#ways sort of thought the others were his relatives somehow

[ibrithir-was-here]

Bridal Procession

(Been wanting to do something for Dracula’s brides, so here’s this creepy little comic. As always click for better quality

[rainyvandragon]

Oh those precious memories~

See I could tell myself that it's okay that I'm writing this because I am a catholic woman but let's be real those things just aren't true any more. So instead I am going to claim this as an emotional craving because of that time of the month. Definitely nothing along the lines of 10 year revival of my fanfiction writing phase. And it's totally, in no way related to any issues I might have. Totally sane, I tell you.

! 18+ Minors do not interact, I am NOT a fckn daycare!

Yandere! Hazbin Hotel x GN! Reader

Content warning: obsessive behaviour, stalking, slight NSFW (more in some parts then others), just a bunch of red flags and things that I do not condone irl

Charlie:

Honestly Charlie might be the most sane of the bunch in this regard

She isn't to interested in stealing anything from you, that is just not something she would be comfortable with – in general but especially with her Darling

However she doesn't mind keeping things that you let her borrow

It doesn't even matter what

You gave her a hair tie because one of hers broke? She'll cherish it forever

It was raining on a day she had to go out and you suggested she could use your umbrella? Pretty much hers now

Of course the greatest thing for her would be you lending her some of your clothes

She would most likely spend the next nights cuddling up to it in bed

Oh the frustration when the fabric no longer smells like you but rather her!

Yeah sure, she can give you your things back. She just forgot them in her room, oops! Don't worry she'll get them later

Unless she forgets again...

Vaggie:

She would never take anything you truly need or value

In all seriousness, Vaggie could never stand the idea of inconveniencing her Darling

However unlike Charlie she is just not close enough with you (yet) to count on you giving things to her

So instead she uses the position she has in the Hotel

There was a movie night with everybody invited?

Well somehow ever since the clean up the blanket you were cuddled up in is gone. Oh well, Vaggie will just get a new one, they weren't that expensive to begin with anyway (and if she is fast enough with it nobody is even going to notice anything)

Sadly those lucky occasions that allow her to grab some reminders of your shared time don't come around to often

And Vaggie respects you and herself to much to steal from you or go through your garbage bin

Thankfully she has the patience to wait for those windows of opportunity

And hey, since everything went relatively smoothly this week why not suggest another movie night to Charlie? Everyone involved seemed to enjoy it anyway – so there really is no harm done, right?

Angel:

Anybody who immediately thought of Angel stealing his Darling's underwear needs to take a cold shower!

Now don't get me wrong – he has thought about it

He does have a relatively high drive and desire for intimacy and sex

So sure the idea of taking something rather personal from you did cross his mind

But deep down Anthony just is a little sweetheart and he just couldn't take something like your underwear or other intimate items from you without any sort of consent

As for other, less private things

It doesn't matter if Angel and you have the same of different sizes – he WILL steal your clothes and wear them

If you wear make-up or nail polish he will definitely “borrow” things – especially lipstick

Now if his Darling is somebody who likes to keep a lot of pillows or plushies in bed he is definitely not shy about taking things from that pile either. Although, depending on how well Darling keeps track of those things, he might only borrow them for a night or two – maybe rotating between some, making sure to leave them under the bed upon returning so it looks like it just fell off the mattress

Alastor:

Now Alastor is already rather torn apart when he first noticed his desire for your belongings

He never once though about stealing from you...until you forgot something in the lobby – a book, notebook, pen, whatever it was – it was just lying there on the table next to the couches

Ever the gentleman he obviously wanted to return it to you but something inside of him fought against the very idea of it. This might be the closet he gets to having you (at least for now), his Darling

As his obsession towards you continues to grow some of his past life's interests stir awake inside of him

One day whilst helping out you cut yourself on some damaged bit of furniture. Alastor is immediately there to offer you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding – a handkerchief that quickly becomes one of his most prised possessions

If his Darling has a period he might steal some...used goods

However in comparison to some of the others, he is a lot less hungry for souvenirs

Although that is really just because, unlike them, he can use his shadows to be around you whenever and as close as he pleases

Husk:

Husk would never just go into his Darling's room to steal things from them – even if the idea sounds lovely

No instead he just checks for things you leave behind

Now his job at the hotel really helps him with that

You almost exclusively talk at the bar (“Redemption Based Group Exercises” being the only real exception)

At this point he has a rather large collection of napkins that you used or doodled on

Sometimes they disgust him but then he looks at them, the little doodles (even just to test a pen) you left on some of them, all those marks of you (bonus points for lipstick stained napkins) and he just can't

The guilty feelings are even worse with a tissue you once cried it. It's just to close of a reminder of you to throw away!

Anything small that you forget at or close to the bar gets saved by him – pens, small pieces of paper, hair ties, buttons from your clothes, whatever really. If it's small and unimportant enough for you to not really miss it he is going to keep it

Nifty:

Nifty is easily the worst of them all

She is small, fast, obsession driven and the hotel's maid on top of that

What matters most to her is how close to your body her little mementos are (it's pretty much the same way in wish the catholic church determines the value of a saint's relic)

Nifty will most definitely collect hair out of your brush

Or rummage through your garbage bins

Now if somebody is going to steal used period products!

She just really doesn't value her Darling's privacy in the slightest so she has no issues going through every little crevice of your room to look for some “hidden treasures”

Although her favourite thing to do is sleep in your used bedsheets

She is going to wash them – don't worry! Simply just not without first sleeping in them herself for a bit

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Welp this is the first time in a long while that I've actually written fanfiction so I got those emotions to sort through I guess.

English is not my first language however given how arrogant I can be regarding my skills this should be well enough written. Prove reading was done by Open Office's spell checking system and my high ass.

[spiderstarion]

✧ ೃ༄ੈ✩ the sun and the stars | astarion + tav/reader

"You've had a deep instinct to impress Astarion since the moment you met him. You're very aware of this instinct, and you can easily recall multiple situations in which you tried to handle things in ways that you thought might make the vampire proud of you, as embarrassing as that is. You never let it change your moral stances, but the more you think about it, the more apparent it becomes to you just how dangerous the hold he has on you is. You barely know him, and he could bend and break you with just his word if he wanted to.

You weigh these options in your head, but deep in your chest, you knew your answer the second he said anything to you."

Alternatively: you are a relatively experienced adventurer, but a very inexperienced romantic partner. Astarion digs it.

! this is part one to a two part fic! part two will be out sometime around september 17th, 2023. this fic was also cross-posted. you can find the links to the other postings at the bottom of this!

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You have been drinking for what feels like hours. You can feel your head spinning as you dance your way around camp, stopping every once in a while to speak to one of the very thankful tieflings littered about. This is fun, you think, probably the most fun you've had in years. Definitely the most fun you've had in the past couple of weeks.

You wander aimlessly around, clumsily, drink in hand, when your gaze falls on Astarion. He's standing in front of his tent, face full of annoyance, as he sips from the glass in his hand. A young tiefling approaches him and says something, and you see a very fake smile flash across his face. He rolls his eyes as she walks away. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you begin your journey towards him.

"Why are you moping over here all by yourself, are you not enjoying the party?" You ask, words slightly slurring together, stumbling a bit as you approach the deep burgundy tent.

A small smirk spreads on the sharp face of the pale elf, one that feels much more real than what he gave the tiefling woman moments ago, "woah, there, darling," he begins, sitting down his glass and gently steadying you by your shoulders.

"Perhaps you've had too much to drink tonight."

You roll your eyes, holding eye contact and taking another sip from your own cup in a teasing sort of defiance.

"It’s a party, Astarion, you're supposed to be having fun!"

He chuckles, a deep velvet song that travels effortlessly into your brain and settles itself in all the right places. You feel goosebumps begin to raise on your arms at the realization that his skin is touching yours.

"I'm not quite the type to be celebrated for heroism, my sweet," he starts, "I kind of hate this, actually."

Much to your dismay, he pulls his hands away, crossing his arms on his chest. Your skin feels electric where his hands just were, and you feel the need to yank them up and put them back.

You don't do that, though, and instead your brows furrow deeper as the statement registers.

"Really? I thought you'd be all for being celebrated, no matter the occasion." There's a hint of teasing in your voice, but it's a genuine statement. This scene seems like something Astarion would absolutely bask in.

He shrugs, a usually anxious gesture somehow made so confident by the tall man, "I don't know, perhaps I'm just hoping for some real fun to find me tonight."

You snort, a sound that escapes your body involuntarily and causes you, even in your drunken state, to internally cringe at the idea of what that must've looked like to him.

"And what does that mean? This is about as fun as it gets!" You proclaim, confident, though that doesn't last long as the look of humor that plasters itself across Astarion's face quickly makes you feel as though you're missing something. Your face falls.

"What?" You ask, eyes wide, "what's so funny?"

"Oh, you innocent thing," you can feel your cheeks and the tips of your pointed ears begin to heat, no doubt burning a bright red against your skin. Astarion leans in close to you, his cheek brushing against yours lightly. His hand finds its way to the dip of your waist, resting there so lightly you almost don't feel it through the fabric of your large shirt.

"I'm talking about sex, my dear." His voice is soft and warm against your ear, and you can feel his breath cascade down your neck in a way that sends shivers along your spine. You nearly drop your glass, trying to compose your face so the pure horror you feel isn't evident.

You can't help yourself, though.

"With me?" you ask, timidly, eyes desperately trying to focus on anything but him to relieve the immense anxiety building in your chest.

"Would you like that?" Your breath hitches in your throat at the question, and your glass hits the ground. It feels as though the world is spinning, and you instinctively reach up and grab at the fabric of Astarion's ruffled white shirt with both hands, gripping like it's the only thing keeping you grounded on Faerûn.

You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as the vague scent of bergamot and rosemary fills your senses. He presses the pads of his fingers slightly into your hip, and you feel a deep heat begin to build between your thighs.

"I.." the words you're looking for escape you and you can't seem to form a single coherent thought. Astarion has always been unattainable. You're not the kind of person who attracts people like him. He's confident, beautiful, and he's never shown an ounce of interest in you before — in fact, you've always thought he felt very negatively about you, given the way he's always opposing your actions.

He lets out another breathy laugh, pulling away slightly so he's face to face with you, forehead less than an inch from yours.

"Open your eyes," he says, a quiet demand. You don't know what compels you to listen, but you force yourself to obey, opening your eyes. Anxiously, you keep them trained on the dip of his collarbone — you can't bear to maintain eye contact with him with the intense feeling currently burning a hole in your chest.

"Look at me, darling," his hand comes up from your hip, gently guiding your chin upward between his index and thumb, until you’re eye to eye with him. The embarrassment grounds itself deep in your veins, and you're sure you must look like a tomato right now with how hard you're blushing. It takes every ounce of control you have to not turn and run away from this feeling.

"I am going to leave and walk into the woods," he begins, "into the clearing near the lake where we washed our clothing earlier, do you remember?" His voice isn't condescending or teasing — you swear you sense a sort of affection lingering on the ends of his words – it’s completely genuine.

You nod at the question, eyes wide with fear and desire. You say a prayer that he won't notice how blown out your pupils are.

"Good. I'm going to walk to that clearing, and if you would like to join me, I will be waiting." He finishes his sentence with a quick flash of a smile before turning around, grabbing his glass, and wandering off into the woods.

You stand in that spot, completely dumbfounded, for what feels like a very long time. Your brain is running at a million miles an hour trying to comprehend what could have possibly just happened. You feel almost sober after that experience, and part of you is convinced that there's no way that could've been real.

You have a choice to make, and you weigh the options in your brain.

If you decide to stay here at camp and continue about the party like nothing happened, how would that affect your relationship with Astarion going forward? He doesn't quite seem like the type to hold this against you — he did give you a choice, after all — but you don't really know him well enough to be sure. What if you deny him this and he disappears? While you're not super close with Astarion, you do like him quite a bit and it would probably affect you more than you'd like to admit if he left. Plus, he's a good asset for the team. It would be difficult to get through the upcoming challenges that you're sure you're going to face without him.

Now, if you gave in to the much more desirable option and followed him into the woods...

You pause, visualizing the outcome. He would find out that you're a virgin, that's for sure. There's no way you could possibly hide it from someone as experienced as Astarion. You're a terrible liar normally, but in this situation you're sure it would be damn near impossible to play it off like you even kind of knew what you were doing. Maybe he wouldn't care... But what if he does? What if you go out there and he finds out and he laughs in your face? You shudder at the thought.

You've had a deep instinct to impress Astarion since the moment you met him. You're very aware of this instinct, and you can easily recall multiple situations in which you tried to handle things in ways that you thought might make the vampire proud of you, as embarrassing as that is. You never let it change your moral stances, but the more you think about it, the more apparent it becomes to you just how dangerous the hold he has on you is. You barely know him, and he could bend and break you with just his word if he wanted to.

You weigh these options in your head, but deep in your chest, you knew your answer the second he said anything to you.

Legs shaking, hands numb, throat dry, you shakily turn and look towards the forest behind your camp. You take a deep breath in, holding it in your lungs for a moment before exhaling and straightening out your posture, a determined look creeping its way onto your face.

Nervously, you begin to make your way towards the clearing.

You feel like a baby deer as you carry yourself through the woods, tripping and stumbling against every rogue branch and rock. There's a persistent heat that has made itself comfortable right in the core of your stomach, and the closer you get to the clearing, the more intense it grows. You can smell the salty breeze of the lake waft in your direction as you head towards it, and the cold breeze that follows after it has you shivering and rubbing your palms against your upper arms, trying to warm yourself.

You reach the lake, and it's an absolutely beautiful sight. The water sparkles and ripples against the reflection of the large full moon beating down against it, and it envelopes everything in a dark blue hue. Far against the expanse of water, on the very edge of the horizon, you can see a spot of land, adorned with bright orange lights that bounce off the lake and fill the area with warmth.

You feel like you're being watched, as you take in the sight before you, and you freeze where you're standing. Slowly, a hand reaches itself from behind you, wrapping around your waist and pressing it's palm flat against the bottom of your stomach. Cold lips brush against the outside lining of your ear, something sharp tugging at the skin for just a moment, before you hear him speak.

"There you are," he says, his tone full of approval as his other arm wraps itself around your waist to envelop you fully. Despite his cold touch, your face and sex burn white hot at the contact.

"I'm so glad you made the right decision," his right hand travels upward slowly, flat palm fully exploring the clothed expanse of your stomach before tracing lightly around the mound of your breast. He grabs it lightly, squeezing softly and rubbing in slow, small circles. You can't help but let your eyes fall shut, mouth hanging open at the electric touch.

"I have wanted you since the moment I first saw you, you know. All small and shy and pure," he chuckles, mouth ghosting against your skin as it travels down to your neck. He presses a kiss against your skin.

"You can barely hold a conversation without reverting in on yourself,” his voice is barely there, all breath as he kisses up and down your neck. Your fingertips buzz with anticipation and your mind races. 

"Yet, the moment we enter battle," the hand lying against your waist begins to slowly make its way down the plane of your stomach, melting over the curves as it approaches the heat building between your thighs.

"It's like your bloodlust overtakes you. You become someone entirely different," his finger traces ever so lightly against your clothed clit, forcing a small gasp to fall from your lips as your legs open instinctually, "chest heaving, covered in blood, eyes lidded in an ecstasy I've only ever seen in brothels... There's something nearly animalistic about it."

His finger presses slightly harder against your clit, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as he rubs it gently, small noises falling effortlessly from your mouth. The hand he has palming your breast begins to journey upward, slotting itself perfectly into position around your throat – his long, dexterous fingers gripping the skin tightly, causing your breath to strain.

You can't help the way your hips buck up into the touch, and your hands shoot forward to wrap around his forearm, urging his fingers in their gentle assault against you. You try desperately to hold his hand in place and grind yourself harder against it, but he's much stronger than you. Instead, he pulls his hand away completely, turning your body to face his as he pushes you back by your neck.

You stumble and trip over the branches and stones littering the ground, but he keeps you upright as he continues to lead you backward. Your eyes flutter open, staring up through heavy lashes to meet him, and you can physically feel yourself tighten at the sight. His eyes must be ten shades darker than they usually are, his pupils blown, nearly wiping the dark red color out completely. You can practically taste the lust dripping off of his sharp features, his face stern and his eye contact ruthless. You typically find it extremely difficult to hold eye contact with Astarion for long periods of time, but you just can’t pull yourself to look away from the gorgeous sight.

You feel your back hit the rough bark of a tree somewhere behind you, and you grunt at the feeling. It’s sharp, and it stings through your shirt, but there’s little time to focus on the pain as, almost immediately, Astarion presses his lips against yours. A wave of panic surges through you, and you feel the ball of anxiety in your chest burn hotter, growing and growing, as he swipes his tongue against your lips.

He wants in, and, fuck, you want to let him in, but you falter. Your hands work their way in between your bodies, and you push at his chest lightly, mouth sealed, eyes open. He pauses, pulling away, hand around your throat loosening.

He looks at you through lidded eyes, completely blown out, fangs peeking out from beneath his top lip. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks, his tone still holding a hint of the lust it did before. You swallow, the anxiety in your throat refusing to move as the heat of embarrassment begins to replace the burning desire that was building itself up in the core of your stomach.

“I…” You start to speak, but stop yourself again for the second time tonight. How do you even say this without sounding completely incompetent? You feel stupid for not having thought about this before you wandered out here after him. You feel like banging your head against the nearest hard surface for being so oblivious.

Of course he was going to kiss you. That’s what lovers do. It’s one of the first steps in any intimate encounter, sexual or not, and you – ditzy and airheaded as ever – couldn’t have even considered that this would happen before following him out here blindly and putting yourself into one of the most uncomfortable situations you’ve ever been in?

You can see he’s holding his breath, clearly expecting a rejection of his advances or some sort of big drop of information. As you open your mouth to speak, you can tell it’s not what he was expecting to hear.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You force it out, and the sentence hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens as you push the words out, and you nervously pinch and pull at the fabric of his shirt, eyes avoiding his at all costs.

He’s silent for a moment, “really?” he asks, astonished. You nod.

“But… you’ve had sex?” 

You cringe again, bracing yourself for the worst as you slowly shake your head 'no'. Everything is still for a moment, and you manage to quickly flick your eyes up to get an image of the damage. Astarion’s mouth is open slightly in shock, his eyes scanning you for any trace of joking or deception. You can feel your face practically boiling under the heat of your blush, and you momentarily think that you’d probably enjoy the rare sight of the vampire rendered speechless if it weren’t for the unwavering insecurity you had swirling around this situation.

“Huh.” He breaks the silence, taking a step back, and your body slumps forward slightly, immediately missing the security of having something to lean on.

It’s nearly impossible for you to make out what’s going through his head. You watch his face carefully, doing your best to try and understand what he could possibly be thinking.

It’s silent for a long time. Your back is still pressed tight against the tree behind you, and the anxiety bubbling in your chest feels like it’s about to spew out any second. 

“Well,” Astarion’s voice cuts through the quiet, a smile spreading across his face. The smile isn’t genuine or even mocking like you’ve come to expect, instead it seems extremely forced, almost like he’s uncomfortable with the way this situation played out. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t very comfortable with it either.

“My apologies, then,” he says, turning on his heels and beginning to walk back toward camp. Your mouth falls open in shock, your eyebrows furrowing together. You open your mouth to call for him, but nothing comes out, and he quickly disappears into the dense trees.

After a moment, you begin to slide your body down the tree, slumping to the ground, defeated, and you stay there for a long time. Distantly, you can hear the sound of the party starting to die down. You do your best not to cry, but you just can’t help it as the waves of embarrassment wash over you. You feel stupid, you feel self-conscious, you feel frustrated. The emotion just crashes down on you like a ton of rocks.

You don’t return to camp until you’re sure everyone is asleep.

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✦ archiveofourown

✦ wattpad

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I am currently looking for beta readers and editors for my fics! i cannot pay you for this job, but i can give u access to my super cool discord server - full of BG3 and DND nerds - where you will get the coveted "buzz's beta" role. please, shawty, i'm desperate!

if you are interested in doing this please shoot me a message, either here or over on discord (username: buzzbey#4141 [case sensitive!]).

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[daytaker]

Hello! I’ve viewed your blog a few times and i really really like the way that you write, so when I learned that asks were i couldn’t help but make a request. Can we get some headcaons of the brothers meeting MC’s family for the first time and already Mama MC doesn’t like any of them because “they took away her baby.” Sorry if this is a little cringe.

But of course!

(Part 2: The Dateables + Luke)

"Mom, Dad, meet seven of my boyfriends."

...is what you want to say, but you know better than to panic your parents and fluster your totally platonic demon friends at a time like this.

And what a time it is. Here you are, surrounded by your parents, an aunt, your grandpa, and your sister, trying to calm your mother down from yet another diatribe about how you can't just get up and leave for a year---I mean, God, the police were looking for you! The police! You realize we thought they'd find your body in the woods somewhere? How could you do this to us?!---when suddenly:

Knock, knock. Knock knock knock knock knock knock. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"MC! Hey MC!"

"Mammon, if they hear you, you'll ruin the surprise!"

You and your relatives stare at the door. Then they all look at you. You give an awkward smile.

"Just give me a minute... I think those are some friends of mine..."

You really wish you lived somewhere besides a one bedroom apartment, but honestly, impossible in this economy. So you don't have anywhere remotely private to tell the brothers to scatter until the dust clears. In fact, the instant you open the door, Asmodeus flings his arms around you and kisses you on the cheek---in full view of your family, mind you!---and Beel shoves a box of half-eaten chocolates into your hand. Then seven voices are all clamoring for your attention at once on one end, and another five behind you. There are thirteen individuals in this tiny apartment, you realize, and you don't even have enough seats for your family to all sit. Your sister's seated on the floor.

"Heyyyyy guys, now's....not a great time...." A smile is plastered to your face as you tip your head in the direction of your extremely concerned parents. "And...seriously? It hasn't been two weeks yet."

Mammon looks confused, then indignant. "What? ...Hey, what the hell? You're already makin' new friends?! We really that replaceable?!"

Lucifer, who stands in the back holding a balloon bouquet with a jarringly serious expression on his face, speaks up. "I believe those are MC's relatives, Mammon. It seems we came at an inopportune time after all."

"Relatives?!" Asmo and Mammon hurry on over to give them all a good look-over, the others curiously observing.

"You're MC's mom, aren't you! Oh, MC! I see where you get your cheekbones!" Asmo gushes as your mother stares at him like he's from another planet. Which he sort of is, in a sense.

"MC? Who are these people?" your grandpa asks with bewilderment and not a small amount of concern.

"They're, um..."

"They're hot." Your sister waves her fingers at the group, and you wish you had perma-died in that attic.

You need to explain yourself quickly. On the spot. You'd already told your family you'd had a bit of a quarter-life crisis and gone backpacking across the country for the year, working through the mental collapse that living in the 21st century inevitably caused, so you ride off of that. These are a ragtag bunch you met on the road, you explain. You'd spent the better part of last year roughing it from the hills of Kentucky to the forests of Washington with these guys, and you'd become incredibly close as a result. You'd lived together, laughed together, loved together, and some of them even tried to kill you on a few occasions.

("'Tried'?" mutters Satan, and Belphie gives him a death glare.)

Under the leadership of the charismatic eldest brother, Lucifer, you'd become so close that it felt as if your very souls were somehow tethered---

"I'm sorry, 'Lucifer'?" Your mom has had just about enough of this. She approaches you with a look of heartbreaking concern in her eyes and cups your face. "....Baby, did you join a cult?"

"Who does she think she is, callin' 'em that?" seethes Mammon under his breath.

"Mammon, she's my MOM."

"Alright, I think I've seen enough." Dad gets up and eyes the boys sternly. "I dunno what you've been doing with my child, but it's gonna stop, you understand? I've got a homicide detective on speed dial because of you clowns."

"Is this where they get their assertiveness from?" speculated Levi to Beel, who simply shrugged.

"Listen, I think you're all just...misunderstanding each other!" Son of Gardonus, where are you even supposed to start? You grab the nearest demon---

(Individual brothers are below the cut!)

Lucifer

"This is Lucifer."

He gives you a look that says 'you really are as stupid as I've sometimes feared'. Why didn't you come up with a fake name?

"That was a joke."

Good, things are still salvageable.

"Because following his instructions is a lot like being in Hell."

He hates you.

"If that's the devil, then call me a sinner," your aunt says, sipping her third glass of wine.

"His real name is Boris."

He hates you so much.

"Pretty well-dressed for a man who spent a year on the road," observes your Mom with undisguised distrust. "Let me guess: while you were out gathering food and panhandling to survive, he stayed indoors doing whatever the hell he felt like doing, and at the end of the day, you'd take everything you'd earned and hand it over to him, and he'd toss you some pittance in return."

"How does she know that?!" Mammon gasps.

You try explaining to your mom that there was no cult, but she hushes you remorselessly.

You beg Lucifer with your eyes not to kill your entire family please. It seems to work.

Mammon

"Mammon, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Mammon. Mammon, say hello."

"Hello. Agh! Dammit! You're really gonna use that now?!"

Oops. Pact magic. It can be a little unpredictable at times. You ruffle his hair apologetically.

The two of you were pretty much inseparable over the last year, you explain. "Best buds, pretty much." He was the first of the group you got close with. Mammon seems extremely proud of this.

"Please tell me 'best bud' isn't a euphemism, MC." Your dad gives you a pleading look. "I don't know how many more surprises I can take today." You two seem far too affectionate and touchy-feely for his liking.

Your sister grins at him from her seat on the floor, which seems to embarrass and confuse him tremendously. He's refusing to look at her. Poor guy. The two of you do look a lot alike...

Levi

"This is Levi."

"Ah, that almost sounds like a normal name. Why Leh-vee, though? Why don't you pronounce it LEE-vie?

"It's short for Leviathan," he says before you can stop him.

Your sister starts cackling and Levi is very embarrassed and indignant but mostly confused.

"Is this like a cult thing?" your aunt asks. "Naming everyone after biblical demons?" She nods and raises her eyebrows, impressed, and lifts her glass in Lucifer's direction.

"And you've been out roughing it in the great outdoors?" your grandpa asks.

"Errrr..."

"Yes, he has."

"Hmm...." Grandpa stares at Levi without a word, and your sister cackles again, and Levi looks like he'll either start bawling or go full demon and kill everybody in a sort of panicked rage. You return him to his brothers.

Satan

"This is---"

"I'm Derek. Nice to meet you."

You side-eye Satan. Apparently he was not taking any risks of you straight up calling him 'Satan' in front of everyone.

Your sister and aunt both look disappointed by this name, which seems to please Satan a whole lot.

"So," your mom says, thinking this little introduction has gotten off to way too friendly a start, "you're another one of MC's... 'friends', are you?"

"Yep," you say, refusing to acknowledge that there was any innuendo to read into.

"How the hell did you get wrapped up in a cult, Derek?" your aunt asks incredulously. "You look like you came straight from a prep school... Or the Ivies, or something. Kid, let me tell you what." She points a finger at Satan without giving him an opportunity to respond. "Let me tell you, you're gonna kick yourself when you're old and ugly and you realize you wasted your time in a cult looking like you were headed to a game of polo."

"You should've given yourself a cool name like those other guys," your sister throws in.

"Guys, please."

"What? At least the other guys had character. Lucifer, the sexy vampire prince, or something. Mammon, the... Is he a himbo or a bad boy?" ("A himbo," you confirm.) "Mammon, the hellish himbo! Leviathan, a literal fish out of water! But him? This guy's just Derek from IT." Your sister blows a raspberry and gives a thumb down. "Next."

Behind you, you hear Lucifer mutter, "Mammon. Levi. Hold Satan back."

Asmo

"This is Asmo. Please don't tear him a new one, he's---"

Your sister shakes her head. "I would NEVER. This guy looks like so much fun. Like, I'm getting shopping all day, clubbing all night vibes, am I right?"

Asmo winks at your sister, and she blushes. She blushes. You're in awe.

"Hellooooo~! I'm Asmodeus, and it's wonderful to meet you all!"

"You're the one that kissed my grandchild," Grandpa recalls, raising an accusatory finger at him.

"But MC loves when I give them kisses! Surely you all understand, right?"

....

"Right..."

....

Motherfucker, Asmo just charmed your family.

Beel

"This is Beel. Beel, this is...everyone."

"Hi. Good to meet you." Beel is very polite, if a bit uncomfortable.

"Well aren't you a drink of water and a half." You hate your aunt so much sometimes.

Beel frowns. "I'd rather have something a little more filling than water."

You see a look in your aunt's eyes and you jump before she has the chance to strike.

"If you say you're on the menu, Aunt Gina, I swear--"

"What's 'Beel' short for?" your mom asks sternly.

"Beelzebub," Beel answers with an adorable but also infuriating level of innocence.

Your sister is cackling again.

Belphie

Hey, where'd Belphie go?

You look around, confused.

Oh. He wandered to your room while everyone was distracted.

He's sleeping on your bed, hugging your pillow. And drooling on it.

Your relatives stand behind you, observing the scene somberly.

"What's he on?" asks your sister in a whisper. "Like... he's definitely on something, right?"

"Freeloader. That goes for the whole lot of 'em. At least this one is honest about it. Just walks in and treats the place like it's his." Your dad is very annoyed.

"He's got narcolepsy," you insist. You don't know enough about narcolepsy to be sure if that seems like a reasonable excuse, but you're counting on your family not knowing either.

"How the hell did you all get around with a narcoleptic?" your aunt asks, elbowing Lucifer in the ribs. "Hah! Oh, MC, sweetie, I need a refill."

When you manage to get the brothers out of your apartment, you turn around and face your family. They're staring at you.

Your sister breaks the silence. "So like... how many of them have you--?"

[probably-writing-x]

Stripped Back

18+ Only - Minors DNI

Warnings: SMUT, Adult Themes (full warnings beneath the cut)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, dom/sub themes, penetration, oral (fem receiving), sex toys, voyeurism, public sex acts (kind of), Rafe being fucking filthyyyy, mentions of drug and alcohol use, fem!stripper

There was something very routine about your unconventional life recently. Though you still didn't fit into the 9-5 lifestyle, you'd fallen into your own patterns more so than normal. Work ran from 9pm to 4am, and then you'd find your way back to Rafe's apartment. You'd stay there for long enough and left before midday, returning home to sleep for a short few hours before your day properly started later.

It was consistent.

Everything with Rafe had been going on since he'd first turned up to the club a few months ago. He'd been there for Topper's birthday and the three boys had showered you in tips for your entire show. Kelce had paid for you to give Topper a lap dance and you'd given him your best work. Though, there was something the entire time, that was making it practically impossible for you to tear your eyes away from Rafe. There was something about the way he watched you, the way his eyes dragged over your body - it was hungry and desperate but somehow so sure of himself as if he was just waiting on you. He'd slipped you his number amongst a wad of cash the boys had handed you, and you'd found yourself texting him as soon as your shift was over.

Working in a strip club was a half-decent job on any day - you got paid well, got paid even better with the tips - but there was something about that day. You were glad he'd been there, and even more glad to be going round there almost every day since.

By now, it was second nature as you drove towards his place - becoming more of a destination than your own home.

------

You buzz the button downstairs at Rafe's building and step back slightly, your gym bag wobbling a little on your shoulder as it overflowed with the weight.

The door buzzes back at you a few moments later and you let yourself in. It was a relatively new building, Rafe having rented one of the apartments almost as soon as the block had been made. He appreciated the freedom away from his family, though sometimes took the reins of that freedom just a little too far.

You take the elevator up to the sixth floor and the door to his apartment is already ajar, waiting for you as much as you were waiting to get to him.

"Hey!" You call as you walk through the door, closing it behind you.

Rafe's on the couch with a full array on the coffee table in front of him. There's a bong on one side, an empty bag with the remnants of marijuana gripping to the edges. On the other half, there's a graveyard of empty beer bottles, brown glass eerie in the dark light of the room. In the middle, a stack of hundred dollar bills.

"Looks like you've had a fun night," You comment, dropping your bag down at the edge of the couch.

"Yeah," He sniffs, dragging a hand underneath his nose, "Just had some of the boys over."

You nod, wrapping your arms over your chest, "Nice."

Before the odd sense of discomfort overcomes you, Rafe stands from the couch and strides over to you, his frame towering taller than you now that you'd given up on your heels.

"Hi," He mumbles, lifting up a hand to cup your chin as he dips down to your height.

His eyes are on you in the way only they could be, that sort of desire beyond what any of your customers had for you. Rafe leans further into you, his breath fanning hot over your ear as he pulls the lobe between his teeth just gently.

"Bed. Now."

The breath you let out is shaky and you're certain your knees could buckle if you let them.

You oblige without a second thought.

So often in your job, the guys loved the idea of you being in complete control - them being beneath you as they watched you move, or reluctantly kept their hands away as you danced over their tightening pants. But Rafe was the opposite. As soon as you were through that door, it was like you fell to being completely at his mercy. And that's why you craved it so much.

You sit yourself down on the edge of his bed, heart quickening as you wait for him. Your hands move to pull down your gym shorts and tug off the baggy t-shirt you'd used to cover your costume - a black lace two piece with hearts covering the smallest fractions of you, leather straps wrapping around your curves. You cross one leg over the other as the bedroom door opens and Rafe walks in.

"So," He strolls nonchalantly over to you, hands moving up to rub at your shoulders, fingers kneading the soft skin, "Tell me about work."

His hands push gently against you to guide you back to lay on the bed as Rafe hovers above you, breath hot and painfully close to you.

"Um," You clear your throat a little, "It was busy."

Rafe hums as if in agreement, his hands slipping away from your shoulders and trailing down your sides, meeting with the leather around your hips, "Tell me more."

He lowers himself down onto his knees, long fingers tugging down the material of your pants until they meet the bottom of your thighs, where he grips the skin and pulls you closer towards him, your hips brushing the edge of the bed. Everything about his movements are as if he's had you on his mind for hours, now thankful to have you in his grasp. Your bottoms are discarded on the floor and, in a split second, his kisses begin to trail your inner thighs, towards your heat.

"It was-" Your breath catches in your throat as his kisses reach higher, "I got paid a thousand dollars to pour champagne on a guy."

You feel Rafe smirk against your skin, his breaths burning hot over your folds as his face centres between your legs.

"Easiest thousand dollars I've ever made," You try to mask the sound of your breath quickening against your words, "But that's definitely not the weirdest thing I've been asked for in a private room and I-"

Your words cut off into a gasp as Rafe dips his face down to press against your folds, his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue drags a long line across your skin. Instinctively, your hands fly to his hair, burying themselves amongst the growing locks and tugging as if desperate for any more contact he could provide.

Against your will, Rafe pulls away just a couple of inches from you, "Tell me more. I didn't tell you to stop."

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to catch your breath as it seemingly slips away from you, "I had a-"

At the sound of your voice, Rafe turns his attention back to where you needed it the most, lapping at your juices as if he'd been deprived from it for far too long. His tongue lifts just enough to meet with your clit, swirling slow circles around the bud as if trying to pay attention to every single nerve ending there, catching every sensitive part.

"I had a guy who wanted me to give him my number and I-" You whimper as Rafe tightens his grip on each of your thighs, as if intensifying every contact he could make with you.

He loved the idea of it all - of the desperation in these men for you to be more than just someone they were paying for. The desire for you to want them as much as they wanted you. But it was always his number you went back to, his apartment you ended up in, his dick you performed all of your best moves on. It was only him.

He pulls away from you as he feels it, his joggers tightening around his crotch as it felt like every ounce of blood rushed to his growing erection - increasing desire at the thought of his competition for you.

“Rafe,” You mumble between a slight whimper, trying to reach back for him as he stands up in front of you.

His joggers come off simultaneously with his boxers, letting his hardening member spring free. You swallow the lump in your throat.

Rafe’s large hands reach out for you, tightening around your hips before he lifts you from the bed and flips you over, the mattress springing beneath you as you turn your head. One hand releases from you to pump at his dick, lining it up with your soaking entrance.

“What would those guys think now?” He leans down so that his words brush against your neck, “Watching you get fucked senseless.”

He pushes into you at a torturingly slow pace, as if activating every sense in you on his way, driving into your pelvis until he bottoms out against your bare ass.

“Fuck,” You let out a moan, fingers tightening and twisting into the sheets beside you as he lifts your hips up from the mattress, driving into you at the angle that had your eyes rolling back into your head.

“They think they’re all yours,” Rafe grumbles between thrusts, his words echoing around the sound of skin slapping skin, “But it’s my name you’re screaming.”

It’s a feeling you’d never get bored of, his dick hitting into the exact spot you needed him, his hands wrapped around you like you were at his mercy, his eyes on you like you were something to be worshipped. He awakened every sense, lowered every inhibition, fucking into you until it was only his name on your mind.

“Rafe, fuck, I’m cl-“

His one hand wraps into your hair, drawing your head up from the mattress before lowering just enough to wrap around your throat. His fingers splay across the skin, thumb pressing just enough into the spot that only he knew.

“Cum for me, princess,” He encourages, his thrusts unwavering as he feels your walls tighten around him.

You tangle your fingers tighter into the sheets as your toes curl beneath you, the coil finally snapping in your torso as you fall weak around him, a string of curses and moans tying up around the chorus of his name from your lips.

“Good girl,” Rafe persists, fucking you through your high as his dick begins to twitch between your quivering walls.

Only moments after, he pushes as deep into you as he can go, spilling his seed over your walls with a hum of curses trailing from his lips, falling down beside your ear as his chin drops down to your shoulder.

“It’s a fucking good job my contraception is effective,” You mumble to him and he laughs, burying his head into your neck, still buried inches inside of you.

“Yeah, well, it’s served us well so far,” He points out, lifting himself off of you and taking space on the bed next to you, lying down on his back.

You lift up a little shakily onto your elbows, looking down at him where he lay next to you.

“So, you never did tell me,” He tucks an arm under his head, pupils wide as they look at you - a concoction of the lust and drugs coursing through him, “Did you give that guy your number?”

You smile to yourself, “Nope.”

“Why not? He could’ve been the one,” Rafe smirks, raising his brows at you.

“I don’t think I’ll find the one working at the strip club,” You point out and he hums in agreement, his eyes fluttering shut in the haze.

That was the thing with you and Rafe - this was all it was. The best sex of your life and then nothing. It worked because you didn’t want anything more than that. For now, this was the ideal. You got your high and he got his, both giving the other exactly what they couldn’t find in somebody else. But it wouldn’t be anything more than that. He was wrapped up in a world of drugs and alcohol and partied that tore him away from having any sense of commitment to somebody. In fact, you were sure the biggest commitment in his life in recent years was to his drug dealer. It wouldn’t be anything more than the hookups and that was okay with you - you weren’t going to be the girlfriend, it would only end in heartbreak.

When you glance over at him again, Rafe has one hand resting over his chest and it rises and falls with his even breaths. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, like the whole world had just stopped around him. You lift one hand up and drag a fingertip over his forehead, brushing away the hairs that had fallen over his face. It would only end in heartbreak, right?

———

You’d left that morning not long after Rafe had fallen asleep. You’d slept at your own apartment, woken up alone and gone to the gym, ran some errands and did your laundry and by the time the evening rolled around, you were already on your way to work.

It would likely be a busy night, Fridays always were, but you weren’t complaining. Rent was due on Monday and you could do with a good night of tips to make sure you were comfortably covered for the month.

“There’s a whole group of businessmen in tonight,” Kayla comments from beside you as she fixes her eyeliner in the mirror, “I can practically smell the stacks of ones sticking out of their pockets.”

You laugh, lifting your foot up onto the chair to secure the strap of your heels around your ankle, “Yeah by the end of the night they’ll be giving us fifties instead of those ones.”

“That’s the goal,” She returns, standing up straight to adjust the material of her top over her chest, “Cute or slutty?”

Kayla turns to you to pose in her costume, the angles of the straps accentuating her tall figure.

“Perfect mix of the two,” You grin, standing up straight to fix your own outfit.

“That’s what we’re going for honey,” She winks at you, “Ready to get out there?”

You see your phone flash up on the vanity with text from Rafe, his name appearing next to the green message icon.

Rafe: You working tonight?

You frown a little at the question but choose to ignore it, locking your phone and setting it back down onto the desk.

“Let’s go.”

The club is already bustling by the time you step out, a few of the girls already sauntering around the room with trays of drinks to deliver to the occupied tables. You put on your best sultry walk and start to make your way through the crowd, offering all-too-innocent smiles to the faces that gawk back at you.

“Now the real sights start!” One man calls out to you, hollering with his friends as you walk past.

“Hi boys,” You offer a wave, winking in their direction before carrying on past.

That’s when you catch sight of them. On a table just behind the front row next to the stage, close enough but not too close. Topper. Kelce. Rafe.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat like a scare you weren’t prepared for, and it catches once again as soon as his eyes fall onto you. Kelce and Topper are both too busy nursing glasses of whiskey to pay too much attention to you, or to the way their friend can’t seem to look away. Rafe swigs back the remainder of his drink and follows parallel in your walk towards the bar.

“Hey Lila, can I grab a shot tray?” You call over to your colleague as you step behind the bar.

“Sure, yeah, there’s one for you here,” She smiles at you before turning back to the line of customers awaiting her attention.

You pick up the shot tray and balance it on your arm, adjusting your hold around it as you turn to walk back into the crowd, coming to an instant halt as soon as you’re met with Rafe. He’s waiting at the end of the bar, crisp white shirt unbuttoned around his neck, tucked into his navy trousers that trail down to brown dress shoes. He looks handsome, almost like a gentleman.

“Can I help you?” You raise your brows, trying to fight back a smile from tugging at your lips.

He smirks, tucking his hands into his pockets as he grazes his eyes up and down your figure, “I like the green.”

“Yeah? It’s a crowd favorite,” You return, “All the guys love it.”

He lets out a slightly raspy laugh, “No, they’re just obsessed with you.”

You’re thankful that the dark light hides the blush on your cheeks.

“Why did you ignore my text?”

“Because I’m working.”

“I asked you a question.”

“Well, I’m working. That answers your question doesn’t it?”

He swallows thickly and it bobs against his adam’s apple, stepping closer to you to practically close the distance between the two of you,

“So, how about we make tonight more interesting?” He comments, pulling a hand out of his pocket, holding a small plug vibrator and remote control in his hand.

There’s a lump in your throat almost instantly, a tightening coil in your stomach.

“You’ll put on a show for all of these people,” Rafe speaks lowly, leaning towards you, “But you’ll be under my control.”

With slightly shaky hands, you set down the tray of shots onto the bar, taking a deep breath, “Come with me.”

You interlock a hand with his free one and pull him away from the bar, hearing the echo of his laugh behind you as he walks to keep up.

You drag him behind one of the curtains that concealed the backstage, a cloth that rounded like a crescent moon around the door. Your back falls flush against the brick and Rafe is quick to follow close behind you, body practically magnetised to yours.

“Am I taking this as a yes?” He cocks a brow at you, rolling the toy between his forefinger and thumb.

You look over his shoulder towards the now pounding noise of the club behind him - your colleagues, Rafe’s friends, every single one of the customers. Each of them about to watch you hiding your submission under the grasp of Rafe Cameron. And you loath how much it seems to turn you on. How much he turns you on.

“Just hurry up, I have a show to start,” You hiss looking back at him, and back down to the vibrator.

Rafe smirks, leaning in until his lips are beside your ear, “My show… is right here.”

His fingertips move down to your pants, dragging down the length of them until he reaches your heat, material already damp under your arousal. He dips a finger around the edge of the material, pulling them to one side, brushing a finger across your folds.

He pulls his face away from your neck, just far enough to watch the exact moment on your face as he pushes the toy into you. Your lips part into a gasp and you grip onto his shoulder to steady yourself as it tucks comfortably into your entrance.

“Go on, I think they’re waiting for you,” He mumbles, breath hot in the enclosed space between you.

You readjust your costume, brush a hand over your hair, take a deep breath, and step backwards into the backstage door, letting it swing shut behind you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kayla exclaims when she sees you, “We’re on in two minutes.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry!” You take a deep breath to release the tension in your throat, “I got caught up.”

“Okay, are you good to go?” She asks you, squeezing your hand, “It’s busy out there!”

“That’s what we want,” You smile, checking yourself in the mirror - the control Rafe now had over you hidden from sight.

You hear the sound of the music starting on cue outside, and the murmurs between the crowd as they all anticipate their wildest desires. But there’s only one face you’re desperate to see.

As the two of you step outside, you’re met with a chorus of cheers, hollers and yells, and the spotlights turn on to illuminate the two of you, one at each of the poles that adorned the stage.

Your eyes fall onto Rafe in the crowd, and as the lights lower once more, you watch him push one hand into his pocket. When the lights come up again, you’re met with the all too familiar buzz between your legs. An involuntary gasp leaves your lips and you press your head back against the pole, gripping onto it just a little tighter.

You can hear the crowd cheering, watch as they start to pull wads of cash out of their pockets, smell the alcohol lingering on their clothes and in the air - but all you can think about is him, his hand still in his pocket.

You start to dance around the stage, swaying your hips to the music, arms hitting every beat, following the routine you knew like the back of your hand by now.

As Kayla works one side of the runway stage, you take the other, bending down to pick up the stray dollar bills already littering the stage. You squat down to the song and, as you do, Rafe increases the pace of his torment on you, the edge of the vibrator curling against your clit. The sensation makes you drop to your knees, legs spread to the crowd as your hands fly to your thighs. Your eyes lock with his and he smirks, one hand swirling the whiskey around his cup. You were sure you could give up just then, that you couldn’t possibly hold on for any longer. But there was just something different about being good for him.

The crowd is cheering at you like you’re some sort of rockstar in front of them, all fuelled by their lust as a few reach out to stuff ones into your costume.

And it’s like a switch in you flicks. You’d use this to your advantage.

Routine now out of the window, you stand back to your feet, trying to ignore the wobble in your legs as you return back to your pole, gripping it with both hands. Eyes fully locked onto Rafe in the exact moment before you swing your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you start to thrust against the pole, rolling and rocking your hips. It’s electric, you know it is. But all you can think of is the tightening coil in your stomach, the way it feels just on the cusp of snapping.

You roll your hips once more, dropping down against the pole. You’re in the middle of the hottest show of your life, and the crowd are practically emptying their wallets onto the stage for you - not a single one of them aware of Rafe, and his seat just one row back, and his goddamn hand in his goddamn pocket.

And then it stops.

All sensation driving you towards your high just ceases in that moment, and your eyes fly open wildly, landing on him in the room. He doesn’t look up, just staring down at the liquid still swirling around his glass. Topper and Kelce both have their eyes on you, mouths open from jaws betraying their cool demeanour.

The song ends and the crowd cheers for you, stage now littered with cash that you squat to pick up, a few customers reaching out to stuff money anywhere they could get it in your outfit.

Rafe looks up then, his eyes watching the way these men gawk and gasp at you - the way they all wanted to be him.

Kacey finds your hand and squeezes it, both of you walking off of the stage and back into your room of solitude.

“Holy shit, are your bills due or something? You just put on the show of your life!” She laughs, “I couldn’t even keep up.”

You smile and fix your hair in the mirror, pulling out all of the cash and setting it down onto the vanity, “Rent’s due on Monday.”

You disappear into the tiny bathroom that the two of you shared and take a deep shaky breath, fixing your appearance just a little. Just as your hand reaches for the doorknob, your legs buckle just a little from beneath you as a buzz rocks through your body once again, the toy set to life.

“Fuck you,” You mumble to nobody but yourself, as if Rafe could hear you now.

Your one hand grips the side of the sink, the other moving down to your pants to find grip on the vibrator. You pull it out and settle it over your clit, just the right pressure as the pace picks up. Your breaths quicken, eyes squeezed tight as you seek your high.

“Fuck,” You stifle a whimper, hand flying to your mouth to shelter the noises spilling from your mouth as you turn to press your back against the bathroom door.

The vibrator’s pace quickens once again and you gasp, rocking your hips against the sensation to catch up.

“Fuck, Rafe,” You moan into the empty space, releasing around his toy and your hand as if he’d been there all along, eyes opening into the lone room.

You pull the toy away from you, chest rising and falling rapidly as you come down from your high, legs fighting to stop you from tumbling to the floor.

You were his.

———

You don’t see much of Rafe for the rest of the night, him and his boys leave not long after the show. Normally, the ones that stayed later were the ones that wanted all of the private experiences. You’d made enough in one night to cover your full rent. A perk of being good at the job.

By four, you’re finished for the night and Kacey’s already leaving to go and meet a friend. You’re packing up your things in the changing room, check the pocket of your duffle bag to see Rafe’s vibrator hidden inside. You pull over a baggy t-shirt and pair of shorts and step outside, feet pulsing in the ache of wearing your heels all night. You’re already regretting parking your car on the other side of the lot.

But as soon as you step out of the door, a car is parked directly in front. A car you recognised.

The passenger door opens and reveals Rafe leaning over the middle console, “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

“Wh- my car is-“

“And it’ll still be there in the morning,” He quips, “Come on.”

You smile a little and push yourself up and into the raised seat of his truck, your bag squashed down by your feet, “Thanks.”

He shifts the gear of the car and starts to drive, hand moving from the gearstick and onto your thigh, fingers splayed over the skin. It’s a simple move really, but there’s a flutter in your heart when he does it - a sort of soft gesture in comparison to what you normally craved from him.

It’s a short drive and he takes the shortcut, his car being much more capable of handling the bumpy roads than yours was until he pulls up in front of his apartment building and takes the back route to drive down to the underground garage. He parks up in a spot marked with his apartment number and takes the keys out of the ignition.

“Should you really be driving after you-“

“I had two whiskeys, and then about a gallon of water,” He interjects, leaning over to take your bag, “I’m practically sober.”

“And nothing else?” You raise your brows, “I find it hard to believe that yo-“

“Nothing else,” His eyes are harsh as they burn into you, like he’s pushing the words until you believe him.

Before you say anything more, he grips the straps of your bag in one hand and pushes open the car door, walking around the other side to meet you, hand already outstretched to hold yours when you were next to him. You weren’t sure you’d ever held hands with Rafe - and the two of you feel weirdly proportioned when you still had your heels on, your head reaching just a couple of inches shorter than his now.

He guides you towards the elevator and you take it silently up to his floor, his hand still in yours as if it somehow just belonged there.

Rafe lowers your bag down onto the ground by the apartment door and closes it behind him, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” You return, running a hand over your hair, “I didn’t get a chance to take a break tonight.”

He nods, “Alright I’ll make something.”

“No I wouldn’t ask you to-“

“You didn’t ask,” He returns, “Go sit down.”

You can’t help but smile as he walks away, and you head your own way towards the lounge, thankful for the feeling when you drop down onto the couch. You never spent much time in the rest of his apartment when you were here - apart from the time he’d suggested that the two of you christen every room in the place. Every room had turned into every object eventually and you find yourself glancing around the lounge as if reminiscing. The armchair he’d been sat in as he pushed his cock into your throat. The window seat where he’d had you gaze out at the view as he fucked you from behind, stringing together prayers for someone to watch him fuck the heavens out of you. The couch beneath you now, as you laid back across the length of it, where he’d sat with his dick buried inside of you, kissing every inch of you that he could reach, talking to you like the two of you were in the middle of a normal conversation. In every spot he’d made you feel like nobody else made you feel. And it was why you craved so much more. Of him.

Rafe walks into the lounge then, eyes gazing down on you sprawled over the couch, your legs bent over the armrest, heels dangling down as if a tease, “Comfy?”

You hum in response, eyes fluttering shut.

He sets down the plates in his hands onto the coffee table, the smell of slightly burnt cheese wafting towards you. And, instead, his hands move to your legs, massaging the skin just above your ankles, “You need to eat.”

You poke an eye open, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, you just haven’t eaten and you need to eat,” He shrugs, still working his fingers into the skin of your lower legs.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his movements, “No, all of this, not just the food. You’re not like this. What’s going on?”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re being stupid.”

“No I’m not.”

He cocks a brow at you as if he’s going to quip back with something but stops himself, his face relaxing, “You looked beautiful up there tonight.”

You scoff, looking away from him as a burning heat tingles at your cheeks, “It’s not beautiful, it’s sexy. There’s a difference.”

“I know, and you looked fucking beautiful,” Rafe persists, “Like, angelic.”

You bring your hands up to cover your face, cheeks heating up furiously.

He reaches an arm forward and pries your hands away from your skin, lacing his fingers with yours, “I’m serious (Y/n). You have no idea,” He leans down and kisses at your leg, “How much I wanted to get on that stage, and pull you off, drag you out of that fucking club, and bring you back here and show you every single way I could just how beautiful you are.”

You giggle a little as he kisses at a ticklish spot, drawing your hands to his head to try to pull him up towards you, “I like this Rafe.”

He climbs over the armrest of the couch so that his knees settle down in the spaces around and between your legs, body hovering over yours, “This Rafe?”

You nod, hands cupping either side of his face, “The one that sticks a vibrator in me in public and then acts all soft as soon as we’re home.”

He lets out a raspy laugh, drawing one hand up to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your skin, “I can do both.”

His thumb draws over your chin, across your bottom lip, until he pushes it into the entrance of your parted lips, his own mouth agape just slightly as he watches you suck gently on the digit.

“You’re mine, (Y/n) (Y/l/n). Every single inch of you,” He mumbles, his thigh pressing a little stronger in the space between your legs as yours clench around him, “Every single angelic inch of you.”

You fight back the whimper clawing at your throat, legs tightening even more around his thigh as if craving any possible friction he could give you.

“I fucking love you.”

The words are a symphony. Every sense of yours heightens, a sensation even he hadn’t brought to you like this before now.

“Oh yeah?” You let out a shaky breath, your heart quickening in your chest, “Prove it.”

PART TWO NOW POSTED

[ramblingoak]

Naps With Copia

Nap #10: Napping With Your Valentine

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

For @pinklunarprincess 💙 who wanted Copia to play with their hair

Cardinal Copia x gn!reader

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: a very sappy Valentine's Day themed nap, I'm not sorry, sfw, 1k words, enjoy! (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers)

You were going to be late.

Of all the days to be running behind it had to be today.  A day that Copia had been teasing you about for weeks now.  Weeks of silly clues and guessing games.  You had used every trick in the book (and in bed) to try to get him to tell you his plans for Valentine’s Day but he wouldn’t fess up.  It had gotten to the point he had started to avoid you, even turning heel and jogging away from you in the hallways.

He was lucky you loved him so much.

But now you had probably ruined everything.  He had been very specific about you being back to his quarters by noon.  Copia had planned a big lunch to treat you since there was a larger event for the entire congregation that evening.  The whole place had smelled amazing already as soon as you woke up.  He had been quick to usher you away, practically throwing your clothes at you so you didn’t try to sneak peeks into the tiny kitchen.

You had been huffy but finally obliged him, trudging down the halls to your office.  Thankfully today was supposed to be relatively easy.  No tours on the horizon, no conferences, no trips…just a morning of receiving deliveries for the party and then you’d be free by noon.  Free to eat whatever amazing meal Copia was creating and then free to hopefully make out a little on his couch.

It was Valentine’s Day after all.

Unfortunately it seemed your special lunch and making out time was doomed.  Delivery after delivery had been late and one truck had somehow managed to crash into the gate to the abbey grounds.  It had been 2pm by the time everything had been sorted out.  You were tired, starving and ready to snap at anyone that started your way with a clipboard in their hand.  Thankfully you were saved by Secondo who must have noticed you were at the end of your patience.

“Go on, let me take care of all of this.”

“Really?”  You took a few careful steps back, not sure if he was just teasing you or not.  “Are you sure?”

“Sì, I don’t want to deal with mio fratellino pouting the rest of the week.”

Secondo held out his hand for the delivery folders you had been balancing all morning, a soft smile on his face.  You couldn’t help but squeal, shoving the folders against his chest and then placing a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek.  He was sputtering something in Italian as you took off down the hall but you’d deal with his irritation later.  Right now you had a lunch date you were very, very late for.

As you stumbled into the main room it seemed like you were too late, Copia was nowhere in sight.  There was a cold meal on the table in the kitchen, candles long since gone out.  You couldn’t help but let out a groan, feeling absolutely terrible about ruining something Copia had spent so long planning.

“Amore?”

Copia’s sleepy voice broke you out of your spiraling thoughts and you quickly turned to the sound of his voice.  All you could see was his head poking up over the back of the couch, his hair sticking up all over the place.  He gave you a sleepy smile when he saw you and it grew when you moved closer.  You snorted when you made your way around the couch, seeing him stretched out in his bright red suit and covered in empty chocolate wrappers.

“You look like a valentine.”  He rolled his eyes but held his hands out for you, smiling when you kicked your shoes off and gently climbed onto the couch to lay against him.  “Cutest valentine ever.”

His cheeks pinked up a bit as he leaned in for a kiss but before his lips touched yours he jerked back, his eyes narrowing.

“Is that black lipstick?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s from Secondo.”

“Sec–?  Wha–mmph.”  

He relaxed as you kissed him, his fingers slipping up to comb through your hair.  You made a soft noise in your throat as he rubbed his fingers along your scalp.  He always knew just how to touch you, just how to hold you and kiss you and make you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world to him.  After a few moments you pulled away, matching his sleepy smile with one of yours.

“I’m sorry I ruined our lunch.”

“Shh, no need to apologize, amore mio.  I already put the leftovers in the fridge, I can heat those up for you.”

When he made to get up you pressed your hands down on his shoulders, kissing his nose when he gave you a confused look.

“Let’s stay here a bit longer.  Please.”  

Copia nodded and settled back against the couch again, his fingers running through your hair once more.  He had started to braid parts of it, something he did in moments like this.  Moments where you were both relaxed and doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company.  You only moved when his chest rumbled under your ear as he spoke.

“How about we take a little nap, eh?  Then we can have an early dinner before the party.”

“That sounds perfect.”  He tilted your chin up so he could reach your lips, giving you a gentle, lingering kiss.  It was one of your favorite kinds of kisses from him.  Although this one had the added bonus of the hint of chocolate leftover from the candy he had eaten.  You couldn’t help but give his full bottom lip a little nibble before finally pulling away.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Copia.” 

“And Happy Valentine’s Day to you, amore.  Now stop distracting me with your lips, let me nap.”  You rolled your eyes but dropped your head down onto his chest, sighing when one of his hands went back to your hair.  “But when we wake up you’re going to explain why you were kissing Secondo.”

Despite your body shaking with laughter, sleep was still quickly creeping up on you.  It wasn’t long before you were drifting off, your arms wrapped tightly around the best valentine anyone could ask for.

Up next is a nap for an Anon 💙

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Evolutionary Adaptability

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)     When Kel had petitioned the human worlds of Jora, New Foundland, Davin VI, and Tesla’s Retreat he had thought he knew what to expect.

Though humans were still relatively young in the grand scale of galactic empires they had the most interesting, if not confounding, habit of setting up shop on any world they could find. Be it a dust ball with no atmosphere and three hundred degree sunrises, or a water world filled with ravenous creatures; humanity had shown their grit and made these worlds into new colonies and homes regardless of the danger.

Acting as a representative of his people Kel had reached out to each of those four worlds to establish trade routes. The possible wealth from each, let alone all four together, would be enough to sustain his world’s economic boon for several dozen generations.

He had been delighted when the transmissions came in one by one and each of the human worlds had agreed to meet on Kel’s homeworld to discuss the arrangements.

The first signs that things were running off the tracks was when the Jora delegation had arrived.

Kel had done his research after gathering many texts and documents regarding the human homeworld and thought himself prepared to handle the humans as they exited the landing ships. To say he was surprised when instead of tall slender bipedals massive mechanical suits ducked between the loading doors and on to the landing field would be an understatement.

These constructs were easily nine feet in height and four feet wide standing on two pairs of sharp metal legs that gave them a more insect appearance. Their hands were likewise far more different as they only had three metal talons that clicked and clacked as the machines approached him and Kel saw his reflection in the polished steel bodywork.

As if that was not enough the bodywork suddenly split open and Kel saw a fluid sack inside of the machine holding a frail looking human with numerous wires and tubes sticking out of them.

The human inside nodded to Kel in greeting and their mechanical suit mimicked the motion as well; to which Kel returned after an embarrassing moment’s hesitation.

Before Kel could inquire about the state of the Joraran’s they spoke through a robotic speaker built into their suits. It was then Kel learned that because the gravity of Jora was nearly ten times lighter compared to their natural homeworld the humans had needed to construct mechanical suits to move and live across the any other planet’s surface. If they had attempted to exit the suits and walk normally the gravity of Kel’s world would crush them like tin cans. Thinking to himself Kel imagined that was why the humans inside the machines looked so frail in comparison to their Terran born brethren.

---------- After the Joraran’s came the New Foundlanders some thirty minutes later.

This time the humans did not need to lower themselves to exit the shuttle craft. In fact, they barely came up half way inside the doorframe forcing Kel to tilt his head down and look upon them.

In contrast to the Joraran’s, the New Foundlanders were short and muscular built; coming up to Kel’s waist in height. They wore normal looking clothes standard to human fashion but the fabrics appeared strange as they New Foundlanders approached. It was as if the fabric was remaining static and unmoving despite the motions their wearers made.

Kel extended his hand in human custom to shake in glorious welcome, but to his shock the humans looked amongst themselves and shook their heads.

When Kel inquired if he had offended them somehow they stated that he had done nothing of the sort, and that their reluctance to shake his hand was more for his own safety.

Something of confusion must have cross his face as the lead New Foundlander motioned for one of Kel’s aides to toss him a pen. With a nod from Kel the aide handed a pen to the leader who promptly snapped it in two with the smallest of motions.

Kel learned that in opposite of Jora, New Foundland had gravity ten times heavier than that of earth forcing the humans who lived there to develop squat like bodies of raw muscle. On a lighter gravity world like Kel’s the mere flick of one of their fingers was enough to violently amputate the arm of anyone.

Kel thanked them for the warning and hurriedly sent the new information on to his waiting staff to ensure no one died from a handshake later that day. ---------------------

Next to arrive were the Davinites.

Kel was thankful that when the shuttle doors opened the Davinites were much like the human material he had researched prior to their meeting. They stood between 5 and 6 feet in height, were slender in body shape, and did not walk with mechanical suits or seemed overly careful what they touched.

The strangeness only began to reveal itself when Kel looked closer and saw that underneath the formal clothing the Davinites were wearing a full body bodysuit made from a strange black material. This covered every inch of what would have been exposed skin with even their eyes shielded behind large black goggles.

They shook Kel’s hand in human custom but then insisted that they leave the landing pad as soon as possible. When he asked why they were in such a hurry it was revealed to Kel that Davin VI was orbiting a red dwarf star that provided little light compared to most worlds. The day and night cycles of their world were a constant shroud of soft light, barely enough to see your hand in front of your face let alone the stars themselves.

As a result the Davinite skin had become increasingly pale in the absence of sunlight and their eyes had adapted to the lower light levels to see. Standing out in the open in natural daylight, even with the reflectors on their face, must have been like standing on the surface of the sun.

With great haste he ushered them inside and had his aides blot out the windows and greatly reduce light levels of their rooms for the duration of their stay. -------------------- The final delegation was by far the most unusual of the group in Kel’s eyes.

Unlike the previous delegations, the Teslins arrived in their own spacecraft specially designed on their homeworld. It was a massive freighter like construct easily five to six times larger than any shuttle that had arrived prior.

When the doors opened Kel was greeted by five Teslins all wearing environmental suits he had previously seen in dated records for human space travel.

They slowly walked towards Kel and shook his hand. Their leader was rather friendly and welcoming in their own right and matched him custom for custom as was befitting a delegate.

Kel had tried to resist asking about the suits they wore but thankfully they must have encountered this problem before and demonstrated the need for their suits.

With a nod from their leader one of the Teslins removed the gauntlet from their suit and exposed their hand to the open air. Nothing happened at first until Kel heard a rustle from behind him.

One of his aides was fiddling with their data pad; swatting it with their hands while they rolled it front and back. They caught Kel looking at him and said that it had suddenly died on him and that he was not sure why. The batteries had listed fully charged just a moment ago and now the device refused to power on.

Kel turned back to the Teslins and saw the previous member return their gauntlet to their suit with a loud click followed by the chime of the data pad powering up again.

The Teslin leader explained that the surface of Tesla’s Retreat was plague with frequent and violent electrical storms. The very air you breathed had a sub layer of constant energy in it regardless of where you were on the planet.

Their bodies had adapted to the electrical currents and were able to absorb and pass on energy in the surrounding area through their own bodies; much like a power relay passing on power from a power station to a waiting city.

The grandeur of their ship was a necessity as it contained multiple power units. In the event of a suit breach the Teslin’s could drain the power from a ship midflight and send everyone plummeting to their deaths; but with their design the backup generators would kick in and ensure a somewhat smooth landing.

Realizing the danger the Teslin’s presented while standing in a busy spaceport Kel ushered them inside while he tried to find transportation for them that would not kill them. -------------------------

Each of the delegations were so vastly different from what Kel had been informed of human genes and species type, and yet each of them still claimed to be just as human as the next of their kin, regardless of the vastly different features they wore.

It was a notion that Kel made scrupulous notes for future dealings with the humans, to which the delegation core all but awarded him a medal from the mounting confusion his notes would resolve in later negotiations.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️

Affect

AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.

Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.

Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.

Word count: 4138

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.

Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.

"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.

"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.

His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.

"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.

Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.

Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.

However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.

You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.

"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.

"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.

"That's my girl,"

Oh.

Oh no.

That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.

"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.

Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.

"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.

"How about some pull-ups next?"

"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"

"You could learn today,"

When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"

"Now you're speaking my language,"

On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.

You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.

You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."

His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"

He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.

You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.

Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.

"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"

Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.

"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.

"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"

By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.

To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.

"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.

"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.

"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.

Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.

You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."

"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"

It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.

"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.

"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"

"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.

"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"

"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.

"What? Hey!"

"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.

"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.

"Yes,"

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.

You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.

Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.

"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.

With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.

"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.

"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.

You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.

He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.

"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.

"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.

"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.

He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.

Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.

"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."

A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.

"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.

"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.

Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.

His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.

"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.

With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.

The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.

The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.

He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.

Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.

"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.

Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.

"Chan, please," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

"Please fuck me,"

His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."

If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.

"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.

"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.

"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.

"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"

You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.

Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.

"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.

Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.

"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.

Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.

"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.

Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.

"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"

You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.

"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.

You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.

Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.

"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.

You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to get my best friend sectioned?

This actually happened 2 years ago, but last night he made a joke about it that kind of seemed like he might still be mad at me about it. So. Anyway, ages and all are written as they were at the time.

For context, my (18m) mom took guardianship of my friend (17m), called “J”, after his grandfather passed, a few months before this happened.

Not going into specifics, but J has struggled with OCD and an ED for years, and I suspect when he’s an adult he’ll probably get diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder at some point.

(Update from the Present: no dice… yet.)

A close family friend of his passed away and it caused his mental issues (particularly the ED) to get a lot worse really quickly.

Even thought my mom was technically his guardian, she kind of relied on me to keep tabs on him because he’s usually pretty honest with me compared to other people. Like, if he’s not doing well, I have the best chance of finding that out.

So. His family friend dies, he gets worse, I report all of this back to my mom, who starts trying to get some sort of more intensive treatment lined up for him (difficult and time consuming because of where we lived at the time).

My mom tells me not to tell J, because he “talks a big game” about not wanting treatment or whatever and she firmly believes it’ll be easier if he doesn’t have time to stress himself out about it before it happens. Okay. So I don’t tell J.

Somehow, he finds out anyway, and also finds out that I knew and had chosen not to tell him, but doesn’t tell me that he knows. (Convoluted, I know, sorry.)

I pick J up from an after school thing one night, we end up talking about pretty heavy shit in the car for a /long/ time, and after the conversation died, he put a hand on my shoulder, leaned over, and kissed me. And like not a short kiss either. It was like a 3 to 4 second kiss.

Context again, I realized I was gay and that I liked J in a not particularly friend-like way when I was 13. I never told him and never planned on telling him. I told him a lot of things but I intended on growing old and dying with that one kept nice and secret. Even if he was some form of not-straight, which I was 99.99% sure he wasn’t, I didn’t think it was worth jeopardizing my closest friendship with romantic and/or sexual feelings that could at best confuse him or make him uncomfortable or at worst outright disgust him.

Anyway. We don’t talk about it, I end up going to stay for a few days with a guy (20m but not really relevant) I’d been sort of seeing/sleeping with for a couple months because I literally couldn’t be in the same house as J or I would probably implode.

Fast forward a week, I’m picking J up from a hospital 2 towns over because he ran away (? unclear really, haven’t discussed the particulars w him and I wasn’t staying at home at the time) and ended up having to go to the ER.

In the car (best time to talk to someone because they can’t run away), he apologizes for kissing me. I’m thrown off by that, because he hadn’t said anything up to this point and it honestly wasn’t even in the top 5 things I was thinking about.

I asked him why he did it and he just sighed and explained in this tone of voice that, I don’t know how to explain it, but had just the right lack of empathy or affect that I knew he was being 110% honest.

Condensed version: he found out I was reporting everything he told me to my mom (still don’t know how). He was pissed. He was aware he needed more intensive treatment, and he knew my mom was aware. He did not want treatment. He knew I had liked him for years. He knew that I was relatively fragile about it. He knew that if he did something (like kiss me for example) there was a good chance it would break my brain and I would freak out.

He essentially kissed me to decommission me for a few days so he could formulate a plan to run away.

FINALLY we have arrived at the AITA part.

After hearing all this, I tried very hard to come up with something rational to say, but ended up saying (essentially), “You’re fucking insane, and I’m telling my mother you need to be committed.”

I know I wasn’t wrong to be angry. But I also know from past knowledge and experiences that he had a deep fear of being deemed “insane” or unfixable or whatever, and also that he was really afraid of treatment in general.

Idk. I go back and forth on whether or not I was out of line, or needlessly escalating the situation, by threatening him. It was a much bigger threat in his mind than it was in mine, and so even though I know I said it as a reaction to a fucked up situation, there’s still the idea that I blew it completely out of proportion and weaponized his own mental issues against him.

So AITA for threatening my best friend by telling him I was going to get him committed to a long term psychiatric hospital?

What are these acronyms?

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello gorgeous! if you don't mind modern au, i have an idea. if you don't feel like writing anything it'd be great to hear your thoughts abt it. daemon x wife!reader (who's somehow connected with magic but not targaryen) who are devoted to each other like madly in love. before daemon has to go to war they're saying goodbyes kissing, crying and not being able to let the other go. feeling like something's off he says smth like "i'll find you in another life. i'll find you in any time we'll be existing. i will love you any time i am alive" (in high valyrian or calling her some name in it) kissing her knuckles and going away. unfortunately, he was right. reader died some way while he was away and he remains faithful to her for the rest of his life (oc but whatever) and in the modern world he does find her. maybe targaryens are some sort of royal family, maybe they keep a family business or an ordinary family with lots of relatives. but he fins the reader and they somehow just feel. sorry if it's too much. i'd really like to read something about it but it absolutely ok if you don't feel like it. thank u in advance! take care!

Waiting For A Lifetime

Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader cos it just sorta happened

Summary: Overcome by grief, Daemon turned to black magic to revive you. Moved by pity, the witch who casted the spell promised you would live until you met your love again in his next life.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Modern AU, fem!reader, mentions/depictions of death/still birth/war, my pretty boy aegon whom i would die for, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i saw this last night when i woke up in the middle of my sleep and couldn't stop thinking about it. I changed a lot about your req nonnie. I do hope you still like it though. I absolutely could not help myself with this one and I got so carried away T_T also a lot of facts about the Targaryens have distorted so just just just roll with it ok ok ok thank you And yes i know this is a gif from the crown but i love it so much the hat falling off the kiss ITS EVERYTHING I WANT TO BE HERRRRRRRRRRRRR also i do acknowledge the fact that this anon came to me with this idea after i reblogged this amazing moodboard sooooo yeah i think this post sparked this fic idea lol ALSO ALSO ALSO 2022 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! LOVE YA ALL imagine seeing this post in like 2032 or smth shit thats like 35 years from now Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony pssst i made p2 "Never Before"

Daemon's face was streaked with tears and sorrow. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was as sure as it was grave as he repeated the word he uttered to the shaman, "anything."

She looked at him, able to taste the desperation in the air, "even if it costs your life, prince?"

Daemon looks at his love before him, his love that was carrying his child. He places his bloody palm on the gaping wound on her stomach.

"Your child will not live even if she does."

Daemon screws his eyes shut tightly. He begins to quiver in anger, in grief, in pure sorrow. He mutters, "anything," he slowly opens his eyes to gaze upon her lifeless face, "better it me than her. There is no world worth living without her."

The woman narrows her eyes at the prince. She knew he was the Targaryen, once heir, known to be rugged and harsh. The Rouge Prince. Yet, there was no trace of malice within his being, only what she would describe as true devotion, true love.

"So, may it be done by the gods old and new," she says, drawing the prince's attention to her, "I will plead for her soul that she may live."

Daemon watches the witch, as she stands to her feet from the ground they were both sprawled on, in front of the body of the dead woman.

"I will plead that she may live long enough to meet you again in another life, so that you may have the love you have now once more."

"Another life?"

"Yes," she says, "the gods recreate humans they are pleased with to grace the earth again. I am certain they will let you be reborn to be with her again. I will make it certain."

Daemon grabs the cold hand that was beginning to stiffen.

"Although, I am unsure if they will allow you to remember her."

"I will remember her," Daemon retorts, kissing the hand of his love, "I will remember her no matter form I take... I will, I must."

"So it remains to be seen," she says before speaking out her incantation.

And it would not be seen until nearly 2000 years later.

The times have changed drastically. Women wore pants and voted. Men where made to take more responsibility for their actions, though still got away with things.

And yet...

... my love for him never faded.

Every prince that was born and named Daemon, I hoped would finally be him. It went about like this century after century, war after war, plague after plague, rise after fall. I had feared the Targaryens would die out, but they proved to be as strong as the very foundations of the earth.

And it took the televised of the marriage of Viserys XXIX to Duchess Aemma of Eyrie for me to see the face of my love: Daemon, the Wild Child, the Knight of Knickers, as penned by the press. Ultimately, the prince of my heart.

I burst into tears when I saw his cheeky face as he nudged his brother at the isle. I pressed my hands on the screen, thinking to myself, the wait was finally over, he was finally here.

All that was left was for me to meet the Prince of Valyria.

Yes. That would be no problem at all.

Except it was, because Daemon was just as mad as he was in this life as he was in the last.

After all, he did not get those nicknames from the press for nothing.

I used up so many of my resources to even just get a glimpse of him. It was hard to catch him in one place. I mostly caught him with a scandalous headline in the cover of magazines and newspapers.

Tonight, it was a newspaper.

"You know," the bartender taps his finger on my newspaper that was sprawled out on his bar, "he's a frequent here."

I turn to the blonde, in his white dress shirt, black waist apron, and black slacks. I raise a brow as he purses his lips as though the information was ground breaking. He wipes on a glass with his blue towel.

"Gee, Aegon," I lean on the surface before me, "I would have never guessed that from the picture on the wall."

I nod at the said picture. It's one of Daemon and the current owner of the bar, Tywin Lannister, who also happened to own Lannister Land Corp, shaking hands. Oh, Lannisters.

"Hey," Aegon shrugs, pulling his lips down in a nuff-said manner, "it had to be said, since you're literally the only patron here that has not interrogated me with questions about the Knight of Knickers."

I snort, "then allow me to change that," I rest my head on my hand, "is he truly so dashing that his looks practically steal the knickers of the ladies around him?"

Aegon finishes buffing his glass and puts it down, looking up in thought, "mmm, I think it's mostly cause he's a prince that he's got the effect he's got. I've got no idea what possessed the first girl to throw her panties at him."

I giggle, "are you saying the prince is ugly?"

"Bit harsh, innit," Aegon pulls back, getting another glass, rubbing it down with his towel, "your words, not mine."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head, as I laugh at the light haired boy's muses, "you know, if we had been living at the height of the Targaryen rule, Daemon would have had your head for that, pretty boy."

"Gods, to be beheaded," he sighed, "a dream, rather than working here, taking about some monarch who lives off the money of the people."

I snort once more. Aegon's face softens as he breaks into a laugh himself.

"No, but honestly," he says putting down the glass and the towel, "you, my dear, are my saving grace. The highlight of my begrudgingly stretched out day," he stretches out a hand to me.

I chuckle at him as I take his hand. He presses a kiss on the back of it, making me grin at him in amusement.

"You're the only sane person here," he releases my hand, "everyone else is so desperate to brush shoulders with the prince, or simply even catch a of whiff of his flatulence."

I break out into a fit of chuckles, slamming firmly at the wood between us.

"No, I'm serious! I heard the fittest gal, a total bombshell, boasting with pride about how she managed a sniff of the bloke's fart."

I'm wheezing with laughter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

Aegon releases a deep and dramatic sigh, "what has the world come to?"

I wipe a tear as Aegon watches me empty myself of laughter. His face crinkles in a pleased expression, Adam's apple bobbing as he chuckles airily.

I sigh, catching my breath, "well, if I ever become that desperate, I ask that you pray for my soul."

Aegon presses his palms together, "praying for that girl as we speak."

I chuckle, folding the newspaper before me, "I must say, I am actually desperate to meet the wild child myself."

Aegon drops his hands along with his humored expression.

I cannot help but laugh at him as I continue to fold the paper, "though, I would say I am the desperate kind that is so desperate..." I eye him as I press the grey material together, "that I, somehow, dread to meet him at all."

Aegon snorts, screwing his eyes shut as he wipes his face, "the Stranger. Don't say things like that! I nearly had a heart attack believing you."

"No, but it's true, Aegon!" I say with a faux wounded pout, "prince Daemon is my great love, we have been destined to meet for millennia!"

Aegon leans on the table, humming as he nodds his head, "yes, and I suppose I am Aegon the Conqueror."

I lean towards him and grab his jaw, "no, you look more like Aegon II. The spitting image, I dare say."

He scoffs, swatting me off, "I'm hotter than him."

I pull away, "yes. That I can agree with, pretty boy. Personal hygiene does wonders."

Aegon snorts and plays off the blush on his cheeks by wiping his nose with his thumb, "you speak as though you met him."

I straighten up, "that's because I have. He was once my nephew."

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. His face contorts at the thought.

I raise my brows at him, "have I not told you I am not only a Targaryen historian, an expert at that, but I am also a patron of the Museum of Ice and Fire? I'm married into their family."

"Okay," he raises a finger, "ew."

I snort.

Aegon lifts his jaw and hums, "well, now that you mentioned it, I always knew you were one of those insanely rich blokes who frequent here. I was thinking you were a mafia boss or something though."

I scoff in amusement, raising my brows at him.

He pushes his white sleeves up then raises his hand in defense, "you have a very intense aura about you."

"That's because you trigger my fight mode," I retort.

He huffs, "do I? I'm scared to know what you'll do to me when I've seen what you do to men who hit on you."

"Aww, don't worry," I coo, "I wouldn't hurt my pretty, baby boy."

Aegon doesn't get to reply when a customer calls his attention. With this, he pulls away and leaves me to my own devices.

We don't get to continue our conversation at all, for it was clear that the rush hour had begun.

I eventually pulled back and decided to entertain myself while my favorite bartender was busy. I swiveled on my stool, looking out to the room, spotting the jukebox collecting dust in the corner. I smile at the sight of it, thinking about how it was still here after all these years, in spite of being older than Aegon.

I stand from my seat and walk over to it.

Aegon, finding one patron missing, frantically looks around then calms, raising a brow.

I place my hands on the jukebox, bending over to check if it was plugged in.

Aegon snorts as he hands a man a beer, eyes not at all fixed on him, "that doesn't work, love."

"Mmm, ye of little faith."

Aegon is annoyed by the man that sits on the vacated stool, blocking his vision. In retaliation, he blocks out the sound of his voice. Aegon calls out, "if you can make that hunkajunk work, I'll clear your tab for you."

I chuckle as I pull the machine forward, checking its wiring, "I wouldn't want to make a kid working on minimum wage to pay for me at all."

"I only said I would clear your tab, doll face," is all he replies before he goes back to tending to drinks again.

I break into chuckles as I fiddle with the wires on the back. I admit, it took me quite a while to go through everything, which was why Aegon warned that he would not call an ambulance for me if I got electrocuted.

The sight of the jukebox coming to life was enough to shut him up.

I get to my feet with a huff, brushing my hands off with each other. I turn to Aegon, who was already looking at me in astonishment, along with a few other people in the room.

I smirk, "my tab then?"

"Good as gone," Aegon shakes his head in disbelief, cutting his hand across his neck.

I release a satisfied sigh as I punch at the hardened buttons and play whatever it was that was available to be played.

When the music starts, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off with the music. The sound brings back some memories I had in the 1940's. If I recall correctly, it was around this time Daemon's father, King Baelon, was crowned.

I slowly moved to the rhythm of the song, swaying my hips, waving my extended arms out as I made my way to the center of the room.

Aegon stilled in his spot upon seeing this. His breath caught in his throat and he was only brought back to reality when someone demanded a gin. He looked around the room as he poured that idjit his drink and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw the onlooking crowd.

He snorts loudly, grabbing his towel, throwing it over his shoulder roughly, clearing his throat with more noise than necessary.

I smile to myself when I hear Aegon's familiar coughing. He had a tendency to do this whenever men around me started to be a bother. And I loved him dearly for it. He was a sweet boy.

With my eyes still closed, I continue dancing to the soothing song. My smile grows bigger when a section comes that tickles my musical senses. I chuckle as I twirl in my spot.

When I felt a hand come to my waist, I didn't have to open my eyes to know it was Aegon. He wouldn't have let anyone come near me at all without barking up a storm.

I hummed at the scent of him, familiar yet foreign to me at once. He must have changed his cologne. I prefer this one better. He pulls me close when I reach out to him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a palm on his shoulder. His dress shirt is softer than what I imagined it to be.

I am surprised when he leads us into a ballroom dance. In fact, I am so shocked, I open my eyes and see a blur of his white shirt and blonde hair as he spins me around.

I break into a fit of chuckles, screwing my eyes shut in pure bliss when he dips me, "I had no idea you were a dancer, pretty boy."

"Yes, well, journalists don't find it interesting enough to write about."

My eyes burst open at the sound of the deep voice.

My heart is pounding at the sight of the smirking man with silver hair. I nearly faint at the violet irises so close to mine.

"I do say," his hot breath fans on my face, "if we were spotted by one now, they'd have a field day."

I jolt upright and shove the man away. He doesn't seem to be offended by my harsh actions, and, in fact, chuckles as he reels back from my action, "not what I had expected and not the reaction I usually get, but there's a first for everything."

My breath hitches when he smiles at me. I turn from him, to Aegon, who was staring coldly from his place behind the bar. It seems the rest of the people here were doing the same as well, gobsmacked by the presence of the man in the middle of the room

I roll my shoulders back, turning to my dance partner, "Prince Daemon," I mutter, bowing my head slowly, "pardon my rudeness."

He chuckles, waving me off as he stuffs a hand in his pocket, "oh, no need to be so formal, my dear. I can understand the shock," he tilts his head at me, lips still curved, "you surely weren't expecting to be dancing with the prince and thought me to be someone else, no?"

I look at him and stare in silence. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words.

Everything was suddenly so real, and it was making my mind and my heart race.

Aegon watches this and clears his throat loudly.

It does not help anyone.

Daemon raises his brows at me in expectation, placing his other hand in his pocket as he leans on one leg.

I open my mouth. A second passes before I mutter, "I thought you were my pretty boy."

His lips spread into a toothy grin. Airy chuckles leave him, "I can be your pretty boy."

When he extends his hand out to me, it was like the heavens opened and I could hear the angels sing.

This was the moment I have been waiting for since that day that I came back to life and kissed him goodbye with a promise of finding him in his next one.

My breath was heavily taxed when I lifted my hand.

My soul nearly leaves me when I jolt in shock over the sound of a record scratching and jumping, repeating over and over again.

In that moment, I am hit by an epiphany. I am so overwhelmed with emotions that I could barely breathe. The sight of Daemon before me brought tears to my eyes. This was all I ever wanted, and yet-- and yet-- I was drowning. I could not breathe properly.

"I..." I shudder, making Daemon's face fall, "I have to go," I mutter through a strained breath.

Daemon knits his brows, shifting in his spot with his hand still out, "what?"

Aegon watched with tightly knit brows as I ran out of the room.

The prince drops his hand and spins on his heels, eyes locked on the runaway. His nostrils flare as his face contorts in confusion, "wait! Stop! Where are you going?!"

I heave heavily as I push past people on my way out. I am absolutely winded when I exit the establishment, hands shivering from both the cold and the nerves that were getting to me in this moment.

I walk aimlessly farther out, down to the lawn that was now dark, since it was gods-know-what hour.

"Wait!"

My heart drops.

I spin around when someone grabs my wrist. My heart is still quick in my chest when I see Daemon, heaving. His short, light hair was slightly tousled in its place. He knits his brows at me, tilting his head, "you dare leave your prince, Cinderella?"

My jaw hangs low.

He releases a sigh, shaking his head, "I forbid it."

Seeing him here and now made everything feel more Real with a capital R.

Daemon adjusts his grip on my wrist, pulling his hand back, so that he was now holding my hand.

I look at him, blinking the glassiness of my eyes away, still in shock of his presence. A million questions were running through my head, and I was glad to be able to even have the mind to ask one in this moment, "do you know me, Daemon?"

He tilts his head upon hearing this, brows knitting, lips curving. He releases a chuckle at the lack of formality and how haphazard the question was, but finds himself further drawn because of it, "no," he shakes his head, "but I would love to know you."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth shatters something in me.

He did not know me.

I turn away from him as I try to even my breath. I retreat my hand and step back as a shiver runs down my spine.

And yet here he was, chasing after me.

Daemon steps forward to make up for the space between us, "don't leave. Come back inside with me. I'll give you my coat, then you can boast that the prince of Valyria gave it to you."

I continue stepping back as I shake my head, "you don't understand," I mutter under my breath in High Valyrian.

"Then make me understand," he retorts in the same tongue with a chuckle as he shakes his head and takes a wide stride over to me, grabbing my hand again.

I gasp at the warmth of his touch. When I turn back to him, tears have finally fallen from my eyes.

Daemon's face hardens at the sight of it. His hand reaches out to my face, wiping the wetness away. The sight of his torn expression tears at me, bringing me more tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asks in High Valyrian.

I do not get to reply, as suddenly there is a loud burst from behind us, commanding both our attentions.

It's Aegon. He busted through the door with my things in his hand. Upon catching the sight of the two of us, he freezes, breathing heavily as the looks out.

Daemon's expression hardens; his grip on me tightens. He turns to me, jealousy coating his mouth when he catches I where I am looking, "is that your pretty boy?"

I do not reply to him as Aegon walks over.

Daemon pulls me close to him. I look up at him with teary eyes. Aegon looks between us, jaw tense as he hands me my bag, coat, and newspaper.

"Thank you, bartender," Daemon dismisses, patting Aegon on the shoulder, before turning from him to face me again.

When I catch Aegon's face, I finally have the wits to move.

I pull away from Daemon to put my coat on. I swallow a heavy lump in my throat at feel of the stares of the two men.

Once I have my coat on, I pull a card from my bag, handing it to Daemon. He wastes no time in taking it from me, immediately scrutinizing it.

"I'd..." I start, taking a deep breath, "like to see you again."

Daemon's eyes dart to me, breaking into a smile.

Butterflies explode in my stomach at the sight of him.

Aegon's face tenses.

I release a breath before asking, "when are you fr-"

"Whenever," Daemon blurts. He places the card in the breast pocket of his white shirt, "I'm free whenever."

I nod slowly at his words, "I have work tomorrow, but I do have a long lunch at 12-

"I'll call you a 11:55."

I purse my lips at his words, trying to hold back my chuckle, but failing, "11:55?"

Daemon grins, nodding once, "on the dot."

I chuckle, turning to my feet as I nod at his words, "11:55 then."

"On the dot," he nods, extending a hand out to rub his thumb on my cheek.

I turn to him just as Daemon pulls away and stuffs his hands back in his pockets, "I'll walk you."

I shake my head, turning to Aegon, who was still standing there, watching the whole interaction between us, "you don't have to. I have a car parked nearby."

"Then I'll walk you to your car."

I turn back to Daemon, who then offers his arm out to me. I smile, unable to deny him, or myself, of the offer. I take his arm, and the next moment, he leads us off.

I turn over my shoulder, raising a hand at Aegon while I offer him a smile, "see you, Aegon."

Aegon watches as I turn back.

There is a twisted feeling inside him that grows. He mutters softly. It is too soft for anyone but himself to hear, "see you."

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Trending Topics

Pairing: Keigo Takami x reader

Summary: when you started writing online erotica about your boss, you had been under the strict impression that he would never, ever find out about it.

Warning: Smut, vaginal fingering, degradation, praise, slight public-sex, Language, Hawks deserves his own warning

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 2

The phone rang.

For a secretary, one may have thought this to be a completely normal occurrence, just as you did now. It never would have occurred to you that this particular phone call would be anything but.

So when you picked it up, you answered in your usual, well-mannered tone, completely devoid of any sort of concern. "If this is about the Hero Billboard Chart event then your seat has been reserved and I've requested that it be close to Endeavor."

The laugh of your boss echoed down the line. "Thanks, lovebird, but that's actually not what I'm calling about." He paused, leaving the crackle of empty static in your ear. "Would you mind coming up to my office for a sec?"

"Oh, uh, yes I'll be there right away."

Usually, you were quite good at your job.

You were responsible and efficient, taking on tasks diligently without fault. There was only one unplanned vacation day on your record, taken only as a result of some unforeseen food sickness that left you slumped on your bathroom floor for most of the afternoon.

Still, after you had been able to pry your body away from the safety of your toilet, you had gone back to bed, opened your computer, and reorganized some meetings so your boss had the maximum amount of free time.

He was probably why you enjoyed your job so much, or at least was a big part of it.

Hawks, true to his image, was very laid back and lenient. He met your hard work and determination with praise, a huge comparison to some of the other famous names you had worked under.

This worked as continual motivation to please him, hoping to make his life easier in return for his kindness. Thankfully, he was forgiving, brushing past the meaningless mistakes that many egotistic administrators would've relished in punishing.

So when he had called you into his office without telling you why, the only thing running through your buzzing mind was that you had something very, very wrong.

Mentally replaying through all your actions from the past week, you searched for anything that might've warranted a reprimand and came up completely blank.

You stepped into the elevator, grazing your ID through the scanner device and selecting your preferred floor.

Nervous energy was beginning to simmer in your stomach, growing more intense with every level you passed on the way to the top.

With a ding, you were released into the corridor leading to the same room you visited every morning. Those sessions were usually on your own accord, nothing but a quick catch-up on whatever important party or conference Hawks was supposed to attend.

Of course, he would ask you up here if there was something specific that he needed accomplished at that very moment, but you couldn't ignore the small twitch of intuition that this was different somehow.

Walking down the hall, you acknowledged the fact that you were probably just being nervous over nothing, simply anxious from the negative outcomes that were buzzing around your mind.

After taking a deep breath, you gently knocked on the faded glass of your boss' office. A distracted mumble of confirmation could be heard through the walls and you took it as a pass to enter.

You walked in, eyes immediately flashing to the man in front of you for any signs of external indignation.

He was staring fixedly on his phone, attentively scrolling through an unseen article with his legs propped on the surface of his desk.

All in all, he seemed relatively normal, giving you the minuscule confidence to make yourself known. "You needed something?"

At the sound of your voice, Hawks looked up, allowing a recognizably easygoing smile to spread across his features as he slid his boots off the table. "Yeah, thanks for coming. Would you mind taking a seat?"

You nodded, but the ball of anxiety in your stomach exploded at his words. Nothing good had ever come after that statement.

The next inquiry did nothing to help either. "So, do you know why you're here?"

Beginning to pick at the skin in between your fingernails, you shook your head. "No, not really. Did I do something wrong? An error in one of my reports or something like that?"

"Not at all! Your work here is great." He complimented, waving off your concerns. "However, I do have to bring up a tiny problem regarding your social media."

"My social media?" Hawks nodded at the question. "I'm not really on it. I mean, I have some of the popular apps and stuff, but I don't post anything."

He hummed, tilting his head in feigned confusion. "Not even online erotica about me?"

The blood drained from your face.

You watched in utter horror as he swiveled his phone around, revealing the welcome screen of your very own Tumblr profile.

Words were failing you. You doubted that your voice would work at all if you even tried, but Hawks seemed more than willing to break the silence.

"This one's my favorite. I mean, seventeen thousand likes?" He scrolled to your most recent post and let out a low whistle. "Pun intended, I'm more of a Twitter guy myself, but I'm pretty sure that's impressive, yeah?"

The muscle in your chest was beginning to thump harder and harder. With his acute sense of hearing, you were almost sure he could hear its beat amidst the quiet. "I... I don't-"

"And the tags are even better!" Hawks turned the screen around in his direction once more. "I quote, now tell me if I get anything wrong, hashtag 'I want this man to rail me until I can't walk.'"

In your defense, you hadn't written about Hawks since he had hired you.

The first post had been a sleep-deprived, most likely horny result of your crush on the winged hero. You hadn't even thought it was all that good.

But the internet disagreed.

They came flocking to your sweet words like bees, pollinating your page with likes, reposts, and motivating comments. Their approval worked as motivation, pressure to keep feeding the masses in unneeded media.

When you had been offered the secretarial position here, you had obviously stopped, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to delete the account.

Hours of hard work spent writing and scouting Google for synonyms was just too hard to let go of. Not to mention the readers who genuinely enjoyed your content would have it deleted without a proper explanation.

You had kept it up, leaving your account to slowly become untouched, even if your attraction to the pro increased steadily during the span of these past few months.

Besides, there was no way anyone could connect it to you, right?

Wrong, apperently.

So fucking wrong.

"I've gotta say, you're quite the little writer. I would've said your talents lay in haggling me out of meetings, but this is some good stuff."

Your eyes shot up at his words in shocked dismay. "You read them?"

Golden irises darkened, fixed in your direction in a way that made you squirm. "All of them."

Hot tears began to brim at the corner of your eyes. You willfully pushed them back, hoping to retain what minuscule specs of self respect you had left.

Pushing back the chair, you stood up, offering him a polite bow in refusal to meet his gaze. "I guess I'll go collect my things. Thank you for the opportunity."

"What?"

The confusion in his tone made you look up in surprise. "Aren't I being fired?"

He furrowed his brows, offering you an unreadable expression. "Fire you?"

You nodded at his question, trying to ignore the glimmer of hope creeping into your train of thought. "Well, um, I just thought that-"

"Sit down."

The authority behind his voice had you immediately in compliance. You watched him slowly stand up and make his way over to you, the already established power dynamic reinstated physically.

He placed his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively caging your body between them. "Writing porn online about your boss? A termination would probably be letting you off easy."

Your heart dropped.

Did I commit a felony?

There's no way, right?

There can't be.

I mean, yeah sure, the commission's super uptight about his image, but people write shit online about the heroes all the time, so it can't be that bad.

I hope...

"Did you mean it?"

You glanced up in confusion. "Mean what?"

Cocking an eyebrow, he offered you a smirk that reeked of self-satisfaction. "Did you really spend all that time daydreaming about how good my cock would feel inside you?"

Your mind went blank at his words. There was nothing you could focus on besides the warmth his voice was sparking in your core.

This couldn't be happening. You had to be drunk or asleep or something.

He raised a hand to softly cup your jaw, eyes boring into yours in anticipation. "Listen, sweetheart, you have to let me know this is okay first or I'm gonna stop."

Gaze trailing downward, you line of sight shot

"Please don't." You breathed. He quickly backed away, but you made a grab for his hands in realization. "Fuck, I-I mean don't stop, please don't stop. You can... I want you to keep going, please."

Hawks scanned your expression for any sort of hesitation, finding nothing but desire hidden behind a thick veil of shame and embarrassment.

An impish grin materialized across his face and Hawks resumed his previous position, confining you into the chair with muscled biceps. You gasped when he lifted his right leg, pushing it in between your thighs.

Dexterous fingers began to slowly undo the buttons of your blouse. "I'll admit, you're pretty good at writing about me, but I can promise that the real thing is a lot better."

Intimidating could be a word to describe him, sure, but never like this.

After pulling open your shirt, Hawks tugged down the strap of your bra. The cold air hit your chest and you stiffened in shyness under the heat of his stare.

He nudged your averted gaze upward with the tip of his finger, allowing you to see the affection and lust swimming in his expression. Golden eyes met your own before his mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss trailed downward as he began to pepper your neck and exposed collarbone with his lips, sucking on the skin as his hands moved up to rub your breasts.

You began to unconsciously roll your hips against his thigh, squirming in desperation. He immediately took notice, giving your nipple a soft pinch.

A low whine fell from your throat when he removed his leg from in between yours.

"So needy." Hawks clicked his tongue, voice laced with imitated disapproval.

You watched his hand move to slip underneath your skirt, hooking a finger into the fabric of your underwear and pulling it to the side. A sharp exhale fell past your lips as his breath hit your core.

He ran a finger through your slit, eyes wide in satisfaction at the wetness that followed.

"Always getting here on time, always so polite. What a good girl." He cackled, slowly inserting a finger into you and pumping it experimentally. "Who knew you were such a slut?"

His thumb found your clit, rubbing the bud and drawing a soft moan from your lips. "It doesn't matter very much to me though, as long as you're mine."

The movement of hands came to a slow as he reached behind himself to grab something. "In fact, why don't you show me? Since you seemed so keen on it before."

"What?" You breathed, aching for the pleasure he had just taken away.

"I wanna hear how much of a slut you are for me." He held out his phone, allowing you to see the faintly lit screen of your writing profile. "I want to hear every sentence your perverted little mind has conjured up about me. You stop talking and I stop fucking you with my fingers, understood?"

Allowing him to press the device into your hands, you nodding, silently begging for him to continue.

You started to speak, voice wobbling with every syllable. His movement hung off every one of them, motions led by the fantasy you narrated.

"His touch was like fireworks against her skin, still cold from the evening air."

Every word added to your personal humiliation, but it was an evil you would gladly endure if that meant feeling like this.

"He added another finger." He did as you said, causing you to gasp at the added pressure. "Fuck, Hawks!"

"Keigo, sweetheart."

"Kei-"

With a curl of his fingers, the last syllable of his name fizzled away into low groan. "Almost there, princess, you've got it."

He was right.

This was so much better than anything you could've ever come up with.

The words that fell from your mouth soon turned to a puddle of moans. They blurred together on the screen as bliss flooded your mind, replacing any coherent thought with pure need.

Pleasure coursed through your limbs with every thrust of his fingers, edging you closer and closer to the brim of ecstasy. A few more moments and you pushed past it.

The phone fell from your shaking hands as you unraveled in his.

Hawks tenderly soothed you down from your high, softly continuing to caress your overstimulated clit before removing his hand from under your skirt.

"Request the day off tomorrow, yeah?" He pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, sending you a devilish grin. "I'm taking you up on that hashtag once we get off and you're definitely gonna need it."

[ceruleanwhore]

In my soul, I feel disgusted and betrayed by this finale and I am shocked that the same writers who were able to give us such a truly wonderful show somehow came up with such a terrible ending for it. This episode directly opposes the very nature of the show more than any other episode in such a way that then calls into question the rest of the series. This episode feels every bit as hollow and sad as Ted himself seems to be throughout the finale and makes me wonder if we ever were actually supposed to believe and to hope at all in the first place, even though I thought that was the point of the series. 

The first of many issues I have with the episode is how they handled Rupert. The whole show is about belief, but specifically believing in others’ capacity for good and ability to change for the better. It’s about believing in redemption and reconciliation, which they actually could have done for Rupert even this late in the show. The scene in episode 10 where we get a glimpse of the inner child that’s still tucked away somewhere inside him showed us that even he still had this potential, up until they did what they did for the finale. While I, personally, tend to be more like Sassy was in that scene — gleefully cheering for the downfall of an odious scoundrel — it felt completely wrong for this show in particular to include that kind of public humiliation, which we the audience are all supposed to be cheering for, and in the middle of Ted’s last game ever with Richmond.

Where we actually could have used a side bit about a scoundrel getting his comeuppance is with Ted’s ex wife and their ex therapist. I think it’s absolutely terrible that they went and set up Rupert’s downfall the way they did while Jake apparently gets off scot free and never gets his license revoked or anything. There also is never really any acknowledgement of just how wrong what he did was, how he should have his license revoked, and how his actions call into question every bit of therapy Ted and Michelle got from him. No one ever questions ‘Oklahoma,’ never mind the entire divorce, relative to this man’s breach of ethics and it bothers me to no end that the most we get is his absence at the end from scenes with Ted, Michelle, and their son. We didn’t need Rupert dressing up like Darth Vader and physically assaulting someone, we needed Michelle realizing how completely wrong her whole relationship with Jake is, dumping him, and reporting him.

The next issue is Ted himself. Obviously, he was in a gloomy sort of mood throughout the whole episode, but I think it’s really important to point out how that didn’t actually clear up once he got home. I do believe he was happy to see his son but, from the plane ride onward, it’s like he’s just hollow. We see him coaching little league soccer for his kid and yet there isn’t any of the heart and soul in it that we’ve seen him put into his other coaching. It’s like he’s depressed, which is understandable because he just left a whole incredible, supportive community to come to Kansas where, like Odysseus at the end of the Oddyssey, he’s a stranger in his own home. He goes from having a whole city around him to support him to seemingly having nothing and not even being a welcome member of his own family since he’s still divorced. Also, as others have pointed out, that montage that seems to be a dream sequence when he’s on the plane ride home is all about him writing himself out of the lives of everyone he just left behind. He’s decided that it’s better for everyone there to just forget about him and move on with their lives as though he was never there and he’s literally dreaming about how happy they’ll be to do that. 

This is a major thematic issue for this series because one of the main points of the series is the idea that everyone can change for the better and, more importantly, just about every character does. Ted spends all that time in England working on his own shit like everyone else, and even gets over his aversion to therapy in order to seek help for the first time ever, just to throw all of that away at the very end because apparently he’s just back on his bs and that’s it. This is where it would maybe be alright if there were another season after this one to address and fix this, but there isn’t. In the very last episode of the whole thing he’s throwing away his entire community, dreaming about how happy they’ll be without him, and there’s nothing and no one there correcting that. To me, this is like if right at the end of the last episode with no room left to fix it, they just had Beard go steal another car and then act like the audience is supposed to be okay with it.

The other thing, going off of that, is how they handled some of the relationships, and I specifically want to start off by talking about Ted and Rebecca. They have the distinction of being the only ship to truly be baited, more than once, and very unnecessarily so. The bait scene at the start of the final episode contributes nothing to the plot, the characters, or their relationship with each other — all it does is mock the members of the audience who were foolish enough to believe they ever could have been together. This, to me, also goes against the core values and themes of the show, because ship baiting like that is inherently mean-spirited and Ted Lasso at its core is meant to be kind. There is nothing kind about essentially dangling something over someone’s head, playing keep away with it, until you finally just chuck it in the river and laugh at the person for being so foolish as to think they were ever going to get it. It’s mean for the sake of being mean and again, for the umpteenth time, it contributes nothing.

So then let’s get to Roy, Jamie, and Keeley. Jamie and Roy are another example of a strong relationship that’s developed beautifully over the course of three seasons regressing at the very end because oh no, people ship it and we can’t have that. I do think that Keeley turning both of them down was necessary but Roy and Jamie literally getting into a fistfight over her was completely unnecessary and detrimental to their individual characters. By this point, they both are mature enough and respect Keeley enough that it’s genuinely ooc for them to be fighting each other about who gets to date her while she’s not even there. Season 3 Jamie and Roy would’ve been leaving the decision to her without reverting back to macho Neanderthal crap. 

To me, this is also about the creators recognizing that people in the fandom have ships and, for whatever reason, feeling the need to try and shut that down rather than just leaving well alone. If, instead of getting in a fight like they did, Roy and Jamie had a conversation about their shared experiences of wanting to be with Keeley but not knowing where they stand with her and recognizing how hard it is for each other, then it could end up contributing to the further growth of their relationship and, along with it, shipping and oh no, we can’t have that. Just like with Avatar: the Last Airbender, the presence or lack of romantic relationships is not the issue here, the problem is with writers accidentally setting up an incredibly compelling ship and then being like “oops, we didn’t mean to do that,” and trying to ctrl z it in the finale, at the detriment of the whole story. Why oh why do writers keep feeling the need to sacrifice the quality of their whole story for the sake of trying to get people to stop having opinions?

So then last up is Ted and Trent. As many others have pointed out, that bit where Ted’s reading the book and makes that comment about the ‘laugh police’ in response to Trent’s excitement and anxiety is extremely out of character. Ted “but he’s our dork” Lasso would never say that and I was horrified to hear those words come out of his mouth. However, this goes in with the destruction of his entire character arc and every bit of growth he’s done throughout the past three seasons all in this one episode, because that was him actively pushing Trent away because, as previously acknowledged, he’s back on his bs.

One issue with this is that Ted then never has a proper goodbye with Trent and the closest thing to that is the note he left asking Trent to change the title of the book. It’s not that I necessarily think he needed individual goodbyes on screen with every other character but Trent in particular was hugely important for Ted, like how Rebecca was. Do you really mean to tell me that Ted wouldn’t actually say goodbye to the journalist who wrote what, coming from him at the time, was essentially a glowing review when he was actually hired with the intention of destroying Ted’s career? Do you mean to say he wouldn’t get a proper goodbye with the man who threw away his whole career over him? The man who then decided the first thing he wanted to do after leaving said career was to write a book about him and his team? Seriously?

The other thing with Trent is that, where Ted’s ex wife and even Rebecca have felt the need to use ‘Oklahoma’ with him to get him to tell the truth, Trent has a talent for discerning the exact truth from Ted regardless of what he does or does not say. It would have been perfectly in character for him to go talk to Ted like Rebecca tried to but then actually succeed where she failed because he would be able to clearly read Ted’s signals and throw that all back at him. Unlike Rebecca, he could directly call out how much Ted didn’t actually want to leave.

That is actually the biggest issue this episode had — cowardice. The only reason I can think of why they wouldn’t even consider doing something like what I just described is because, like with Roy and Jamie, they are perfectly aware of the chemistry between those characters and how they have set them up so it reads like they’re in love with each other, and a scene like this would be just about impossible to do without coming across as romantic. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Ted and Trent would’ve already been snogging by the start of the season if one of them were a woman. This show did the thing where they’ve decided that they can have a couple gay characters, but those characters can only get with specifically devised side characters because God forbid you just have your two existing characters of the same gender kiss a bit. Between the pairings of Ted and Trent, and Roy and Jamie, there is enough textual evidence of mutual attraction and the potential for real, romantic relationships that one could write over a hundred pages about it, and that is not an exaggeration. When I look at this finale, one of the things I see is the titular character being destroyed because they decided that was better than letting people think that he could maybe not be straight.

The last issue I have here is that there really were no goodbyes. Rebecca showed up at the airport and that’s it and I thought that was very weird and, again, very much not in accordance with the entire rest of the show. Even if they didn’t have the entire team show up at the airport to say goodbye, it didn’t make sense to not even have just the Diamond Dogs show up for that. Where tf was everyone? Because just from watching the whole rest of the show, I think it would be impossible not to expect the team, the dogs, the folks from the pub and maybe also Shannon from town. It was a cold, empty departure far from fitting for the show at all and it left me coming out of that finale feeling cold and empty from the crippling disappointment. They had a whole show centered around interpersonal relationships and support and then had the coldest, loneliest ending anyone there could have devised.

My final thought here is that this is not an ending and the only way to salvage this wreckage is with another season. This feels like something they’re doing to drum up attention and interaction so that it’ll be successful when they do come in and announce that they’ve changed their minds and there will be another season, like an encore at a concert. However, if this really is the end, then I am absolutely disgusted and feel very betrayed right now because this show told me to believe and taught me that maybe hope isn’t actually a bad thing that’s out to get me, just to turn around and crap all over that. This show didn’t just apparently waste hours of my time, it was actually helping to get me to move on from past pain and start to accept hope as a good thing, until it shattered mine. They desecrated the very art they created and then expected the audience to applaud such disrespectful destruction, and I am disgusted by it.

[frankingsteinery]

been sitting on this for awhile because its a bit controversial, but its one of the main reasons i was pushed into the frankenstein fandom space so i figured it was high time to talk about it

ive noticed that theres this general opinion, both among scholars and present in more fandom-y spaces, that victor is somehow effeminate for what are ultimately symptoms of disability (fainting spells, being bedridden, hysteria, etc) as if being physically or mentally ill is something that is inherently feminine. i have read articles published by academics that victor’s sickness is proof of his “femininity,” which is why he wants to take on the traditional part of a woman, that is, childbirth (via creature)

even in general, and not on an academic level, it emerges in jokes or memes all over the place — people poking at victor for being weak, or sick, or a gay little UWU bean sub, because aw hes fainting all the time XD and he’s sooo dramatic! as if these things were somehow both his choice, and somehow innately feminine

so, not only is there this weird link people are attempting to draw between disability and femininity, but also queerness (particularly, ive noticed, being a “bottom” or “sub” — but thats a whole separate can of worms) and femininity. as if being either of these things is inherently girly or cutesy and thus worthy of being made fun of

there comes a point (particularly when these interpretations leak into broader understandings of something via pop culture), where, for lack of a better word, it comes off as fetishizing or romanticizing queerness and/or queer relationships

and while this may seem relatively harmless on the surface and comes off as just thoughtless jokes made in bad taste, it IS serious. not just within the context of frankenstein, but the general premise of the severity that even subconscious reinforcement of detrimental and stereotypical ideas should be treated with. its a slippery slope from jokes to notions that affect you and how you see the world

this is obviously part of a broader problem with the way disability, gender, identity and etc is thought about and taught, which results in people harboring all sorts of these types of underlying prejudices. its just that victor happens to be a particularly good example, wherein he is a feminized man that is ascribed as “weak,” and the attribute “weak” is ascribed to someone who has been historically analyzed as both disabled and queer. this has been reinforced for decades, and i feel like this treatment of his character in this way is so blatantly obvious and runs rampant while it goes nearly entirely unchecked — and also in the case of frankenstein discourse, its often a quadruple whammy (ableism, misogyny, transphobia, homophobia)

and the worst part is that it is so often completely unintentional, and the bulk of this sort of content are well-meaning jokes. i genuinely don’t think people do this in bad faith or out of malice, but spreading these concepts even in formats that appear to be harmless (jokes, memes) just contribute to and continue to spread these ideas and stereotypes. its frustrating because its hard to point out and bring attention to without coming off as nitpicky or overly sensitive because this sort of thing is just so SUBTLE, and these beliefs are so gradually learned and then reinforced on a subconscious level

i could go on but for risk of sounding redundant ill digress, however to be clear this is not me saying you cant view victor as transfem, or disabled, or queer (i do!), or to view him as feminine, or etc, but that you should look at the reasons for WHY you think so, and how you or others treat the subject when talking about it.

[tennessoui]

anyone remember the divorce lawyer au?

(first ficlet posted here, along with the explanation post) (1.5k)

“Of all the gin joints in the world, you walk into mine,” the very familiar and incredibly grating voice of Anakin Skywalker greets Obi-Wan mere moments after he settles into a seat at the end of the bar. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says automatically, though he isn’t quite sure what he’s protesting. It’s an instinctive sort of no. A plaintitive no. A for the love of all things holy, I cannot be expected to deal with this now as well sort of no. 

Even though, technically, Mr. Skywalker is right. Of all the damn gin joints in the world, he happened to walk into one already hosting Anakin.

“Well,” Anakin sounds considering now. He doesn’t particularly sound as if he’s planning on leaving. “I guess of all the dive bars in Vegas, you happened to walk into mine. But I’m pretty sure they sell gin here! Though I guess I don’t know how much gin needs to be sold at a bar before it’s classified as a gin joint.” Now his voice sounds even more considering. Closer too.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks as she slides down closer to him. It’s not very loud in here, still relatively early and so not overly crowded, but she leans forward across the bartop as if having trouble hearing him.

Anakin sits down in the seat next to Obi-Wan rather aggressively, brushing their shoulders and thighs together. “You can put his drinks on my tab, thanks,” he announces. “We’re together.”

“We’re not together,” Obi-Wan tells her. “But yes, you can put my drinks under his tab. Much obliged. An old fashioned, thank you. A double. No cherry.”

“You got it,” the woman says, turning away to make his drink. 

Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a second to pray for patience before he turns to look at Anakin Skywalker.

He is just as beautiful as he was two weeks ago when he’d last stopped into Obi-Wan’s office, tearful, hungover bride in tow for a quick divorce before her plane ride back to Australia.

It isn’t fair.

“We could be together,” Anakin says. His eyes are dark, his head canted forward, his thigh still brushing Obi-Wan’s. “Just for the night.” “You know, I’ve always thought you were a lot less sober when you proposed to strangers,” Obi-Wan tells him drolly, accepting his drink from the bartender with a wave of his hand. “I’ve been picturing you absolutely sloshed stumbling down the aisle.”

“You’re not a stranger, Mr. Kenobi,” Anakin replies. “You’re my go-to divorce attorney.”

“Normal people do not have those,” Obi-Wan says, taking a sip of his drink. It’s strong at least, thank God.

“People get divorced all the time,” Anakin argues, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the bartop to look over at Obi-Wan. “You were the one that told me that divorce can be just as healthy as marriage.”

“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, taking another bigger sip. He really, really does not want to talk about marriage with Anakin Skywalker of all people. 

Yet somehow the words slip out of his mouth and off his tongue despite how much he does not want to talk about marriage with Anakin Skywalker. “How do you do it then?”

“Do what?” Guileless, innocent. Hell, he probably just has to blink wide blue eyes at his fuck of the night and they’d follow him down the aisle as quick as they can stumble.

“How do you—” he waves his hand and takes another sip of his drink. “Convince people to marry you. You’ve got a politician, a bride to be, who knows how many bridesmaids, a foreign dignitary, a man old enough to be your father, a veteran all under your belt. How are you dragging them all down the aisle? You can’t be—”

He cuts himself off. That good in bed, he’d been about to say. 

Anakin grins with his eyebrows raised like he knows it. “It depends,” he says. One finger traces over the countertop. The other hand falls to rest on Obi-Wan’s knee. “Sometimes we’re already in bed,” he murmurs, slow-like. “Sometimes we’re on our way there, in some dark corner booth and I’ve got my hands wrapped around her waist and she’s begging me to whisper dirty things into her ear, tell her what I’m gonna do to her. It’s sort of like marriage vows, you know? Dirty promises sound the same.”

He is far too handsome for his own good, Obi-Wan decides. If he were a little less attractive, he’d probably have a much harder time coaxing strangers down the aisle.

“I wouldn’t know,” Obi-Wan says stiffly, stopping Anakin’s hand from moving further up his leg. “I’ve never been married.”

The words are bitter; the wound is still bleeding. He downs his drink in one go and waves for another from the bartender. 

“You have a girlfriend though, don’t you?” Anakin’s nose wrinkles. “You’ll marry her probably. You’re the marrying type.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. “She’s not,” he says shortly. And then, to rip the bandage of the wound completely. “And she’s not my girlfriend anymore either.”

Anakin’s eyes go wide. “What?” “I asked. For her to marry me. And she said no.”

“She said no?” 

“While your disbelief is rather flattering, I’d like not to talk about it, thank you.”

“Why would she say no? To marrying you? Is she alright? Well, obviously not, but—I mean. I don’t understand. Or believe it.”

Obi-Wan’s lips thin, and he reaches into his pocket. “I assure you, if she’d said yes, she’d be wearing this right now and I would not be here.” 

He puts the ring box on the bar in between them and accepts a new drink from the bartender. Anakin looks down at the ring box silently.

“Well?” Obi-Wan asks. He doesn’t know what he wants Anakin to say. He’s sitting in the tatters of his longest relationship, ended because she did not want to marry him in the end and he could not live with that. And he is talking with a man who gets married and divorced more than  perhaps anyone else in the entire world. 

What could he possibly want to hear from Anakin Skywalker?

“‘M going to get you wasted,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan figures that’s good enough.

—----------

“Marriage is important to me,” Obi-Wan slurs out countless hours later. They have migrated from the bar to a low-level booth, and Anakin has his arm curled around the top of it with his fingers playing with the ends of Obi-Wan’s hair. “I couldn’t com…pro…mise.” He sounds the word out carefully and deliberately. 

“You shouldn’t have to for something that’s important to you,” Anakin decides, and Obi-Wan nods. That’s what he thinks too. That’s why they’d broken up. That’s why Obi-Wan still has the ring.

“All sales final,” he quotes and rubs his hand over his beard. “What am I gonna do with it now?” 

“Give it to someone else,” Anakin suggests once Obi-Wan picks up the ring box again to look at it. “Someone who wants it.”

“Nobody wants it,” Obi-Wan says. That’s the problem.

The other problem is that his drink is gone. This is a very big problem and easy to solve because Anakin’s drink is right next to his empty glass, and Anakin will let him have his drink, Obi-Wan is sure of it. Anakin has been very lovely tonight.

“That’s my drink,” Anakin says. “Get your hands off it.”

“I’ll trade you for it,” Obi-Wan mumbles, gesturing to the ring box. Anakin stills completely.

“You…will?”

“Yes,” he decides. And then a thought occurs to him, terrible and mean and brutal. “Unless you don’t want to marry me either. But you want to marry everyone.” He scowls, though he thinks it may look more like a pout. “Don’t you want to marry me?”

Anakin’s hand carefully resumes its light stroking of Obi-Wan’s hair. “Yeah,” he says. His voice is rough. Obi-Wan likes the way it sounds. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good then,” Obi-Wan says and takes Anakin’s drink. After all, what’s Anakin’s is now his if they’re engaged to be married. “I’m sure you know where the closest chapel is. Though I’m quite disappointed so far.”

“Why?” Anakin’s face is awfully close to his. When did he move? “Aren’t I providing for you like a good husband should, baby? You’ve got my drink and everything.”

“I was told you’d put your hands on my waist and whisper dirty things into my ear,” Obi-Wan says. “And so far you’ve just been playing with my hair.” “I like your hair,” Anakin says. “And I don’t want to tell you what I’m thinking of doing to you. I think I just wanna show you.”

Obi-Wan blinks. His face is hot. Anakin is flushed all over too, eyes focused somehow despite the amount of drinks he’s had. His breath smells sweet, like the cocktail he’s been drinking for the last hour. Now Obi-Wan’s breath probably smells the same. “Well, I suppose tomorrow morning I won’t have to ask you if your latest marriage has been consummated.”

Anakin smirks. “No, you won’t,” he agrees. It’s a promise. 

[heyidkyay]

And if it weren't this dark |

(Tip of the tongue but I can't deliver it properly)

Part One

A/N: hey, a short Alex one for you! it's been in my drafts for a while now, and isn't proofread but I figured I'd just post it and see if anyone likes it, first time writing for him so bare with me..

Summary: You and Alex have been together for ages and it's been so incredible, only now things have changed and you're struggling to tell him just how you feel.

Warning: angst- but also a bit of fluff so, lack of communication

Part Two

--

I’d been dropping hints.

JESUS CHRIST had I been dropping hints.

There wasn’t a day gone by that I hadn’t thought about it finally happening. But as I mentioned, I’d been dropping hints only, they hadn’t been hitting.

So either I was relatively shit at this whole charade or… Alex was just utterly clueless.

I was leaning more towards the latter. But maybe I was simply biased, because over the last coming weeks my hints hadn’t been all that subtle.

I mean, only the other day we’d been on the way to my sister’s house for tea- she’d recently gotten engaged and mum had wanted to celebrate the only way my family really knew how. With good food. 

But neither Alex or I had remembered to pick up the wine we’d promised beforehand, and so we’d popped into the local Tesco’s on the drive over to pick up a few bottles. And whilst we’d been perusing- as you do- we’d somehow found ourselves wandering down the baby aisle.

Yes, the baby aisle. Because that was what I’d been waiting on. A baby. Or rather, a fucking good shag that then led to a baby.

Because, let’s be honest, I really wasn’t one to turn down a good time, far from, but these last few weeks there had been something else I’d been rather hoping for.

Everyone (and I mean everyone!!) around us was either settling down, buying homes, building families, or getting engaged. And Alex and I, well we’d been together for years and yet, nothing.

No ring. No big day planned. No talks of the future. Nada.

Nothing.

And I could honestly say that I wasn’t the type that needed that kind of security voiced or announced.

Truly. 

When Alex and I had first gotten together, I’d only realised that we were properly seeing each other when some other lad at a house party had tried to pull me. I’d never seen Alex so possessive, and it had been proper cute and a tad bit funny in the moment. He’d ‘staked his claim’- how cliche and chauvinistic, yes I know- but that was what had quickly taken us from Y/n and Alex, to Y/nandAlex. Which had suited me quite fine.

So yeah, him and I, since then had always sort of relied on our actions to simply show how we were feeling. 

Like when we’d first moved in together. There’d not been much of a discussion about it, my flat had quickly become the first place Alex would come back to after touring, his stuff had just started taking up space- washing in the dryer, dirty trainers in the hallway- and then he’d started calling it home. ‘Let’s head home, shall we?’ and ‘We’ll be home soon, darling.’ 

And that was all lovely. I adored having that kind of connection with him. 

But there were times when I desperately wished he would open up a little more about what he was thinking. Because although I could read him like an open book most days- his emotions especially- there were far and few times in between when I just felt so lost.

Like recently, I supposed.

I feel like we’ve been on the same page for so long, only now I’m ready to turn anew, start another chapter. Together.

But Alex? I have no fucking clue what he wants.

In all honesty, I think he’d be rather content to just carry on as we have been for the rest of eternity. No talk, no hashing things out. Have Christmas dinner with his parents, spend Boxing Day with mine. New Years in London, back home in time for spring. Same order from the local kebab, Friday nights stay reserved for one another.

And that would be it.

Lost to this routine.

Not that I was expecting a proposal or some grand gesture. I wasn’t much into the idea of any of that! No, just- I wanted more, you know?

I wanted that family I’d always dreamt about, that house we’d quickly make a home. I wanted nappies and nightly feeds, baby-grows which then turned into dungarees. Ten tiny little toes, someone with a cute button nose, a person made up of both him and I. 

But I just didn’t know when that would happen, or if it ever would.

So yeah- Tesco’s. Fuck, did I love to ramble! If Alex could only hear me now I supposed. 

So, as I was saying, we’d been stood in the baby aisle, Alex scrolling through his phone aimlessly, waiting for my dad to text him back a reply after we’d asked if they’d needed anything else whilst we were out. And me, staring starry eyed at the tiny socks and mittens and cute little newborn tees that were on display.

I’d said to him, almost thoughtlessly, “Imagine us having to buy all this. All these tiny little things.”

He’d just glanced up at me, smiled, hummed. Then replied, “Your dad asked if you’d pick him up some of that heartburn medication he buys. Says his acid reflux is playing up again.”

And hadn’t that just been grand? Mentioning my father’s gastrointestinal issues whilst we’d been stood surrounded by adorable little baby items, with me unsubtly referencing the image of US buying some for OUR child in the (now very obvious and very, very far) future.

Incredibly clued in, my Alex.

That hadn’t even been the worst of it though.

A few weeks back, my friend had mentioned that her and her fiancé were actively trying to conceive and I’d been so over the moon for the pair of them. All excited about the chance of having another baby to spoil rotten.

And Alex, he had been all smiles whilst congratulating them, sat comfortably beside me, but when I’d brought it up again on the drive home, he’d simply shrugged it off as though it was a thing that occurred every other day. 

Your mates starting a family. Nothing too out of the ordinary there, at least not to Alex. 

It had royally pissed me off in truth.

And I’d been a little off with him ever since, I think he knew it too.

“Love?”

I blinked out of the daze I’d let myself get lost in and looked away from the laptop screen I’d been staring at for the last, however long. I hummed quietly to him in reply, titling my head against the cushions and over towards where he was stood in the doorway.

“Been calling your name for a while now, you alright?” He quirked a brow up at me, a smug little smile limning his lips as he leant against the frame. He didn’t even know how good he looked. 

I nodded with a small smile then glanced away, back towards the email I’d just been typing. “‘M fine. Just need to get this done.”

Alex said nothing but I heard the soft shuffle of his socked feet across our wooden floors before the settee dipped beside me. He rested his chin against my shoulder, peering down at the screen.

“Just wanted to know what you fancied for tea.” Alex murmured, breath brushing against the skin of my neck. I withheld a shiver. “Figured we could order from that place round the corner.”

I rolled my lip against the other, pushing my glasses up my nose before I wrote another passage, honing all of my focus on finishing this email so that I could finally just relax for the evening.

“Whatever you want, Al. I’m not all that fussed.”

Alex leant away from me slightly, back pressing against the settee cushions, he stayed that way for a while and I could feel his presence as I continued to type away. It was only a short time later that I grinned triumphantly down at the laptop and clicked send, thankful to have it gone and out of my mind.

“All done, cherry?”

Smiling at the familiar petname, my eyes flickered over towards him. I took in the woollen jumper he wore, as well as his hair which was tousled and unkept, probably from having run his hands through it all day. I was only just able to stop myself from reaching out to tangle my fingers in it, wanting to smooth it over. 

“All done.” I murmured faintly and gifted him a tired smile.

Alex was the type to take something and run with it though, so I wasn’t all that surprised when he grinned right back at me and extended a hand out to cradle my left cheek. I leaned into his warmth for a second, allowing his thumb to brush the skin under my eye, probably from where today’s makeup had just begun to smudge. 

I inhaled after and slowly pulled away. Not paying much mind to the way Alex slumped slightly and instead opting to busy myself with putting away my laptop and clearing up the mess I’d made of the coffee table. 

I did it all quietly, picking up the two mugs of tea I’d made, one empty, the other barely touched from where I’d forgotten about it, whilst Alex watched on. The tele remote was perched on the very edge of the table and so I tossed it over towards him, padding my way into the kitchen.

“Put something on, will you? Think there’s a good film on Channel 5.” I prompted over my shoulder, glancing at him through the tramson window that had been installed shortly after the sink had sprung a leak during last tour and flooded the flat, forcing us to make do whilst the owner had remodelled.

Pressing the power up button, Alex flipped the remote around in his hand a couple of times, he looked deep in thought and so I left him be, choosing to wash up the two mugs as well as the few stray knives and forks which littered the basin. 

I hummed quietly to myself, an old song I could hardly recall the lyrics of, whilst I worked, thinking about the many things I had to get done before the weekend started. 

It was Alex’s voice which startled me from my musings actually. He was so much closer now than he’d been before when he spoke up again, I'd obviously not heard his approach.

“So, tea?” Alex questioned me with a slight furrow between his brows, he’d propped himself up against the kitchen counter about an arms width away.

“God, Al! What are you- a wraith? Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I scolded, having jumped out of my skin. I took a deep breath. “Could’ve had a heart attack or something over the kitchen sink.”

Alex chuckled lowly at me, clearly amused by my reaction, he shook his head. “Make headlines, you- woman dies whilst doing the washing up! Reckon it’ll lead to a riot- start up a petition that’ll change the way we wash dishes forever.”

I rolled my eyes, flicking a few soap duds at him in retaliation which only made him reach out towards me. I tried to evade him but he was too quick, sweeping and wrapping me up in his arms so that I couldn’t proceed to splash him any further.

“You always been this much of a weirdo?” I huffed, not making much of an effort to escape his hold even as I struggled to blow a strand of hair out of my face. 

He hummed, smiling down at me as we begun to sway. “Might’ve been. No getting rid of me now that you’ve finally realised it though.”

I playfully winced in retort, forcing out a loud put-upon sigh. “Should’ve just kept quiet and slipped out once you’d fallen asleep watching the tele.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at me, tugging me in tighter. “As if you would.” He taunted.

I simply smirked in retort and let my damp hands work their way under the soft material of his jumper. I cackled loudly at the way he shivered and jumped away from me like a frightened cat during a thunderstorm.

“Ah, you’re in for it!” Alex declared, his face a right picture.

Quick as I could, I dived to my left so that I could position the kitchen counter between us, bracing myself against it to grin over at him. “Should’ve thought twice about that before telling me what to do, Turner.”

“Minx.” Alex smirked, and then he pounced.

We spent the next however long running about the flat after that. 

He’d somehow been able to grab at me in the hallway but I’d thankfully managed to wrangle my way out of his hold, sprinting into our room to use the bed to my advantage. I rolled over it, putting a dent in the freshly made sheets but using the spare moment to take a couple- much needed- deep breaths whilst Alex waltzed slowly inside. I scowled when the door closed behind him. He flashed me a victorious smile.

“Unfair. I’m at a disadvantage.” I pouted, hoping it would soften him slightly. But when that didn’t work I resorted back to a narrow eyed glare. “Open the door, Alex.”

“I don’t think so, Angel-face. You see, I’ve got you cornered.”

I looked for another escape, Alex only growing nearer, but my only options were limited. I could either goad him and then dart towards the door, or dive out the window. 

Seeing as though I didn’t much fancy breaking my neck, I opted for the former.

“Come on, Al.” I chuckled breathlessly, perching precariously on the edge of the mattress in hopes of lowering his defences a little. “We’ve had fun, but I’m proper knackered now. Call it quits so we can have a cuddle?”

Alex glanced over at me warily, he knew me far too well but appeared to be on the verge of agreement. He slowly made his way over towards the bed, shoulders hunched, still on his guard. 

“Promise?”

I hummed my vague assent, smiling up at him softly.

He paused with squinted eyes, “You’ve gotta verbalise it, love. Don’t count otherwise.”

I tilted my head up at him, feigning confusion. But we both knew I wouldn’t say it unless I really meant it. I kept my word.

That little flaw of mine seemed to trip me up though, and we both realised it at the same time too. So as I manoeuvred my way towards the door- feeling like Kim Possible, might I add- Alex was already in motion, catching me by the hips before I could even surpass the foot of the bed.

“Alex!” I screamed, only growing louder when he threw me over his shoulder and span us around. “Put me down! Now!”

“I fucking knew it!” Alex laughed merrily, bouncing me about the place. I swatted at his back unhappily, starting to feel my stomach in my throat. “Knew you’d try something.”

“Yeah, yeah… proper clever, you. Can you put me fucking down now? Think I’m gonna yosh.”

I could only roll my eyes when he dropped me on my arse, although thankfully it was on the mattress. Huffing, I fought to tame the mess he’d probably made of my hair.

“Twat.”

Alex merely chuckled, leaning in close to tuck a strand of stray hair behind my ear. I smiled when he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Hm, so you say.” I replied, peering up at him from where he towered over me, his hand falling to frame my jaw.

He leant in again, smiling as his lips met mine. “Had to show you who’s boss, didn’t I? Couldn’t let you get away with that.”

I gave an airy titter, pushing him away so that I could pull myself to my feet. “I could’ve had you on your arse the second you strolled in here, was just playing fair.”

He caught my wrist before I could retreat back into the living room, encasing my hand in his. I frowned slightly, looking back at him, mainly confused.

“What’s up?” I questioned him. His brown eyes flickered back and forth between my own, he looked conflicted all of a sudden, it was something you didn’t see on Alex too often which caused my frown to deepen, “Alex?” I prodded.

A small sigh escaped him and his gaze fell towards our joined hands, I let my thumb brush against the back of his own, wanting to reassure him in some way.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” I asked again, stepping closer. My other hand braced his forearm.

Alex’s eyes found mine once more and I didn’t think I had ever seen him this torn up. It threw me a bit, his demeanour had changed so quickly, it was like he’d done a total one-eighty on me.

“Think I should be asking you that question.”

I frowned at Alex’s vague reply.

“What do you mean? I’m fine, Alex. Annoyed that you won, but I’ll get you the next time.” I assured him, chuckling softly at the end. But it didn’t seem to do much.

Alex just shook his head, stepping away towards the window. He dragged a hand across his face, rubbing at his chin whilst he gazed down at the street below. 

“Al…” I tried. “Alex. Will you look at me?”

His eyes fell shut, he squeezed them as though he was trying to sort through a messy array of thoughts, of emotions.

Then he sighed. “I just don’t get you sometimes. One second you’re off with me, hardly even have the time to spare a glance my way. Then the next, we’re as happy as Larry, dancing about the kitchen, play-fighting, laughing.”

I had to look away, down towards my feet as a surge of guilt rippled through me. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that he had no idea about all the thoughts that were raging about inside my head. It wasn’t his fault that I was too scared to just come out with it. To tell him what I so does wanted. To just talk to him. 

None of the blame was on him and yet, I’d still placed it all there.

“I’m sorry.” I said, slumping down onto the edge of the mattress with a sigh. My eyes trailed over to find him staring back, his face gave nothing away. “I’ve been an utter twat. And I’ve been so fucking unfair to you. I- I don’t know, Al. I’ve just been struggling with a lot lately. But it really is nothing that you’ve done.”

Alex released a long breath, thumbing the bridge of his nose before he walked towards the bed, taking a seat beside me. We sat there in silence for a few moments, I could feel my heart hammering in my throat. Because it really was now or never. I either told him or… I got over myself. And nothing would change.

“You say you’ve been struggling.”

I angled my head over towards him upon hearing his words, Alex continued to look onwards though, his hands clasped between his knees.

He looked a lot older in that moment, and it reminded me of just how long we’d been together. I could recall a similar moment we’d shared well over a decade ago now, just before the band’s very first London gig.

Alex had spent weeks torturing himself over it, figuring that they’d be wasting their time playing to an empty room. 

It had been the night before they’d been set to leave when he’d come round mine. It’d been late. Really late, as in only mere hours before the train he’d been expected on was set to depart. 

It had just been the two of us. But that hadn’t ever been an unusual occurrence. We’d sat in silence together for a longwhile on my messy bedsheets- he’d always been the type to struggle with words. Strange for a songwriter, yeah, but unless they were accompanied by a couple chords then Alex could honestly spend a millennia searching for the right ones to use if you’d let him. 

He had spoken up eventually though. Told me what was bugging him. And I’d been the one to try and right every bad thought he’d had. Dull his racing mind. 

I’d always very much doubted his fears, about no one wanting to listen to their music outside of Sheffield. Outside of the safety net we’d grown up in. But Alex was as stubborn as I was, and so we’d spent a lot of late nights arguing about it. We’d always make up for it though come morning. 

And Alex had gone, obviously. I’d been one of the few to see the band off that morning, waving goodbye even as the train blurred and disappeared out of sight. He’d phoned me later that night after the gig, I’d heard his smile, he’d gone on this long rant about how wrong he’d been. Because the pillock had only gone and gotten carried around the venue on a sea of hands, hadn’t he?

This moment didn’t feel quite the same though. Because these fears I’d been facing, well they didn’t threaten anything outside of the four walls we’d carved for ourselves. If I told him how I felt, there was a very big chance that he might not feel the same, want the same. There was a very real chance he could just walk away.

“If it’s been so bad. Why didn’t you just come to me?” Alex asked and his eyes found mine then, that warm brown of his appeared so oddly defeated. So much so, I struggled to find a reply. 

“Just come out with it. Please. ‘Cause all this up and down, and back and forth. I don’t know if I can take much more. It’s been driving me round the bend. I hate reaching out towards you and feeling you pull further away. Kills me. Hate feeling like there’s something standing between us. ‘Cause it’s never been that way. Not with me and you.”

My throat grew tight with tears, but I wouldn’t cry, not now. Not when it was me who had caused all this.

“I know.” I had to take a deep breath to keep them at bay. To hide the strain in my voice. I pivoted so that my knee folded beneath me and I could really see his face. He followed, taking ahold of my hands. “I know, and I am sorry. Truly. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. That I let it get this bad. That I let you get so torn up. I didn’t even realise.”

Alex pulled me into an embrace, hand holding the back of my neck as I buried my face in his. Because that was the man Alex was, he put me above everything else. Including himself.

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” He hushed, thumb brushing over the top of my spine. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

I did know that. But still.

“I don’t want to lose you, Alex.”

That probably hadn’t been the best thing to say. Alex all but flung himself back, alarm swimming in his eyes as he levelled me with a long look.

“Lose me? What’s that meant to mean? Why would you lose me?”

A tear fell then, followed by a couple more. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, willing them away, hating the thought of seeing him so distraught.

“Y/n. Love. Please, you’re actually beginning to scare me now. Tell me what’s happened.”

I tried to look away. I didn’t want to do this, not here not now, but his fingers grasped my chin, tugging me back to face him.

A sob spilled from my lips and I crumpled slightly, his hands jumped up to my shoulders, struggling to hold me up.

“What could have you this worked up?” He stressed, shaking me slightly. “Just tell me, because all the fucking things I’ve got racing through my head. I- Put me out of my misery at least. Please.”

It took all the strength I had to peer up at him, eyes red and raw. “I want more, Alex. I want more than just this.”

After I’d said it, I wanted to take all my words back. The hurt that flashed across his face felt like a sharp slap to mine. He started to move, to stand. And I realised he was about to leave.

“Al. Alex.” I called, tried. Clutching at his arm. “Alex, please! Just listen, will you?”

He wasn’t having it. Shaking his head at me as he stormed his way out of the bedroom.

“I can’t believe you’ve just said that.”

It was like a punch to the gut, hearing the upset that lined his voice. His back was to me as I chased after him, I’d ever seen him like this.

“I didn’t mean it! Not like that! Not in the way it sounded.”

“Like fuck you didn’t mean it, Y/n!” Alex shouted, and I caught a glimpse of his face when he went to tug his jacket off the hanger by the front door. 

I could count the times I’d seen Alex cry on one hand. But right then, there were tears in his eyes.

“Alex.” I pleaded with him.

A deathly silence fell between us, I watched his shoulders sag before he turned back around towards me. I wanted nothing more than to hold him again. Take away all his pain, the pain I’d caused.

“If you leave right now, I’ll never forgive you.” I choked out, “Please don’t leave. Please.”

He stared at me. Long and hard.

“Tell me the truth then.”

His voice was nothing but a strained whisper. He looked so tired, arms slumped helplessly by his sides.

I swallowed thickly. Hands fisted against my chest.

Alex scoffed at me then and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his stinging eyes. He shook his head and went for the latch.

I felt my eyes fall close. It was now or never, I supposed. He was leaving either way.

“I want a baby, Alex.”

[citylighten]

Pietro takes in the imagery. Undeniably more awake, he pulls himself forward in the chair: traces his fingers across his phone’s screen to zoom in on the snapshot. “And the back?” He can’t help but ask. “Um, hold on!” Pietro had no moment to pine: in a matter of seconds, the second screenshot comes through. “It’s nice.” He utters below his breath. Rosaria would look wonderful in this, the very thought of seeing her in that made his dick twitch, attentive. “What were your third and fourth picks?”

🚫 18+ ONLY 🚫

BEGINNING // PREVIOUS // NEXT

In spite of her enthusiasm, Rosaria’s nerves were high. She was capable of discussing the first two articles with ease: she picked them out and frankly, she was relatively satisfied with her choices. However, outfit three and four? Sofia convinced her to put them in her digital cart. Part of Rosaria felt they were good looking, the other half of her was skeptical. The idea of Pietro seeing them makes her flush and shy away.  “Well!” She begins, large brown eyes rolling around her room. “let’s say the other things can be a surprise! Because I don’t know how I really feel about them and I might just send them back…?”

“I’m sure you won’t do that,” Somehow Pietro spoke reassuringly and confidently even when he sounded to be on the verge of exhaustion. “You’re going to love it when it arrives.”

Despite this, Rosaria remains firm in her indecision, “maybe!”

There’s a moment of silence. Rosaria, forgetting if she could just ask for Pietro’s card number and call it a night, wondered over what to say next. Even if she did ask for his card details, she didn’t want to get off the phone with him. Thankfully, Pietro speaks first before she can rack her brain: “I wish you were here.”

“I mean, I wanted to be.” Rosaria muses. She hears him clear his throat, “I know, I know. But this…wasn’t the sort of meeting I would feel comfortable having you in. Not yet." A pause, "but, while I was at the bar, I kept thinking to myself…the first thing I was going to do when I got to my room was call you.”

That did not sound thoughtful or melancholic. It didn’t even sound innocent. No, Rosaria had come to know that tone well. The familiar way Pietro’s voice dropped let her to know what wanted: sex. 

Had this been the 90s, Rosaria would have been fingering the spiraling cord of her telephone. Instead, she keeps clutching onto her phone as she moves it back to her ear, “Oh…” That's sweet? She was hoping to hear his voice too? Once again, she doesn't get to think of a response as Pietro speaks again. “I want you here so badly.”

Rosaria dwells on how she’s never engaged in phone sex. She thinks Ben tried it once, but she’s not sure if he was playing around or not. Either way, Pietro Impellizzeri is not a man who plays around. Rosaria questions her ‘skill’ for this. Rosaria worries about saying something stupid. She even worries about whether the pitch of her voice could be considered sultry. However, rather than killing Pietro’s lustful thoughts, there is a curiosity to see where this goes.

“Well, if you had just let me come on this trip…” she begins. And what would she do? Make him comfortable after his three meetings? Make him feel good? Rosaria blushes, not yet ready to spring into the sexual side of this conversation. She has to say something worthwhile! “I wouldn’t have gotten in your way.”

“And what would you have been doing in the meantime?” Detail, phone sex was all about detail. Rosaria felt the need to list a few mundane events: renting a hotel room, catching up with old friends, that could have sufficed and eventually lead to something sexy.

“I would’ve given you my card to do whatever you wanted,” Pietro remarked and as easy as that, Rosaria feels as though she’s given an opening for her imagination.

“Then, I’d go shopping!” She exclaims, “Actually! First, I would’ve gotten us the hotel while you did your business, and I would have done my own thing. I’d find…” her brow creases as she needs to think of the stores in San Myshuno. Actually, she’s having a difficult time remembering anything other than a few outlet stores and some bodegas.

She is not aware that there’s an alluring element to her lingering pause. To Pietro, what is actually genuine contemplation to her behaves as a playful tease meant to bring suspense.

“…a Victoria’s Secret store. So, I could buy some lingerie there and we wouldn’t have t’wait a week for all of this we ordered to come in…I’d find something…red.”  

Pietro almost smiles. If it's one thing Rosaria does, it’s hang onto his words. He visualizes her attire in his mind - a lace, red teddy. Crotchless. She waited for him in the hotel room, wet.

He thought that every now and then, as the waiting was just too long, her hand would slip between her thighs. Pietro still does not unzip his pants, instead he sighs, palming his constricted dick. It makes Pietro feel pitiful to admit to himself that this is the most relieved he’s felt all day. “Would you keep this a surprise from me?” He mumbles.

He thinks of Rosaria sending him an image of herself as he was outside of Windshield Vipers. Like a fool, he would have opened her message in the lobby of Liam and Nico’s business. It would have given him a challenge to not think about as he engaged in a serious discussion with Liam. Would he have seen Victor had Rosaria given him a preview of what awaited him in the night? It was likely. When responsibility called, it called. But he would not have made it to the bar to speak with John. “Of course I would!” Rosaria kills his fantasy like that, but he doesn’t mind. “You never thought of trying it on and sending me a picture?” He asks, remarkably focused.

“Of course, I want you to focus on work! It’s something you’d come back to at the hotel!”

A chuckle escaped his lips. So, she would have always ensured responsibility was first and foremost important.

“You would have made my night…” he says, drifting back to his fantasies. “The red bra…it looks beautiful on you, Rosa.”

“Are you gonna…” she hesitates, shy as the conversation undoubtedly travels into explicit territory, “…take it off me?”

“No.” He answers, “I want to enjoy this. The silk…your soft skin. Are you touching yourself?”

“No…”

Rosaria blushes at his command: “I want you to run your fingers across your pussy, pretend they’re mine.” Not only did she appreciate Pietro taking the reins, but there was something incredibly erotic about being commanded over the phone when he was miles away. Laying back, she lifts her legs and pulls her panties to her ankles. Shit! She suddenly remembers how Sofia is downstairs!

“Um - I forgot to say my roommate is here…”

“Then you’ll have to be quiet, won’t you?”

Rosaria hums in approval, a bit too enthusiastically.

“Now don’t touch yourself,” Pietro says, “Just run those pretty little fingers over yourself…are you doing that right now?”

Her breath hitches, “yes…”

“Good girl…” Pietro is close to unzipping his pants, but he holds back. “Now, cup your breasts. Tease your nipple through the fabric, cara. I’ve heard so much today - all I want to hear now is the soft little soft sounds you make…” Rosaria quietly rebels against Pietro, slipping her fingers inside her warmth in the pursuit of friction. She moans, and hopes Pietro assumes it’s just from nipple play.

“How do I make you feel?”

“You make me feel-” like she needs her vibrator thrusting inside of her, “you make me feel good. I want you in me.”

“That’s what you want now?” “Uh-huh, I don’t -” like excessive foreplay, not that it wasn’t bad, but when she wanted penetration, she wanted it. “-I don’t want to be empty.” So aroused, Rosaria doesn’t internally coil back from the phrase. It was honest. It was needy.  “Then gently ease a finger into yourself. Don’t get carried away. You know I have to get you just right for me…use just one finger on yourself, over your clit. Keep circling it. Remove your finger and lick your fingertip…” Those instructions? Rosaria nearly followed to a T.

Pietro can’t abide by his own self-control any longer. He unzips his pants and drops them to his ankles. Phone placed on the table beside him, Pietro strokes himself lightly. He wanted to see her sighing at his touch, full of need. He wanted to watch her shudder as he rubbed his cock against her pussy, her eyes wide with anticipation as she wondered when he would finally enter and give her what she wanted. He thought of her positioned on his knee, grinding as he refused to touch her. He was touching himself now, Rosaria could tell from the low groans. “…while I was in the bar, I was thinking about fucking my pussy. And I know you were thinking of me in this room while you waited for me to return…you had two fingers in, you had your hips lifted pretending I was taking you. You hoped I wouldn’t unlock the door and come in…you know I don’t like it when you rush your orgasm…I know that's why my fingers slipped inside you so easily when I came into the room.” He can predict her a little too well, even in a fantasy. Rosaria has no time to be upset at being so predictable, instead she releases a soft whine as she pleasures herself, “I’m sorry. I needed it-”

“You needed to be fucked in this mattress by me?” Rosaria loved when he spoke like that. Unrefined, blunt. In return, she gives a thrilled: “yes!”

“Say Lo voglio.” He grunts.

“L-lo voglio!” “I’m not undressing you. I’m pulling those tits out and pulling your little panty aside to fuck you. Do you like that?” “Si?” she answers breathlessly, “lo voglio!” Feeling her orgasm climb closer, Rosaria quickens the speed of her digits. She wishes she could drop this stupid phone, grab her vibrator and give herself a rough climax. In the midst of her pleasure, she no longer calls Pietro by his alias. His real name slips out numerous times as she lifts her hips.

“Don’t be so loud,” he growls, “you don’t want your roommate to hear.”

Dammit, Rosaria remembered he was right! What was she suppose to do? Bite her lip and draw blood? Smother her face with a pillow? "I-" she gasps, sweat rolling down her neck. "Don't think I-"

"Be respectful, Rosa."

His rough demand led to her white, blinding bliss. She rode out the sensation from beginning to end, audibly. Although this was the very opposite of what Pietro told her, he can’t help but feel his own satisfaction in knowing he had that sort of effect on her. It brought him to his own completion.

“I’m sorry-” she pants, “I’m sorry.”

“Do you think your roommate heard?” Pietro softly asks, his head hanging low. Once again, his energy dropped. He thinks of dragging himself to the shower, but it feels as heavy and tedious as speaking with Victor Russo.

“I don’t…” Rosaria gasps for air, “I don’t know.”

“Now I know we can’t do this in public, you’ll have us in jail.”

Rosaria can’t believe Pietro joked with her. She laughs in response, although she supposes she should feel guilt and shame for treating Sofia and her cat to these sounds.

“So…” Rosaria begins, “do you still wanna give me your card…?”

“Hold on,” Pietro says, “and Rosa, before I forget, I want you to check off the option for these to come as soon as possible.”

“To live out your phone fantasy?”

She smiles at the sound of his light laughter, “of course.” @cartelheir @wannabecatwriter @dresdendarlin @crsentfairy @santanasimsx @thewalkingplumbob @weirdosalike @nightlifeseries @ellemant @99simproblems @sharpiegirl @lushnightjelly @reverieinsimlish @javitrulovesims @eslanes @waitingforspoons @miss-may-i @rainymoodlet @quesims @keesimziaa @lynzishell @nilonne @percosim @havenroyals @digital-deluxe @swiftviolets @stevihj @sheplayswithlifee @joannebernice @ardeney-sims