#SHE NEVER EVEN KNEW SHE DIES NOT KNOWING GUYS OH MY FUCKING GOD GUYS

[sal-fishing]

do you ever think abt how lisa was in the addison apartments while larry committed suicide in the treehouse literally right behind the building? do you think about that a lot because i think about that a lot

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[fattystoriez]

Preston’s 18th Birthday

Content Warning: Incest, Homophobic Slurs, Weight Gain

Preston was a normal teenage boy, except for the fact that he was adopted by a gay couple when he was born. His mother didn’t want him and he learned that some time after he was born, she died. He knew nothing about his biological father, but he never stopped looking, his dads didn’t even know who his father was. His dads were great, but Preston never stopped wondering what life would be like had he been raised by his biological father.

A couple months ago, Preston’s biological father reached out through Facebook. His profile had no pictures and seemed to be new, but he had the DNA test from when he was born to prove his relation. His name is Travis, he’s in his mid 40’s and he is a construction worker. Despite not knowing what his dad looks like, Preston started to talk with his dad more and more. His two dads suggested that he meet his father for his 18th birthday before the party, Preston thought this was a great idea and so did his dad. So they had made plans to meet, he would chat and have lunch and come back to his house for his party.

Preston’s Birthday

Preston woke up to a massive aching boner, one that was begging to be released. “Oh GOD!” He moaned loudly as he grabbed the hard on, his underwear soaked in precum. “Fuck I don’t have time to take care of this” Preston thought, “I’ll just take a shower and maybe it’ll chill out.”Preston’s cock calmed down after he took cold shower, but he could help but notice that he was still very horny. He threw on a t-shirt, a pair of briefs and some gym shorts. Preston checked his phone, it was 11:30am already, he needed to hurry or he’d be late for lunch with his dad. He went downstairs saying bye to his dads, got into his car and headed towards Travis’s place, his cock slowly leaking precum the whole way there.

Preston noticed as he was getting closer that his dad lived in a trailer park, which was fitting given he is a construction worker. He didn’t realize how nice he had it with his dads, living in a suburban home with a nice new car and electronics. Travis would barely be able to afford rent let alone all of Preston’s nice commodities. Preston knocked on the door, he heard heavy footsteps walk towards the door and it swung open to reveal Travis.

Travis was HUGE! His tight orange shirt couldn’t even cover his massive belly, and his underwear… or are they shorts??? They looked tight on his waist. His face was covered by a bushy beard, hair that the top of his head lacked. He still has some hair around the sides of his head, which only added to his grotesque appearance. “Preston!” The massive bear of a man said with a thick southern accent, he squeezed Preston in a tight hug, the contact making his cock leak some pre cum. “I’m so glad you’re finally here, I’ve been waiting to watch- I mean… see you all day!”

Travis showed Preston into the trailer, it was dingy and grimy, Travis clearly doesn’t know how to pick up after himself. Preston could tell he also didn’t smell the best, having a very distinct and vile musk that emanated from him “I’ve been excited too…” Preston noticed the massive amount of food that was over in the kitchen area. “Is that… for lunch today?” Preston was confused, there was no way two people could eat that much, even if Travis was a massive hog.

“Of course it for lunch big guy! You’re 18!” Travis said that as if Preston should know what that means, it was then that Preston felt his stomach gurgle in hunger. “But let’s start with your birthday cake, I made it special myself.” Travis walked Preston to the dining table and pulled out the most delicious cake Preston has ever seen.

“Oh you really didn’t have to do this much, there’s no way I’m eating all of this.” Preston said as he sat down, Travis cutting him a slice of cake. “Oh it chocolate, that’s actually my favorite.” Preston took a bite of the cake and it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten in his life, it even made his cock stand back up. “Oh god… this is good!”

“I thought you might like it, made it with my own secret recipe.” Travis went behind Preston, massaging his shoulders as his son starts to pig out on the rest of the cake. “It’s a tradition for men in our family to eat like this on their 18th birthday, son.” Preston couldn’t stop himself from eating more of the cake, he couldn’t process what was going on. “When men in our family hit adulthood, we grow quickly into slobbish pigs.”

Preston was having a hard time processing the information, he couldn’t stop eating the cake long enough to worry about what was happening to him. “Oh god… daddy what’s happening to me?” Preston’s voice started to have a light souther accent that could barely be heard through the chewing.

Preston’s body started to plump up quickly, his abs from his years in track were fading away. “You can’t stop the change, son.” Travis started to feed Preston once the cake was gone, “Your faggot daddies couldn’t have prepared you for this son, they wouldn’t know what to do with a pig like you.” Preston’s head was spinning, his body getting fatter and fatter as his body gives in to his DNA.

Preston’s once smooth chest has pumped into two soft moobs that jiggled with every bite, his jawline started to fade as the fat started to accumulate. Preston was in a blissfully perverted shock as his whole life was being ruined by this pig of a man, his cock rock hard was leaking like a faucet, soaking his underwear. “Daddy… I’m getting so fat…” Preston moaned in between foods, “w-why do I sound like this daddy… w-“

“Shhhhhh” Travis shushed Preston as he shoved a greasy slice of pizza into his mouth. “You’re becoming just like your daddy, and your daddies daddy, as so on. You come from a long line of perverted hogs.” Travis gripped Preston’s cock with his other hand, “my daddy helped me out exactly like this, fattened me up real good.” Travis pumped Preston’s leaking cock as he told him how much of a pig he was going to become. “You’re gonna love it boy, you’ll be able to turn other men into fat hogs just like us. It one of our many talents, one that I can’t wait for you to use.” Preston was in a fattening bliss, listening to the hypnotic words coming out of his daddies mouth as he played with his own fattening body.

“Oh daddy… daddy I’m gonna-“ Preston released, soaking his underwear and his dad’s hand, this act of finishing sealed Preston’s already inevitable fate. “Oh god daddy, look what you’ve done to me…”

Preston’s belly was as big as his daddies, he couldn’t stop jiggling the soft flesh that had taken over his body. “I didn’t do nothin’ boy, this was your natural calling.” Travis took a doughnut, wiped Preston’s cum into it and fed it to his son.

After Preston was done chewing his specially glazed doughnut he wondered who he could make into a fat piggy himself, the he thought of his faggoty dads. “Let’s go visit my dads, daddy!”

“Of course boy, those faggots are gonna piss their pants when they see how big you’ve grown.” Travis helped Preston up and walked his half-naked fat ass to Travis’s pickup truck, the two whales could barely fit in it together. “We’ve got a party to get to, boy.”

Part 2?

[hollisxwrites]

could you write a percy x daughter of dionysus reader? 🧎‍♀️🙏🏼

lay all your love on me

AGED UP percy jackson x daughter of dionysus! reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: inspired by the "lay all your love on me" scene in momma mia!, just take out the funny background dancers. pretty spicy, not fully on smut, but definitely some heavy making out and innuendos. underwater kissing, mention of underage drinking and the reader being a little bit of a troublemaker, some language, possibly can be seen as slightly angst at the beginning with some little bitty bit of jealously. i really like this one!

summary: the reader is bored on a beach day with her boyfriend, percy, so she decides to tease him a little bit, which ends up with her and her boyfriend making out on the ocean floor LMAO.

Laughter filled the air as my boyfriend, Percy, and I sprawled out on the beach of Camp. It was one of the rare days of peace we had at Camp, a beautiful, glorious, Sunday. Percy looked stunning, as always, the sun warming his freckled face, and the sea making his already perfect hair even curlier. His swim trunks, even though they had unicorns in shark onesies on them, clung to his figure perfectly. I took a sip of my champagne that we had managed to steal out of the cabinet that my dad kept near his desk, and I tried to pry my eyes away from Percy. He was chattering out about something that had happened with the younger campers the day before, watching the waves from his perch against a rock. I wanted to distract him from the mundane talk of camp, so I decided I would mess with the boy a little bit.  

I stood up from where I sat near Percy and pulled off the oversized tee shirt that I had on over my swimsuit. The swimsuit was plum purple, and I knew Percy loved it, he made it abundantly clear every time I wore it. I stood near the water, about ten or eleven feet away from Percy when his conversation finally died down. “You look...beautiful, dear gods.” He choked out, his voice straining a little bit.  

I smiled and adjusted my hair, so it framed my face. “Thank you, darling.” I took another swig out of my champagne flute and turned so my back was to Percy. Soon enough, just as I expected, Percy was beside me. He moved to put his hand on my lower back, but I swatted his hand away. I looked over and saw the little pout on his face, and knew my mission was already succeeding.  

“I noticed you talking to Connor a lot yesterday, what’s that about?” Percy asked, his tone almost a little bitter, even though I could tell by his demeanor that he was joking with me. 

I shrugged. “I lived in the Hermes cabin for a long time, Mr. D never wanted to claim me because he didn’t want to have to punish his own daughter. I used to get into a lot of trouble at Camp.” 

Percy chuckled at this. “Oh, I know. What did Connor want, though? You guys don’t usually talk like that.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Perc.” I looked him in the eye. “He was just asking me if I knew who had stable duties this week, since we both are in trouble with Chiron right now.” 

Percy sighed, letting his eyes wander down my figure, which sent electric shock through my entire body. “Okay, I’m just not used to being so jealous. Any guy I see talk to you feels like a potential threat.” He moved closer to me, our fingers millimeters away from touching. 

“You have no reason to be afraid of other guys. You know I’ve only ever had eyes for you. You have all my love.” I said, comforting the boy. 

He nodded at this. “Sorry, I feel so possessive of you sometimes, you’re just so fucking beautiful, I know any guy would want to have you, but you’re mine.”    

A shiver ran down my spine. “That’s why I love you so much, Perc. That is exactly how I am with you. I don’t want anyone else to even look at you.” 

Percy leaned down a little bit, probably trying to kiss me, and I connected our noses, but never our lips. I moved away, pushing his muscular chest a little, and went to take a sip from the glass still in my hand. He smirked a little bit, finally catching onto the game I was playing with him. I set the glass down in the sand, and walked further into the water, thus further away from Percy. I flipped myself so I was facing him again. “Don’t go wasting your emotion, Perc. Lay all your love on me!”  

He giggled, obviously getting the ABBA reference I was making here. “Okay, miss disco queen.”  

I laughed, getting close enough to kiss him again. This time, just our top lips touch before I pull away and move back to the rock we were leaning against earlier. Perched again on the rock, I looked Percy in the eye. His eyes wandered once again to my figure in the swimsuit, but not in a way that made me uncomfortable, in fact, he made me feel so loved with his gaze. He moved towards me this time, and finally brought us together into a real kiss. My back pressed against the cool surface of the rocks, and I was fully immersed in the kiss. His hands went to my waist, pulling my chest flesh against his, causing my entire body to feel ignited by his touch.  

He separated us, leaving me panting and my knees weak. “Two can play this game, disco queen.” He ran off into the water, diving into the depths of the salty sea. 

“Not fair!” I shouted out after him, still trying to compose myself after the earth-shattering kiss we shared. Sure, as a Dionysus kid, I may have a lot of wit and a lot of charm, but I could not breath underwater like Percy could. Suddenly, I saw a mop of blond curls pop up from the water about half a mile into the distance. “Percy Jackson!” I yelled again. 

I saw, or at least I thought I did, him flipping me off from the distance, and that made the desire in me to catch him even stronger. I hopped in the water and started to paddle my arms, quiet poorly, trying aimlessly to catch up with the boy. I felt a hand grab my calf, and I yelped as I was pulled into the water. I came face to face with Percy. I hated to say it, but he looked even more attractive underwater, if that was even possible. His lips met mine, once again, and due to his touch and manipulation of the water, I could breathe, ish. His hands gripped me, pulling me further down into the dingy water. Being underwater with Percy was always a thrill, especially when we were making out like this, tongues clashing and hands being nowhere and everywhere all at once. When he finally parted from me, both of us were panting like dogs. “Gods, I love you.” 

I giggled, pressing a lingering kiss into his jawline. “I love you, too.”  

He bit his lip as I continued to press kisses into his jaw, his neck, and eventually his collarbones. Maybe it was the champagne going to my head, or maybe it was my handsome boyfriend, but I had never been happier than I was in this moment. My kisses went lower and lower down his abdomen, and I’m sure what you can guess what happened next. 

But, as they say, what happens in the ocean stays in the ocean, or something like that.    

[papaya-twinks]

maybe some pride and prejudice vibes with lando but like modern, where reader works in the f1 and thinks he's arrogant and stuff but does not know he is actually shy or secretely does very sweet things for her without her noticing and arguments and accidently offending her and tension ending with confession/fluff?

Warnings: Angst (I had to remove the argument coz it wouldn’t fit the plot)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - there’s dis photo of a letter Lando wrote to the Hungarian pottery thing where he made his helmet and like, he spelt trophy as ‘trophey’ so I’m giving y’all that reference for this fic

You’d spoken to Lando once when you were contributing to strategy, and you had it down that he was an absolute dick. Well, you had it down before you even met him, which kinda was wrong on your part, but you couldn’t help it.

He just gave of…jerk vibes. Ya know? It’s just sometimes like that you and you automatically don’t like it. And Lando definitely noticed your vague and cold demeanour to him, 100%. Which left you with the question - was he just naturally a dick or did he just adopt the stereotype you gave him?

“Y/L/N, make sure the strategy’s good,” one of the engineers said, patting your shoulder as you nodded, still jotting down figures and numbers which only made sense to you. You felt an arm brush past you as Lando walked by, not casting a single glance in your direction as he spoke to some mechanics.

Jerk. Well, you weren’t sure if you actually wanted him to talk to you. If he did, you’d probably he just as pissed. What you wanted, even if you’d didn’t understand. It was kinda of annoying in some ways. Sighing, you stood up from your table, going to the coffee maker and pressing the bright ‘on’ button, pushing al thoughts of Lando out your mind.

“What the fuck..?” you muttered to yourself, a bouquet of flowers on the desk with the words ‘you always make good strategies - lets win another trophey :)’ scrawled onto a bit of card. What was this? Did you have a secret admirer? You couldn’t deny the thought kind of intrigued you - it seemed cool, in some ways.

And then the next day, when you found the same coffee order you usually got from the machine, sitting on your desk, at the perfect temperature. Whoever was doing this, they definitely knew your exact arrival time, for the coffee to be this temperature. Oh my god. Yet no one was around. Odd.

“Lando, I need your notes from the meeting,” you said, holding your hand out as you sipped on the drink. Lando was leaning against a desk, wearing a thick McLaren coat and a beanie, some curls peeking through against his forehead. “Sure,” he shrugged, handing you the paper dismissively.

Okay dude. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you made your way back to the desk, unfolding the bit of paper and peering at his scrawls.

pit when y/n says. do whatever strategy she yaps about. make sure she don’t favour oscar all the time. try and win or get a trophey.

Well these notes weren’t very good- hey wait. Trophey? What was this guy, could he not even spell? And then it hit you. Trophey. Trophey. You grabbed the little card you’d kept tucked into the back of your phone case, peering at the spelling.

The handwriting was the same. He wrote his a’s in a certain way. There was no way, though. It was a prank surely? Lando Norris, of all people, being your secret admirer. It was bullshit.

“Lando, need to talk to you about strategy,” you said quickly, still clutching his notes as he rolled his eyes, following you to your booth. “What the hell is this?” you whisper yelled, showing him the card as his cheek reddened. “You had an admirer? Cool?” he said, trying to play it down.

“Yeah yeah,” you scoffed, “it’s you!”. He gulped as he re-read the card, silently cursing himself for not being smarter. “Yeah, okay, and what?” Lando snapped defensively as you scoffed. “Someone have a little crush?” you said, never dropping the opportunity to tease him. “Whatever,” Lando muttered, “any reasonable guy would like you anyways,”.

“Yeah?” you said with a small smile, pressing your lips to the corner of his, his scowl falling replaced by a shocked look, his eyes wide, cheeks rosy. “I love hibiscuses,” you shrugged, moving back to your own booth, leaving the driver dazed. Wow.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Hi I'm back. How are you?

How about... A yandere that has had a bunch of lovers and either killed them because he got bored or broke their heart beyond repair? But them he meets the reader and something changes?

Idk it seems like a fun dea.

Yandere! Male! Player x gn! Barista! Reader

Uh ohz, here is the player 🙄 there's a little twist to the request, meowing! I hope you don't mind. (Another Greek mythos twist. Not as blatant as Hades though. Only a bit of the Greek mythos is grabbed, not all.)

I'll see to it how can we break this little man

ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

AND, I AM GOING TO STOP TAKING NEW YANDERE REQUESTS! But, I am going to take asks about the existing yanderes now!

Yandere! Player name: Amor

A resounding slap echoed throughout the bustling cafe, silencing the people talking to each other. The woman, tear stricken and angry, looked at the man in front of her.

"We're over!" She yelled before stomping away from the cafe, leaving the man behind.

The people started to gossip amongst each other, but one particular action by the man stunned them.

He just sat down, took out his phone, and called somebody.

"Hey, fancy meeting tonight? I just know of this nice cafe. Date, my treat."

Shameless, the people thought as he chuckled and ended the call with a lazy smirk, stirring his coffee and sipping it.

Amor. Extremely handsome man. Charming, always knew how to get the ladies.

That's what made him full of shit since being handsome is his only redeeming quality.

He's arrogant, a bastard, selfish, has a pride taller than the Eiffel tower, and a total player.

He juggles women left and right, flavor of the day, who's gonna be my girl for the morning, afternoon, and night?

Why do people flock to this man again?

Ah, because the Gods favor this bitch.

What did he do in his past life that women love this man?

Well, in his past life, he's a boring nerd.

His family loved him dearly, and wanted him to succeed in life.

So, attending academic camps, prestigious schools, goddamn Kumon? He got it all.

Awards, upon awards. He collects them like pokemon.

Did it make him interesting?

No. All he knew is academics, and no outside skill.

He's book smart, not street smart.

Poor guy wasn't even attractive. So, when he finished University in an Ivy League Uni, he's lost. He doesn't have charisma to charm employers, he doesn't have the confidence to do public work...

Well, that, and NASA already hired him.

What? He is not street smart and has a hard time finding a job himself, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have connections.

In short, he's a Nepo baby.

At least he's a genius so NASA made sure to use him thoroughly.

But, he felt... Bored.

He wanted more from this life of his.

He wanted a girlfriend for fuck's sake!

So, by some stupid and desperation he himself never thought of doing, he turned to the old gods.

The old Gods, surprised by a sudden influx of eager and desperation of faith from only one man, decided to entertain them.

"PLEASE! WHEN I DIE, MAKE ME EXTREMELY HANDSOME AND HAVE WOMEN LEFT AND RIGHT!"

Oh... That's not...

He's really superficial....

Did the Gods care though? Nah. He's really entertaining. Awakening old Gods just for... Women?

So they granted his wish.

When he died of old age (unfortunately for him.), He woke up to another wealthy and loving family. But this time, he's the son of a world renowned Kpop idol, and a Miss Universe.

"This is overkill." Amor thought to himself as his mother cradled her. "But damn, ain't I happy!"

Growing up, even as a kid, girls liked him. He felt like on the top of the world. He retained his memory, so he's practically a gifted child. No, perfect child even!

Except that he's actually a foul kid.

He became arrogant, a snob. Someone who viewed himself too highly for people.

But do his parents care?

Eh...

They spoil the kid a lot. And turn a blind eye to his lack in manners.

Again, went to prestigious Universities, to Kumon, academic camps.

Everything was a breeze for him now.

He got a job as a model immediately. He decided to not go down the academic path, but use his parents' connections once more to climb up the showbiz ladder!

He's still a Nepo baby in this life.

Well, again, his handsomeness is almost too good to be true (work of the goddess of beauty), so his model career is skyrocketing in success.

And women.

Countless of them.

He cycles through them like toilet paper. Throwing them away once he's got his fill.

Yet, people don't care.

He somehow built a reputation off of being a player. When people say that "he broke somebody's heart again!"

"Eh, what did you expect from being in a relationship with Amor?" They would say with a shake of their head and a smile.

That's how much the Gods intervened with his life.

Once he sets his eyes on someone, he 100% would get them.

Unless....

"Tsk. Where can I go now..."

Amor paced around the street, turning heads left and right as this man sculpted by the gods had a worried look on his face.

The cafe he frequents closed down, now he needs a new place to take his women to dates to.

He's about to get his phone when a flyer hit him directly on his face. With an irritated glower, he grabbed the flyer.

"ow! What the f... Oh?"

He stopped, seeing the content.

"new cafe open?"

It looks like a generic cafe. But what was interesting was that the cafe is located in an indoor garden. Like a greenhouse.

"This is interesting. Women love flowers, don't they? And a garden of all places!" He laughs, making the gods stir from the sudden new cafe they got.

They all fuzzed, saying that this would be a good place. But, the goddess of Beauty stirred. Saying she got a bad feeling about this.

"relax, nothing will happen."

And when he got inside the cafe, he immediately got shocked by the barista, you.

Has there ever been an ethereal beauty like you? Someone... Someone who rivals even the goddess of beauty herself?!

The goddess stirred again, shackles raised. She never made you, so why are you this attractive?

Then, the goddess whispered on his ear.

It's to make you fall in love with a monster. Someone ugly, a beast... Anything to get your status down! Nobody can be as beautiful as her!

Envy filled the goddess as she gave Amor arrows to hit you with.

Now, assigned with the task of making you fall in love with what the goddess call a 'monster', he sets off to your house in the middle of the night. With the help of the other Gods, he became invisible and flew on to your balcony.

With a creak, your balcony doors opened. Making him shimmy inside through the small crack.

Yet, fate tempted him as the moonlight hit your form. In a vulnerable state, your androgynous beauty is amplified. Your long eyelashes, your skin... Your figure...

Truly, your beauty rivaled the goddess. No, you were more beautiful than her.

His throat dried, eyes glazed over.

Gods, are they tempting him?

It would be a waste for you to fall in love with an ugly guy.

His fingers twitched, trying to grab the arrow.

"OW!"

He seethed, doubling over as he clutched his finger. It got pricked by the arrow.

He somehow forgot a crucial information.

'whoever the first person the pricked sees if the arrows only pricked one, they will fall in love with the first person they sees.'

And, as his eyes irritably looked at you, overwhelming love filled inside him as he gasped in the sudden influx of emotions.

He kneeled down, eyes wide.

He's rigid. All he could see is your form. Lovely and so bright.

And hid eyes softened. A dull light in it as his lips twitched into a lovesick smile.

He was already attracted to you before, and now, pricked by the arrows, he's utterly obsessed with you.

With a twitch of his hand once more, he grabbed the arrow and stabbed himself fully to the thigh.

"GAGH!"

He doubled over, gasping, twitching for air as his heart pulsed through his ears. His eyes frantically finding your sleeping form before letting out a shaky moan from the satisfaction.

It was like a drug. Everytime he sees you, he gets overwhelmed with feelings of affection.

Is this what love is about?

And before he knows it, the arrows are all used up.

It was morbid, seeing this man stabbed with so many arrows.

But his face says otherwise. Like a drugged up man, overdosed on ecstacy, he was in a drooling trance from the addictive feeling of love for you.

The arrow is effective enough by one arrow, and now this?

Well, let's just say...

"I count, right?" He shakily asked the gods. "I'm a monster, somebody who breaks women's heart left and right."

He trembled, standing up.

He walked over to you, legs unsteady as he dropped to his knees once more and planted his lips on your own.

It tasted, you tasted so sweet, divine upon his lips.

He wants more, but he can't risk waking you up.

"Goodbye, my love. See you tomorrow." Amor whispered, grabbing your hand and dragging his nose on your skin and inhaling your scent. Exhaling shakily, he stood up and flew away.

Let's say, the goddess of Beauty was really angry at him.

But her condition, a 'monster', fits him. So, what can she do?

She gritted her teeth and looked at him with hatred, yet complacency.

You're so pretty, it hurts.

"Welcome to the Psyche cafe! How may I help you-- oh hello, sir Amor! The usual?"

Amor slowly nodded, clearing his throat.

"yes. The usual."

It's been weeks since then. And he made sure to make himself a regular in the cafe. He stopped going on dates, and pulled a lot of strings to somehow burry the player accusations. He knows he can't really burry it all.

So he made (threatened) the women he dated to be positive about him.

He wants to fly on your radar, spot on the middle, so bad.

So, with the invisibility power he got from the Gods, he always followed you. Even up to your home.

At first, his heart pounded like crazy. What if he suddenly appeared? Will you be freaked out? Surprised? Will you run away--

No, you can't run away.

Like you can, anyways.

He knew of your favorite food, fashion sense, hell, your taste in men...

He slowly changed himself into the man of your dreams.

Like a persona he integrated into himself, this sudden change shocked the people. But, they welcomed this change.

"Is he in love, that's why he's changing?"

More than that.

He's making himself into the perfect boyfriend for you.

Now, all he needs is you!

"Here's your coffee, sir!" You greeted with a sweet smile that he swore he had to grab his soul from leaving his body. "Enjoy!"

He gently grabbed the coffee and as usual, gave you 200$.

"sir..." You grimaced.

"Please, just accept it." He smiles. "You've always been a pleasant person to talk to, y/n. So, just see it as a generous tip. That I frequently give."

You looked down at the bill and smiled. Warmness spreads through your chest.

"thank you s--"

You looked up, and froze from the look he's giving you.

Deep, crazed...

Obsessed.

You shivered in fear.

Sensing your eyes on him, he coughed loudly, averting his eyes before returning to the man you knew.

Or did you actually know him?

You don't even know anymore.

But hey, he gives huge tips.

"Thanks again for the coffee." Amor smiles, trying to sweep what happened under the rug as he waved at you.

He went to his usual table. Somewhere secluded, yet has a clear view of you surrounded by flowers.

He observes you. Plans on what to do next.

He knew he can't just waltz in and whisk you away. That's barbaric.

But he's not opposed to the idea though...

He smirks.

He can probably pull tons of strings for you to end up in his arms.

He loves you, don't mistake that.

But, a little bit of... Force would be good.

He's an impatient man.

Also, did he mention that he's a selfish asshole?

How about, making your life so miserable. Getting you kicked out of this cafe, your family suddenly getting a huge debt...

Something he knows you can't pay immediately.

And his family would coincidentally sponsor you by giving you a condition of marrying him!

Anything to be with you, really.

Or, just steal another arrow and hit it with you. That's also plausible.

But, the goddess is pissed with him. So that's the last resort.

He sips his coffee and crosses his long legs.

He's favored by the Gods anyways.

His eyes narrowed slightly as you interacted too amicably with your coworker. An obvious blush on the coworker's face as he got too touchy with you.

No, everyone in the cafe is enamoured with you. Your beauty too good for this world.

He gripped the handle of his cup.

But first, let's get rid of potential rivals, yes?

You are only his.

What is there to fear? He has the resources in his hands to make you his.

You didn't know yet, but your fate is already sealed, tied, and shackled to him.

You don't really have a choice.

[alessiathepirate]

The Fate of the Furious

ALIVE: Deckard Shaw x fem!reader

Summary: She thought Deckard Shaw died - yet luckily he didn't. After joining the crew on the rooftop, he had some explaining to do.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

A quiet thank you for my friend who watched these movies with me during a movie night. I love you <3

Warnings: swearing, mentioned violence and death

•••

"Oh, this will be good." Roman said to Tej as he poked - or rather punched - his arm. Both of them looked at the scenario in front of them, suddenly forgetting about their bickering over Ramsey.

Perhaps if things went differently, they'd stop arguing to quietly laugh at Shaw carrying a baby - only silently, because they perefer living over dying. Shaw with a baby was something they couldn't imagine at all, yet the thing Roman pointed out wasn't the baby. No, it was Shaw himself, who clearly overestimated his self-worth if he showed up there after the stunt he pulled.

And just in time, the girl whose feelings were very obviously hurt because of the said stunt noticed Shaw's arrival - and she looked like she's seen a ghost.

"No way, man. I really don't want to see this." Tej answered unsurely, leaning back in his seat.

"You won't want to miss it either. She'll kick his ass, that's for sure." In no other scenario would Roman dare to say that - the guy might have super hearing or something.

And just like that, the show started.

"You dick!" the shouting was so loud everyone's gaze was on her, but then - after understanding the situation - they decided to look away, not wanting to become a target of her wrath. "You absolute fucking asshole!"

"Come on, sweetheart, don't curse in front of the-"

"Don't you act like you suddenly give a shit about someone!"

"Oh, he fucked up!" Roman laughed in his seat.

"He fucked up big time." Tej agreed, and it was very rare that they did.

"No way I'd be him right now..."

Her expression was a mixture of anger and hurt, and she very clearly didn't want anyone else there to intervene - no man would dare to either way and they wouldn't succeed in doing so without getting a punch to the face.

But Letty, understanding her feelings because she was the only one she had talked to about them, did her best to diffuse the situation - in front of the child at least.

"I'll take him, don't you worry." she took the infant seat from Shaw, who had the expression of betrayal on his face.

"Thanks for your help, now why don't you go and talk this out?" if Dom's voice was anything to go by, he secretly very much enjoyed seeing Shaw's face as his son, the safety blanket he could hide behind was taken from him.

"Yeah, why don't we go and talk this out, Shaw?"

Ramsey gasped behind them and Dom patted Shaw on the back, sending him the luck he'll need. Roman poked Tej on the arm again, Hobbs chuckled from not so far away.

Deckard Shaw must have fucked up big time - he himself knew that too. It's been months since she called him Shaw. He was never Shaw, only Deckard or maybe if he was lucky enough, Deck. But he was never ever Shaw.

"All right, let's talk this out, sweetheart."

She hugged herself with her arms, not giving him the opportunity to hold onto her hand. Deckard didn't try to do so though, he understood where the line was and he didn't want to overstep it.

They walked to the other side of the roof, away from their gazes and voices, and only then did her eyes start to water.

Deckard wasn't good at apologies, but even he knew that's the time for one. She's hurt and rightfully so, but he didn't mean to hurt her at all. God, he'd go to Hell and back for her and he knew she'd do the same - they knew more than a few things about the other and they liked the other even if they don't like many people.

But now she's sad and hurt - and angry, because of Deckard and he didn't know what he should do to make it better.

"Sweetheart, I-"

"No, don't you fucking sweetheart me." Sweetheart was the petname Deckard saved for her and didn't use it on anybody else. "I thought you died, do you know how that feels? I thought you fucking died!" she grabbed onto the railing to try and regain her strength. "Do you know that I cried for you? I fucking cried for you. I almost went after Dom by myself to hurt him like he hurt me and Dom is my friend!"

He put his hand on her shoulder and she let him, but she didn't look at him at all.

"And then you just call me to tell me everything is okay, I- I don't know what hurt more: that you didn't tell me or that you don't trust me enough to tell me stuff like that."

"I trust you. I trust you and I don't trust anybody else." Deckard touched both of her shoulders to turn her towards him.

He expected her to be angry or sad, he even expected a punch to the face, like when she playfully hit him after a way too bad one liner on a mission. But she didn't do any of that.

No, she was crying. And if Deckard was bad at apologies, then he was even worse at comforting crying women - especially someone he genuinely cares about.

"Why didn't you tell me not to worry?" her voice was high pitched, the kind Deckard hadn't heard before. She never cried. He hadn't seen her cry.

He made her cry.

"Because I needed her to believe it."

It was a poor excuse. He knew it - she knew it.

Yet it was still better than not saying anything or him just saying a 'fuck you'.

"So you're okay? Not even a small cut?" she asked looking at his face, trying to find some scars.

"You know me, sweetheart." he smiled and she was the only one who has ever seen him smile. "And I know you too, so if you'll punch me please tell me so I can get ready."

She chuckled. "Because?"

"Because your punches are really fucking strong."

That was the kind of compliment Deckard Shaw gave her, the kind only she recieved and no one else. And she smiled at that too, even if her eyes were still teary and the pain and fear didn't fully go away.

"I don't want to punch you."

"Really?" he had a suspicion that she really wanted to.

"Really. I just got you back and you want me to hurt you straight away?"

"I'd let you and I'd deserve it too."

He really meant that, she thought as she examined his face, trying to find some dishonesty. She couldn't find any - but to her surprise, his eyes were soft. There was some softness in there, the kind no one's ever seen, because they didn't deserve to see it.

"No, just..." she wiped away the tears and pushed his hands off her shoulders as she leaned against the railing. "I just want you to promise me that you'll tell me- the next time, because in a job like ours there will be a next time for sure."

"Yeah, I promise."

She smiled softly, her wrath slowly disappearing and tiredness took its place. She looked tired.

"You know, we never really talk about it, but just so you know, you mean a lot to me." she said quietly, as if she's confessing something she's not ready for yet. "And I mean it. I really do. No joke or anything."

"I know." he really knew, and he also knew that not many people would do that for him. "And I'd kill for you."

"I know, you already did." she chuckled. "And not even once."

"They deserved it."

"In your eyes everyone deserves to die who looks at us the wrong way." she said remembering all the times Deckard decided to pull out a gun to shoot someone who was unfriendly. "Actually, I'm surprised Hobbs is still with us."

"I promised to fight him one day."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised about that at all." she looked at the others who sat around the table talking. "You'd win."

"I know I would."

"But he'd kick your ass too. He asked me if I want him to do that after the stunt you pulled. I said I'd think about it."

"And what do you think?"

"You'd deserve it, but I'm leaning towards a no."

Deckard laughed and so did she. It was good to laugh with him again.

They stayed quiet after that. She didn't know what else to say or rather how she should talk about the things she should definitely talk about. She thought of the last few hours and days, how Letty was there for her after Deck's fake death - and what they talked about. How she regretted not telling him the things she wanted to.

"I didn't mean it like that." she spoke up after a while. "When I said you mean a lot to me." she had his full attention, she knew it and felt it in his gaze. "I meant that I think about you as more than a friend."

She continued to look at her friends again, watched as they laughed and talked. Dom had his son in his arms and Roman and Tej were arguing again. She focused on every small detail instead of looking Deck in the eyes.

"I know what you meant sweetheart. That's what I meant when I said I'd kill for you." she had to look at him when his hand was on hers. "I just can't let them see me as a softie, can I?"

He was teasing her and he was grinning, and in that moment for her he was the most lovable, playful asshole in the whole world.

"You dick!" she shouted with a laugh as she hit his arm and she felt the others' eyes on herself. "You come back from the dead and you act like this? I should let Hobbs kick your ass. Being soft with me is the least you can do to apologize."

"I knew you wanted to hit me."

She hit him on the arm again - this time the both of them were grinning like idiots and she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Of course I do. This is the worst love confession I've ever seen."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way."

"That's right, I wouldn't. I'd be way too bored without you in my life."

This time he caught her arm before it could land and his hold on her wrist was gentle. That hand could kill and punch - and he looked damn good when he did that -, but it would never ever hurt her. Not intentionally.

They both leaned in to kiss the other - and they most likely argued about who had the balls to initiate the first kiss later. It was a great kiss, a damn good one. The one what's full of passion and emotion, the one that made her stomach tighten.

"I love you, you idiot, but if you act like you're dead in front of me ever again I--" he kissed her again to shut her up.

"I love you too."

"So much for not being a softie." she giggled as she hugged him, hiding her face from everyone - because she was grinning like an idiot in love.

"You won't let this one go, will you?"

"Not at all." she answered. "By the way, just so you know, Dom wasn't the only one who called your mother."

"You did not call my mother."

"I didn't want to punch you, but she'll definitely scold you for me."

She smirked as she saw his expression. "You're one evil woman."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way." she quoted.

On the other side of the roof the table was set a long time ago and everyone was waiting for the two of them to join in so they can start to eat. Although watching the drama before eating wasn't too bad either.

"You know, as much as I dislike him, I'm happy she's happy." Ramsey said after the pair kissed.

"I was right man, I really didn't want to see that." it was Tej's turn to poke Roman, who only stared at Deckard and her in disbelief.

"I expected more drama." Rome said with clear disappointment in his voice. "And why is she in love with the guy? What does he have that I don't?"

"Why don't you go ahead and tell that to him yourself. I'm sure he'd happily answer you with a punch." Tej teased him with a grin. "Go ahead boss, ask him."

"I hate you all..."

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

"To all the Girls I've Loved Before" Hazel Callahan x Reader

"And then she shoved them all into her closet, for her eyes only, and it would stay that way until she died…or at least that was her hope."

Tags: Fluff, Nothing big happens really, only one use of y/n, wlw, proof read but it's currently 4:44am and my eyes burn so just ignore imperfections

A/N: This is kind of loosely based on the scene in "To all the Boys I've Loved Before" where all the guys receive their letters, but make it gay, also please don't steal my writing...it would suck

Hazel always kept her romantic feelings to herself…well, she tried to at least. 

Sometimes she would have a crush that made her want to just scream from the rooftops and parade around town confessing her love to whoever was the object of her desires at that time.

So, Hazel decided to write them out, to save herself from becoming an even bigger loser than she already was. She would write letters to all of her crushes but never mail them so she could look back and read what crazy things a simple crush can do to a person.

There was only three letters, one to PJ, one to a girl she had met at summer camp once, and then you.

You were the one crush that Hazel didn’t think she would ever be able to shake, PJ was simple to shake after a few arguments and harsh words thrown Hazel’s way…

But you seemed to keep Hazel in your grasp even if you only knew her from that one spin the bottle game during a party freshman year, which was the first time Hazel kissed a girl. Ever since she would still catch herself faintly blushing if you caught her gaze in the hallways.

She had written your letter first, the night she got home from the party freshman year. Hazel poured out all of her giddy feelings about the kiss and how pretty your eyes were underneath the cheap party city lights.

And then she shoved them all into her closet, for her eyes only, and it would stay that way until she died…or at least that was her hope.

It was a regular Friday afternoon. Hazel’s last period being gym which wasn’t exactly her favorite, especially since she had gotten caught up with fight club business and ran late causing her teacher to tell her she was running an extra lap because of her tardiness.

Hazel had been running for a while and stopped to take a breather as the sun shone down on her, and of course she forgot her water bottle in the bleachers in her haste.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hazel saw you approaching and tried to straighten her sweaty and wrinkled P.E. uniform. Not that it helped her appearance any since she knew her cheeks were probably a blotchy red and could feel her hair sticking to her forehead from the sweat.

“Hey y/n, what’s up?” she asks, trying to be cool but cringing at herself for not coming up with something less generic.

You smile sweetly, “Hi Hazel, look I wanted to tell you that I am very flattered, but I just broke up with Josh a few days ago” you say putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry…what?” Hazel says, confused and still trying to catch her breath from running, and that’s when she saw it

Oh fuck…

In your hands was a letter, Hazel’s handwriting clear as day with your name and address on it.

“And don’t get me wrong, that kiss freshman year was great for a first kiss, I wouldn’t say it was like a firework show but I mean I wasn’t in your shoes for it so…” You ramble on a little awkwardly

And that’s the last thing Hazel remembers you saying before she hit the ground

—————

“Hazel!” You say sharply while shaking her shoulder and she jerks awake with a sharp inhale

Hazel squints as the sun shines directly into her eyes, “Jesus…what happened?” she groans a little as she leans onto her elbows

“Well, you fainted” you say before helping Hazel sit up

She knows that you continued speaking to her after that, but she can’t really pay attention as she looks over you shoulder to see a confused looking PJ walking over, letter in hand

Oh no…no no no no no

“Oh my god…” Hazel mutters to herself trying to think of a distraction and then turning to you.

“Oh my god” she repeats before quickly pulling you down so she’s on top of you and quickly presses her lips to yours, while you shriek in surprise.

“Hey! You two! Get up and stop that!” the coach shouts, which causes Hazel to immediately break away in shock of what she had just done.

She looks over to see PJ staring at the two of you dumbfounded. Hazel jumps up and shoots you a thumbs up.

“Uh, thanks…i guess” she stammers out before running away from both you and PJ who tries to call after her. 

--------

Thank you for reading!! This is my first time posting fanfic so I am actually so nervous, go drink some water you girl kissers, love y'all!

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

on the phone with 👑

(cw: mentions of ego-shooter video games; age gap 25/41, nsfw, masturbation, dirty talk, praise, MDNI)

part before: painting his nails

I'm tossing and turning.

In my own bed.

Cursing the notion I had, that I couldn't possibly stay for longer at his place.

On Monday morning, I packed up my stuff and hurried to work, after he made me another latte.

Being a good girl, not getting him to fuck me again, even though I would have rather taken him to bed than myself to work.

Texting König about every single minute thing that came to my mind. And him doing the same.

I sent him a pic while I was out getting lunch with a colleague. And he sent me a pic while he was working out. I almost died right there and then.

Firstly, I never would have thought he would do a mirror selfie.

Secondly...

His hair put up in a haphazard way. Damp strands of it hanging down.

The tank top was a tight fit especially for him, showing off his arms. Sweat staining the front of it, the sheen of wetness on his skin...

The shorts. The sight of his burly thighs had me gripping my desk, trying to get a grip.

Thirdly, that goddamned smile. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

When I had calmed down, my fingers typed out a message in response.

Me: excuse me??? sir??? 🫠 👑: you are excused

He's gonna pay for that one.

When I came home from work, I thought it was eerily quiet in my apartment. Nobody else being here. I mean, I live alone and Mimi greeted me as always. But it seemed like was something off. Missing.

I thought back to when we got my stuff and König just waited patiently for me while I packed some clothes and other necessities. Petting Mimi, his whole attention on the little cat. His tall stature dwarfed my living room, and I was actually surprised he didn’t hit his head on the ceiling. The Morbid Angel logo on his shirt was hidden by the black furball purring against him. Mimi sitting on his chest, not a care in the world, meowing when she saw me.

But there was no 6'10'' giant waiting for me in the living room then.

I willed myself - even though my fingers itched - to not send him message about asking for him to pick me up or stay over at my place. I wanted to give him some space after I had his place under siege for what feel like an eternity, but realistically was just three days. And I managed fine yesterday, his goodbye kisses still lingering. Today, even with all of the messages we sent back and forth...

Can you miss somebody like that after knowing them for such a short time?

I knew that he most likely spent the whole evening at home. Alone. Because he likes being alone. Probably reading or listening to the new Trivium vinyl he bought that came in the mail yesterday. Or both.

I stayed home as well, playing games on my computer – I actually started up Counterstrike and tried to play some matches –, but my mind always wandered back to him. Mimi came running, pushing her head against my legs, demanding attention. I lifted her off the floor to set her onto my lap and didn't see the enemy which got me eliminated. The irony was not lost on me, as I thought back to our conversation. How worried he seemed with how I would perceive him when he talked about his work. And now I was sitting here, playing a shooter game to try and relax after work.

I shook my head, at the absurdity of it, and snapped a quick pic in between matches to send to him.

My phone ding-ed while I was in a match, and I tried to ignore it.

As soon as I got the chance though, I opened the message and he sent a picture back. From the waist down, a book on his lap, a beer on the table beside him. The wall of books in the background. The whole room dimly lit except for the opened pages.

God damn it, I just want to sit right next to him on that couch.

me: looking comfy, old man 👑: thank you, i am indeed very comfy 👑: brat

I chuckled to myself and played a few more rounds before I went to bed.

And now I'm here, tossing and turning in my bed, without the big guy right beside me.

I pull the chat up again. Looking at the pictures he sent me today.

me: u still awake? 👑: yes, everything okay? me: can't sleep 👑: me neither

While I'm still contemplating my next message, the crown lights up my phone as a caller ID. Surprise spreads through me for just a moment before I pick up.

Hi?

Hi. Uh, I hope it's okay that I just called.

Sure, I can't sleep anyways.

I ignore the little flutter in my stomach.

What is it? Something on your mind?

‘Yeah, you.’ is what I want to say.

No, just restless.

He sighs.

I feel that.

A little silence falls over us, just for a moment.

What was that game you played before?

Oh, uh- Counterstrike. I'm no good at it though.

He laughs.

Why do you play it then?

It's still fun, I guess. Even if I curse at the monitor like a goddamn sailor.

Oh, I couldn't imagine your sweet mouth doing something as filthy as that.

Yeah, yeah. We both know what kind of filthy things you're imagining with my mouth.

Maybe.

I can hear the grin on his face which makes me grin in return.

Have you ever played?

I never played, no. Don't want to spend my free time with...

He pauses.

Work.

Oh right, I understand, sorry. This must be weird then.

No, don't worry. I know that people play those games for fun.

Yeah, I know, still.

You gotta show me some time.

Really?

Yeah, why not.

Okay, then, I'll show you my shitty gameplay with pleasure.

Which makes us both laugh.

I gotta confess something.

What do you have to confess?

I already had my car keys in my hand.

You did?

Mhm. But then I remembered what you said yesterday morning, about needing to go home and you couldn't possibly stay any longer… and I understand if you need some space. So, I wasn't sure if you'd even open the door for me, if I knocked.

A moment of silence.

Can I confess something as well?

Sure.

I have been thinking all evening how fucking stupid that was of me. And I would've opened the door for you in an instant.

Another silence, this one a little heavier.

But a little smile stalks on my face, an idea of what to say next.

What would you do if you were here?

He chuckles.

Kiss that filthy mouth of yours. And then the top of your head because that's closest to your dirty mind.

What dirty mind?

Yeah, yeah, I see right through you, Fräulein.

I don't know what you're talking about.

No? So, you aren't thinking about me fucking you from behind right now? Or maybe about you spreading your legs and me eating you out, your delicious pussy right in my face? Or about my dick pushing into your mouth until you gag around it, hm?

I clear my throat.

Well, now I am for sure.

Good. Because I'm thinking about it as well.

König?

Yes, Liebes?

I- There's something that always helps me sleep better.

His voice deepens.

And what's that?

Oh, you already know.

I need to hear you say it. What do you want?

I hesitate, feeling a little shy now.

I want to come.

He groans.

Fuck, can't deny you if you ask so prettily.

The tone of his voice sends a little shiver down my spine, but I'm unsure what to say now, the words on the tip of my tongue.

What- what should I do?

I can tell you what I would do if I was there, and you can tell me how it feels, okay?

Okay.

Put the phone next to you and put me on speaker. You're gonna need both of those hands.

I do exactly as he tells me, lying back into my sheets.

You're on speaker.

Good. What are you wearing, sweetcheeks?

I giggle a little.

A shirt and panties.

Hmm, my favorite. I would get rid of your underwear in an instant though.

I laugh and follow his suggestion. I already noticed his disdain for underwear, on himself as well.

Then I would slowly push my hand up your shirt, feeling your soft skin.

Until I reach your breasts, squeezing them.

I do as he says, but it doesn't quite feel the same with my hands, compared to his bigger ones.

I would graze my thumb over your nipples, feeling them harden from my touch.

I'd like to lick them, bite them just lightly, until you squirm under me.

I pinch them, his words mixing with the sensations of my touch, until I softly sigh.

Feeling good?

Mhm.

The sound is more a moan than anything else.

My hand would slowly wander down, until I'm there, just were you want me.

I whimper when my fingers reach my clit, swollen and sensitive.

That bad, huh?

Well, somebody sent a picture of them all sweaty and hot after working out. And I still can't think straight, just thinking about that.

He laughs.

You say such nice things, Liebes.

What would you do next?

I know that I sound desperate. But I need more.

I’d move my hand just a little further down. Not pushing into you just yet. Just teasing. Softly stroking over your wet pussy.

I whine, needy, but I don't dare to stray from his order, getting myself worked up with the teasing touches.

Just feeling how fucking wet you are for me, before pushing my finger into you.

I push one of my fingers inside me, the one digit not nearly being enough.

Miss your fingers, they're bigger.

He hums. A soft erotic sound.

I suppose they are.

I’d add a second one, slowly moving inside you, just how you like it. Hitting that spot inside you that makes you moan and roll your eyes back. Just how I like it.

His voice is getting deeper, his breaths a little more labored, as he keeps talking which sends a shiver down my spine. Knowing that guiding me through it like that, hearing me sigh in response, does it for him as well lets a little smile form on my face.

I do as he says, but I also get a little frustrated, because my fingers can't quite reach like his, my hips squirming, desperate for more friction.

Need more.

I whine.

Okay, then. Brat.

I would flip you on your front, so I could look at your ass.

I can't help the little eyeroll, while a grin stalks onto my face.

But you aren't here, and you can't actually see my butt.

Pssscht, I'm imagining it just fine. Come on, turn around, do as I tell you.

And I do, the rustling of my sheets telling him as far.

Good.

Just this word alone, from his lips, does things to me.

Now, lift up your hips just a little and push your fingers in from behind.

I follow his instructions, lifting my ass, so I can reach a little better, two of my fingers slipping into my pussy. I groan a little bit.

How's that? A little deeper?

Yes.

I sigh.

Good. Now, put your other fingers on your clit.

I push my arm under my body, placing the hand, right between my legs. My fingertips are digging into the sensitive nub and I rub against them needily. I know now why he wanted me to reposition myself.

Oh fuck.

The sounds I’m making are telling him what he wants to know.

Just like that.

Move your hips, fuck yourself on your fingers.

And I do as he tells me, the touches getting me worked up fast, the pressure on my clit changing with every pass, while my fingers are pushing into my pussy.

Hmm, feeling good?

Yeah, just wish it was you inside me.

That little confession dropped out of me before I could think too hard about it.

Fuck, me too. I would bury my dick deep inside you. Fuck you from behind. Hard, just how you like it.

Remember how I fucked you into that bar counter?

How could I forget?

We need to do that again sometime... You took me so fucking perfectly.

I bite my lip, stifling the moans that get louder and louder, the images of us fucking spurring me on, while I finger-fuck myself.

I wanna hear you. Please.

My head turns in the direction of the phone again, making sure he gets to hear all the sounds that are dropping from my lips.

Good girl.

His praise washes over me and I almost choke up when the pull inside gets too much.

Close, so clo-

Fuck, yes. Come. That's what you wanted, isn't it?

The growl in his voice tips me over the edge, moving my hips frantically in search for more friction, when my orgasm crashes down over me.

My moans fill my bedroom, and surely find their way into the phone.

I can hear him groan as well, the sounds from the speaker sounding a lot like a slick hand moving up and down quickly.

Fuck, he’s jerking off too. That thought registers in my brain, before my fingers hit that spot inside me again. The zap of pleasure makes me shake, the waves of arousal washing over me, while my fingers strum over my clit.

Fuuuck…

A low breathy curse that escapes his lips as he comes as well.

Panting, mine and his from the speaker, is all I hear for the next moments.

I untangle myself, my fingers slipping out of me, turning onto my back again. Feeling my own wetness on my hands. I clean myself haphazardly before I grab the phone again.

That was… something else.

Yeah… you drive me crazy, you know that?

I’m still just breathing, trying to calm myself down. My god, I don’t think I ever came that hard with just my fingers inside me. The images he put in my mind… his deep soft voice alone. It does stuff to me. Hearing him say that... how I drive him crazy as well, it makes me all giddy inside.

I feel the familiar fuzzy feeling sweep over me, and I wish I could snuggle into him right now, after he made me come, and my hazy mind is still looking for the right thing to say now.

Feeling better now?

Yes, much better.

Sleepy, too?

Yes, that too. I always get a little sleepy afterwards.

I've noticed.

Like on cue, I yawn.

Thank you.

He chuckles again. And I don't think I'll ever get enough of that sound.

No need to thank me. I'll make you come any day of the week.

I- meant for calling, but that works too.

The grin on my face probably mirrors his, staring off into the distance with our phones pressed to the ear. And he's still not here next to me.

Gotta get myself under the shower, because I made a mess of myself again and I got nobody here to clean me up.

That makes me laugh, the joke and the filthy thought cutting through the sleepiness, when I'm yawning again.

You do that, can't have you all messy like that.

No, we can't.

I can hear the little filthy grin in his voice, and I can imagine how he must look like right now. Sitting on the couch or his bed. His dick still out, all messy and sticky with his cum. His hair hanging over the side of his face, as he relaxes into the cushions. And that god damn smirk of his.

Silence, just two little moments, before I ask what I wanted to ask.

Can you come over tomorrow?

Sure, Kleine, whatever you want.

Okay, good. Good night, König.

Good night, sleep well.

That's the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep, still gripping my phone tight with my fingers.

next part: gaming with him or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

[11queensupreme11]

How do the gods feel about Percy being an 'It Girl'? Idk, every time I think of her, i just imagine all the popular girls from high school 😭

omg i gotta talk about this in detail forgive me 😂😂

you know those tiktok stories ppl post about their glow ups? like they'd show pics of them when they were kids or in middle school, to how they look now in high school/collage/working adult????

THAT'S PERCY!!!!!

percy canonically was seen as a loser in the earlier books. she was constantly shuffled around boarding schools, which are EXPENSIVE btw, and in my fic the explanation for that is that these schools willingly took percy in with free tuition/lowered tuition because of how HORRIBLE her record is, and they wanted to take her in in hopes they could "improve" her and make their school look better cuz "hey we took this criminal poor child in and we made her a stellar student! we're so much better than the other schools, so give us donations and send ur kids to us because we actually work!" and that obviously just... never happened lol 💀

BUT ANYWAY, those schools are expensive and usually filled with wealthy kids from wealthy families, and they can CLEARLY tell percy isn't one of them. maybe because she's always wearing the same shoes, or she can't afford to get another uniform so she's always got the same crummy one with rips or stains they couldn't get out or "hey i saw percy and her mom walking to the laundromat, they're so poor they don't even have their own washing and drying machine haha!", or "guys i saw percy working at the macy's parade! hahaha, she's so poor she's gotta work during summer break!", etc.

like EVERYONE always knew her as that kid with no money and no dad who's always committing crimes ("hey isn't that jackson girl a terrorist?!"), she's a loser with barely any friends, and the friends she DOES make are losers too (grover and tyson were always looked down on, and in my fic she attends the di angelo's school, and they were looked down on too).

so imagine seeing that kid grow up into her teens and then get hit with the biggest glow up you've ever seen (cuz her face claim's adriana lima) 😂😂😂😂 i think her life started getting better around the time she she started attending goode high (a regular high school, not for elites like her previous school, so no one there knows her aside from her "crimes" on tv). and it's not just the glow up too, she's also a little more outgoing and confident in herself, more comfortable in her skin, etc. she's got a glow up inside AND outside. like imagine strolling around ur school and a girl who looks like a victoria's secret super model just walks by and she NOTICES you and just waves and says "oh hi! 👋😄"

percy has always been seen as a poor loser, but then high school happened and BAM she's now suddenly the most popular girl in school 🥺 she probably has a lot of mortal friends too. so not only is she popular in the demigod/godly world, but also popular in the mortal world (her high school, i mean lol). she's on the swim team, she's the ✨it girl✨ she probably got a ton of juniors or seniors trying to ask her out to prom/homecoming and shit despite being a freshman/sophomore 😂 and because she's got so many friends from school, she most DEFINITELY spent a lot of her free time hanging out with them, like just shopping in new york, going to skate parks, walking around the city, etc. (and with her demigod friends too ofc if they're in new york at the time). her insta, tiktok, and twitter's probably FULL of pics/vids of her just hanging out and being social 😂 she's the girl that's everywhere but home, always out and doing shit 😭

okay okay, i rambled too much im sorry, i just really love talking about percy being an ✨it girl✨ everywhere she goes

but anyways... the yanderes...... WOULD FUCKING HATE IT 😂

poseidon and beelzebub are the biggest introverts EVER. the thought of going out and touching grass would actually give them psychic damage 😂

poseidon's so lucky he was never in sally's position because he wouldn't be able to handle it. his daughter is everywhere BUT HOME 😭😭😭 like pls go home already child, stop hanging out with people, what do you mean you're at a SLEEPOVER RIGHT NOW? NO, COME HOME. do you even know the ppl you're talking to? YOU JUST MET THEM???? DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS, IDC IF THEY'RE COMPLIMENTING UR OUTFIT 😭😭😭 poor percy, in ror verse her life of excitement's gone, no going around hanging out with friends and doing random shit, she's got an overbearing dad now 😭

beelzebub's screaming, crying, throwing up, dramatically sliding his back down the door and everything 😭 going to midgard with percy was already hard enough for him, he literally had to handcuff her because she just WOULDN'T. STAY. STILL. and everyone kept staring at her and everything (remember when he read the mind of that one taxi cab driver and he lost his shit 😂). percy ALWAYS wants to go outside and he can't fucking take that shit, but he loves her so he takes her out anyway and it kills him every time 😭😭 BECAUSE EVERYONE ALWAYS WANTS TO TALK TO HER, AND SHE NEVER DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT like sweetie..... stranger danger 😭

hades would be crying internally like "pls.... stay home.... just stay home pls 😭". he's glad his niece is so well-liked, she deserves to be adored by everyone!!! but maybe... maybe this is just a lil too much popularity... 😭 he'd burst into tears from the sight of her social media accounts alone, she's always out and about and rarely home, always with different ppl. it's so shocking to him cuz he's more comfortable hanging out with ppl he's close to like family and stuff, what do you mean percy's got different friend groups and she's always hanging out with them, what do you mean she's in hundreds of group chats in various texting apps, what do you mean seniors were asking her out to dances, STAY AWAY *HISSSSSS*

APOLLO WOULD BE SO HYPOCRITICAL 😂 he is ALSO a very popular god who's very extroverted and outgoing but holy shit would he meet his match in percy and he starts to see the downsides to such popularity 😂 he's soooooo glad that all of percy's old friends are universes away, but if that starts happening again in THIS universe he'd be on his hands and knees begging her to stay home and stop hanging out with ppl 😭 he now understands why poseidon kept her in the palace, cuz once she's out, she's going EVERYWHERE and meeting EVERYONE and nothing's gonna send her back home unless they drag her 😂

anubis is extroverted af so he definitely understands!!!!!!! jk. he'd be fine with it for the first few 24 hours, then everyone starts to become a threat to him because they keep stealing percy's attention. he'd be like "can't you stay home 🥺 pretty please 🥺🥺🥺 kebechet and i miss you so much 🥺🥺🥺 ur rarely home nowadays 🥺🥺🥺" and he and kebi would work together to guilt her into spending more time with them, and it would work 💀💀💀

loki would make the fatal mistake of taking her around valhalla and meeting other gods and shit, and then immediately regret it once he realizes that he's got a super sociable ✨it girl✨ in his hands who easily befriends everyone she meets 💀 he'd probably try to horde her in the palace, but that doesn't work cuz now she's helping servants out with the cooking and cleaning, having tea parties with odin, petting huginn and muninn, doing thor's hair, hanging out with the valkyries, etc. into the basement she goes, i guess! 😭😭😭

cú chulainn 1000% also understands what it's like to be popular. i'm pretty sure all of ireland knew him; ladies loved the dude and men feared and hated his ass cuz he either killed someone they cared about or fucked their wives and daughters 💀 so yes he definitely understands, but karma strikes him and it strikes him BADLY because percy is absolutely gonna be 100000000% more popular than him. like, he takes her out and looks away from her for ONE SECOND, and she's suddenly got 61341 friends already, half of which are probably in love with her or some shit 😭 hell, she'd probably unknowingly steal the hearts of the girls who crushed on him and all those dudes who hated his ass? yeah now they forgot about him cuz "wow who's the pretty girl next to him?? 😳😳" he'd be so stressed fr, he can't take her ANYWHERE cuz they all WANT HER. deserved karma if you ask me 💀

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[lowkeyrobin]

Mcyt with an s/o who's a voice acter for video game characters? They mostly do voice characters in horror games n stuff(like until dawn, where the characters are also modeled after the voice after if I remember correctly)

I just think their faces would be hilarious if the choice they make in the game ends up with y/n getting killed lol

OH MY GOD YESSSSS ; also tried to use different games and not the same for everyone but I'm not the heaviest story game gamer LMFAO ; also don't talk about how timeliness wouldn't make sense shhhhhh

MCYT ; video game voice actor

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language & fictional violence and death/murder

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

somehow the topic of mc story mode came up and how you actually voice acted a few characters + one of the Jessie variants (whichever you picked as a kid 🙏)

"WHAT? WHY DIDNT I KNOW ABOUT THIS?"

"I mean I was like, fourteen. I don't think I even knew you yet"

"absolute betrayal"

he literally speeds to his office, downloads the first game and proceeds to stream for three hours playing it (he selects whichever Jessie you voiced of course)

"OH MY GOD THAT IS MY PARTNER, HOLY SHIT, LISTEN TO THEIR BABY VOICE!"

the tweets never end

"spot the difference" and its an old/new pic of you compared to jessie

💀💀💀💀

once he gets to the save Petra or Lukas scene he straight up pauses and playfully yells at you like you made the game?? 💀🙏

he dies so many times it's not even funny

love him tho

RANBOO

Detroit become human

the moment he finds out you voiced a minor character he speedruns trying to find you

the character is also modeled after you, so he's begging chat to keep an eye out for you too

you're basically just some very friendly person trying to help Connor but no matter what route he/the player takes, you wind up dead for the angst

ouuuu the heartbreak, the angst

if it's by being shot, betrayed, or committing your own death, you're gone bro

"y/n why the fuck does your character die in the worst ways possible?"

you shrug

"that genuinley hurt my feelings. I don't wanna play this anymore"

"you didn't get to Connors possible death scene yet!"

"WHAT?"

FREDDIE BADLINU

TLOU 2 (I don't support the makers zionist views, I just thought this fit. free Palestine and do your daily clicks)

was literally cheering you on the whole time when you were bts for voice acting your character

you had to take like scream classes to upgrade your screaming abilities lmao

you gave the voice to a character modeled after you, an infected teen who runs into ellie on her way through the game

she/the player is forced to put you down because you're not immune

L

he plays through the game and turns to you like "dude do I actually have to kill you to progress?"

you just nod

"I'm sorry, I didn't wanna do this"

THE DESPERATE SCREAMING GOT HIM

literally looked at you in horror

"...are you okay?"

you smile and nod

NIKI NIHACHU

life is strange

mf you would've been like 16?? damn get ur bag, okay

she plays through and you va (whoever you choose) and everytime she hears your voice she smiles

"omg that's my partner! that's y/n, you guys!! :D"

the cutest

literallt cries at the end of the game

"y/n, were you in life is strange two?"

"why?"

"Cause I wanna play it but I don't wanna get my hopes up about you being there"

"just play it, just play it. trust me"

ALEX QUACKITY

twdg s4

basically clem/the player gets really close to your character and ends up having to kill them after they turn into a walker

the angst, the heartbreak

he's never done a full let's play / game play like that before and especially with a full game series

when he got to s4 and heard you for the first time he literally started jumping around and screaming

now when you die... it's jumping and screaming alright (in anger and sadness)

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I PLAYED ALL THOSE GAMES JUST FOR YOU TO DIE?"

"I mean there's an option to prevent me turning, you're just a dumbass"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? IM RESTARTING"

FOOLISH GAMERS

dead by daylight

you va'd multiple characters/killers

and the devs wanted to show appreciation by giving you your own playable character with your natural voice

when foolish finds out, he gets tubbo, quackity, tina & niki in a call to play dbd + stream for like 6 hours

loves seeing all the death animations you'd be given and all your voicelines

"OH MY GOD! guys this is my partner, they're so instantly talented at voice acting, holy shit!"

"we get it foolish, you love y/n"

"It's more than love, quackity, it's an obsession"

"my brother in christ, calm down"

[miley1442111]

back to chicago-c.berzatto

a/n: i'm probably going to make this two parts (or more) because I really like this idea so this is part 1. i imagined a fem reader and it's mentioned quite a few times but as usual, imagine what you like. SET AFTER SEASON 2

summary: a double date with your boyfriend at the Bear can only go well, right?

pairings: carmenberzatto x femreader (complicated relationship), platonicthe bear x reader, romantic oc x reader

warnings: general angst, mentions of mikeys death

You and Carmen had grown up together, living across the street from one another. Your childhoods were wildly different, his filled with family drama and personal independence. Yours filled with absent parents and the necessity of independence. You went to school together, went to prom together (as ‘friends’), and you were each other's first kiss. Then, you went off to college for law and business and he went off to cook. You vowed to never go back to Chicago, but stayed in contact with Mikey until he died. Then you came back. You felt a debilitating need to see Mikey off. Watch him be put into the ground. You had hoped Carmen would show up. He didn’t. 

You had stayed in Chicago, you had the time and money. Being a successful lawyer in New York was a great gig. Straight out of college you’d gotten a job at a top law firm, and just last year you were made partner. Taking time off for personal reasons wasn’t questioned. Even if it had happened a year ago. Even though you were in Chicago purely for the reason of nostalgia. You’d gone last year for the funeral and this time it was just because something in you missed it. 

It felt good to breathe in the Chicago air again as you walked down the darkened streets, ready for a date at a new Chicago restaurant, The Bear. It was where The Beef had been. Devastating how someone just came in and wrecked all of Mikey’s work. You thought to yourself as you opened the door and searched for the man you were meeting. Adrian, an accountant you’d met at a jazz club, was a nice man. He was sweet and reliable, funny and kind and you both got along well. He was never too handsy and always on time… but you still feared full commitment. He waved you over and you sat beside him as he pressed a kiss to your lips, you smiled, greeting his friends. This ‘double date’ thing had been his idea. This restaurant had been his idea, and as you stared Richie Jerimovich in the face, a shocked dumb-founded look on his face, you remembered why you left Chicago in the first place You remembered Carmen always wanted to call his restaurant ‘The Bear’ and you remembered that there was no getting out of this. 

Shit. 

“Do you two know each other?” Adrian asked, a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. 

“Fuck yeah we do! Cousin, how are you?” Richie smiled, forgoing the formalities and pulling you out of your seat and into a hug. 

“Richie, how are you?” You mustered up your best fake smile, trying to keep the gaze of Adrian’s friends unsuspicious. 

“I’m great Bug, how are you?” he asked, using the wretched nickname you endured for all those years. 

“Bug?” Adrian smiled. 

“Childhood nickname,” you explained quickly. “I’m good, Rich, real good.”

“You're a fancy lawyer now huh? What was it, New York right?” 

“That’s right,” you smiled. You couldn’t ruin this dinner. Adrian had flown all the way from New York to see you. This was the first time in a month that he’d seen you. Adrian’s friends had to like you. You had to make them like you.

“Sugar’s going to freak out when she sees you,” Richie smiled. You followed Nat on instagram, but refused to like any of her pictures, not wanting her to reach out. You knew she was pregnant. “You won’t believe it, she’s pregnant!”

“Oh my god! I must congratulate her,” you smiled, not realising what that tiny statement would bring.

“I’ll take you to the back now! I’ll give the rest of you guys the tour after,” he smiled at the rest of the table and they seemed to be excited by the prospect of seeing the kitchen so you plastered on a smile, kissed Adrian’s cheek, and let Richie lead the way. 

As you edged closer to the kitchen, you could hear voices, but thankfully not Carmen’s. You turned a corner, pushed through the door behind Richie, and you were led to a small office. Inside sat Natalie ‘Sugar’ Berzatto, ‘Uncle Jimmy’, and Carmen fucking Berzatto. You let out a breath.

“Look who came in to say hi,” Richie announced, stepping to the side to stop covering you. Sugar and Jimmy’s eyes lit up and they immediately started to hug you, yet Carmen stayed frozen to his spot against the wall.

“My love, how’s New York?” Jimmy asked, his arms around you. 

“It’s great, everything I wanted,” you smiled. Your life was something you felt you could be proud of. You loved New York and you loved your job. You had great friends, friends that were practically family. You had Adrian, he was great and he loved you. Yet you still thought about the Berzattos daily. “Congratulations Natalie!” You turned to her, hugging her side due to her large bump. 

You exchanged small talk back and forth with Jimmy and Sugar as Richie and Carmen whispered in the corner. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but it worried you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

carmen

There you were. Standing there, fucking glowing. And here I was, a stained white t-shirt on and a pair of fucking jeans on. You looked beautiful, the type of beautiful that would make me jealous of the guy you were going home to if I saw you walking down the street. What were you doing here? Why the fuck were you standing in my office, looking so damn beautiful, yet so unattainable?

“She’s here with a guy,” Richie whispered into my ear. 

“What?” I scoffed. 

“She’s here with a guy!” He whispered louder. I felt my blood boil. So you’re here, in my fucking restaurant, with some other fucking guy. Awesome. I searched your hands for an engagement ring, or worse, a wedding ring. I saw none and my ears refocused into the room. 

“So?” I sighed, feigning disinterest.

“ ‘So’? Your fucking girl is with another guy. In your restaurant!” Richie snapped. 

“She’s not my fucking girl anymore, stop talking outta your ass,” I shoved him, making him leave me alone. My words were deflections. Of course you were my fucking girl, you always would be. You were perfection personified in my eyes, even with any of your flaws. And I wanted you to be my girl, but I got so fucking in my head about it I couldn‘t ask, and then we left and went our separate ways. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

“Look, I’d better get back to my table, my boyfriend’s waiting-”

“Boyfriend?” Jimmy cut you off. “I thought you and Carmy were dating?” 

“Yeah, when we were like 17-” You started but Carmen cut you off. 

“We never dated.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Your smile faltered, then faded entirely and it was all Carmen’s fault. 

“Look, I’m sure my table is waiting on me to order, it was great to see you guys,” you smiled and left the room, walking back to your table, a sigh leaving your lips. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen 

“You are such a fuckin’ asshole!” Richie shouted as Sugar and Jimmy sighed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about ‘we never dated’? You’re still fuckin’ in love with her!” 

“Richie just fuck off ok! I don’t have to explain shit to you-” I started but I was cut off by Sugar. 

“That was such a shitty thing to say Bear! We haven’t seen that girl in fucking years and of course you had to fucking ruin it. We’ll probably never fucking see her again!” 

“I know that was shitty Sugar, I’mf fucking aware!” I started as I walked out of the office and into the kitchen. I wanted to make your food amazing. That was the only way you’d ever forgive me, right?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

You walked back to your table and answered any and all questions pertaining to your relationships with the Berzattos, leaving out that you had a crush on Carmen. You allowed yourself to peek into the kitchen window and you saw him furiously moving. He was mixing something? You couldn’t see. Adrian’s kissing your shoulder pulled you back to reality. Adrian was great. He knew how hard tonight was for you. He knew about what happened in your childhood. He knew about what happened with Carmen. Adrian’s friends, Emilia and John both got up to take a smoke break and he turned to you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, squeezing your hand.

“Fine, it’s just… messy, I guess.”

“Well you’re doing great. John and Emilia love you,” he smiled and kissed your cheek. “I wouldn’t have picked this place if I knew, I just wanted to see you-”

“I know,” you smiled at him. “I wanted to see you too,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he grinned. 

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he flirted. 

“So do you,” you simply said and he chuckled. 

“Such a flirt,” he joked and you laughed, a real laugh. He kissed you again, quick and sweet. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said matter-of-factly and his face lit up. You truly had no idea if you actually loved him. Your commitment issues were constantly getting in the way of your relationships, so you had to do something, telling him you love him, I admit, might’ve been a crazy thing to start with but, you were running out of options.

He kissed you again, less quickly but still polite enough to not be seen as improper. John and Emilia started walking back in, so you pulled away to see him with a boyish grin on his face. 

That felt… good? Like it was right?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen

I walked out into my own restaurant, nervous as I was when I was 17, asking you to the prom. All you have to do is explain the dishes. I thought to myself. I know my dishes. Richie walked behind me with the other two dishes in his hands, and I took a deep breath. There you were, radiant as ever, laughing along with what someone said. I would do fucking anything to just have your number so I could just text you sometimes. 

I walked up, standing beside you and your smile flattened, looking fake. 

“Hey Carmen,” you greeted. 

“And how do you know the owner?” John asked, excited about all of the attention your table was getting.

“We were-”

“We dated in highschool,”  I said before you could finish and John chuckled as your boyfriend put a protective arm around your shoulder. I explained all the dishes and placed them in front of each of your table. 

“Thanks Bear,” you mumbled and my heart practically stopped. 

“Well, thanks,” your boyfriend gritted out. I smirked. 

——————————————————————————————————-

(PART 2)

[padscomm]

safe place

tara carpenter x f!reader

warnings: grammatical errors, mention of suicides, abusive household and also scream 5+6 au bc why not?!

a/n; IM ALIVE !! I'm so busy, school is shit broo

it was sunday, it meant it was cleaning time. but, you were to focused on studying that you forgot to clean the house.

you checked the time, and you realized, that your father was coming home soon. you panicked, and quickly started cleaning your room.

your father was an abusive alcoholic, it was a suprise. an loving caring man turning into an abusive alcoholic, when your mother died.

he didn't bother going to therapy, instead he started drinking and started doing drugs. when he's tired, he takes his anger out on you, when he's in a bad mood he takes it out on you.

he poured out his anger always at you, you didn't know why. you would always be hiding in the closet, filled with bruises from him. trying to hold your tear's, it was always hard. you've never told anyone about the abusive and toxic household you were in.

you were a joyful person, filled with sunshine but personally, no one ever knew you that well. except for your girlfriend; Tara Carpenter.

you heard the door creaking, you weren't even halfway done cleaning with your room and you still had a few rooms to clean. you were scared, you didn't have a way out.

you decided to hide in the closet, where you always do. you were scared for dear god, you were scared what he will do to you. your tear's streaming down on your face.

you heard a scream, “Y/N!! How come you still didn't clean the house?!” it was filled with anger, your heart is beating fast, you are scared. sweating intensely.

hearing footsteps from the stairs, and through the hallway’s of your bedroom. you prayed to dear god, to not hurt you. “y/n, i know you’re in there.” he say's, opening the door of your bedroom.

you had no way out. you heard him investigating every area.

he opened the closet door, “there you are.” he says, grabbing you from your wrist, tightly. “dad stop please! I'm sorry, I was so carried away—” you didn't have time to speak, he punched you so hard on the face.

that your nose started bleeding, “you really think I'm gonna believe you? you lying son of a fuckin bitch.” you were down on your knees, crying.

The next day

it was a good Monday morning for tara. she was awoken by her sister, sam. she got up from her bed and started making it, then after that she check's her phone if she received a message from you, but sadly she didn't.

it was something off, she chat's you again, asking if you were okay.

· my baby ; hey, are you okay y/n? im worried sick, text me back as soon as you can. hope you're okay mylove! I love you

timeskip at school

“hey guys, have you seen y/n? she hasn't texted me back.” tara said, worried about you. “look's like an overprotective girlfriend is worried about her troublemaker girlfriend.” mindy jokes, tara didn't find her funny, and just glared at her.

“oh there’s y/n!" anika pointed, she ran after her. “she seem's off today, its just not me who thinks she's off today? right?” mindy stated, the others agreed with her. usually, you would hangout with the friend group but this day, you didn't.

you went straight to class, it was unusual for them. you saw anika running towards you, but you decided to walk more faster so she wouldn't catch you.

once you entered inner part of the school, you saw anika not chasing you anymore. you were glad. you had a long oversized hoodie, covering your body and bruises. you went straight to class with the oversized hoodie on you, even tho it was hot as fuck.

after first period, you went to second period. not even bothering to check up on your girlfriend. you were just not in the mood to talk to anyone today. you just wanted peace, and alone time with yourself.

not until second period started, you realized that you and anika were seatmates. you and anika are bestfriends, she worries about you alot.

you sat down to anika, avoiding eye contact with her. “hey y/n, why are you avoiding us?” anika asked, but you didn't answer. anika wasn't really comfortable with your silence, since you were always loud and energetic.

she kept asking you questions but you didn't answer once. second period ended and it was third, you continued to third period with talking to any of your friends or even anyone.

after third, it was lunch break. you didn't have the appetite to eat. so you skipped it, and hid at the rooftop, listening to music peacefully and doing your work.

“y/n didn't talk to me in 2nd period, I don't know why tho, I think something's off about her.” tara looked at anika, “you should go check up on your girlfriend, tar.” liv suggested, but even tara didn't know where you were.

“ill go check up on her at the end of classes.” mindy really thinks tara is a bad girlfriend.

more timeskip

it was time to go home. you didn't go home yet, you were at the rooftop, smoking. it was peaceful, and calming for you. no disturbance.

not until you heard the door open, you put out your cigarette as fast as you can. you saw tara, looking worried sick at you. “y/n, are you okay? you didn't talk to us for the whole day, tell me everything, I'm willing to listen y/n.”

she says, pulling the sleeves of yours “and why are you wearing a jacket it's so—" you quickly took your arm away from her. she saw what she saw, bruises, blood streaming down your arms.

she was in disbelief, “im so sorry tara, i didn't mean to freak you out. I know I'm a bad girlfriend, you can leave me because of my weirdness and my bruises and scars—" she hugged you tightly, “im not gonna leave you y/n. I love you, and that's what matters. can you tell me what happened? it's okay if you're not comfortable.”

you sighed. you needed to tell her the truth, to gain trust. and you did, she was in pure disbelief and shock. she comforted you, and made you more safer.

“i think i should go home, my dad will be mad at me.” you said, but tara didn't let you go. “stay with me for a few days, ill get you help.” those words from tara, was enough to make you tear up.

“dont cry now, baby. stay with me, you'll be more safer.” you didn't care anymore, you wanted to be free with tara.

once tara and you arrived at her house, you were greeted by sam. death staring you, “hey tara, who've you got there?” sam asked, “this is my girlfriend ive been telling you about.” you blushed at her words, she's been talking about you?

“by the way y/n, can you go upstairs. you know my room already.” tara said, she didn't tell sam that you've been sneaking inside their household. “why is there red stuff on her sleeves?” sam was curious. tara explained the whole situation to her.

sam felt bad for you, the two carpenter's will be doing their best getting you help.

after a conversation with sam, tara went up to her room. she saw you, laying down peacefully. “hey let's get you cleaned up, okay?” you nodded, and got up from the bed.

she guides you to her bathroom and sat you down on the sink, she took your hoodie off, and saw all the bruises you had. bruises everywhere, “more bruises down on your legs?” you nodded.

“can i take them off?” she asks for your permission, “go ahead.” she takes of your pants, slowly and lightly. she was shocked with all the bruises that you dad gaved.

“thats alot. let's start with your wrists.” she wiped off all the blood, until there was no more flowing. and rolls the comforting bandage around your arms.

working one by one on the bruises, she stayed up just to get you cleaned.

at the end of the day, it was the two of you lying in bed. “i love you so much, tara.” you said, burying your face onto her neck.

“i always love you more, my love. soon your dad will be in prison.” she reassure's you, and before going to sleep, she kissed you forehead lightly, and kissed you lips passionately.

“tara, what if attempted suicide one day?” you said, out of the blue. it was a suprise, “of course my life will be empty. i cannot live without you. i love you more than everything, if you have a problem, come talk to me okay?” you smiled at her.

she was tired already, “im going to sleep na. im so tired, mahal.”

“goodnight my beautiful, beautiful girlfriend! i love you.”

“goodnight tara, i love you too. sweet dreams.”

“thank you for taking care of me.” you mumbled, “your welcome.

a/n; this is shit

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Six)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it".

CONTAINS: Smut, masturbation (f&m), swearing, mild violence, abusive usage of phobias, obsessives & toxic behavior, sexual tension, love/hate, angst, gaslighting, mind manipulations.

WORDS: 5.2k

A/N: Hey guys! I'm still struggling with my health issues, but I'll try my best to keep up with the updates! I love you so much, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Oh, great, now I have to explain everything to him.

You were taken aback by his sudden curiosity and accidentally burned your finger on the hot pan. Startled, you squealed and brought it to your lips to blow on it. "Uh, I..." You turned and noticed how close Bateman was standing to you—dangerously close. 

I should tell him everything, shouldn't I? 

You swallowed hard and went to the sink to put your finger under cold water. "When I got here after work to pack up my things..." You paused to take a deep breath. "The door was open, so that's how I got in. Then I saw a girl, who I think was a prostitute, going through your things. She had your Rolex and a few other things. I caught her in the act and asked her to leave your things and go away." As you talked, the line between Patrick's eyebrows became more and more visible. "After she left, I found you unconscious in your bedroom, naked and covered in...well, it looks like you had a good time with that girl." You tried to hide the sadness in your voice, but you were okay with failing if that's what it took. 

"You were teetering on the edge of life and death, Patrick. It was really lucky that I knew how to resuscitate people in that condition, but you scared me so much," and now you couldn't hold back the tears anymore. You were sobbing as you turned off the tap and grabbed a paper towel. "It's none of my business what you do with your life, especially now that our wedding is off. But I... I don't want you to..." you stammered, not daring to finish the sentence. "Never mind," you added, wiping away the tears. "I was just doing my job." With that, you opened the cupboard to get some plates for the pasta.

As you spoke, Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brows. "Christ, what a bitch..." He muttered to himself, trying to remember what the prostitute he'd picked up even looked like. The man let out a sigh. "Well, maybe, but I don't even remember how the sex was, so it must not have been that amazing." He gave a dismissive wave with his hands. Then he paused when you mentioned that he'd almost died. He swallowed hard and ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Oh..." Patrick closed his eyes to try to remember. He had a vague recollection of discovering a baggie of an unknown substance in his closet. He let out a groan and ran his hand over his face. "Oh my God..." "He mumbled quietly to himself, shaking his head slowly. He frowned and then noticed you were crying, squinting slightly. Bateman wasn't as bothered by your tears this time, but he didn't offer any comfort. He cleared his throat and glanced down. "Well, my mother said we can't cancel the wedding. We'd have to go through with it." He paused, then continued, "I don't know why I said that... It just came out before I could stop myself." Maybe it was how you seemed to care about him that softened him…or the fact that you saved him.

When Patrick announced that he couldn't cancel the wedding, you were so shocked that you dropped the plate and it shattered into pieces with a loud crack.

FUCK! He's gonna kill me! 

Shaking, you swore to yourself and immediately crouched down to pick up the pieces until one of them cut your finger quite deeply, a trail of blood running down your hand almost instantly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll buy you another plate," you apologized, wrapping your injured finger in a paper towel, which soaked up your blood too quickly, but you didn't notice. "My mom... I gave her a call to let her know that it was all over. She likely called your mother and convinced her not to cancel anything. This is such a mess!" You pressed a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from crying, knowing that Bateman couldn't stand that kind of behavior. "I'll take care of it." You promised and went back to picking up the broken glass, ignoring the pain and the fact that you were bleeding.

Paralyzed, Patrick watched you drop the plate and his face twitched a little. He recalled purchasing the plate from Pottery Barn. It cost $75. He then watched as you cut yourself, pursing his lips in a gesture of disapproval. The man suddenly burst out laughing, amused by the absurdity of the situation. Bateman shook his head and tapped your back with his foot. "Ah, you're such a fucking mess..." He chuckled, then bent down and grabbed your arm gently but firmly enough to pull you up to your feet. "Why don't you go clean up in the bathroom? I'll take care of this."  Patrick pointed to the broken plate. "But you owe me 75 dollars, okay?" He took the broom from the closet nearby and started sweeping up the pieces. "Just give your mother a call and let her know about the change of plans." He spoke in a calm, collected manner.

$75? For the fucking plate? 

Frowning, you walked across the living room to your large medical kit, still open from the last time you used it to save Patrick from death. With true professionalism, you quickly cleaned your wound and wrapped the bandage around your finger. Then you sneaked into his bedroom, avoiding his eyes because you were so embarrassed, and picked up the phone to call your mother. That conversation shocked you, because the things she told you were something you really didn't want to happen so soon. Hanging up the phone, you sighed and put it down before returning to the kitchen where Patrick was already eating pasta—the sight stirred something warm in your heart, but you shook it off almost immediately. Approaching the kitchen island, you placed the money next to the Bateman's plate. "Here, $75," you said, leaning against the wall. "I called my mom, she said that...that our families want us to hurry up with the wedding." Rebecca closed her eyes and hugged herself. "I don't want to, Patrick, I'm not ready..."

The man tensed when he heard your voice and turned to you, noodles still hanging from his mouth. He covered his mouth with his hand as he ate, a little embarrassed, before taking the money. "Uh, thanks..." Patrick was about to compliment your cooking, but stopped himself. He cleared his throat and scratched his neck, looking away. "Well..." Bateman thought for a moment, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I...I can take some time off work and we can...I don't know...get to know each other better. "

You rubbed your eyes wearily, your heart skipping a beat at Bateman's suggestion that you spend some time together, as if it would help you get to know each other better. Although you were ready to refuse his offer, something stopped you, but you weren't sure what it was? Your true feelings for him? Or maybe you were so tired from your work at the hospital and your studies that you just wanted to relax a bit. "That's... that's not a bad idea," you finally said and went to the kitchen to get a plate, and this time you even managed not to break it. "Remember when we were kids, we used to hang out at your family's summer house in Newport?" you asked, opening the pot to get some spaghetti. "I wish I could spend some time there again, it's such a fascinating place," you considered sitting next to Bateman, but then changed your mind and decided to eat standing up. "I guess I could ask for some time off, but... I have exams coming up, so... I have to study anyway." You suddenly giggled and looked at him playfully. "Maybe you could help me? I mean, since I have already treated you."

The man quickly finished his plate and dabbed at his mouth with his silk napkin, monogrammed with his initials in the corner. Then he looked up at you and shook his head. "Uh, no...no, I can't say that I really... remember." Patrick mumbled slowly, closing his eyes as if he was trying to remember something about his childhood, but it was all blocked. When he tried to think about school, playing in the sand, running around, the only memories that came back to him were making reservations, going to the gym, and killing a prostitute—all things that happened days ago. Or was it weeks? Maybe a month. He sighed. "But Price has that vacation house in the Hamptons. I've been there... it's... nice..." He shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his jealousy. With a wry grin, Bateman stood and walked over to the sink, setting his plate down. "Uh..." He paused, then beamed back at you. "Of course I can help." The charming facade he maintained hid his fear. He didn't really know anything about the medical field, but he didn't want to admit it—he hated not being in control of a situation.

Three days later, you finally decided to go to the Hamptons, where Tim's vacation house was waiting for you. Even though you didn't understand why it was necessary to get a limousine for your trip, it gave you some time to think about things - the last few days, to be exact. In all those days Patrick hadn't touched you, not even once. And how many times did you end up crying in bed at night because Bateman was somewhere else and not with you? Well, you were pretty sure he was with Courtney, and even when he usually came back in the morning or at night, the man never bothered to notice your swollen eyes. But why should he have? It was obvious that you were just not hot enough for him, not perfect enough - nothing seemed to be perfect enough for him. As the car took you farther and farther away from New York, you turned to look at the man next to you listening to the music, his Walkman clasped tightly in his hands. "Are we going to be alone in the house... or... are you expecting someone to join us?" You didn't know why you asked, and for a moment you even hoped that Patrick wouldn't notice your question because of the music.

Opening his tired eyes, Bateman glanced down at you and slid the headset to his shoulder. "Alone. I mean.. most of the time, at least." He smiled as the limo rolled to a stop on a paved driveway. 

The house was four stories tall, the tallest story being a glass terrace with a bar, swimming pool, and other amenities inside. The house was white with marble accents and oddly shaped windows- a contemporary dream. Patrick grumbled, jealous of the luxuriousness of the house. He put a ten dollar bill in the driver's hand and grabbed all the luggage with ease. 

"Don't be too impressed...I heard Price just inherited it from his parents." The man was lying, but he didn't want you to compare his place to Tim's beach house. It embarrassed him a little. But he took some comfort in the fact that his body was slightly better than Tim's, and that his hair wasn't thinning at all, while Tim's was. Patrick opened the door with his foot and stepped out, his hands and arms full of suitcases and bags. He walked to the front door and stopped in front of it. Sighing, Bateman looked at you with an embarrassed look. "Uh, the key is in my back pocket if you want to get it." He turned his hips towards you, the black pants he was wearing stretching around his toned legs and backside. His white button-up was tucked inside the pants, showing off his perfectly muscled body. "Ladies first."

Rolling your eyes, you took a deep breath before reaching into the pocket of Bateman's tight pants, surely feeling the firm ass that made your face burn from shame. "I hope I can handle this." You commented after pulling out the keys and searching for the one that would open the front door, trying not to look at him as you grew more and more embarrassed. 

Thankfully, the lock clicked and you both stepped inside. A bit later, you allowed yourself to look around the house, although Patrick refused to go with you as he remained in the living room not far from the bar. Trying to cheer yourself up, you went upstairs and paused by one of the doors before opening it with sheer confidence. As you stepped inside, a beautiful large room came into your vision. 

What an amazing bedroom.

You thought, as you walked around, looking at the satin sheets that yearned to be touched. As you did so, the smooth fabric felt amazing under your fingers and your lewd fantasies occupied your mind faster than you could stop them. Closing your eyes, you pressed the palm of your hand to your mouth as you indulged in your dirtiest fantasy, where you was were out on the bed and Bateman worshiped every little part of your “imperfect” body before ravaging you until you were nothing but a whimpering wet mess. 

STOP IT! 

Annoyed, you gave yourself an imaginary slap before turning to leave the room, your cheeks burning from the inside. As soon as you opened the door and walked out, you bumped into something very hard. Only then did you realize it was Patrick, and the sound of splashing drink made your heart stop. "Oh my God! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you coming!" You wailed, looking up at his stained shirt and empty glass of something that smelled strong enough to be alcohol.

So that’s it. He’ll definitely kick me out of the house.

The alcohol made the stain on his shirt translucent, exposing his pecs and abs. The man stared at you for a second, inhaled sharply, and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again and shook his head. "It's-it's fine. I packed enough shirts for our time here. Really, it's fine.." He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, flexing his muscles slightly. "This shirt was on sale anyway... just, uh, be more careful next time..." He balled the shirt in his hands and tossed it into a nearby laundry basket. "Go unpack your things. You can have this room." Bateman pointed to the bedroom behind you.

Ashamed, you just nodded and hurried downstairs to get your bag, but when you came back Patrick was gone. 

Maybe it's for the best?

You hummed and went into the bedroom to unpack your things, noticing that everything in the bag looked so messy. Perplexed, you couldn't believe that Bateman could go through your things, he simply didn't find you interesting, so why would he waste his time on such things? Sighing sadly, you finished unpacking and grabbed a medical book, reassuring yourself that after your latest failure it was better to stay here and not bother him. All this time you had hoped the man would pay you a visit, but he didn't. 

Meanwhile, Patrick was upstairs, choosing his own room. The man put his clothes away and opened the other suitcase he had brought, which was full of his other... necessities. Inside were some porn tapes, magazines, a kitchen knife, a CZ-75 handgun, a bottle of lube, a pack of condoms, all his skin care products, and a pair of leather gloves. Humming, Bateman took off his black pants and wrapped himself in a silk robe. He grabbed one of the tapes and looked around his room, expecting a TV and VCR player. Frustrated, he huffed when he didn't find any.

That cheap bastard!

The man thought contemptuously and went downstairs when he saw that you weren't there. He sighed with relief and sat down on the couch in the living room and put the tape in. Then he untied his robe and pulled down his boxers, biting his lip as cold air hit his cock. The tape started playing, something he'd seen a hundred times before, but it still got him worked up. Thunder rumbled outside, shaking the house. He wondered for a moment if you were afraid of the thunder or if you were trying to sleep through it. Patrick shook the thought out of his head and focused on the screen, moving his hand up and down his now erect cock robotically, used to the now normal routine he was going through. He closed his eyes, blocking out any sounds other than the lewd moaning coming from the TV. He thought of Bethany, then Evelyn, then Courtney, then Bethany again, then... you. Moaning softly, Bateman thought of your ass, your tits, your face—it was almost enough to push him over the edge. The thought felt taboo to him, a forbidden attraction. Inflamed, he groaned and tilted his head back against the sofa, eyes closed, his jaw clenched in a face of pleasure as he moved his hand faster.

Unaware of what was happening downstairs, you read the book, lost track of time, and passed out on the bed for a few minutes, but soon your sleep was disturbed by the loud clap of thunder.

God, is this a monsoon season or something?  

You grumbled and got up to turn on the light, shaking with fear because you couldn't control yourself and you hated being alone during thunderstorms. Then you quickly regained your composure and left the room to go downstairs and maybe make a cup of green tea. As you entered the living room, you heard a lewd sound that turned out to be a woman's moaning. Embarrassed, you couldn't believe it - had Bateman really brought some of his chicks here on the very first day? Slowly you crept around the corner and spotted Patrick sitting on the black leather couch with his back to her, but from his twitching movements she could tell he was masturbating, watching porn on the big TV. Panting, you had to cover your mouth to avoid being noticed, but somehow you were sure Bateman heard her nervous gasps. Patrick's throaty groan sent shivers down your spine and you didn't know what to do as your mind screamed an alarm telling you to just come back to your room but you couldn't move as if you were stuck to that fucking wall. Breathlessly you felt your hard nipples brush against the thin fabric of your white top and you couldn't ignore the fire in your core any longer, letting your fingers slip into your panties soaked with your flavor. The moment you touched your swollen nub, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning, thinking that Patrick wouldn't be able to differentiate your moans from the lewd sounds of porn. Hot and bothered, you didn't notice that you were slowly sliding down the wall to the floor, your fingers continuing to rub your clit in unison with Bateman's guttural growl. "Mhmm, Patty..." you mewled out a little louder than you expected, and when you heard everything go silent, you stopped moving before carefully rising to your feet.

Suddenly, Bateman's eyes flew open at the sound of an unrecognizable moan, the sound breaking him from his reverie. He removed his hand from his cock and pursed his lips into a tight line, staring at the lewd scene before him. Then the man shifted so that he was sitting on his knees, the front of his body pressed against the back of the sofa so that he could get a better look at... you. As you stood up, he watched you with a penetrating gaze. "Rebecca... sweetheart, love of my life..." Patrick crooned softly, a smile creeping across his face. "Were you... spying on me again?" He raised an eyebrow at the sudden rush of confidence running through his veins. He stood up, staying behind the couch so as not to intimidate you with his naked form. "Rebecca..." He murmured slowly, his voice comforting yet unsettling. "If you are... attracted to me... you can say so. This is the second time I've caught you pleasuring yourself over me. Am I right? The second time?"

Breathing heavily, you closed your eyes and fixed your top and panties. "What will it change if I say that?" you suddenly rejoined, shuddering at the bright flash of lightning, your hands clawing at the nearby wall. 

Patrick tied the robe back around his waist, keeping his eyes on you, and put his hands on his hips, now annoyed. "Uh, a lot, actually." He sneered at you. "If you would just be honest with yourself, and me, then we can end this…this game of facades."

"No, it will change…nothing." As the word fell from your trembling lips, you walked away before Bateman could see the tears streaming down your sad, twitching face. 

Without looking back, you  hurried back upstairs to your room, where you curled up on the king-size bed, crying as you tucked yourself under the covers. 

Get out of my head, get fucking out!

Trembling, you closed your ears, but the pornographic moans continued to spin in your head along with Patrick’s growling as he jerked off, as if that was not enough, your mind decided to make you suffer even more by adding the picture of Courtney making out with Bateman as if it was happening right in front of your eyes. 

"Fucking bastard, I hate you!" You spat through your gritted teeth and clutched the pillow with all your might.

As you walked away, Patrick sighed, exasperated and annoyed. Women always annoyed him with their emotions. Cursing to himself, he followed you to your temporary room, pausing when he heard you scream at the door. Shaking off the urge to go into full violence mode, Bateman knocked on the door. "Rebecca, come out. You're hysterical." He kept his voice calm, even though he really wanted to yell at you - tell you how stupid you were. "Let's just... y'know, talk, okay?"

The moment you heard his voice, all of your insides clenched into a tight knot, forcing you to tremble under the covers. "Leave me..." you wanted to say something else but you paused suddenly, as if your inner nature was protesting and refusing to obey, not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. "Uh, fuck!" you cursed, pulling the blanket away before sauntering to the door to open it. 

Sobbing, you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that Bateman was smart enough to put on a robe, at least he didn't make you suffer from seeing him naked. "You want to talk?" you asked, briefly wiping away your tears. "Let's talk. Have you hired a hooker yet? That's why you decided to warm up with porn?" You crossed your arms like him. "How did you get like this, Patrick? How could money and wealth change you so much?"

Bateman frowned at the accusation. "What? No, of course not. I don't even know any in this area." He closed his eyes tightly for a moment to stave off the impending headache before opening them again. "I just... I have needs, Rebecca. I'm a man with needs...and I didn't want to spend money on a hooker, and you...well, I don't know if you'd even..." He paused and sighed. "You're so...frustrating. You treat me like a monster, but then you jerk off to me!. I don't... it's hard to... you know... read you." His eyes widened slightly. "Change me? I can... assure you, nothing has changed." Bateman smiled, but inside he felt like a bundle of nerves ready to spring. Has he changed? If he had, he couldn't remember. "And I've always had money, in case you forgot!"

You’re worse than a monster.

You thought, biting your lower lip. "Speaking of needs," you leaned against the door, not noticing that your hard nipples were visible through the white top. "I have them too, especially when I'm ovulating, but I'm not driven by them! We're humans, not animals!" 

"Oh my God, oh my fucking God." Bateman muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not driven by them. I have a high sex drive, okay? If I want to spend the night with a hardbody, is that so wrong, Rebecca? Are you...jealous, huh? Is that the problem?" He was getting angry now, his jaw clenching as he spoke. "I know you're a virgin, so you could never understand, but I want to be distracted. My life is a living hell and I want to feel something. Do you understand?"

You scowled as the memory of the recent incident with the hooker flashed through your mind. "I remember when I came to your apartment and that prostitute was about to rob you...you were unconscious in your bedroom, covered in your...semen and completely wasted." With that you sighed and ran a hand over your face. "This is so wrong and disgusting, Patrick." Your voice was laced with pain and sadness, but you managed to keep your composure as you stepped back into the room. "If I lie on this fucking bed right now and tell you that you can do whatever you want to me... will that stop this madness?" You swallowed the fresh tears and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Just break my neck and tell your lawyer it was an accident so my family and you can get money from my life insurance. Come on! Do it!" You continued to taunt him fearlessly. "'Cause I'm...so fucking tired of this life...of my dearest family...I hate...I HATE YOU! ALL OF YOU!"

Patrick exhaled and then stepped back, watching you mentally collapse. Then he came closer, leaned down and slapped you hard with the palm of his hand. "Pull yourself together..." He said slowly, so you could hear every word. "I know you're a... you're a smart woman... but you're hysterical. If you keep this up, I... I don't know what I'm going to do. " Bateman murmured in a defeated tone, staring at you with an almost pleading look.

Once his heavy palm met your face, you could see stars in front of your eyes, but you didn't make a sound. You just touched your bleeding lower lip and looked at the blood on the outside of your hand. "Don't you dare..." you hissed and quickly stood up. "...to touch me again!" And then you slapped his face in return, your palm burning from the force of the blow. 

Shocked, Patrick stumbled to the side from the slap, holding his cheek. He stayed still, slowly bringing his hand to his lips. The man pulled his hand away, seeing a dot of blood on his finger. Rage overtook him.

"Not the face..."

"I'll call the cops and you will rot in jail, you fucking psycho!"  Scared to death, you were about to rush to the nearby bathroom, but you twisted your ankle and fell to the floor, frowning from the sharp pain. With a muffled whimper, you  attempted to crawl away from Bateman, knowing that he would probably kill you here and now.

Now…Everything will be finally over.

"Not the face..." He muttered again before whipping his body around just as you fell to the ground. "NOT THE FACE YOU BITCH! YOU- PIECE OF TRASH!" Bateman roared, stomping towards your trembling little frame. Infuriated, he tilted his head and stepped on your back, stopping your movements. He watched you through the red veil, his face contorted with rage. After a moment, his features softened. Under normal circumstances, he would kill you. No question about it. But these were no normal circumstances. Patrick reached down and grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you to the nearby bathroom and pushing you inside.

There were no windows, just a toilet, a sink and a mirror. "You... stay in here and think about what you just did." He said through his teeth, staring at you with intense anger. "I brought us here for you. I tried to do something nice for you. But you can't appreciate anything I do, can you? I am... trying my best here, Rebecca. But you treat me like some... monster. Just because I hire prostitutes? Is that it?" Bateman scoffed, then sighed. "When you're ready to apologize, you'll get an ice pack on your ankle. Until then... enjoy your solitude, I guess." Then he closed the door, took a key from the table and locked the door from the outside.

It was only when you heard the lock click and the light go out that you realized you were trapped in the dark bathroom...alone. And worst of all, you had a fear of the dark, Patrick probably forgot about this—just like all moments you shared in childhood. As you heard his distant footsteps, you spiraled more and more into the panic attack, feeling your lungs spasm painfully from your rapid breathing. 

Calm down, Rebecca! Calm down! It's just the darkness, there's no one here but you.

You tried to count to ten, but couldn't as your mind didn’t function, stuck on the horrifying images of being trapped here forever. 

What if he left me here to die? In this fucking bathroom?

Frightened, you sobbed, biting your lips to stifle your crying, not wanting to give Bateman the pleasure of hearing you. The metallic taste of the blood almost made you gag, along with the surrounding darkness that pressed down on you like a heavy press. Shaking, you slipped to the floor and hugged your knees, pressing them closer to your chest as you curled up on the cold floor like an embryo. 

I will not ask him to let me out...I will not! I...can...hold on...I'm strong enough to make it through!

Your cries barely audible, shaking violently as you were so fucking scared and broken, mentally and physically, that it seemed you would never see the light of day, locked here forever. How pathetic and stupid it would be to die like that…

At the same time, Patrick sighed and ran his hand over his face as he sat down on the bed. Frustrated, the man crossed his leg over the other, bouncing them slightly as he looked at the still image on the TV from the paused pornography. He drummed his fingers against the side of his head, raising an eyebrow as a memory came back to him like a freight train—you were scared of the dark and he forgot to turn the lights on in the bathroom. Bateman cursed himself, glancing back at the locked door. He didn't want to send you into hysterics, he wanted to do the opposite actually—give you time to think about how much you were overreacting. Patrick stared at the door for a few moments before standing up, walking back to it. He hesitated, the key hovering over the door knob. Then, the man swallowed his pride and unlocked it, opening the door a smidge and putting his hand against the bathroom wall, flicking on the light switch. He quickly closed the door again, not locking it this time as he pressed his body against the wall next to it. 

Closing his eyes, Bateman sighed softly, his chest movements slowing down. "What the hell is wrong with me?" 

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Watched Hadestown. Had some Hadercy thoughts.

“That's fucked up,” Percy murmured as the last note of the Hey, Little Songbird trailed off.

A scoff came from his side, and a deep voice replied, “Well, it's Hades, isn't it?”

And that was just it.

It wasn't Hades. Not the Hades Percy knew. It is the Hades everybody believed him to be; cruel and cold, unfeeling and malicious. It was the Hades Camp Half-blood tried to turn him against; the one Chiron was adamant to be the one behind the stolen lightning bolt. The one nobody trusted in.

Not the one Percy got to know.

“No,” he whispered, eyes never leaving the stage. It was a captivating play - he’d never really been to theater before -, and the story was something he love-hated. Still, it made him so mad to see Hades portrayed like this.

“No?” Asked the person sitting next to him in a surprised tone. Percy didn't reply - it would have been rude. The play was still going on, after all.

-

The intermission came as a surprise. He was captivated; the songs were beautiful, the music something he didn't really experience before. Everybody had been so quick to dismiss his interest in the show, thinking that theater was too good for him, but if all musicals were like that, he wouldn't mind visiting other plays as well. It was not the best going to places alone, but maybe he could take Estelle with him, sometimes. She would probably love it - and she deserved a better childhood than his was.

“Well, Little Songbird, what did you mean by no?” His neighbor’s words brought him back from his thoughts. He blinked, looking back to the person next to him, and.

Well.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't stupid. Oblivious, maybe. Scattered brained, definitely - he had ADHD for fuck's sake. But stupid? No.

So, when he saw the gorgeous guy next to him, he knew that it was a god. Not because he was unfairly handsome, but because gods who tried to blend in humans tended to still stand out - in Percy's opinion at least. He didn't know who he was, but that guy was definitely a god. And a god, who tried to trash talk about Hades in front of Percy.

He narrowed his eyes, and said, “What? Do you have problems with understanding a simple word? It means that I disagreed with your statement. I understand that it might come as a surprise, but keep up.”

The god looked surprised, then laughed. It was a good look on him, Percy noted distantly.

“Little Songbird got a sharp tongue, I see. So, if you are so opinionated, what’s your opinion on Hades?” asked with a calculating look.

Percy had no trouble with putting gods in their places. So, he started, “Well, first of all, he is portrayed as a villain everywhere. But like, for what the fuck? He is the Lord of the Underworld, not Death. He does not decide who dies and who lives, he just rules over them. And I would also be pissed off if my realm would be overcrowded. He did not kidnap Persephone without consent. He is not cruel, not compared to basically any other god. And-”

Before he could finish his tirade, he was pulled out of his chair, onto the lap of the god. Who was-

Oh, of course. He wasn't even surprised.

“If you don't want me to kiss you, tell me. Otherwise, you will experience what it is to be kidnapped with consent at first hand.”

“Not before the end of the play,” Percy huffed, pulling away from the tempting embrace. He wanted to enjoy his first time at the theater at its fullest, damnit!

A pause, then, “After the play, then.”

It sounded like a threat.

For Percy, it was a promise.