthday party where everyone was playing spin the bottle, and Harry landed on Cheryl Taylor. He barely spared you a glance before leaning over and planting your his lips on her bubblegum-pink ones.

You ran out of the house and called your mom to come pick you up. Harry had tried to talk to you for a week, and you avoided him like the plague, which was hard since he was your neighbor. He ended up cornering you at school and apologizing profusely. He explained how he likes Cheryl now and that you were just his best friend. He was so young and so doe-eyed that you had no other option than to forgive him and go back to best friends. That was the start of Harry's everlasting feud with women. In no way was he a womanizer, but he loved sex and didn't have any want for a relationship.

"Y/N, sweetie, did you hear me?" Your mom snaps you out of your moment with her question. You're currently all (besides Harry, God knows where he is and who he's with) lounging at the pool, enjoying the summer breeze and warm sun.

"No, sorry," You answer and turn your head towards her.

"It's okay- said we'll need to head up to our rooms in about an hour to clean up and get ready for dinner. We have reservations at that fancy restaurant we saw when we were driving into town!" Your mom says excitedly, and you smile with her.

"Sounds good," You answer and turn your attention to the romance book in your hands, but before you could get very far, you hear your name being called.

"Y/N! Come in the water with me," You hear Harry's whiny voice call.

"'M good," You answer back, very obviously annoyed. You're still upset about the mob of girls who had literally pushed you to the ground earlier while trying to get closer to Harry. He hadn't even noticed.

"Oh, c'mon, babycakes. You still mad at me?" Harry asks, and you hear him splashing out of the pool. The sound of falling water droplets gets closer until you feel them start to drip onto your bare stomach.

"First, don't ever call me that again. Second, obviously I'm still upset you jerk," You scowl and almost punch him when he takes your book out of your hands, placing it on the table next to you.

"I said I was sorry!" He whines. You hear your mom and Anne laugh beside you.

"I got a bruise, Harry!" You whine back and pout at your forearm, showing him the bruise.

"Oh, shit, I didn't know it was that bad," Harry whispers, so your parents don't hear him curse.

"Yeah," You sigh. "Had to crawl my way out, and you didn't even care," You say dramatically.

"Stop it with that. You know I care about you the most," He assures, and before you can resist, he slots his wet body over yours, making you squeal.

"Ew! Get off me!" You scream, and hear your and his families' laughter.

"No," He whines and shakes his wet hair out. He lays his face in your neck. "I'm sorry, moppet. I wasn't thinking. Never would want you to get hurt."

"It's fine. I don't care. I was just messing with you."

"No, you weren't. Could tell you were upset, and I'm sorry I'm a dick," He says quietly and presses a soft kiss to your neck.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"It's okay, seriously. Just- I don't know. It's fine, you goof." You wish to tell him how you really feel. How much you miss him when he's gone when you probably never cross his mind- the lack of texts proving to be true.

"Know I love you, right?" He asks as he perks his head up and grips your cheeks in his hands, smushing them together. You notice his eyes flicker to your lips but don't think too much about it.

"Yeah," You laugh nervously.

"What's with the hesitation?" He asks and releases his hold on your cheeks, instead cupping your neck, thumbs on your jaw, so he still has a bit of control over your face.

"Nothing- we just don't talk that much anymore. Haven't really since-"

"Harry, would you get off my daughter!" Your dad yells over, semi-joking. You laugh and push at Harry's shoulder. He gets up, but you can tell by his sorrowful facial expression that he's upset about something.

"Hey, what's-" Your cut off by a high pitched voice coming from the side of you.

"Oh my gosh. Are you Harry Styles?" The girl is probably about your age and very pretty. You can't help but sigh in defeat.

"That would be me. What's your name, pretty?" Harry's response feels like a knife to your heart, and you don't think twice before picking your book back up and tuning the conversation out. You do, however, peek your eyes over your book to see Harry walking away with the girl, arm around her shoulder- not even a glance back at you.

It's an hour later when you return to you and Harry's room. You hadn't seen Harry since he walked off with that girl, and you kind of hoped he wouldn't be back for dinner because you just didn't want to see him. Even after all this time, it's as if you can't completely squash your stupid crush on him.

You slide your keycard through the door and walk in, though, nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Harry and the stranger-blonde are laying on his bed, practically grinding against each other in a heavy make out session. Your gasp is loud enough to break them out of their attraction, and you immediately hear them both curse.

"Shit!" Harry yells and pushes the girl off of him. She glares at the side of his face.

"You have a girlfriend?" She asks.

"No, no, she's just a friend."

Ouch.

"Um, I can just grab my things and go," You offer and make your way towards the bathroom to grab your makeup.

"No, Y/N-" Harry starts, but you cut him off.

"Seriously, it's fine. Um- I'll just find somewhere to get ready. You- uh- are obviously busy," You laugh embarrassingly. You quickly grab your things and your clothes and dart towards the door. You feel Harry grab your free wrist before you could make your great escape.

"Y/N, wait." His voice lowers so his guest couldn't hear. She was already mindlessly scrolling on her phone anyway, so it didn't even matter.

"What?" You ask.

"What's- why does this feel so... off?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Obviously it's going to be a little awkward because-"

"No, I mean like- I feel guilty? Like I've just messed everything up," He whispers, defeated.

"I don't know what you mean. I mean it's not like we're... together or anything." The words hurt as they come out of your mouth. "We're- um- we're cool." You put the fakest smile you could muster before walking out of the room. You hear him call your name as you speed-walk down the hallway to your parents' room.

Once you're ready, you and your parents trail downstairs to the resort's foyer where you all patiently wait for Anne and her husband. You're shocked that after waiting for five minutes, you see Harry's parents and Harry stepping out of the elevator and walking towards you guys. You immediately dart your eyes elsewhere as to not catch Harry's gaze.

"Are we ready to go?" Anne asks, and you all agree.

The car ride is insanely awkward. Having not known about what had happened an hour prior, your parents had squished you and Harry in the back by yourselves, and no words have been spoken. It's even more awkward because he's chosen to sit in the middle, so there is no space between the two of you.

"Hey," You hear Harry whisper to you. You hum mindlessly in response, nose in your book. "Can we just- can we talk? Please." The desperation in his voice almost makes you feel bad. Almost.

"Really nothing to talk about," You say quietly, trying to just focus on the words on the page in front of you. "I just need to stop getting my hopes up," You mumble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks.

"Nothing, Harry. Just forget about it. We're good," You assure him, but you know he doesn't believe you. Instead of leaving you alone like you've asked, he takes your book out of your hands (making sure to bookmark your page) before tossing it to the floor of the car. "Hey!" You complain and go to grab it, but he captures your wrists in his hand and holds them to his stomach.

"What are you guys fighting about back there?" Anne and your mother turn around, confusion on their faces.

"He's being a menace," You seethe through your teeth.

"Hey- am not!" He whines. "I'm just trying to talk to her, but she won't get her nose out of her book!"

"You are ridiculous. I mean- first, you-"

"Shush!" Your mother cuts you off. Harry, always playing the victim, pouts and leans his face into your shoulder. "Look at him, Y/N. He misses you. Hand me the book," She demands.

"What?! You can't seriously be taking his side. You don't even know what happened!" You complain, and you scoff as Harry wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you entirely to close to his warm body.

"I don't care! You're both nineteen- I shouldn't be breaking up fights," Your mom says, but you can tell she's trying her best to not laugh.

"Fine," You mumble and hand her the book. Harry's acting like a needy puppy as he basically whimpers in the crook of your neck, his arms still snug around your body. You rest your hands on his arms and dramatically lay your head against the headrest and pout in self pity. That is until you suddenly feel something wet against your neck. "Hey, what are you doing?" You ask and shove at Harry's head. He practically growls, and you can see that he has the strap of your sundress in his mouth, gnawing on it like a child. You're taken back to childhood memories of Harry doing this when he's feeling 'small' or a bit anxious. "Oh my goodness," You sigh and settle to rubbing your hand up and down his back.

"I have to get a picture of this," You hear Anne whisper, and in a second you hear her phone clicking for a photo. The great part of Harry being an international superstar is that you know that picture will never be posted on anyone's Facebook.

After what seems like an eternity if a car ride, you’re finally pulling up to the restaurant. You begrudgingly pull Harry off of you so you could all exit the car and have it taken away by the valet. Harry ducks his head down in an attempt to not be seen and laces his fingers through yours. He's funny if he thinks this sweet act is getting him any tonight.

Your parents inform the hostess of your reservation, and you notice the way her eyes never leave Harry as she walks you to your table. His fingers finally leave yours as he pulls your chair out for you, and you resist the confused look you want to give him and just take the kindness.

It's not even two minutes later when the (very cute) waiter is appearing at your table with a smile shining your way. He asks for your drinks and tells you he'll be back in a minute for your orders, but not before flashing you one more smile.

"Seems like Y/N has an admirer," Anne laughs, and you blush.

"Oh, stop it. He's just being sweet," You mutter.

"He's- He's not sweet. He just smiled," Harry butts in, and you glare at him.

"Yeah, cause no one would ever want to flirt with me," You say, just to him.

"What? No- I didn't mean it like-"

"Okay, here are your drinks." The waiter appears again and this time gets your orders. The way he flirts with you makes you feel seen and wanted. It helps that he's attractive too- of course, no one could be more beautiful than Harry, though.

The night drawls on, and Harry gets weirder and weirder. He's getting increasingly more affectionate and lovey-dovey, and it makes a part of your stomach churn.

It's when you're all about to ask for the bill when your waiter comes out with a small bowl of ice-cream and sets it in front of you.

"Oh, I didn't ask for-"

"It's on the house, lovely," He winks and walks off, leaving you with a prominent blush and whistles sounding from your table.

"My goodness, Y/N," Your mother giggles, and her and Anne turn to gossip about your love life. You smile bashfully and look at Harry, about to rub it in his face that you're the one getting hit on for once, but you can't when you see the pitiful look on his face as he stares down at your ice-cream.

"Oh, what's wrong, bug?" You ask him, pinching his cheek and calling him the childhood nickname that always got him to smile. He grins dopily and leans his forehead on your shoulder to hide his blush. "What? Did you want to share my ice-cream?"

Harry wants nothing more than to tell you that's not what he's upset about, but he's stopped when you push him off and scoop some ice-cream onto your spoon. You hold your hand under the spoon as you direct it towards Harry's mouth, feeding him. He doesn't think he could ever hide the grin of you doing something so domestic with him as if he was your husband.

Suck it, waiter-boy.

You and Harry have just finished your desert when you're getting up and excusing yourself to the washroom. Once you've finished, you exit the restroom and are about to walk back to your table when you feel a gentle hand on your wrist. Your waiter.

"Oh! Hello," You laugh.

"I'm so sorry to be so absurd, but I couldn't live with myself knowing I let you walk out of here without at least trying to take you out on a date," He says bluntly. "It's no secret that I think you're stunning, is it?" He laughs, and you laugh as well.

"Is that so? Don't think I noticed," You play it off with a giggle.

"Can I please give you my number?" He asks, flashing you his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes, but..."

"Oh no, not a but," He dramatically cries, and you laugh. He's funny and cute. Maybe he's just what you need to get over Harry. "C'mon, we don't have much longer. You're family's already paid, and I'm off the clock, sugar."

"I didn't bring my phone with me! And if I go out to my table to grab it, they'll make a huge scene!" You whine, and he gasps with fake shock.

"What will we ever do?" He jokes, acting as if he's faint.

"If you keep making fun of me, I am going to kick you where the sun doesn't shine," You attempt to threaten, but you can't hold back your laughter.

"Here," He says and grasps your arm in his hand. He reaches into his pocket for a pen and starts writing his number on your arm. "Don't have my phone on me either, so this will have to do. Don't you dare wash your arm on your way back to your table," He jokes, and you laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it," You say sweetly. "Okay! I have to go. They're going to think I fell in the toilet or something," You say, getting the cute waiter to clutch his stomach in a heavy laugh. Once he gathers himself, you quickly kiss his cheek in goodbye and run off to your table, guarding your arm with your life.

Your family is hardly waiting for you when you return, and you plop yourself back into your seat and pretend to engage in the conversation.

"Hey, what's that on your arm?" You hear Anne's voice drag you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, um- the waiter found me and gave me his number," You mumble bashfully and fail to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"You're blushing!" Your dad has to embarrass you. You're about to reply when a splash of cold liquid makes your sentence get caught in your throat. It's all over your lap and arms, and you try not to cause a scene.

"Whoops!" You hear from beside you, and you see Harry grab a napkin and start to wipe you off. Before you can stop him, he rubs at your arm, smearing the phone number so it's unreadable.

"Harry!" You gasp. Your eyes meet his, and they tell you the truth. "You did that on purpose! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Your mother shushes you as people start to stare, but it goes right over your head.

"What, no- why would I-"

"You did! You've been acting weird the entire night! Do you just not want me to be happy?!" You ask, and when he can't answer, you huff and practically sprint to the doors of the restaurant. You don't make it very far away before there's a hand on your wrist and you're being pulled into a quiet alley- out of sight from people. "Let me go," You protest and try to shake Harry's hands off of you, but they're strong on your shoulders.

"Just listen to me, would'ya?!" He asks, obviously agitated with himself.

"No- Fuck you!" You retort and continue to struggle in his hold. Then, you feel his hands on your face, and ,suddenly, his face is extremely close to yours. He's going to kiss you. He's going to kiss you for the first time since you were both thirteen. It's all you've ever wanted, so why do you push him away? "No, no, no," You tut and push him off of you. "Are you crazy?" You shout.

"Hey! Are you two coming?" Your mom suddenly appears around the corner. You shrug yourself away from Harry and turn to your mom.

"Yeah, we're coming," You say and glare at Harry who is looking at you with puppy-dog eyes. You roll your eyes and trail off behind your mom. You all make it to the car, and there is obvious tension in the air with the scene you created, but you don't care and just plug in your earbuds, turning yourself away from everyone. You can feel Harry's longing stare from beside you, but you don't give him any attention. You almost jump when you feel your phone buzz in your lap- having being so zoned out.

Harry: Talk to me.

Sigh.

You roll your eyes and set your phone on the seat in between you and Harry. Several buzzes come through before you're opening your phone in annoyance.

Harry: I'm sorry.

Harry: Actually, I'm not.

Harry: Wait. I'm sorry about the water thing, but I am not sorry for trying to kiss you.

Harry: You're so cute when you're mad.

Harry: Actually you're cunt all the time.

Harry: Autocorrect. I meant cute.

You: Stop texting me... Cunt.

You see Harry laugh out of the corner of your eye.

Harry: Stop being irresistible, and I would.

You: Ew.

Harry: You love me.

Ouch.

You: That's the problem.

You send the message and then immediately drop your phone, face-down, into your lap and stare out the window next to you.

For the next half-hour, the car was relatively quiet. You were almost ecstatic when you see the familiar hotel come into view. You were the first one to jump out of the car and practically run into the building. You thought you would so lucky as to get a moment of peace by yourself, but that dream is quickly squashed when someone's hand sneaks in between the elevator doors last minute.

"Thanks for waiting up," Harry says sarcastically. You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. The air is stiff as the elevator starts to move. And then, suddenly, it comes to a halt. A very abrupt stop. "What the hell?" Harry says, and immediately after, all the lights, except for one emergency one, shuts off, leaving you two in a very dim light. It was just enough to see each other. It was enough for Harry to see the anxiety on your face.

"Knew I should've taken the stairs- Oh God." You can already feel your breathing becoming uneven.

"Hey, hey, it's okay- we'll be alright," He assures you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He then presses the emergency call button and begins talking to the hotel staff for about five minutes. They explain that you two might be stuck up there for a few hours.

Great.

In the midst of the craziness, you had resorted to scrunching yourself into one of the corners of the elevator, trying to keep your mentality in check.

"Looks like we'll be in here for a while, moppet," Harry sighs and sits down against the wall opposite of you. You hum in agreement and keep your face pressed into your knees. "Might as well use this time to clear the air, huh?" He asks, and your breath hitches.

"Don't need to talk about anything," You answer simply.

"No?" He asks condescendingly.

"You're a jerk. That's about it," You say, raising your face to finally look at him.

"Oh, I am?"

"Are you just going to ask a question every time I say something, or are you actually going to talk?"

"Explain to me how I'm a jerk, please," He asks, genuinely wanting to know your side.

"I can't," You whisper, hiding your face again.

"Why not?"

Screw it.

"You know what? I'll talk," You decide. "You're not going to like it and will probably think I'm a freak, but I don't even care anymore." You take a deep breath and lift your head.

"Y/N, what are you talking about?" Harry asks, clearly confused.

"You remember when we were thirteen and we dated?" You ask bluntly. He's clearly taken aback.

"Um- well, yeah. We were each other's first kisses," He smiles as if remembering the memory.

"Yeah. And then at a party you went and kissed Cheryl Taylor and totally blew me off. You didn't even look back to see if I was okay! God, I get that we were thirteen, but Harry, I really liked you, and you didn't even care. We went back to best friends, and you acted like nothing happened, but I couldn't forget- I still can't. The way you blow me off when you even catch a glimpse of a girl- it makes me realize you haven't changed since we were thirteen, and I don't think you ever will. You don't text or call when you go on tour. I text, I try to call, so don't you dare ever try to put some weird manly claim on me just because you can. It's not fair that I love you in a way I'll never be able to shake when you can just toss me to the side when it's inconvenient for you."

The end of your speech had the air running cold. Harry was silent, stoic. His eyes were slightly wide and glassy- hands fidgeting as if they didn't belong in his own skin.

"I don't- um, I don't know what to say," Harry whispers after a few minutes of muteness.

"I know. You don't have to say anything. I get it."

"You don't- that's what I'm trying to figure out how to say-"

"Don't. Don't do that," You cut him off. "That's the worst thing you could do right now." Your voice shakes. "Don't you dare try to tell me you 'loved' me out of pity."

"But what if it's true?" He counters.

"Then you have a real strange way of showing it."

That shuts him up for a minute, enough time to let you collect yourself again.

"Look, I know it was a lot to spring on you, so it's probably making you think some things you don't actually feel-"

"Then why would I have gotten so mad at the restaurant? I had no idea about how you felt, so explain that," He counters. You're caught there for a moment.

"I don't know, but obviously your affections aren't very meaningful if you were sucking some other girl's face literally three hours ago."

"Fuck, I know how this looks, but it seriously didn't mean anything. I didn't even know how you felt about me! You can't blame this all on me when you never said anything!" He's starting to get riled up now. Harry's used to getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and you're not making this easy on him.

"You're such a brat. Stop whining and take responsibility."

"Oh, I'm the brat?! You've been fucking whining this whole trip, and it could've been you I was pounding into the mattress if-"

"I'm whining because I love you!" You yell.

"Well, so do fuckin' I!" He counters back, both of you staring at each other intensely and breathing like you've just run a marathon. Just as he's about to say something, a voice sounds through the elevator's speaker.

"It seems a though the fire department got here much quicker, so you two should be out within the next five minutes!" The awfully chipper lady informs you.

"This isn't fucking over," He practically growls at you as you start to hear the elevator being pried open.

"Oh, until you drop to your knees and beg for my forgiveness, we're not talking."

"Think it'll be the other way around, babe," He answers back slyly, and you know the games have just begun.

[cupcakeinat0r]

Broadway Baby ch. 1

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Fem!reader

Summary: Reader is a broadway performer in Nueva York. You’re a rising star. One morning, during a rehearsal, you stumble upon an unexpected, yet highly welcomed visitor.

Warnings: SFW? This is a plot building chapter, srry <3 Insinuations of masturbation toward end tho!!!

Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Miguel is a filthy rich single dilf (girl dinner), Age Gap fo sho (20 + 32), reader is a Latina (written by a Latina), Gabriella is his daughter in this one, soft n happy Miguel bc ion do that trauma mess. He only knows happiness and peace in my mind palace<3

Word count: 4.4k

Ch. 2

Nueva York.

The city that never sleeps.

You moved here when you were just 18, with a suitcase and big dreams.

It would’ve been when you were 14, your parents had taken you to the big city to watch a musical on Broadway. It was that faithful night you realized your calling. That moment changed the entire trajectory of your life.

You fell in love with it. The music, the lights, the sets, the performance of it all. It was pure magic. You were entranced from the first note of the overture to the very last bow of the lead player.

There was just one problem: you had the confidence of a chicken nugget.

Since the womb, you’d been a very quiet child, extremely soft spoken when acknowledged, so when you told your parents your dream occupation, they were a bit skeptical. Nonetheless, they were both extremely supportive, especially after that one night when your mom overheard some singing in your shower.

She had been in your room, collecting dirty laundry when she heard a beautiful melody coming from your bathroom. Curious as to what song it was, she pressed the shell of her ear against the door. Still not able to hear the lyrics exactly, she cracked open the door, looking around for a speaker, only to find none. It clicked. It wasn’t some blue-tooth equipped music, but her daughter’s voice. Your voice. You’d been singing the songs from the show they took you to. Her jaw fell open. Never had she heard you produce such beautiful sounds. She made sure not to make her presence known since she knew if she did, you’d surely stop vocalizing out of embarrassment.

You were signed up for voice lessons immediately.

Ever since then, you’d been training, dance and acting classes following shortly after that. It became clear that your talent was a blessing from above after hearing teacher after teacher praising about your prodigious abilities.

4 hard working years later, you decided to spread your wings, kiss mom and dad goodbye, and start your career. A small apartment in Nueva York became home. It was lacking a good AC system and the floors were creaky, but it was an affordable start.

It’s been another 2 years since moving to Nueva York. Each phone call home, your parents are delighted to hear about your accomplishments, happy to hear that you’re in a steady place on your path to stardom. You’ve been in a few shows now, landing supporting roles, featured dancing gigs, and so on… but you’ve yet to land that big lead. Your big break. It’ll come though. Patience.

Raw talent could only get you so far in this business. The only thing that seems to matter nowadays is connections and nepotism. You had to stop cowering in your shell and start networking yourself somehow. It was difficult, being the introvert that you were. If only the persona you embodied on the stage carried over into your every day life. When you’re on stage, you’re a complete different person; almost a character. That’s why you loved doing what you did so much. You felt comfortable on that stage, free to be whoever you wanted to be. It was your sanctuary.

Life in the arts was never safe or secure, and you knew that when you decided to sell your soul to this industry. Despite the endless auditions (rejections) and multiple part-time jobs, you loved your life. You loved being an actress in Nueva York. It gave main-character vibes. You had a part-time job as a waitress downtown during the day, and at night, you’d switch out your apron for a costume that didn’t leave much for imagination. You were currently a featured dancer and supporting character in the city’s most popular musical. You’d remind yourself that many aspiring actors would commit heinous crimes to be in a similar place in their careers as yours. It wasn’t no starring role, but hey, it was something.

Life was good. You were happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was just another day, alike all the others on the 2nd year of your 3-year contract in the Musical you were in. It was simple really:

You wake up, do your day time skin care routine, warm-up your voice, brush teeth, put your apron on for the Stardust diner, wait a few tables from 9-5, your house call was at 5:30 so you’d take the train and show up at 5:25, stretched, warmed-up your voice some more, and be ready in the wings by curtain call.

This was the part you looked forward to every day. That minute you stand behind those velvety curtains, heels and exaggerated lashes and all. The sticky residue of the tape that keeps your mic attached to your neck. The sparkles on your body that never seems to come off, even though you shower after every show. The astronomical amount of hairspray that you’d have to brush through when you got home. You loved it all.

When those curtains opened, a new person was born. Ingrained into the crevices of your brain, the muscle memory within your body would perform the dance moves you’ve been repeating for 7 nights in a row for 2 years.

And you’d deliver the same lines you always delivered ( and ate all of them like you always did), and your voice, like an angel. You sang your heart out, the applause fueling your energy and nourishing your soul (and maybe even your ego).

The beauty of live theater is that every show is different. One of the many aspects you loved about it included the audience members; each night, the crowd was different. Today, in particular, there was a young girl in the front row, sitting right in front of where you were dancing. She looked up at you in the same way you looked at those actors all those years ago, with that same awe in her eyes. Noticing her, you flashed her a wink and a smile while performing. You even managed a small wave, which granted an excited expression from her. The little girl, practically bouncing in her seat, then looked up to the large, dark figure sitting next to her, enthusiastically pulling on the black jacket of what seems to be her guardian. “The pretty lady waved at me!” is what her lips read.

This was a normal occurrence for you. You made it a priority to at least engage with some of the youth in the audience if you happened to pass by any. It was for them you performed, after all. It was always so endearing seeing their cute little reactions to the show.

This time was a little more special, though. She reminded you of yourself when you were that age. Down to the tan skin, brown eyes, and dark hair, pulled into a tight ponytail.

You felt this connection to her. It was inexplainable. In one of the dance numbers, you sort of gravitated around that relative area in front of her, interacting with her. You made that girl so happy. This was a night she’d never forget.

With the show coming to a close, you take your final bow for what seems like the millionth time, but it never ceases to feel like the first.

Curtains close, the cast comes together, and you all rejoice in another victorious performance.

You all retreat back to your dressing rooms, hastily wiping off make up, the stripping of fishnets and jazz shoes taking up majority of the already small dressing room.

It wasn’t abnormal for people to come up to you after the show and congratulate you on such a successful portrayal. Sometimes, though, it could be a lot. Sometimes, you just wanted to go home and body slam your twin bed. Not tonight, though. Standing yay high in a line of audience members awaiting autographs was the little girl. When both of your eyes met, your face instantly brightened, hers twice as much. She jumped up and down, again tugging at the towering figure’s jacket, exclaiming, “Look, papa! It’s her! It’s her!”, and you followed the direction of the adorable juvenile voice with a wide smile.

You walked up to her and knelt down to her level, speaking with a voice that could be compared to that of a Disney princess. As you approach the precious young girl, your maternal instincts slowly kick in. You couldn’t help it; you loved engaging with the kids.

“Oh, I remember you! You’re the pretty girl sitting in the front row! Did you enjoy the show?” You ask with a friendly smile. The girl looks at you all starstruck, her cute smile reaching from ear to ear as you tell her you remember her. “H-hi! I loved it! You were really good!” She professes, her dimples adorning her face. “Can I have an autograph?” She asked shyly, presenting the playbill that the ushers hand out to the audience and a pen. Just when you’re about to happily oblige, you see a hand reach down to her shoulder, followed by a low, soft voice,

“That’s not how we ask, mi Vida.”

Your eyes begin a path from the strong hand that rests on the little girl’s shoulder, up a Herculean arm clothed in what looks like black cashmere (it was cold out), next were his broad shoulders, preceding a sharp jaw and the most plump, dark pair of lips you’d ever lay eyes on, across a tanned, sculpted face, until you got to those deep brown, almost crimson eyes. You stared for a little too long, only managing a smile and a soft chuckle, a combo that you’ve practiced in the mirror countless of times in case an agent wanted to make their presence known.

The man looked like a model. Couldn’t have been over his early 30’s, easily standing over 6 feet tall, and from the looks of it, took very good care of his body. He was covered in a black trench coat, more black, yet much more fitted clothing worn under, but you could tell he was hiding massive muscles under it all. You just knew it. The man was freakishly huge, towering over the both of you, making you feel small especially since you were on your knees. His luscious dark hair was slicked back, a hint of greying on the sides, and one strand detached from the rest, falling down his forehead.

“Oh, sorry, papa. May I have an autograph, please?” She corrected herself, holding out the playbill and marker further out. You looked back down at her again, regaining your composure. Taking that she just called him ‘papa’, you assumed he must’ve had a mrs waiting back home, so you clocked this as an admire-from-afar situation. You tried to steal a glance at his hands to see if maybe there was a ring, but he was wearing gloves. Womp Womp. Oh well, whatever, back to the adorable girl in front me, you think.

“Of course you can, beautiful!” You exclaim, accepting the playbill and pen from her. You speak as you write your signature and a short note, “so what’s your name, mama?” (‘Mama’ can be a way of referring to someone younger than you). She looks at you with amazement as you’re focused on writing on the cast list page of the playbill, “My name is Gabriella”, she responds, to which you say, “What a gorgeous name! My name is y/n. How old are you Gabriella?” She seems to be so shocked that you, the coolest person she’s ever seen, wanted to have a conversation with her. “I’m six! I’ll be seven in seven days!” She says proudly. “Oh, such a big girl you are! Happy early birthday! What‘s your favorite thing to do, Gabriella?” You ask her as you finish the note, closing it and letting it sit in your hand as you focus on her now.

She visibly thinks hard, pursing her lips as she comes up with an answer. “Hmm… I really like to draw. I also like to play outside when I leave school and-and…” she twiddles her fingers as she adds,” -and I love to dance! Me and my papa dance at home a lot! You’re a way better dancer than him!” She giggles, looking up at him with a playful grin. He looks down at her with a loving smile, letting a velvety chuckle slip from his lips, allowing a perfect view of his dreamy smile. You could tell the two shared a beautiful relationship. He looked at her like she was his whole world, his hand caressing the top of her head affectionately. This little girl had this big strong man wrapped around her tiny finger, and you softened at the sight. He was probably an amazing dad… Jesus, who ever is sitting at home waiting for him really has scored the jackpot. Lucky.

“Aw, that sounds like fun! And as for your father, it just takes lots of practice, that’s all, mamita. As a matter of fact, I practiced for six years!” I say, holding out six fingers as I say it. She gasps at this fact about your training, her eyes wide. “Six years?! That’s like, forever!” She says. “Do I have to practice for six years to be good like you?” She inquires, her brows raised, waiting for your educated and professional answer. You carefully think of an answer, knowing anything you say could forever stay with this sweet girl. Words that you feel you would’ve appreciated at her age came to your mind, “Well, Gabriella, that’s hard to say. Time is different for everyone. The best thing to do when you want to follow your dreams is to simply be the best version of yourself. No need to copy anyone else. If you do that, you can absolutely do anything your lil heart desires, okay?” You finish, nodding your head, awaiting her confirmation.

You don’t notice, but her dad is watching the two of you interact, and he simply smiles at the exchange. He could tell you had a way with kids. He studied the way you spoke, the way you smiled at her, both being so genuine. He was entranced by you. He loved how engaging you were. You were truly creating a magical core memory for his daughter, and he was beyond appreciative of that.

Her mother had passed away of cancer when she was only 2, so she never truly got to meet her, or had a maternal figure in her life for that matter, so seeing her interact with this kindhearted actress was nice. Seeing the two of you interact reminded him of how important it was for Gabriella to have a female figure in her life. There was no doubt that you were a drop dead gorgeous woman as well, and by the accent he picked up on, it was evident that you were of Latin descent. You had that natural motherly charm to your essence. He was captivated by your presence on the stage already, but now that he was up close with you, he was beginning to feel like a high school boy with a crush. Stunning? Talented? A Latina? AND Gabriella was crazy about her? It had him thinking for sure.

Gabriella absorbs your words like a sponge, clinging on to every syllable. She smiles at you, breaking out in a fit of precious giggles. “Okay!” And with that, you give her playbill back, as well as her pen.

“Take a picture with her, sweetie.” You hear the mysterious, definitely-not-on-the-market dilf say. Gabriella nods eagerly with a, “ohmigosh, yes!”, and you reply with a warm, “definitely! How would you like to pose? Is this okay for you, mama?” You ask her, your hands hovering over her shoulders as she stands in front of you. You didn’t want to touch her unless she gave you an ‘ok’. Once she nods, you gently place your hands on her shoulders, still kneeling on one knee as you smile for the phone her dad was holding. You lower your face down to be next to hers. In the couple of seconds you sat there frozen for the picture, you could’ve sworn her dad had looked you up and down, his eyes stuck on your butt, but you decide to dismiss it. He might’ve just been making sure you were in the frame, is all.

Let’s be real for a second, the photo wasn’t for the record of Gabriella’s memories more than it was for her father’s own indulgence. He was totally thinking about looking back at this picture later and gush about your looks.

Gabriella turns around and asks one more question. “C-can we hug?” She asks timidly. You visibly melt at the request, “Aw, yes, of course we can, mamita!”, she quickly wraps her tiny little arms around you, and yours around her, “Thank you so much for coming to the show! I’m so happy you enjoyed it!” You say, her face still nuzzled into the softness of your sweater as you caress her tiny ponytail. When she pulls away, she only smiles, looking up at you like you were a fairy princess out of a storybook and a unicorn was gonna pull up and carry you away.

“What do we say, mija?” The beautiful man said.

“Thank you, y/n!” She sweetly adds.

You stand now, smiling down at her with your hand gently lifting her chin,“Remember, mama, you can do anything. Don’t let anyone tell you different, okay?” The cutie patootie nods, her smile still plastered on her face and her now signed playbill held tightly to her chest. “Okay. Have a goodnight, Gabriella,” you stand up straight now, your face only reaching up to the chest of her dad, giving him a warm smile as you try to maintain casual eye contact with the Greek god in front of you. Even now that you’re standing, he still towers over you. Lord have mercy, this man was makin you nervous in all the good ways. Thank God you knew how to act. “Thank you so much for coming to the show!“

The man looked down at you and flashed you a dashing smile in return, his gaze narrow yet soft. He then had the audacity to throw in a wink, opening his mouth to say, “No, no, thank you for a wonderful performance. You were absolutely breathtaking.” His gaze was borderline flirtatious, a blush creeping up on your cheeks, but you had to stay professional. Besides, he was totally married already. This was a simple, friendly compliment, one of hundreds you heard each night.

You look down at the floor for a second, in efforts to cover any blushing, a humble wave of your hand leading your reply, “Aw, I really appreciate that. You’re too kind, Thank you! You two get home safe now, I’d hate for either of you to get a cold!” You say, closing the conversation. You wave at the both of them, Gabriella waving the hardest of the three. Her father, on the other hand, seemed like he was distracted by you, not realizing his daughter was yanking on his coat to leave. The dad quickly snaps back to reality and says goodnight to you, and they make their way into the bustling street.

As you’re about to tend to other autographs, you can’t help but overhear Gabriella talk to her father as they leave. You could’ve sworn Gabriella’s words were, “Papa, were you making googly eyes at y/n?” To which her father replied with a chuckle and, “What? That’s silly, mi vida, now look where you’re going and hold onto my hand, por favor”, he said, brushing off her question. “She’s very pretty.” “Yes, she is, isn’t she?” He admits. That was the last of the conversation you heard. You found yourself smiling, internally celebrating because this fine ass man finds you pretty. Too bad he’s taken…right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After signing a few playbills and posters and bidding a farewell to some other audience members, you made your way back to the little studio apartment you called home, instantly beginning to knock out the second your head hit the pillow.

Before falling asleep, thoughts of the mystery man filled your mind, recollecting that chiseled jaw, those soft lips, muscles begging to break free from his button down dress shirt. His deep silky voice rang in your head, doing the opposite of lulling you to sleep. Your mind starting settling in the gutter, imagining that deep voice saying sweet yet disgusting things in your ear and those large, calloused hands removing your underwear instead of your own dainty hands. You can imagine his huge body just completely enveloping yours on the bed, him on top, and those soft lips planting wet, lazy kisses along your neck and other much more sensitive places. It was creating a heat within your core, your thighs shamefully pressing against each other to help relieve a growing tension that crept up from a single thought of his intense gaze; those eyes that could make your inexperienced self burst within seconds. You liked to think he’d talk you through it, only igniting the fire in between your legs even more.

Am I seriously fantasizing about a man I exchanged like 3 words with right now? You say to yourself. I don’t even know his name.

He was just so goddamn FIONE.

You’ve had your fair share of attractive men in the city. It’s Nueva York. And you worked in the performance industry. You were bound to see a 10/10 or two. But this guy… This man would’ve made you drool had you not had an adorable munchkin there to distract you. This man was a 10000/10. He had you contemplating whether or not you were gonna slip a hand into your panties tonight he was that good looking.

You were a virgin. You had spent half your life devoting it to the arts and your craft, so much so that you never got to the whole dating thing. You almost completely forgot about that part of the thing called ‘social life’. All you knew was practice, eat, workout, repeat. The opportunity definitely has presented itself, but you’ve declined because:

A) You weren’t ready to share yourself with someone. You wanted to focus on your career. Or

B) The man wasn’t up to your standards. You couldn’t be with someone unless you saw a future with them. You never really understood hook up culture. You could care less if other people preferred it, it just wasn’t your style.

So here you were, in bed, a hesitant hand slowly making its way to the now wet spot of your panties. You can’t remember the last time you let loose like this…

Yea, you gave in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you didn’t have your 9-5, however, you were called to perform both the matinee and late night show. You showed up early to the house, stretching and warming up along with the rest of the cast.

Already in your own head space as you meditate in a child’s pose, you start picking up some whispering amongst your costars. You lift your head, opening your eyes to eavesdrop.

“Did you hear about the donation this morning? A whopping $10k. I wonder who was it!” One of them says. Another one notices your attention and includes you in the conversation.

“Y/n, do you know about it?” but you only shrug, this being the first you’ve heard about it.

Another one chimes in, “heard it’s a hella loaded guy from Alchemax… he’s like a CEO or something-“ “Alchemax? As in the Laboratory? What’s a science nerd want with a theater troupe?” “Well doesn’t matter, what matters is we can finally update our sets and costumes, hallelujah.”

Your eyes dart from one cast mate to another as more information and whispers flood the stage.

Another one, who’s currently in a middle split, interjects, “Y’all do realize this means he gets a part of the house, right? He’s basically a producer at this point.”

“I thought it was just a donation-“ “the directors thought so, too, but then I overheard them discussing business plans. He wants in for sure, why? Have no idea. Total eye candy, though.” “Well, it might be good for us to have a businessman on our side-“

“Good morning, everyone!” Everyone looks over to your bright eyed and bushy tailed director. How can someone be this energetic at this waking hour?

“I don’t mean to interrupt your mingling, but I do bring some stellar news. I want to introduce ya’ll to our new patron of the house!” They say, and next to them appears a familiar tall, dark, and handsome figure adorned in a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and jeans; A man that you remember inappropriately touching yourself to the night before. You inwardly thanked him for blessing you with a better view of the outline of his body: those broad shoulders sloping into the sluttiest waist ever to be found on a man. You had to physically hold back moan from the sight.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Miguel O’Hara.”

You’re gagged. The gorgeous man that thought you were pretty last night was the CEO of Alchemax, and he just became a partner of your theatre. The sudden realization that he’ll be around regularly tied knots in your stomach, but the good kind.

“Now I want you all to make him feel welcomed. He basically just opened his wallet wide open for us, so this show better be flawless.“ your director reprimands, as if y’all aren’t the city’s finest performers already. People around the world came to see you guys.

“Oh, don’t be so harsh on them, the main reason why I donated in the first place was because of the raw talent you have here,” his eyes fell on you when he says this. His voice pierced through the air like a hot knife on butter, his slight accent adding a bit of heat that sent everyone’s heart fluttering. You fought back a blush once again, looking down at the floor due to his powerful gaze. He smiles at your reaction, “It’ll be a pleasure working with all of you. Now, I know it might be strange, seeing that a scientist has just partnered with your house, but please, don’t let my line of work mislead you; I’m a lover of the arts and… all things beautiful.” His eyes once again fall on you for those last few words with that same narrow yet easy gaze. His smirk alone could make you swoon. He had creases that accentuated his brow lines and cheekbones that only added that much more suave to his look. Could be from the surely scowl he constantly held at his work. To the majority, this would just been seen as a sign of aging, but to you, it was hot.

“I look forward to our partnership. Break legs.” And with this he turns and walks away, stealing one last look at you before he’s out of sight. I’d rather you break my back. Your eyes shamelessly follow him, admiring that tight ass in those jeans of his. Dios mio, you think, biting your lip.

You know, for a virgin, you had the mind of a whore.

You couldn’t believe it. Your cast mate next to you could, though, as they shot you a knowing look, to which you nudged them embarrassingly.

“Seems like our hot new patron likes you, y/n.”

“Stop it!” You rebut along with a roll of your eyes, your friend stifling a laugh. You were in denial. You’d be lying if you said you disagreed. The man was definitely eyeing you, and now you were a flustered mess. However, now that he wasn’t wearing gloves, you can confidently say you don’t remember seeing a ring…

bingo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope u wike it <3

Enjoy this appetizer, more to cum<3

Mwah<3

[jumpstart-if]

Jumpstart is a character-driven slice of life, containing drama and romance. It's mainly inspired by the show 90210 and the movie Mean Girls.

You had multiple sticky notes on your bedroom ceiling, bathroom mirror, and any other surface you were able to get it on.

How to be rich by 21:

1. Survive high school Survive the final year of high school 2. Move out and get a pet (finally!) 3. Become rich and famous (should be easy enough...)

This list has followed you ever since your eleventh birthday when you were suddenly bombarded with the dreaded question:

‘What is your dream job?’

Quite frankly, you didn’t dream of labour. At least not the regular kind. Call it psychic, but you knew you were destined for the easy life, filled with copious amounts of wealth, relaxation, and travels. You were are special.

Seriously, you had everything set out for your 'rags to riches' story:

You weren’t the most popular, but you also weren’t eating lunch alone in the school bathroom. ✔️

You made sure to work a part-time job, starting from the age of thirteen, so it would be easier for future fans to relate to you. ✔️

You were on your way to being crowned ‘Most likely to be famous’, which would have made for the perfect moment on ‘The Late-Night Phil Show’.✔️

Everything was going to plan… until it wasn’t.

Not only did your mother decide to marry some wealthy businessman, but she also packed up all your stuff and moved you hundreds of miles away from your home that screamed ‘humble beginnings’ and into a five bedroom (minimum) mega mansion.

Oh, and public school? Forget about that. From tomorrow on, you’ll be one of those rich private school kids. Goodbye 'rags to riches' background, and hello nepotism allegations.

Though, that’s a problem for future you...

Right now, you’ll have to adapt to school life the way the people at the top of the food chain do it. 

Get ready to ‘survive the final year of high school’ filled with gossip, betrayal, romance, angst, and social drama you could’ve sworn only happened in movies and TV shows.

Jumpstart is rated 18+ as there will be mentions of sexual themes, drugs, alcohol and violence.

Choose your MC's name and gender.

Decide your MC's personality, clothing style, and much more.

Get involved with 1 out of 4 romanceable characters.

Climb to the top of the hierarchy at Maplewood Private School.

Jumpstart your way into the life of stardom and wealth.

Isaiah/India (m/f) 'the high school worldwide heartthrob':

You could’ve sworn you saw them gracing the red carpet in some of the hundreds of magazines stashed in one of your moving boxes. Child of the famous celebrity make-up artist, Naomi Lawton and basketball star, Sean Lawton. Wanted by many, yet only successfully claimed by A. Though, judging by how many people I can be regularly spotted with, it begs the question: Does I care?

Appearance: Sepia skin tone. M! has short coily black hair, mostly styled in cornrows and decorated with some silver hair jewellery. F! has long bleached coily hair, currently styled in waist-length blonde braids.

Alison/Anderson (m/f) 'the school's number one':

Not quite like the ones in movies… they’re somewhat nice? At first, they can be straight-up vicious, ripping apart any and every little detail they can get their hands on, but once you earn their trust, you’ll learn that behaviour is much more of a façade than a true reflection of them.

Appearance: Olive complexion with sprinkles of freckles on their nose and cheeks. M! has short curly ginger hair that loosely hangs over his forehead. F! has shoulder-length ginger curls and bangs.

Tegan (m/f) 'the estranged childhood best friend'

You were eight years old, when their family decided to move someplace else, ripping your, what you thought to be inseparable, bond into two. At the start you tried to keep up, exchanging letters almost every day… then weeks… then months if anything, until complete silence. You’re not sure who stopped sending them first or when even, but one thing’s for certain: you were no longer friends. No, after ten years, you definitely weren’t.

Appearance: Brown skin tone. M! has black buzzed hair. F! has straight, waist-length black hair.

Levi/Leighton (m/f) 'wherever they go, trouble follows aka the school's bad boy/girl':

For someone with a big reputation, there’s next to nothing that can be found on them. And all your pestering questions are met with nothing but warnings, yet you can’t help but grow more curious about them with each passing encounter.

Appearance: Tawny skin tone, though you can’t help but notice the faded scar tainting their otherwise clear left cheek. They have wavy brown hair, reaching down to their shoulders.

Reblogs are more than welcome and thanks for reading!

DEMO TBA

[dynamitekansai]

[babydollmarauders]

YOU’RE LOSING ME — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is struggling to grasp the fact that she and jack have grown apart amongst his newfound nhl stardom

warnings: angst, neglectful jack, dying relationship, long intro (so sorry), alcohol

specific lyrics: “remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light. now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time” and “how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?” and “how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier. fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me. i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me). and i wouldn't marry me either; a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her. and I'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"”

notes: idk how i feel about this. it’s been awhile since i’ve written an actual fic so i think my writing is a little rusty. there will be no part 2 to this one! i know y’all love when i make part 2’s to my angsty fics, but some fics i just wanna keep as angst and this is one of them <3

maybe we were naïve. young and innocent in thinking our love would last forever. that we could withstand everything the universe had to throw at us.

i could give us this; we did last past Jack’s rookie year. but maybe that’s when things started breaking. i couldn’t tell you for certain.

when we moved to New Jersey, we were going on three years into our relationship. we thought that milestone of three years meant we would be together forever.

we went apartment hunting, i opted to go into online schooling rather than on campus classes, late night whispers consisted of marriage and future children.

now, the last time i even brought up marriage, he told me he wasn’t ready for that. that he was at the peak of his career and didn’t want to spend time that could be used bettering his skills, to plan a wedding.

i spend most nights in an empty bed, the cold sheets serving as a harsh reminder that my boyfriend would rather go out with his teammates than spend time with me.

rather than the past early mornings of soft loving stares and cuddling on his bare chest, i now spend my mornings glaring towards my boyfriends sleeping figure; trying to calculate when he may have gotten home after i had already fallen asleep.

seven years. one-third of my life, spent with Jack.

no one ever said love would be easy; but no one ever told me it would be this hard either.

the mug in my hands is at risk of breaking from my grip, the coffee inside having gone cold. a cruel euphemism to how our relationship has cooled. the burning fire that it once was, now fizzling to dying sparks. but i still hold onto what’s left, because i’m not sure i know how to live a life without him anymore.

i sit curled up on the sofa, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the New Jersey skyline. i still remember the day that Jack and i decided on this apartment, this room was a deciding factor. we loved the lighting, the way the sun shone through the windows and cast a golden haze over the rest of the apartment.

now i sit in the darkness nearly every night, wondering if this was the end of our relationship; if it’s time.

the worst part is that we keep going on. keep playing house. pretending that our relationship is still as happy as it once was.

‘i love you’s never became a rarity, still uttered past our lips multiple times a day. but i know his words only hold an empty promise now.

how can he say he loves me when he can’t tell that this relationship is killing me?

that this dynamic of our relationship becoming a chore has slowly broken me down?

our life is robotic now. we wake up, he leaves for practice, i stay home, i do school, he comes home for a pre-game nap, he leaves for a game, i still stay home, i go to bed, he comes home, repeat.

even worse when he’s away. what once started as facetime calls whenever he was free on a roadie, slowly died until it’s nothing but a few measly unsubstantial texts.

at first i thought maybe we were just going through a rough patch, that we would get through this, but now i fear we won’t.

***

my eyes track my boyfriend at the crowded rooftop bar as i nod my head, only half paying attention to what Ryleigh says.

Nico’s surprise party has been a success. for Nico, at least.

i, selfishly, thought i would use this party as an opportunity to grasp Jack’s attention. i wore the dress that he used to say was his favorite, but not once did he mention it. i curled my hair because i knew how much he loved it, but he didn’t compliment it how he usually does. i dolled myself up in hopes that it would glue him to my side. maybe even spark that possessiveness he used to hold for me.

but instead, all i got was a measly and empty ‘hey babe, you look nice.’ when i arrived, before he chased Dawson down to discuss some new bar he wanted to check out after their next win.

i spent the next hour following him around like a lost puppy, standing by his side as he spoke to his teammates. if he hadn’t had his hand resting on my lower back, i would’ve thought he forgot i was there. but somehow being forgotten would’ve felt better than being ignored.

i’m the best thing at this party, or at least i should be to him, and he barely spared me a second glance.

eventually, i saltily left to find the other wives and girlfriends. for the past three hours now, i sit with Ryleigh and Darya. Ryleigh is currently recounting she and Dawson’s date night last night.

the party has been dwindling down, our group of people among the bar slowly dispersing, giving their final birthday wishes to Nico and going home.

“what about you and Jack?”

“hmm?” i perk up at the mention of my boyfriend, dragging my line of sight away from said boy and back towards my friends.

“i asked about you and Jack. when was your guys’ last date night? how was it?” Ryleigh is only trying to be polite, i know that. but she’s only reminded me that Jack and i haven’t gone on a date in what has to be at least six months.

“honestly? i couldn’t tell you.” i confess. “i don’t even remember the last time we went on a date.”

“well, that’s not right! we should do a double date soon! i’ll have Dawson set it up.” she smiles. “ooh triple date! you and Yegor should come!”

“we’d love that!” Darya chimes in. i let out a polite smile, but i know it won’t happen. i’ve tried too many times to set up a date night and nothing ever comes from it.

“hey, baby. you ready to go?” Dawson saunters over, planting a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Ryleigh nods, bidding Darya and i goodbye.

“hey, y/n? i think Jack was looking for you.” Yegor tells me as he comes over next, gathering his wife to leave for the night.

“he was?” my voice is filled with a pathetic hope, an excitement over even the thought of my boyfriend seeking me out. but when i look back to where i last saw him, he still stands next to his captain, laughing over something one of them said. “thanks, Shara.”

he smiles, the both of them now saying their goodbyes. and then there was one.

i sit by myself, lazily chewing the straw in my drink as i watch my boyfriend and his friend.

i quickly lose track of how long i sit there, ordering drink after drink. eventually, i stop watching Jack, opting for mindlessly scrolling through instagram instead.

“hey.” my head snaps up at Jack’s voice, watching as he finally joins me. my heart thumps in my chest, like i’m a teenager again, at the thought of spending time with him. “i think i’m ready to head home.”

my mood deflates, my shoulders slumping, but i nod, gathering my purse as Jack sets some cash on the bar top to cover my drinks from the night.

i wobble slightly as i stand, Jack’s hand coming up to hold onto my arm, making sure i don’t fall. heat spreads from the site of the touch, shivers racking my body.

“you okay, babe?” he chuckles, pulling me into his side as we walk to the elevator, pressing the down button and waiting for it to arrive. “how much did you drink?”

“i don’t know. maybe three? i lost count after the first hour alone.” i shrug, my words are slurred, a product of my tipsy state. “i started off with sprite, but i switched to gin and tonics once Darya left.”

Jack is silent as we get into the elevator, his brows furrowed and him seemingly in deep thought. the whole ride home is quiet, the air charged. i spend the whole drive with my head turned to look out the window. but as soon as we reach the parking deck of our apartment, getting out of his Range Rover, he speaks up again.

“you could’ve come and found me? i was just with Nico.” i’m silent for a moment, picking up my pace to try and reach apartment faster.

“i didn’t feel like being ignored again.” i shrug as we step through the door, the alcohol giving me obvious courage that i never had before.

“what do you mean ‘again’? i haven’t ignored you.” Jack follows behind me into our bedroom, his eyes tracking me as i sit on the bed and begin unfastening my heels.

“stop.” i sigh.

“stop what? y/n/n, when have i ignored you?” his genuine obliviousness hurts more than i thought it could. the fact that he didn’t even realize he was ignoring me; that it was just a subconscious reaction for him to push me aside.

“every day.” i tell him. my eyes start stinging with tears, finally ready to have the fight that i’ve so desperately been avoiding. but it’s obvious that Jack doesn’t feel the same.

“i’m sorry you felt that way.” he tells me, barely sparing another glance my way before he starts grabbing pajamas out of the dresser.

“you’re losing me.” my words are choked out in a whisper, but i know he hears them because i watch as he stiffens, slowly turning around.

“what?”

“Jack, this doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore. it feels like a job. a chore.” i confess. “it doesn’t feel like you love me anymore and i need you to just say it. because i love you too much to keep going on like this.”

“y/n-”

“we barely talk, Jack.” i cut him off. “when we do, we’re struggling through empty small talk. you’re barely home, and when you are, you don’t try and spend time with me. i sit in this house, alone, even when you’re here.”

“what are you talking about? y/n, we’ve been together for almost seven years. we’ve been through so much together.” his words are harsh, defensive.

“exactly! i gave you all my best me’s- i gave you my teenage years, i gave you all of my best years! i gave you all my empathy when you were being called a bust. when you were struggling in your rookie year and at your lowest. i sat here and comforted you after every loss! i stayed here and cried and tried to be brave every time you were gone. i defended you to everyone!”

tears roll freely down my cheeks, my nose becoming stuffy and my throat tightening. i’ve risen from the bed now, still keeping my distance from him though.

“and what do i have to show for it? an empty apartment? an empty relationship? we used to spend hours talking about marriage and our future. now, the last time i tried to bring that up, you all but told me you didn’t want to marry me.” i scoff. “and i can’t blame you, i wouldn’t marry me either; a pathological people pleaser.”

“don’t say that, please.” he whispers.

“but all i wanted was for you to see me, Jack! i’m here! i have feelings! i know it’s hard to believe, but i’m a person too! i need love! not whatever this has been.” my words fade off at the end, breaking off into sobs.

Jack’s eyes are red, tears of his own slowly descending as we stand in silence.

“do something, please. say something.” i plead, furiously wiping at my tears. i swallow a lump in the throat as he finally takes a step forward.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is shaky, breaking midst sentence. “i’m so sorry i didn’t know you were feeling this way. i’ve been so wrapped up in hockey and the team that i haven’t been here. not fully, at least.

“i took you for granted. i guess you’ve been this dependable force in my life for so long that eventually i forgot that you need more than just my presence.

“i do love you, y/n. i can’t imagine my life without you. i’ll be better, i promise. just, please, don’t leave.” he begs.

Jack steps forward, closing the distance between us and taking my face in his hands.

“i need you. i’ll always choose you.” his hands shake on my cheeks as he pulls me into a kiss. he pulls away, heaving out a broken mix between a sigh and a sob. “i’m so so sorry.”

“we can fix us. i believe that. but please, don’t put me through this again.” i beg, laying my forehead against his.

“never.”

[jhkfan123]

enchanted- tom blyth | preface & ch. 1

. ˙ ✦ ♡ㅤ°. •                                                                                                                                                                . ˙ ✦ ♡ㅤ°. •

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

part 7

part 8

part 9

part 10

part 11

part 12

 "please don't be in love with someone else please don't have somebody waiting on you"

"she's flawless"

"she's not flawless"

"what?"

"she's not you"

❤ ENCHANTED ❤

after starring in one of 2022's top movies y/n y/l/n has risen to stardom. at 23, she's only at the start of her career. julliard trained, cover of teen vogue, things are going great for her. and now, she starred in one of the biggest franchises as clemensia dovecote in the prequel for The Hunger Games trilogy, the ballad of songbirds and snakes. she's been attending galas, doing press, all alongside her co-stars, rachel zegler, josh andres rivera, and most importantly, tom blyth. she's liked him since the second she met him, but he hasn't seemed to bat an eye at her hints. but what happens when he finally starts hinting back, all while a spiraling rumor about a relationship between him and rachel arises? 

characters

y/n - the newest hollywood it-girl

tom blyth - y/n's costar, the lead in her new movie, the ballad of songbirds and snakes. internet's new bf 

josh andrés rivera - starred mainly alongside tom blyth as sejanus plinth, friendly with y/n

rachel zegler - starred as lucy gray baird, and has gained fame. played the "love interest" of coriolanus snow, over time has gained a "sister-like" bond with y/n.

AU: rachel and josh are NOT dating (for the plot)

Authors Note: i'm in love with tom blyth WHA-      enjoy this book! ongoing but should be finished soon! part 1 should be out in less than a day. called jhk fan but writing abt tom blyth (2024theplot)

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

✦ i.

the camera flashes blinded you as someone guided you towards a crowd of people with microphones. you almost trip over your floor length gown as you approach a shorter woman, no taller than 5'0. your security guard lingers behind you, ensuring no one tries to pull anything. you felt a bit overwhelmed. yes, you'd been exposed to this before, but it was still fairly new. the flashing lights, people screaming your name begging to get your attention, figures holding out posters and whatnot to sign, and of course, the red carpet interviews. they gave you a sense of comfort. you could focus on one person, talk to one person, and tune everyone else out for a short minute before you had to move on. 

"hello dear, mind if i ask you a few questions?" focusing back into real life, you glanced at the woman holding a microphone to your face. 

"no i don't mind. shoot." you replied, adjusting the strap on your dress. 

"first of all, your role in this movie was small, but mighty. people online are loving it, they call you "panem it-girl." people have also been making edits, now my question is, have you seen any of these?" you chuckled at her question. you attempted to stay off social media as much as possible, but in this day, its very difficult. and the answer was yes. your own feed had been filled with lots of these edits. it was strange, seeing yourself on your screen, with others saying things like "panem it-girl" and "she deserved more screen time" and "iconic queen." the whole idea made you laugh, for your role in the movie had been fairly small, but your newfound fame had secured you a spot on the press tour. 

"yes i have seen them. it's pretty weird, seeing myself, but i am just glad people love the character. to make a long story endless, i've always been a fan of the books so when this prequel came out i bought it as soon as possible. i loved clemmie the second i read about her, so it was really cool to be able to bring her to life, and i'm so happy people liked the way i played her." you replied. you tried to keep it simple, but sometimes you felt like there was too much to say and not enough time to say it, which led to extra long answers to really short questions. 

you heard her shout a thank you as you were whisked to the next interviewer. 

"hi, so nice to see you, who are you wearing?" the man asked. you glanced down at your dress that had taken you ten whole minutes to get into. the whole process of getting ready took three hours, not to mention the photoshoot your publicist encouraged. getting your hair just right took an hour alone. 

"today i'm wearing versace. i was really inspired by blake lively's dress from the met gala and i thankfully have a great stylist who was able to find the perfect dress for me." you had always loved red carpet looks, and began to design your own in a fashion sketchbook when you were twelve years old. one of your favorite perks of being well-known was the ability to wear the dresses you had always loved. 

the security guard whispered in your ear that it was time to go pose. you thanked the man interviewing you and walked away. as you approached the middle of the red carpet a few people caught your eye. rachel zegler was standing in front of the cameras, flashes of light every second without fail. you seemed to have caught her eye, she turned to you and waved. you returned the gesture and made your way to the place you were supposed to pose. the cameras began to flash as soon as you stepped in front of them. you positioned yourself into your signature pose, which showed off the best parts about you. rachel walked over and gave you a hug.

"you look great" she attempted to compliment you, but it was hard to hear her over the people shouting.

"you look better than i ever will."  you returned the compliment and saw a disappointed look on her face. 

"girl you know so well that's not true" she laughed before returning to her initial position, maybe a few feet closer to you now. you returned back to posing, the flashes still going off, your name being mixed with rachels, being called from ten different directions. you began to walk off when you heard cheering from your left. you turned to see who had arrived. 

wearing a white blazer, a white, barely buttoned top, and black slacks was tom blyth. he had just stepped out of the vehicle dropping him off. you heard an overwhelming scream of voices. you had met tom on the set of the new movie, but had learned that you had both went to juilliard, and he graduated the year after you enrolled. there was a one year period where you too had been at the same school, yet never met each other. when the two of you first met, there was an immediate friendship. you guys drove to set together, practiced lines together, and hung out as many time as you could, squeezing in your busy schedule. but there had always been something more there for you. to you, he was the most charming, alluring, funny, kind person you'd met. it had always been one sided. you'd learned to suppress it, and accept that maybe he wasn't as interested in you as you were in him. while you were thinking, he had finished his interviews and was coming over to the two of you. you waved over to him and he flashed a smile at you. you approached him as he gave you a hug. you embraced it as much as you could. 

"hey! how are you?" he asked. you glanced up at him. your height difference was perfect in your mind. 

"i'm doing great, how are you?" 

"fantastic." he replied. he looked around you, finally making eye contact with rachel. you watched as his face lit up, and your heart sunk a little lower. there was nothing going on between them, at least, that's what you'd known. but seeing him excited to see her gave you a sense of jealousy. you knew it was selfish, obviously he made the entire movie with her, why shouldn't he be more excited? but you couldn't control it. he patted you on the shoulder and watched as he gave rachel a hug. a much more meaningful hug, that's what it looked like, at least. he wrapped his arm around her waist and posed with her. you asked your security guard to take you away from the photo area, off the red carpet altogether, but he told you to wait because they wanted an all cast photo. you decided to go back and do more interviews. you approached another woman. 

"hello." you greeted her.

"hi! im with letterboxed, would you care to give me your top four movies of all time?" you loved this question. you watched every video they posted of celebrities top movies. you'd never been asked before, and you had planned this out weeks in advance. it distracted you a little from your heart. 

"i LOVE this question, i've been planning for weeks."

...

once the movie was over, you exited the theater and made your way to the afterparty. you changed into a much easier outfit. one you could dance in. you were going to need it anyways. the dress had a corset-esqe top, with a very short skirt. like sabrina carpenter. you put on some high boots and fiddled with your hair a little. 

you entered the afterparty fashionably late. most people were already there. you recognized a few of your castmates from "the academy." you went over to them and got yourself a drink from the bar. 

"you look amazing, drop the makeup routine right now." you heard one say. lilly cooper, the actress for arachne crane. you laughed at her, but promised you would. you talked to a few more people, the actress for livia cardew, actor for festus creed, and more. before you knew it, 45 minutes had passed. you ventured away from them, and into the more central area. 

"girl get over here!" you heard. you pivoted on your heel and spotted rachel, tom, and josh. you happily walked over and gave josh a hug, you hadn't seen him all night. "this outfit is out of this world." rachel complimented. you did a little twirl to show off every bit of it. when you returned to your initial place, you saw tom laughing. a smile broke out on your face. 

"im ready to dance guys, when's that happening?" you asked them. rachel grabbed your hand, along with tom's. josh followed you guys as you headed for the dance floor. they were now playing "breaking dishes" by rhianna, one of your all time favorite clubbing songs. you had always been proud of your dancing skills, and now was the chance to show off. on your way to the dance floor, you picked up another drink, and downed it as fast as possible. finally on the floor, you and rachel began to dance together. she spun you around and you did the same to her. soon, josh swept you away and you danced with him, making sure to one up every move he made. you felt yourself getting tipsy, but that didn't matter, what did was that you were having fun. 

mid turn with josh, you felt yourself get pulled away again, a new hand holding onto yours. you looked up to see tom, who had ditched his jacket, and your pretty sure had unbuttoned another button or two, pulling you to dance with him. you agreed happily and began to dance with him. you had never noticed how good a dancer he was. every time you tried to one up him, he would pull out some move you hadn't seen before. 

"i saw you trying to one up josh" he shouted over the music. "isn't going to happen sweetheart." he called you that as a joke, but you felt yourself getting red. your stomach dropped. 

"wait here, i'm going to get another drink." you yelled, attempting to be louder than the already blaring music. he grabbed your arm and pulled you back.

"hey how many is that now?" he asked, referring to the amount you had drunken that night. 

"oh please." you shook him off and went to get another drink. you downed it and returned back to him. you felt the drinks going straight to your head. he spun you and you felt very dizzy. too many drinks.  you had always been a bit of a lightweight. three or four drinks was way to many. you continued to dance with him. he spun you again, this time returning you to him. he spun you back and he pulled you into his chest and you knocked into him. rachel came up behind you and you almost tripped on her feet. 

"woah, you've had too much to drink."  she immediately noticed. you tried to defend yourself, but found yourself slurring your words together. "yeah, you're done." she walked you over to a couch and sat you down. you laid down and your vision began to blur as you passed out. 

...

you woke up the next morning on a sofa. but this sofa was not the same sofa from last night. this was your sofa, in the hotel you were staying at for the premier. somehow, you had gotten home. no idea how, no idea when, but you had gotten home. you immediately noticed your discomfort, you glanced down, seeing yourself in your outfit from last night. 

after a shower and skincare, you still tried to ponder who had gotten you home last night. whoever it was knew your room, found your room key, and took care not to wake you as you were transported home.  

you pushed the thought down, thankful for whoever did it, but stopped wasting time on it. you packed up your suitcase and made your way back home. 

[duckchu]

This one for the anon who's down bad <3 would tag but can't

NSFW alphabet Heartsteel Ezreal

Fem bodied reader

He's so scrumptious in this gif also doggo

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He'll expect you to take care of him, but may do something for you in return

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his entire body, can't choose which part the most, on you, your lips, the way he can make you scream his name is such a turn on for him

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Usually on your breasts or back

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Probably has jacked off to your clothes and came on them when you were away

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not much, let's not forget that even tho cocky and famous he's still a loser (affectionate)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes them all, but prefers to see your face during the act

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Can be both, prefers the moment to be serious but he's just too cute~

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has little to not hair, even if he has, it's almost invisible due to the blond colour of his pubes

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's pretty busy so sometimes it will just be quick fuck and go, but when he can he tries to be as intimate as he can to make it up to you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not often, not rarely, he jacks off a normal account, tho he would much rather have you with him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He won't tell you this, but pull his hair and call him a good boy and he'll turn into mush

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

On the bed, but since that's boring he also likes doing it on his desk

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hearing you say his name is enough to get him hard

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving...other body fluids except for cum and saliva

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving since seeing you below him boosts his ego and he never ate pussy before so he's nervous

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Will let you take the reins when it comes to pace, whatever you like he can do

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's busy with stardom, so although he doesn't particularly enjoy them, you two have to resort to them often

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not really, prefers to keep it in his room, but if he has to he can take you anywhere

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

One round, no questions asked

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Why do you need toys when you have him ~

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He will do so only to boost his ego

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Really loud, though he claims you're louder

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would like to show you off as much as he can, but due to his career he can't, so he resorts to wearing matching clothes and maybe even showing some lovebites, using Kayn beating him up as an explanation

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Satisfactory length, about 12 cms, pretty thin

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Average, would like to have sex at least once every 2 weeks, maybe more often

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually cuddles with you and falls asleep right after