#am I slowly running low on screenshots

[izayoichan]

A little walk. 🎶

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @sillyrabbit81’s follower milestone celebration; Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Prompt [screenshot at the end]: Slow & Romantic, Tied Up, Clark Kent

Warnings: Subby Clark should be considered a warning, rope bondage (Shibari), poorly hidden Anakin Skywalker quote, oral sex (f/m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. [I promise I am working on Bright Like The Moon still, but Sub!Clark though!]

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist 

It had been days of him dropping hints. He was sending me links to shibari websites, referring to me as Miss without provocation, and kneeling at my feet when I entered a room.

The man was relentless, but I understood it perfectly when he explained it over dinner. He was calm and collected, but I’m sure it took all of the Kryptonian’s strength not to melt.

“I save people all of the time, it feels nice to be so needed. It feels amazing to be in control, don’t get me wrong,” He looks at me while rising from his chair and coming to kneel next to mine, “But I want to relinquish control. I want someone else to have power over me. I want you to own me, Miss. Please, will you help me?” 

His politeness always went straight to my pussy. This man could hold the planet but needed to feel protected, I could do that. “I’ll help you, Clark. On one condition.”

“Anything,” he whispers, already slipping into submissive mode.

“You give yourself over to me completely. From this moment on, until you can’t take any more, and I’ll be the judge of that, you are mine to do with whatever I please. Do you understand?” I ponder aloud, my hand ghosting across his jawline.

“Yes, Miss. I understand that you are in control,” he breathes, his blue eyes blazing in the low light of the dining room. Damn, he is such a good little sub already.

“Good boy,” I hum, running my fingers through his curls. Now, I expect a response and when I didn’t get one, I let him know what happens when he does the wrong thing. Grabbing a fistful of his hair and tightening my grip, I growl in his ear. “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss,” he whimpers, eyes remorseful.

“Now he gets it,” I purr, releasing my grip on his hair. “You’re going to go to the guest room. You’re going to crawl on your hands and knees. When you get there, you’re going to strip completely and wait for me. When your head is down and your hands are resting on your thighs, I’ll know you’re ready to begin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss, I understand,” he affirms, looking down in servitude.

“Good boy,” I beam, getting up to stand over him, “Go on then, show Miss that you can follow directions.”

“Yes, Miss,” he says, hands going to the floor in front of him as he begins to crawl on his hands and knees through the house, looking for all intents and purposes like a cat stalking after prey. But this time, I was the predator. Watching his shoulder blades shift through his tight dress shirt, his perfect ass swaying in those perfectly tailored dress pants. The man was a vision of lust. And I was ready to tear him apart.

In truth, I did make him wait for just a hairsbreadth longer than I intended to. I took my time getting ready, slipping into some new lingerie Clark had never seen and dabbing his favorite scent on my wrists and neck. I grab the rope and my Hitachi and put on my highest stilettos. I walk slowly to the guest room, letting the click of my heels alert him that I was coming.

Entering the room, I see Clark kneeling with his back to the bed. Head down, hands resting on his thighs. My sub is so good at following the rules. And by the way his cock hangs heavy between his legs, I can tell he is beyond excited to start.

“Such a good boy, waiting so patiently for me,” I purr, stalking over to him and placing one hand within his curls and one on his cheek, “We have a few things to go over and then we can get started, ok baby?”

“Yes, Miss,” he acknowledges his understanding, turning to my hand to kiss my palm.

“That brings us to Rule #1: You don’t get to touch unless I give you permission. I will allow you this one mistake, but be clear that is the only one. Rule #2: You cum when I say you do, no sooner or later. Rule #3: If I ask you what color, you respond with green for good, yellow for slow down, or red for stop. Do you understand these rules?” I step back and raise his chin so he can look me in the eye.

“Yes, Miss, I understand these rules,” he sighed, pupils blown and wild.

“Good boy. To make sure Rule #1 is followed to the letter, I’m going to take away your ability to use your hands. May I begin to restrain you?” 

“Yes, Miss,” he agrees, watching me as I pick up the red rope I brought into the room with me.

“Good boy. Stand for me so I can tie your chest and arms,” I croon, waiting until he was at his full height to kiss and nip at his jawline as I untwined the rope slowly. 

I find the tails of the rope, holding onto the bight, and begin to tie the Shinju harness across his broad chest. As I tighten the rope every so often, I also tease Clark’s nipples with the soft pads of my fingers. I lean in and lick and bite at his pectoral muscles until he squirms. I connect his arms to the harness, keeping them straight to emphasize his chest as he is forced to stand straighter. I finish and stand back to look at my work. 

“We both know you can get out of the rope if you need to. But in keeping with the rest of the night, I’m going to let you out of the ropes if you need to be rid of them. Color?” I prod, suddenly feeling the reality of domming Superman.

“Green, Miss,” he assures, cock bobbing happily between his legs. 

I reach down and lightly squeeze the base of his cock and he whimpers. “On your knees facing the bed,” I insist, pushing down on his shoulders. I sit on the bed after taking off my lace thong and I put my shins on his shoulders. “You look hungry, Clark. Why don’t you eat my pussy until I cum on that pretty face of yours?”

“Yes, Miss” he breathes, getting to work with that wicked tongue of his. I don’t understand how he is holding himself up without the use of his hands, but it must be a balance thing. I don’t put too much thought into it as my focus is elsewhere. 

Before I know it, Clark is humming around my clit at just the right decibel to have me screaming his name. He then laps up my juices as they flow uncontrollably from me, leaning back after I push him back. 

“Thank you, Miss,” he says, ever the polite submissive.

“Such a good boy, you are, Clark. I think you’ve earned an orgasm,” I praise, getting up to grab the Hitachi. I play with the settings, letting the lowest setting stay on while I tease Clark’s nipples. When he starts to wriggle at the sensation, I push the head of the Hitachi against the underside of his balls. This is where the fun begins…

With his balls being stimulated, I lean down and wrap my lips around his cockhead, swirling my tongue. Clark groans so loud and for so long, it feels like his entire being will explode.

“May I please cum, Miss?” he yelps, his breathing fast-paced.

“Cum for me, Clark,” I confirm, watching as Clark’s tension ebbs away. His tightly shut eyes pop open and he cries out as his cock erupts into my eagerly awaiting mouth. After a few seconds, I realize he is still cumming and turn off the Hitachi, putting it to the side. I wait until his cock only twitches but doesn’t release any more spunk and I pull off of him in enough to catch him as he pitches forward. 

“Clark, I’m taking off the ropes, ok?” I don’t wait for an answer as I make quick work of releasing his arms and sliding the ropes off of him. I roll him over on his back and see his eyes searching mine. “I’m right here baby, are you ok? I think that orgasm might have been a little too intense.”

“I’m…k. Yeah, in…tense. Thank you…Miss,” he stutters, a lazy grin on his face, cock still twitching.

“You did so good baby, I am so proud of you,” I croon, leaning Clark into my lap while I check his arms and chest for rope burns. When I see nothing to worry about, I run my fingers through his curls. “How are you feeling now, Clark?”

“I think a few brain cells are gone completely but it was so worth it. I think I was deep in subspace for a second there,” he smiles up at me, love beaming in his eyes.

“Yeah, I would say so. That means you really needed it,” I kiss the tip of his nose, “So, I think I know the answer, but for my own ego, how did I do?”

“You took such good care of me. I felt so safe with you. And the way you took charge and realized I needed to end the scene? That was perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better Domme. Thank you, baby,” He brings my face down to his and kisses me.

“You are very welcome. What do you say we go take a bath together and then watch some bad tv?” I smile down at him and wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“That sounds wonderful,” he chuckles and gets up from the floor, reaching his hand out to me. 

I take his hand and allow him to lead me to the tub. We bathe and get dressed in comfy jammies and spend the rest of the night watching tv and cuddling.

**Tag List**

Henry Fanfiction: @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Prompt screenshot:

[profound-bouquetbird]

I am sososo sorry for not posting y'alls requests. But Tumblr seems to have made an update where you dlcant edit asks people send you once you decide to answer them

Soo... I'm opting to just screenshoting the ask and doing requests that way :)

So, let's begin!

---

Lets start off with how you two met

It would have most likely been in the woods. You had been on the run for a couple of months, living wherever you could and changing your location every two to three days

You didn't eat o get caught and tortured, possibly killed. So, you stayed on the low, making sure not to go near any humans or anything that could be a threat

So you could imagine how shocked Tiger was when she saw a hybrid sleeping underneath a tree, covered in leaves and such to blend in with the surroundings

She thought it would be a bright idea to pick you up and take you back to base. She didn't think you would wake up and freak out the moment she seta hand on you

You were kicking and screaming, trying to get away, and Tiger was panicked. She was yelling at you to calm down and that she won't hurt you, but it did not help her situation at all

Her yelling only made your head hurt and your ears ring, now being more desperate to get away. But in your state of panic you just couldn't

Tiger managed to see the problem was her yelling and holding onto you, so she let go of you

You didn't run, only backed up into a tree, breathing heavily and looking at her in fear. Your mind was too all over the place to think of running away

She started to speak in a low tone, her hands up in the air where you could see them. Now telling you calmly that she wasn't going to hurt you

You were slowly calming down, seeing that she wasn't holding any weapons and that she didn't actually have the intention of hurting you. You slowly approached her, examining the Tiger skull that laid on top of her head

She almost squealed in excitement, extending her arms in a welcoming manner. You flinched at the sudden movement, but continued to approach her nonetheless

After the fiasco called 'your first encounter', you two were inseparable

She was always there to help you and fulfill any and all need you had, either that need being for her to reach something from the high shelf or simply for her to play with you. Whatever you needed, she delivered

You stood by her side, following her like a lost puppy everywhere

When say everywhere, I mean everywhere. You once followed her into the shower, but stopped after the horrors of seeing her slowly pulling down her pants while making eye contact with you

You didnt follow her everywhere after that

You two were like the older and younger sister duo, minus the bickering and backtalk that is, since Tiger didn't have the heart to scold you and you didn't know how to fight, neither verbally nor physically

Since you were the first hybrid they had encountered (They had not met Gus yet), you were practically like some sort of mascot

But everyone knew how overprotective Tiger was of you, so they didn't dare to make you do anything that made your face twist even slightly in sadness. They best belive Tiger would be standing menacingly llbehind them

You were ofet happy back at the base. But whenever you had won a game against someone (they let you win), or when you simply got a new gift from someone, you couldn't help but giggle in joy and run around the place like a wild animal

That led you to knocking down a few things, most were non breakable. But the ones that were would immediately make you stop running and turn around to see the damage, you ears lowered from both the sound of the thing breaking and from guilt

Bear would be pissed, but she wouldnt completely lash out on you. After all, you were a kid, kids make mistakes

But she would scold you. You would just stare at the ground in shame as you listened to Bear scolding you whilst you tucked your tail between your legs

Tiger would, of course, feel agitated from bear scolding you and try to ease out the situation. Saying stuff like "It's okay." and "We'll find a replacement."

But Bear still had to teach you some sort of lesson, so she would just tell you to pick up the mess that you made (of course saying that you needed to put on some gloves as to not get cut)

Tiger would feel bad and offer to help, but Bear wouldn't let her, saying that "Just because she's a hybrid does not mean special treatment, she's still a kid, like all of us, giving her special treatment would just prove to her that she's different." which, it was a fair point, but Tiger wasn't having any of it

When Bear was out of sight she would approach you and offer some help, cleaning out the small shards that you couldn't pick up because of the thick gloves

It was another way for you two to bond and to brighter your mood up after Bear had scolded you. So it was a win win situation for the both of you :)

[opalesense]

darkest fantasy

childe & f!reader (NSFW)

3.7k words • ~30 min. read

summary: one night you decide to make one of childe’s darkest fantasies into a reality, but as the night progresses, things don’t seem to go according to plan. at least... not according to your plan.

warnings: cnc, sexual assault, blood, death, knives, outdoor sex, lil comfort at the end i promise

notes: saw fatui agent childe fanart and AWOOGA... anyway i tried putting some in game screenshots in this for that extra ~immersion~ and might do that more often in some future fics if you guys want! thanks for 200 followers and i hope you enjoy!! ; ^ ;

“I SHOULDN’T HAVE BROUGHT IT UP,” Childe’s eyebrows furrowed as he rested a hand against his forehead, clearly flustered by the way he chuckled his nervousness away. “You really get me to say the stupidest things, [Y/N].”

 “It’s not stupid at all! C’mon, lighten up a bit!” you placed a hand on his arm and inched closer to his face, sensing the warmth in his cheeks. His shy eyes connected with yours when he let out a deep sigh, thanking you for the validation without him needing to say anything. It was rare to see him this nervous.

 “We’re not going to do it, babe. You asked me to tell you a secret fantasy and that’s all it’ll ever be. A fantasy. Just something in my imagination.”

 He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and walking towards the bedroom door to call it a night, but you quickly gripped him by the wrist to pull him back which immediately grabbed his attention. Swiftly, you leaned in to mutter words into his ear that would echo in his head for the rest of the night until the next day.

 “Luckily for you, the thought of doing it gets me a little excited. So why don’t we try to make your fantasy into a reality?”

THE HARBOR’S NIGHT LIFE always flourished near the end of the week. Plenty of workers who had weekends off would fish by the docks, street performers and storytellers would entertain families passing by, and restaurants would be packed full with hungry customers craving for the delectable cuisine of Liyue. Teenage friends gathered in front of the theatre while the elderly seemed to congregate by the teahouse. Children ran across the pavement from time to time flying kites and playing with butterflies. Liyue was truly fascinating during the night, full of a liveliness that always put a sense of joy in each heart that walked through its streets.

 Yet when you walked through the streets, lacking a companion and cold from the slightly revealing dress you wore, there was a sickly mixture of giddy excitement and wrenching anxiety in your heart. You had loosely planned this night with Childe so you knew what to expect, but at the same time, you didn’t. You had no idea where he was, what exactly he was planning to do to you, or when it would all start in the first place since you had been wandering around the harbor for about an hour now. All he wanted you to do was “wear this dress and enjoy your evening,” as he said in his own words. But he simply left you with those vague instructions as well as a bag of Mora to indulge yourself with.

 Even if he didn’t show up, the highlight of your night would be the mouthwatering dinner you had by yourself along with the sight of people offering lanterns to the sky. It was a beautiful night indeed.

 Another hour of wandering and occupying yourself with activities passed and you were feeling restless. The thought of Childe made you squirm in your seat, excitement flooding your nerves as you craved to see him now more than ever.

 If Childe’s following me, I should go somewhere less crowded, you thought.

 Assuming he was watching you at this very moment, you decided to make things easier for him, leaving the storyteller’s pavilion and walking across the bridge heading towards Mt. Tianheng. Mindlessly wandering and following the dirt path, you began to veer left towards the Golden House, but the distant sight of the Millelith immediately turned you back around.

 Not there.

ON YOUR WAY BACK to the main path, you noticed a smaller, less travelled road wedged between two large rocks, the dimly lit lantern sitting up ahead enticing you to follow where it leads. You found yourself curiously walking up the hill, taking in the starry night sky and whistling trees until you turned the final corner to see a group of miners idly standing around, bantering with one nearby Millelith guard.

 They noticed your sudden presence and waved hello, to which you waved hello back. One of the miners, who leaned against a cart full of iron, was the first to fully acknowledge you. “Hey, are you lost, miss?”

 “Oh, no, not at all. I was just curiously wandering around, taking in the sights and all,” you grinned politely, glancing up at the calm night sky. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it boys?”

 “Taking in the sights, are you?” another miner slowly approached you, a few more starting to pay attention to you. “You know, you’re certainly a sight to take in too with that pretty little dress of yours.”

 You had completely forgotten that you looked very out of place with what you were wearing – a short traditional-like dress with a small hole exposing a small area of your chest. Your eyes quickly widened as you processed what the miner said, but before you fully realized it and came back to your senses, the men had circled around you and were getting dangerously close. You instinctively reached down to grab the blade that was usually tucked and sheathed in your belt but after grabbing nothing with the realization that of course, you were wearing a dress, genuine panic began to seep in.

 “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out late at night looking like that anyway? You’re practically begging to be touched,” a man’s voice behind you teased, grabbing your hips as he emphasized that last word. You swiftly elbowed him in the ribs to defend yourself and temporarily push him away, but the other men were quick to react as a pair of hands grabbed your arms and pinned you into place.

 You snapped your head towards the Millelith guard, expecting him to do something to help you as a protector of the harbor. But he simply stood there at his post, glancing away as soon as you met his eyes. And if Childe were watching, you were sure he would have stepped in by now. He was often the jealous type anyway. But while the men slowly pulled you under a nearby deteriorated pergola despite your thrashing then greedily groped your body, help was nowhere to be seen.

 All hope you had for a fun night was gone. Tears swelled in your eyes as you attempted to kick away the hungry hands but it was no use. Please, you silently prayed, someone help me!

 As if someone had heard your prayers, the sound of a projectile zipping past your head followed by your arms being freed from the man who was restricting you was the sound of freedom. The others looked up in horror and paused their advances as their friend dropped injured behind you. Suddenly, a dark figure leaped from the hill above and landed on the ground confidently, quickly pulling out two blades then lunging forward to the miners, catching them by surprise. You took this temporary moment of freedom to kick the hands off of you and scramble away, running back towards the path. You could hear the sounds of bodies thumping to the ground behind you coupled with loud groans of agony, and you can only imagine what your unknown savior looked like but all you could focus on was getting away as soon as possible with the limited mental strength you had.

 But much to your dismay, one of the miners still managed to grab you tightly and drag you back, and every time you wiggled away, they had a strong grip on you. Sobs of desperation escaped your throat, “Let me go! Let me go, please! Help!”

 “Leaving so soon?” a different voice growled in your ear as the man’s grip around your waist tightened. It was deep, distorted, and certainly anxiety inducing. You looked down in a flurry of panic to see black and red sleeves wrapped around your figure. This was not one of the miners.

 The man lifted you up a few inches from the ground to turn you around. You were faced with bodies littering the floor. It had only been less than ten seconds and the entire scene was drenched in blood. The sight of the freshly killed miners as well as the one guard made you tremble in fear rather than feel grateful for being saved just now.

 “I think I deserve a reward for protecting you from those filthy bastards, wouldn’t you agree?” the man inched you closer to the bodies but you closed your eyes as soon as you could recognize the open wounds from his blades. “At least a thank you would be nice.”

 “Get away from me!” you yelled and thrashed in his arms again but quickly stopped once you heard the sound of his blade being unsheathed. You opened your eyes to see a bloodied dead man at your feet as well as a knife at your throat, pressing gently at your fragile skin.

 “You’re a tough one, aren’t you? I wouldn’t be so resistant if I were you,” the man’s gravelly voice was definitely unfamiliar but his tone and inflection reminded you of...

 “Childe....” you weakly muttered under your breath, which made the man laugh in response.

 “Childe, you say? You have something to do with the boss?” he pressed his hips harder against yours, his erection subtly throbbing underneath his clothes.

 “So you’re Fatui, aren’t you?” you mustered enough courage to make your voice sound threatening enough. You let out a sarcastic laugh despite your low confidence. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. Once Childe finds out about this, your life will be over within seconds.”

 “Who are you to say something like that?” he slowly began walking the two of you over to the nearest wall, a large rock that cast an equally large shadow from the moonlight. “I’m surprised a dumb little slut like you would even know his name.”

 Your eyes squinted at the insult. “You don’t need to know who I am. All you have to know is you’ll be dead by tomorrow morning.”

 “We’ll see about that,” he suddenly used his free arm to turn you around so your back slammed against the cold rock. You finally looked up at your captor to confirm your suspicions of this predatory savior. He was certainly part of the Fatui, his red and black mask concealing his identity with yellow glowing eyes staring directly at you. His arm positioned itself directly next to your head so he could hold his blade against your neck again, threatening any potential thoughts of escaping. His other hand suddenly grabbed the open space in your dress and pulled down, ripping the fabric in half and exposing your half naked form, eliciting a loud gasp from you. Panic began to seep in. How could I walk back home practically naked? Would I even end up alive to come back home?

 Before you could use your arms to cover yourself up in an attempt at modesty, he pressed the blade to your neck that even the slightest movement would ensure spilled blood. “Don’t even think about it.”

 He looked up and down at your body, humming with satisfaction as he began to unzip his pants and free his cock. You couldn’t exactly take a good look at it with the knife restricting your range of motion, but even then, you weren’t sure you wanted to look. His free hand gripped your bare waist. “And to think that those other filthy men were about to get their hands on this... You really should thank me.”

 Another gasp escaped your throat as he slowly dug his hand under the strap of your underwear. His leather gloves snaked their way further down, inching closer and closer to your core. You could feel his grip on his blade tighten with his tensed muscles. “That was a command. Thank me.”

 “T-Thank you,” you whimpered as he pulled down the last bit of clothing you hid behind. He let out a satisfied groan at the sight of your aching cunt, which you hated to admit was dripping wet from thinking about Childe earlier in the night. Even now, you really hated to admit this situation was somehow turning you on, even though you were simultaneously disgusted and shaking in fear.

 “You’re practically soaking for me, aren’t you?” the man let out a slow chuckle as he dipped a gloved finger into your hole without warning. You gasped at the sudden penetration, careful not to arch your back into his touch with the knife still pressed at your throat. The man began relentlessly shifting his finger in and out of you and watched your face squirm with pleasure and denial at the same time. He maniacally chuckled at the way you were completely unsure of how to feel, and wanting to hear you moan louder instead of quietly pant and sigh, he inserted another finger and picked up the pace.

 “Your cunt is so tight, you know that?” he teased, “If you’re moaning like this now I can only imagine how my cock will make you feel.”

 “N-No, please,” you moaned out helplessly, “Please don’t...”

 He pulled his fingers away and quickly shoved them into your mouth while it was still open, freeing your throat from his knife and slowly trailing it down your body while he made you suck on his gloved fingers, wet from your own fluids. The cold metal found itself settling right above your hips and with no hesitation he began leaving flesh wounds, the leftover blood from the men easily being mistaken as yours at first glance.

 “I’m going to put away the knife, but you’ll be a good girl for me and stay still, won’t you? You saw what I did to those men. It would be a shame if you met the same fate just because you wanted to escape,” he sheathed the blade and pulled his fingers out of your mouth to grab your waist, forcing you to turn around. He bent down slightly to get a hold of your thighs, and in one swift move, folded your body into the likings of a full nelson, your legs hanging onto his elbows with his chest pressed against your tense back. As he reached his hands to clasp behind your neck and push your body into the intense position, the connection between this man and Childe made your eyes light up.

 This was one of his favorite positions. No way it was just coincidence.

 “So it is you, Childe,” you happily grinned as he turned the both of you to face the bloodied mess from before so he could lean against the wall. His touches seemed to get more familiar as the realization sunk in, but at the same time, you wondered if your mind was just playing tricks on you to make the best out of the current situation. You sat on the fence of either blindly believing this mysterious man was Childe or giving into the reality that this really was a stranger.

 “You’re delusional, slut. Childe has nothing to do with this, I don’t know why you keep mentioning his name,” he hissed in your ear, getting more and more irritated.

 You finally glanced down for the first time since nothing could restrict your neck anymore. To your delight, you smiled at his throbbing cock twitching as it waited at your entrance, aching to stir your insides. You giggled sweetly, finally relaxing with a deep sigh. You now knew with certainty that you were safe. Everything was under control. His control.

 “Childe, I recognize every inch of your cock like it’s second nature,” you stared at his familiar length then reached out to wrap your fingers around the tip, the muscle twitching in response. “You’ve never been this hard before... You must be so excited right now.”

 “One more word out of you about Childe and I will kill you right here. Do not test me.”

 “You wouldn’t, right? You love me too much,” you boldly declared, teasing him for staying in character. When he didn’t answer and instead shifted his cock to push his tip inside you, you let out a sharp exhale. He went in too fast, too rough. Even if you were dripping wet, the way he shoved himself inside you was merciless and tore you apart immediately.

 You tried to find the pleasure in it but as soon as he started thrusting not even a few seconds later, you worriedly whispered, “S-Slow down... Please! It hurts, Ajax-“

 “You’re going to take all of it in. Maybe that’ll teach you not to be an annoying, disobedient brat from now on,” he interrupted.

 Destroying you was an understatement of what he was truly doing to your body. He would repeatedly pull his length out before shoving it back in, rolling his hips so naturally with each thrust having clear intention to break you apart. Your cunt visibly throbbed, the excruciating pain slowly turning into ethereal pleasure from the attention it was getting from his thick shaft. He closely listened to the way your cries turns into gleeful moans, excitedly fucking you as his mind further indulged in the fantasy. After all, this entire night had been exceedingly frustrating and enticing to him and to take out all his pent up energy on you was the only thing on his lust filled mind.

 Soon enough, his thrusts began to roll in harder as he held onto you tightly, his moans becoming more intense as the only thing on his mind was how good he was feeling, fucking you in front of the kills he certainly prided himself on. Similarly, you felt your insides burn at the feeling of being manhandled and treated like a toy, or the way he began moaning your name in a low whisper as you felt his cock twitching inside you, aching for release – the first time he had ever acknowledged your name tonight.

 “[Y/N], baby – fuck!” his distorted voice cried out, “I’m... I’m gonna...!”

  “Me too...!” you felt your legs shake violently as you neared your climax, “A-Ajax!”

 He let out one final thrust, burying himself inside of you until his length plugged up your sore hole and dumped his seed deep inside you. His load came in pulses, slowly coating your insides with moans of ecstasy ringing in your ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder. Your cunt quivered as you reached your release as well, your fluids swirling with his to make one happy mix of satisfaction.

 The both of you stayed in this position, panting and trying to calm down from your highs. Childe let go of his hands behind your neck and positioned them to hold your knees without pulling out of you, allowing you to freely move your head again. Though, you didn’t want to take your eyes off of his cock buried inside of you, opting to keep your head hanging down to actively avoid looking at the bodies in front of you. Childe must have noticed this, and of course, he had to say something about it.

 “Sorry about... them. I hate... really hate when people try to mess with what’s mine,” he took a deep sigh as he slowly pulled out of you, watching his cum ooze out from your cunt to drip down to the space between his shoes. The sight could have been enough for him to push for another round, but he figured now wasn’t the time. He had the urge to explain himself.

 “I was just so mad and... though I have to admit, seeing their blood on my blade got me so excited... wait, I think I might’ve gotten a little too excited,” something seemed to have clicked in his mind when he said that, “Baby, I’m so sorry! We shouldn’t have done this, I did so many things to you, I’m so sorr-“

 “It’s okay, Childe,” you slowly turned your head to his so your faces were only an inch apart, his mask being the sole barrier that stopped you from kissing him to shut him up. “I had so much fun. Did you?”

 “Of course I did,” he slowly placed you down to stand on your feet again, which was admittedly tough since he had fucked the life out of you. He briefly held your waist to stabilize you as you wobbled back and forth, his cum now dripping down your thighs. He then lifted his hood up to reveal his fluffy red hair and took off his mask, throwing it to the ground to meet you with teary eyes.  His voice was no longer distorted by that cursed mask, and a look of genuine concern sat in his deep eyes.  “I-I’m so sorry for scaring you, [Y/N]. I could see it in your eyes the entire time and I hate to admit that it turned me on and now I feel so bad–“

  You swiftly pressed your lips to his, finally shutting him up from his rambling. He responded by eagerly returning the kiss, cupping your face in his hands and closing his eyes. For a moment, his troubles melted away once he realized you weren’t upset with him, and millions of thoughts about how much he loved you raced through his mind. But It wasn’t long before he broke the exchange, taking off his hooded garments to drape it over your cold, naked body. It was apparent he put thought into this moment, already wearing his normal clothes underneath the Fatui uniform as if he had planned to cover you up from the start. He made sure to pin it closed and fasten it tightly, ensuring that every exposed part of you was warm and covered. Once he was done, he pulled you in for a hug, holding you tightly as he stared at the bodies behind you, sighing contently.

 “I love you, [Y/N]. Thank you for accepting me for who I am and letting me have tonight. We really don’t have to do this ever again if you don’t want to.”

 “I love you too,” you smiled sweetly. “Just... next time, please don’t keep me waiting so long. The uncertainty was thrilling but I was sure I was going to die back there.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind next time. I just got caught up with the Millelith because I’m dressed like an agent, then I lost sight of you and... wait,” he pressed his forehead against yours and gently, yet eagerly whispered with a grin, “so there’s really going to be a next time?”

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Get Over Yourself - Lindsey Horan x Reader

Prompt: The Great Horan x reader? Where she and R aren’t a thing, but there are some feelings there. R always flirts with her and asks her out a lot, but Lindsey always rejects her. Eventually, R stops doing it bc she doesn’t want to continue being hurt and disappointed by the rejection. So, when R gets shipped with another teammate (you decide) by the fans, R has to flirt with them as PR stunt. Lindsey gets jealous and realizes that she wants to be the only one R flirts with. Cue an angsty fight between the two until she finally tells R how she feels and they make up.

“Hey Linds, do you believe in love at first sight?” Y/N smirked, slowly walking past Lindsey, pausing, waiting for the midfielder to acknowledge her. Once Lindsey looked up, cocking her head to the side, she continued, “or do you need me to walk by again?” Y/N winked, giving a slow, dramatic strut past.

Several players rolled their eyes, some boo’ing, while others squirted Y/N with water. Lindsey just rolled her eyes, fighting a smirk, “come on, let’s pass,” she reached a handout for Y/N to help tug her up.

Y/N grasped the offered hand, tugging Lindsey to a standing position. Lindsey, not expecting Y/N to actually pull her up, pushed herself up at the same time, crashing her body into Y/N’s.

“If you wanted to feel me up, you just had to ask,” Y/N smirked, hands on either of Lindsey’s hips to help steady her.

“You gotta buy me dinner first for that,” Lindsey gave Y/N a gentle shove to the chest before jogging away, tapping a ball with her.

“Yea?” Y/N hesitated, biting her lip, watching the blonde to see if she was serious or not. The friends had such a flirtatious relationship, the lines between friends and more had been blurred, were blurred. Hands would wander, hugs lingered, eyes always finding each other in crowded rooms. Y/N was the first person Lindsey would seek out when she needed to talk about something, needed comfort, or just needed to hear Y/N’s voice.

Anyone watching the two women could easily interpret the interactions would assume the friends were a couple. But they weren’t. The concept of a romantic relationship had never been discussed. Y/N had been working to feel out if it was more than harmless flirting for Lindsey, like it was for herself. But their friendship had been like this for so long, Y/N didn’t know how Lindsey felt.

Y/N knew how she felt, how she couldn’t help be drawn to Lindsey, and would be more than willing maintain the friendship as long as it meant she still got to be with the midfielder. Worried if Lindsey knew the true intention behind Y/N’s flirting it would push her away.

Y/N was brought out of her musings when Lindsey flipped a ball into her stomach.

“We playing or not you weirdo?” Lindsey smirked.

“Oh yea,” Y/N kicked the ball back, still only half paying attention. Her thoughts still on her feelings for the blonde, distracted by Lindsey implying she might want to go for dinner with Y/N, “so you, me, dinner. Then you can feel me up as much as you want,” the soccer player smirked, but her eyes critically watching the midfielder.

Lindsey scoffed, rolling her eyes, “What, like a date?” thinking it was a joke, laughed, juggling the ball a few times before passing it back, “like I would ever date you,” she continued to laugh alone.

Y/N felt her entire body heat up. Lindsey thought it was a joke. A joke they would ever date. That she was a joke, the concept of them as a joke, “hey, I was just trying to give you free access to touch all this,” she awkwardly motioned the length of her body, “your loss, “she tried to play it off, hoping her voice sounded more nonchalant than it really felt.

Thankfully, Y/N was saved from having to hear what Lindsey would say or do by practicing beginning.

For the next two hours, it was Y/N could do to avoid Lindsey. Switching lines for drills, have to re-tie her cleats several times, even requesting more work with the defenders to avoid all the midfielders. Everyone gave Y/N strange looks when she darted away at the water break and Lindsey reached out to touch a bruise forming on Y/N’s leg.

Somehow, Y/N managed to avoid the team for the next two days. Arriving just on time to meetings, meals, and practices. Leaving as soon as she could. She spent two days putting in extra workouts, extra training, or just wandering the mall. Anything that would keep her put of the hotel and away from the team. She was only trying to avoid the blonde, but she knew it was near impossible to avoid one person in the close group of women.

“Y/L/N!” one of the media coordinators called her as she tried to rush out of another meeting on the third day, “you and Mewis are up for media, let’s go.”

“Fuck” Y/N mumbled, slowly turning around to follow the media person.

“Don’t sound so excited!” Kristie slung an arm across Y/N’s shoulders, “we’re both hot, funny, and supposedly really good at soccer. We are a triple threat!” she tugged Y/N to a stop to jump on her back for a piggy back ride, “we get stuck, just flex these guns,” Kristie teasingly squeezed Y/N’s arms, “and they’ll all be so distracted we can just run away.”

That drew a genuine laugh from the soccer player, she tightened her hold under the blondes’ legs and carried her into the media room.

The media team all laughed as the pair walked in, Kristie having wrapped her legs around Y/N’s waist and around her shoulders., holding so tightly Y/N didn’t need to hold her. Looking similar to koala on a branch.

“USWNT presents ‘Koala or Kristie’. Where we show you a picture and you decide if it’s a koala or a Kristie,” Y/N announced to the media staff as she turned so Kristie could let go and drop right into the chair. When Kristie didn’t let go right away, Y/N reached behind her and began tickling the blonde until her grip let go and she fell into the chair.

The staff all laughed at the pairs antics, “you guys are already live,” one called while the two finished settling into the chairs, handing a phone over so they could read the questions being sent in.

Y/N smirked while she scrolled through the comments, letting Kristie introduce them and officially start their session.

“Alright Y/N/N,” Kristie leaned into Y/N’s side to attempt to read the phone and choose a question, “start off with a good one.”

“I have one of my own before I get to the fan ones,” Y/N giggled, grinning at the blonde while she tugged the phone away, “do you think you have the right koala-fications?”

Kristie stared at Y/N before glancing to the media staff behind the camera, “I think I’m busy today guys, I am available when I can do this with anyone else.”

Y/N maintained a serious expression, “that answers that, Kristie Mewis does not have the right koala-fications,” she began scrolling through the phone looking for a real fan question while Kristie turned and mock gasped at Y/N, “if I could play any other sport professionally, I would be a basketball player,” she continued on, ignoring Kristie staring at her.

Y/N deliberately focused on the phone, waiting for Kristie to say anything, her serious expression slipping and a smirk cracking through.

Kristie shook her head, “no way you could be a basketball player, you’re way too short,” she held a hand up next to her, drastically exaggerating Y/N’s height.

“But I’ve got mad hops, and big feet!” Y/N put her hands under her knee and lifted her leg, so her foot was in view of the camera.

“That just means you have big feet, not that it will make you a good basketball player,” Kristie laughed, pushing Y/N’s foot away from her.

“My mom said I’ll grow into them, there’s still a chance,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. She knew she wouldn’t get any taller, but it was fun working Kristie up.

“You’re 28, you’re not growing into your feet at this point,” Kristie rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “read a question!”

Much of their live session went that way, very few questions being answered. The friends easily distracted, telling stories or just bantering, forgetting the camera was there entirely.

By the end of the say, the video had been picked apart, screenshots were made, and new a secret couple was formed.

Y/N had gone back to avoiding the team, her thoughts even more jumbled now that everyone assumed she was with Kristie. She didn’t have feelings for Kristie, she loved her like a friend and loved their easy going dynamic, but it would never be anything more that. And she knew Kristie felt the same.

“You’re avoiding me,” Lindsey said as greeting when Y/N walked into her room the next day.

“Fuck!” Y/N stepped back into the closed door, her body crashing against it, “what the fuck Lindsey?” she stomped further into the room.

“You’re avoiding me,” Lindsey repeated, sitting in a chair in the corning, watching Y/N move around the room.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Y/N continued to rummage around the room, mindlessly moving things around in order to look busy, “how’d you get into my room?”

“Kicked your rookie out, convinced the poor kid medical needed to redo their testing,” she answered quickly, “you’re avoiding me,” she said it a third time.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Y/N began to refold her suitcase to keep her hands busy and continue to avoid looking at the blonde critically staring at her, “but just to clarify, if I was, you thought the solution was to corner me in my room?”

“Is this because of practice the other day?” Lindsey pushed out of the chair and closed the distance between them, “because I know I’ve felt you up for less than dinner before,” she chuckled softly, stepping close, pressing her body against y/N’s placing a handout to land low on Y/N’s hip.

Y/N abruptly dropped the shirt she was folding and took two large steps away from Lindsey, “Fuck Lindsey, it’s not always about you. I’m not avoiding you. I haven’t hung out with anyone else,” she snapped, her jaw clenching while she stared hard at Lindsey.

Lindsey stared wide eyed at the sudden outburst before gathering herself, snapping back, “yet, Kristie gets to hang all over you.”

“You hang all over me all the time Lindsey, it’s the same thing. Besides, it was for the live thing we did,” Y/N didn’t know what she was so angry all of a sudden. She was avoiding Lindsey and Lindsey was just calling her out on the immature behaviour. Y/N really didn’t understand why she was upset, Lindsey had a right to confront her avoidance. Y/N was the one that had decided to pull away when it seemed Lindsey didn’t see their friendship as anything more. But what Y/N really didn’t understand, was why Lindsey was so upset about Kristie being on her.  

Lindsey knew why she was upset. She had spent the last two days always just missing Y/N and had replayed all their interactions before Y/N seemingly disappeared. The only thing she could come up with when she joked about them going out and shooting down Y/N’s dinner invite. Then she watched the live session Y/N did with Kristie, a few other players planning on throwing in their own obscure questions. The feeling she got in her chest watching Y/N carry Kristie in was a feeling she couldn’t place; she’d never felt it before.

Jealously was what Alex said.

Longing was what Kelley said.

Infatuation was what Rose said.

Gross was what Sam said, thinking it was directed at her sister.

Realization was what Sonnett said.

She sat silent the entire time, that feeling growing throughout. She ruminated on what her friends. None of the words fit, yet, they all fit. That was the problem, they all fit. She was realizing her feelings for Y/N. She was infatuated with how effortlessly funny she was. Longed to be the one Y/N was making smile the way she was making Kristie smile. And she jealous Kristie got to be the one Y/N was with while she had been avoided for two days.

So, Lindsey knew why she was upset. She was frustrated at herself because she wanted to tell Y/N how she felt but she couldn’t get the words out. Could only make a joke that didn’t end up being a great joke because now Y/N was upset too.

“Get over yourself Lindsey. You don’t get a say in who hangs on me and who doesn’t,” Y/N said, her voice had started firm, but sounded defeated by the end. She looked down before shuffling back to the bed to resume folding her clothes.

“But what if I did?” Lindsey rushed out, crinkling her face at how that sounded, implying Y/N was something someone controlled, “fuck, that came out wrong! I meant, I want hang all over you and you to hang all over me. And dinner, so I can feel you up. And I don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

Y/N’s hands paused while she folder her shirt, before continuing, her eyes never leaving the shirt, “Lindsey, you don’t get to come in here pissed at me because you got jealous, then expect things to be alright.”

“I don’t want that or expect that! Yes, I got so jealous when I saw you and Kristie together and I didn’t even understand what it meant. But then I figured it out, I wanted all our banter and jokes about being together to be real. I don’t want to call you at the end of bad day, because I won’t have to because you’ll be in the bed next to me,” Lindsey saw Y/N’s hands stop moving and the shirt slip back on top of the suit case, Y/N’s arms dropping to her side, but she still wouldn’t look up.  

Lindsey took a tentative step closer, not wanting to spook the girl away like she had initially.

“I want it all to be real. I want everything we had a couple days ago again, but I want it to be real and more. I want this gross longing feeling to stop because I have you again,” taking a risk, she gently held Y/N’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

Y/N squeezed back before letting go, “Linds, just because you got jealous doesn’t me this is what you want. You like the idea of me, you don’t like me. And we can try and go back to how it was before, but my feelings are real, Lindsey, I know how I feel about you.”

“My feelings are real too!” Lindsey gripped Y/N’s hand again, tight, “this isn’t just me being jealous, watching you with Kristie was just what I needed to realize that I was just too scared to admit how I felt about you. I know how I feel about you,” she finished with conviction, reaching for other hand and squeezed both tight.

“Ok,” Y/N nodded, seeing the sincerity on Lindsey’s face.

“Ok?”

Lindsey was confused, she poured her heart out and she gets is ok?

“I don’t know your feelings Linds, but I trust you, and if you say they are real, then they’re real,” she smiled.

“So, can I take you for dinner?” Lindsey asked, still shy even though she knew the answer would be yes.

“And you can feel me up all you want after.”

[harveywritings92]

You get drunk and lost.

You go out with some friends drinking, get plastered and somehow you've broke away from your group. after walking around the city you have moment of clarity you text you boyfriend, "Halph! me loss...!!" before he can respond you accidently put it on silent, and he freaks and nearly tears the streets upside down looking for you, only to get a call at the ass crack of dawn by random person saying they've found you...

Warnings : alcohol use, Smoking, theft and mature situations.

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Dabi: He thought it was joke at first, sure his girl likes to let loose from time to time, But she never irresponsible about it! So, when he got that text he thought you were screwing with him, He texted you [Aww what'd ya lose Doll?] you didn't text him back... He thought she just put her phone away, as time passed by soon Dabi got worried, he checked his phone; the time you'd said you be home had long passed.

He called you and kept getting the busy signal. "Tch" without missing a beat he got his hoodie, face-cover and sunglasses on and went out to the bar that you said you'd be at just in time to see your friends drunkenly stagger out of the bar giggling like a bunch of hens. "Hey." He called out to them one them... Ayaka? If that's what her name was? Dabi wasn't really paying attention when you showed him her picture.

he was to busy fantasizing you in that tight little dress bent over couch while he rails you from behind…

Anyway, back to the present. 

Aya was dazed but seemed to recognize him. "ohz! Y/n's s-shy man! how ya doing bro?" the cremator stayed close to the alley shushed the drunk woman gesturing for her to come closer. "I'm fine, where's Y/n? She still inside?" he said in low voice nodded towards the bar, Aya gave him this blank look and Dabi didn't like how loud this silence was.... "Y/n? s-she said- said she was gonna go for a walk..." Dabi eyes narrowed resisting the urge to turn this drunk putz into a pile of ashes. "Aya focus, where did Y/n say she was going?" He said slowly trying to get the drunk woman to remember, this seemed to help as her eyes widened in realization, but that hope was soon dashed as she chortled out. "Your mamma's butt! hehe..." and broke down laughing. 

Dabi growled annoyed before shoving her back over to the group drunk girls waiting for their taxi, for the rest of the night Dabi spent his time looking through every alley, back road and crappy neighborhood, he could think of, But there was no sign of you anywhere! at around 5 am He sat on bench dejected and took his phone out; looked through his contact before stopping at 'Chicken-wings' he glared at the named with a lot of confliction, But before he could press call...

His nickname for You suddenly lights up his screen Dabi answered without hesitation. "Y/n?... where the hell are you?" He hissed feeling both relieved and pissed off at the same time, however the voice that answered him wasn't girlfriend but that of a man. "Who the hell is this... where's Y/n? if you touched her I'll-" Dabi snarled flames bursting from his chin, but the person on the other end told him to calm down and explained, he lived a few blocks away from where Dabi was. 

The cremator wasted no time getting there, he knocked on the door and was greeted by an old man who looked like a breeze would knock him over, The old man confirmed Dabi was the on he called, then apologized for scaring the young man, explained he found you passed out on his patio and didn't want leave you alone outside. "I have no bloody clue how these new-fangled phones work, had to wake my 8 year old grandson to help me." he explained as he led an awkward Dabi to his living room.

"I should be one who's sorry, for the trouble my girls caused you." the raven haired man sighed seeing his girlfriend passed out on the old man's couch, The old man just waved him off. "It's fine boy, we were all young once!" Dabi thanked him again carefully collected his girlfriend and carried her back to one of his safe houses that was nearby, Needless to say aside from nursing a gnarly hangover, You also had to deal with an very Angry, horny and tired Dabi who wasn't you out his sight anytime soon.

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

Hawks: [you lost? lost what? darts?] You don't answer him. [Angel wings? you there???] he didn't wait and see if you'd reply as Endeavor was giving him this look that screamed 'put that phone away, or else I'll launch it so far up you ass you're kids will born screaming your ringtone!' the avian man smiled coyly and put his phone away and waited for the meeting to be over, the meeting and late night patrol finally wrapped up at 3:30 am and Hawks walked outside recalling the conversation he had with you and checked his phone, Keigo felt his heart sink you hadn't answered him, He flew over to the bar while at the same time calling you phone, but all he got was voicemail...

When he got there he saw all your girl friends had gone home and only one of your guy friends was there, Akito if the blond remembered correctly. "Yo Akito-san." He called as he lowered down the ground, the drunk man looked around startled be for noticing Hawks above. "Sky-guy my dude! how ya doing?" he slurred at the number two hero, who stared at him crossed armed as he observed the inebriated man, very unimpressed.

"Nothing much, was Y/n okay?"  

"w-who wha?"

"Y/n, Akito did she get home alright?"

"Oh she went to the subway."

Hawks brows scrunched up in confusion, it was passed midnight the trains weren't running right now! So, where the fuck was his girlfriend?! "Akito, I want you to listen where did Y/n go?" Again the drunk said the Subway, making it very clear he wasn't gonna be any help, Hawks flew up into the sky and sent some of his feathers out to search for his missing girlfriend and focused to see if that one he snuck in to her purse was near by.... "Come Y/n, where are ya baby?" he muttered as he eyes scanned the from above, when he felt a tug from one his feathers and almost on cue his phone light up with your ringtone.

"Y/n? where are you? are you safe?!" He asked frantically and waited but the voice coming from other end wasn't his girlfriend's but older woman's voice. "Is this Kei-Chan?" the winged hero eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who are you?" the woman voice cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I'm Anko, I found this girl in front of the shop is her your friend?" Hawks confirmed this expecting this stranger to be a villain holding you hostage and told her to stay where she was. 

Instead when he got to his girlfriend's location; A Subway sandwich shop. *Ah...The subway, Hardee har-har...* He mentally deadpanned before looking down at the front and saw his girlfriend passed out on a bench with a tattered old blanket draped over her, while a little old lady in worn out clothes was standing next to a shopping cart. It didn't take a genius to see the old woman was homeless this seemed to strike a cord with the number 2 hero. 

Hawk silently landed "Excuse me." he called caused the old woman he assumed was Anko to jump by the sudden voice and saw Hawks walking towards. "Yes?" the woman answered warily. Hawks introduced himself as Kei-chan the man she spoke to, he asked how she stumbled on to his girlfriend? Anko adjusted her her old jacket said she saw her going into the with a group of girls, they left in a taxi without her! 

The winged hero looked furious upon hearing this, you had mentioned your friends were a little peeved that the two of you were dating... But to abandon you in a seedy part of town while intoxicated? that was over the line, had Anko not found you first then.... Hawk's jaw tightened not wanting to think about it as the old woman tale continued. You stubbled out a few moments, and passed out on the bench out front.

"I think those girl stole her jacket and shoes, I didn't want the poor dear getting cold, so I put my blanket on her and called you." She handed Keigo your purse a used his feathers to hold it while he gathered you in his arms he thanked Anko for guarding you. He promised to return the her kindness but the old woman said it was fine, but Hawks was already coming up with a few idea as he flew back to his apartment.

The next morning you were alone and confused how you got to Keigo's apartment wondered in your friend had called him, and went check your phone to check your messages, and were very bewildered over why your "Friends" were all apologizing, begging Hawks to call off his fanclub! You were flabbergasted about the situation, until Akito left you a screenshot of their original plan; they were going to make you and Akito drunkenly hook up and ruin your relationship with Keigo! 

Of course they didn't know that Akito was in fact gay, so when they figured that out they just left you alone in front of sub-shop at 3am with no way of getting back home, you were pissed off that's for sure! and blocked them save for Akito as he had nothing to do with their plan.

Then you checked the newsfeeds and saw Hawks was trending curious you checked to see why, and saw Keigo delivering a box containing a new jacket, shoes, blankets and food to a stunned homeless woman with a note saying to "my girlfriend's hero! forever grateful Hawks!" Okay... Now Keigo really needs to tell you what happened last night!

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

Fatgum: [Aw it's all right Teddy Graham, ya can't win them all!] Fatgum chuckled assuming you lost at darts or pool while having fun with your friends, however as the night wore on and patrol came to an end, Taishiro was getting concerned, You hadn't texted him back nor had you called him to tell him she got home alright, just that "Halph...me loss!" text! The BMI hero was loosing his appetite with worry as he wandered down the street looking for the bar you were supposed be at, only to find out from your very drunk friends who was shuffling into in a taxi van.

He stopped one of them asking where you were, did you home with one of the girls? but to his dread they said you went for walk somewhere, Taishiro tried to coax them into remembering where you said were you going? But at this point your friend was too far gone to answer coherently, and with that the blond man took off down the street, hoping to find a trace of his lil'Teddy Graham! 

He searched for hours even showing civilians a photo of you asking if they've seen ya? the answers were always no... it was almost 3 am he was considering calling the cops to help look for ya... as he leaned against a wall to take break, when he heard your ringtone on his phone, Taishiro's hand was shaking as he answered the phone as this nasally voice greeted him

"H-hello, Sir? assuming you're a sir! uh... we found this lady passed out in one of our aisles, could you come and get her, before my manager calls the cops?"

"Wh-where is she?"

"The 7/11 at (random block)."

"Yeah, I'll be right there!"

The chubby hero ran down the street so fast he hadn't noticed his fat was burning off so when he finally arrived at the 7/11 his clothes were baggy and hanging of his body. "Hey, I'm Taishiro, you called me about my girlfriend?" The now skinny hero wheezed catching his breath as the snotty manager turned around to mouth off at Taishiro only to blanch when they realized how much taller and muscular the blond was compared to him and his demeanor quickly changed.

"Y-yes, sir right this way" the balding man stammered leading the 8ft tall man to the back room where a female staff member was watching you, Taishiro let out a sigh of relief and picked you up like a toddler; with your arms around his neck and your head rested on his shoulder, as he was leaving his yellow eyes noticed a backpack stuffed with snacks and other stuff hidden under the manager's desk, he hummed not thinking anything of it and went to thank clerk for watching you as the manager had gone out for a smoke break, Since he was there anyway Taishiro asked for a couple meatbuns for the road.

"Thanks, for lookin after m'girl."  

"It was no problem sir.'

"By the way I saw a backpack, back there, wha's that about?"

(the clerk went white, made sure her manager was still outside, assuming that she'd be too afraid to tell the tall man about his scheme.)

"That lazy bully of a manager has been stealing snacks and other crap from the store, He was going to try and say your girlfriend did it, and scare you into paying him not to call the cops."

Taishiro's hold tightened on your thigh. "I'm guessing he chickened out, because... Well you look like you could crack his head open like an egg!" the blond snorted as he payed for his food "And you'd be right about that!" Taishiro huffed, he then thanked the clerk for her honesty and shot the manager a venomous glare as passed him outside, later that night Taishiro reported what clerk had told him to store's head office, and vowed to return as Fatgum just to make sure the balding thief was gone! 

The next morning you were very confused as to how you’d gotten to your boyfriend’s apartment? you sat up only to get pulled back down an exhausted Taishiro who muttered for you to go back to sleep, he'll tell you everything later. 

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

✾K.E.- Dirty Secret☼✶

Masterlist

Words: 2400

Warnings: oral, masterbation, accidental voyeurism, body worship, Kiri just lusting over you

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x FEM!reader

Summary: Kirishima has a dirty secret, and you accidentally find out what it is

Here you are! Hope you like it :) {also I’m posting this on mobile so I hope the formatting isn’t too weird}

===NSFW UNDER THE CUT===

Kirishima Eijiro didn't have very many dirty secrets he didn't tell you about, but this one was a dirty, dirty secret. You, under any and all circumstances, could not know about this particular secret. Period. He felt so ashamed and unmanly about it that he couldn't even tell Bakugo about it.

Kirishima knew you since the first year of UA, and he had taken a liking to you quite quickly. He only realized that he fell hard for you when you nearly got kidnapped along with Bakugo when the LOV attacked at the training camp. That wasn't the main secret, but another secret he was keeping from you nonetheless. Hormones are such a bitch sometimes, and his boy brain, riddled with depression and anxiety, had come to realize that you were very sexually appealing to him. It was actually kinda sad when the soft moans of your name left his lips every other night, but he couldn't help it.

You were just so damn attractive.

Immediately after his sessions, post orgasm clarity haunted his thoughts. He felt so bad about it, and sometimes when the guilt was too much he had to take away his own masturbation rights for a week. He would also give you little (apology) gifts so he wouldn't feel as bad. But he couldn't stop. He tried, he really did, to watch porn. He even matched the actress to your looks! But it didn't work. The horny monsters in his brain weren't fooled.

Being in the dorms was a bit of a hassle. The walls were thin, noise outside his room was eminent, and people tended to barge in whenever they pleased. So it was rare that he would reach down his pants unless it was in the middle of the night when no one was to disturb him. But today, most of the guys were out to the gym (Kirishima liked to call them gym dates, but Bakugo didn't like that all too much), and the corridor outside his room was void of loud noises. He had flaked because he was desperately hard due to his past week of guilt, and he needed relief as soon as he was able.

"Fuck," Kirishima mumbled as he cupped his groin. He pulled up your most recent Instagram post on his phone, and bit his lip.

It didn't matter if you were doing anything suggestive in your photo, because just seeing your face was enough. But holy, this picture was speaking to him on another wavelength. You were on your balcony (the caption was some shit about missing being home), and the sun shone off of your hair. He always loved it when you posted full body photos, or at least his dick did. He swiped through your post, a long whistle leaving his lips when he came across a picture with your tongue out.

Kirishima popped the button on his shorts and dragged down the zipper, giving him some breathing room. He slid down his boxers along with his shorts, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock twitched, drooling clear pre-cum. He wasted no time collecting it on his finger, and he spread it across his glans. A low groan escaped his lips as he impatiently rutted his hips upwards, sending a shiver down his spine.

He scrolled to the next photo, and he choked on a gasp. You were in a two-piece bathing suit, (a rare sight for him), and your hips were accentuated by the high waisted bottoms. Your bikini top was tiny, and your back was arched in a laugh. He quickly screenshotted it, scared that you might archive the post at any moment. He was getting into a nice rhythm, and he balanced his phone on his bedpost. His feet were still tangled with his shorts when he leaned down and rutted against his comforter. His shoulders were touching his mattress and his knees were planted, ass slightly lifted, giving himself enough room to grip his cock in his hand.

"God, fuck, you're so beautiful," he moaned, flicking his wrist. Kirishima didn't process the door opening and he continued to thrust into his hand, letting a guttural moan slip past his lips. He buried his nose into his pillow, and scrunched his eyes shut. "Shit, y/n. Juuust like that, baby."

"K-Kirishima-?" You stuttered, stood frozen at his door with a container of cookies in your hands.

His eyes immediately shot open, connecting with yours in an uncomfortable stare. He swore under his breath, and fumbled to shuffle his quilt around himself, dropping his phone on the floor in the process.

"I— uhm. I just—," Kirishima panicked, reaching for his phone, which was facing up. He prayed to every god that you hadn't seen your face on his screen, and he shut off his phone as quickly as he could. "I'm not a pervert I swear!!"

You laid down the cookies on his desk, and closed the door behind you. "Were you— were you doing what I thought you were doing?"

"D-depends..." he stuttered, "er— yes. I was uh, jerking off..."

"Not that part," you mumbled. "I meant like.. what you were looking at on your phone." Your face was just as flushed as his, and you couldn't believe that you forgot to knock before coming into your crush's room.

Kirishima's face paled in fear, and he scrambled to explain himself, "sorry! I am so sorry, y/n. That was so unmanly of me, a-and I know I don't have the— I know that I can't— I just, ugh. I'm so disgusting for that, and you can hit me as hard as you want. I don't deserve to be a hero—."

"Woah, woah, take a deep breath, Kiri-kun!" you waved your hands at him. "Calm down, don't panic. I'm not gonna run away."

He felt tears wetting his eyelashes, and he took a breath like you said. He realized that he was shaking in embarrassment and fear. He pulled his fingers through his hair and took a few more deep breaths, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

"I- I just-," Kirishima collected himself, "yes. It's exactly what you think. I get that you probably hate me and everything now—."

"Hey, hey," you interrupted, clamping a hand over his mouth before you could think. "I don't hate you, Kiri. Far from it, actually. I'm honoured that you think I'm attractive enough to, y'know..." you pulled your hand away from his face, and he looked up at you in disbelief and hope.

"T-that was still gross of me..." Kirishima dragged.

"Not really. Well— ok, if it was anyone else it would've been weird," you flushed.

Kirishima looked up at you with round eyes, wishing that meant you liked him back. He couldn't help but steal glances at your lips, and he got reminded that yes, he was in fact still hard. His dick twitched as he thought of you leaning forward and kissing him, straddling his lap.

"I can't think straight right now," Kirishima breathed, imagining you in your bikini in front of him. Oh how he'd run his hands down the sides of your beautiful body...

"That's ok, I wouldn't expect you to," you assured, not really knowing what to do with yourself in this moment. In all honesty, you swelled with pride at the fact that Kirishima, your crush, liked you back. In your Instagram post, you had snuck the last picture in just for him, (even if he didn't know it). You were feeling confident in the photo, and courage ran through your veins.

"How long?" You asked, kneeling in front of Kirishima to lock eyes with him.

"—wha..?" Kiri shook his head to clear away his daydream, blushing hard when he realized your position.

"How long have you been... jerking off to me?" You asked again shyly.

Kirishima choked on his spit, not expecting your question, "uh, probably around the training camp a couple years back..." he said bashfully. He didn't want to mention the part where he saw you in just a towel when he was trying to drag Mineta from the girls' bathing rooms.

"That long, huh?" You giggled nervously. "C-can you show me what you do when you think about me?"

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and his piercing red eyes locked onto your e/c ones. He nodded shakily, slowly peeling away his blanket. He looked away in embarrassment as he gripped his leaking cock and pumped his length a few times, swallowing his moans. He glanced back over to you through his bangs, and his breath hitched when he saw that your shirt was off. Your bra was mediocre; just a casual black. Kirishima wanted to know if you matched your panties with them, and he squeaked out a groan.

"T-this is ok, right?" You questioned sheepishly, trying not to make direct eye contact with his pretty cock.

"Fuck yeah," the red head whispered, grazing his eyes over your exposed skin. His wandering eyes made you cower a little, and you questioned your bravery.

You slid your hands around your stomach in a movement that was supposed to be unnoticeable, but Kiri grabbed your forearms to pull them away.

"S-sorry!" He panicked, "I just— don't want you to feel embarrassed in front of me. Here, is it ok if we switch positions?"

He smiled once you nodded, and he helped you onto his bed. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he couldn't stop. He was now sat between your legs, and he gently pulled them apart.

"It's only fair if you get naked too, right?" Kirishima's lip quirked as he ran his hands along your thighs. He slid off your pants/skirt once you agreed, and he gulped anxiously. He had never been this close to you before, and it was nerve wracking. You were so much more gorgeous up close.

Kirishima scooted closer to your pelvis, and he tried to ignore his twitching cock. He focused on leaning up, and he gave you a sweet peck on the lips. You smiled shyly and leaned in again for another, and this time he needily sucked on your lower lip. His hands snaked around to your back, and fiddled with your bra clasp. He didn't want to tear his lips from yours, but he desperately wanted your bra off. Kirishima jumped a bit when he felt your hands on his, and he was about to pull away and apologize. Instead of swatting him away, you gripped the clasp and undid it yourself. He pulled away from the kiss only to watch you teasingly slip the bra straps off of your shoulders. When the piece of clothing hit the floor, he let you guide his big hands to your breasts. He gently squeezed, experimenting with his movements.

Kirishima loved the way you moaned gently at his touch, smiling and biting his lip, "you're so, so beautiful, y/n-chan. I can't believe this is happening..."

"Kiri," you whimpered, "do you really think so?"

"Of course!" He smiled up at you, "even when I just thought of you as a friend a few years ago. But being up close like this, you're even more pretty."

You smiled shakily at Kirishima, and put your hands over his. He leaned closer to kiss you again, finding peace with your lips. His cock jumped, reminding him that he was staining his blanket with pre-cum.

"Fuck, y/n, can I taste you? You smell so good," he growled, looking up at you while fiddling with your underwear. Kiri's cheeks were flushed adorably, and his teeth gently bit his lower lip.

"Please Kiri," you whispered, spreading your legs a little more.

"Call me Eijiro," he said gruffly, pulling down your panties as fast as he could without hurting you. "Please."

"Shit, Eijiro," you gasped as he leaned you back, gliding his fingers over your folds. He gave you a soft kiss before going back down and licking a stripe up your heat, flicking your clit a few times.

"Goddamn you taste so much better than I imagined, babe," he grinned up at you, sliding one of his fingers inside of your flower. He added another one quickly after, enjoying your pleased moans immensely. He suckled on your clit harshly, burring his face deeper between your legs.

"E-eiji," you whimpered, gripping the roots of his hair tightly, pulling him closer as you desperately ground your pelvis against his tongue. Your face was buzzing with warmth, and your mouth couldn't be kept shut. "Please, please that feels so good~."

"Yeah, you like that, babe?" Eijiro grumbled, "does my beautiful girl feel good because of this tongue? Yeah, fuck y/n you taste so good," he growled against your pussy, fingers still shoving in and out of your sopping hole, "god, your noises sound so fucking cute."

"Hah~," you cried loudly, legs shaking and clenching as Kiri ravished your cunt. "E-eij-Eijiro! Oh shit, Eiji I'm so c-close!"

"Mmmph," he growled louder. "Come on, babe, you can do it, cum around my fingers whenever you're ready. Fuck you're so beautiful like this."

You sobbed out his name again, blubbering 'please' and 'more' until he couldn't understand a word you were saying. "Ooh, fuckfuckfuckkk, please Eiji I'm gonna— I'm so— hah- so close!"

His head span in a rush of hormones, and he moaned harshly against your clit, pulling you over the edge with another cry leaving your lips. His slurps got quieter, and he slowed to a stop, beaming ear-to-ear at the obvious pleasure he caused you. "Holy shit, y/n. You ok? Was that good?"

"Yesss~," you groaned, limp against his mattress. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk for the next few hours."

"Well good thing I'm here to take care of you," Kiri leaned over you to kiss your lips, and helped you sit up. He offered you some water from his bottle, guiding your shaky hands to the cup.

"That was the best orgasm I've ever had, I swear," you sighed contently. "Give me a few and I'll help you out."

"Uh, I kinda already... dealt with it," Kirishima blushed, and you looked down to see his crumbled quilt with a puddle of semen on it. "Sorry.."

"Hm, don't be," you replied nuzzling into him. "I'll return the favour sometime soon."

[phykios]

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now. 

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really. 

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them. 

God damn she’s a fucking idiot. 

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous. 

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.” 

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne. 

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented. 

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air… 

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before. 

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern. 

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?” 

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake. 

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation. 

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects. 

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate. 

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.” 

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints. 

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father. 

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss. 

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter. 

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye. 

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces. 

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin. 

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day. 

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards. 

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.” 

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden. 

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls. 

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns. 

A huge mistake. 

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.” 

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.” 

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.” 

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son. 

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?” 

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says. 

“Zoe?” 

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod. 

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head. 

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself. 

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her. 

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying. 

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.” 

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy. 

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy. 

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.” 

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet. 

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable. 

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more. 

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too. 

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always. 

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident. 

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something? 

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s. 

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.” 

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest. 

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.” 

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry. 

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked. 

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--” 

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face. 

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.” 

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly. 

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up. 

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.” 

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees. 

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still. 

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover. 

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying. 

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.” 

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath. 

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth. 

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?” 

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.” 

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”   

She spins on her heels, and walks away. 

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.” 

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go. 

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.   

Her stomach rolls again. 

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.” 

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much. 

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him. 

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on. 

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster. 

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.” 

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.” 

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says. 

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable. 

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.” 

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.” 

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays. 

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help. 

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall. 

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting. 

Two voices she knows intimately. 

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock. 

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again. 

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head. 

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.” 

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less. 

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside. 

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly. 

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it. 

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not. 

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier. 

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again. 

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” 

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf. 

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying. 

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain. 

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully. 

Good. He’s gone. 

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick. 

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out. 

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror. 

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

[redjaybathood]

But imagine. Talia al Ghul, beautiful, fierce, elegant, mysterious... How can you not have a crush on her if you spend some time in vicinity???

I mean, fuck the Lost Days, yeah. But. Imagine you are regular boy in late teens (it would be the same if you are a girl), and you spend a lot of time together, and you basically owe her your continuous conscious existence, how the fuck you go - oh yeah I better get back to my dad who seems to never cared about me at all, seeing as he replaced me at a drop of a hat and let my murderer walk the earth still, and try to make him notice me; rather than spend the rest of my life following this enchanting, enigmatic, majestic person.

So. Let's rewind.

***

Jason is in the hotel. He sees the news about Batman and Robin. A new one. Okay. The paper cramples in his hand.

There's a phone call.

Slightly worried woman's voice:

"You've seen it?"

"Seen."

"You're not going back, are you?"

"Would you?"

Silence.

"We both are better off without."

Cautious tone:

"I didn't expect this level of maturity from you."

Mixed feelings. She called me mature! She says she's surprised. I am not that bad, am I? No, it's just she doesn't know him enough, yet. That's okay, they have time.

Clearing throat.

"You didn't bring me back to life for me to squander it on undeserving."

See even more of how mature I am, and don't forget that some men are just a waste of time.

Amused:

"Good. Rest, but don't stay at the same location for long. What's done is done and my father won't chase you to the ends of Earth, but coastal towns are within his scope."

Hesitant:

"Will... Will you be okay? You did that for me, he won't... Punish you or something?"

Low laugh.

"You're cute to be worried about me."

Call drops. She didn't reassure him: was it because she didn't want to lie and something horrible can happen to her at any minute, or did she just not take him seriously? Jason hopes it's the latter, fears it's the former. He never liked Ra's' delusions of grandeur and desire for absolute subjugation of people around him. He is afraid even his own blood Ra's won't spare. Why would he, because of fatherly feelings? But fathers are the worst, Jason knows it himself. That's why he never wanted children, what if he turns out just like that?

Does Talia want children? She's a girl... Well, a woman. And they want kids, right?

Well, he thinks about Sheila. Probably not all of them.

No, Talia wouldn't be like that. She is pretty caring. God, she didn't take care of him because she sees him as a kid? Even worse, because he's Bruce's kid?

But he isn't, Jason thinks, looking down at the paper he thrown to the grown. It slowly uncurled, the grainy CCTV screenshot with two black and white figures visible again. He is not Bruce's son, and somehow, tonight, it's a reassuring thought.

***

He moves location at dawn. He is yet to notice any tail behind him, though it's a good guess if Ra's just let him go, playing some long-term cat-and-mouse game, or Jason just isn't good at detecting surveillance. Maybe he has to be more alert and suspicious. But it's a road straight to a paranoia town, and, most of all, he has to remain calm now.

People who got dipped in the Lazarus Pit, they fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. They can hurt even their loved ones, or totally innocent bystanders. That's not how Jason rolls. So he ignores the imminent danger until it clocks him in the face.

Or, they try to. Three people, average looks, normal clothes, but high speed of attack and not your run of the mill punches: they're trained, and Jason can recognize some of the moves from what Bruce taught him.

He can block all of them, as easy as breathing (though breathing gets heavier and his coveted calmness breaks apart more and more with every passing second). He doesn't get to wonder about the fluid movements of his own body. The fight changes from an ambush with clear goal of capturing him to a death or life business. It's him who's pressing the stakes, so he doesn't complain.

Ra's' people are forced to retreat. He chases them, now. It's only after a fog in his mind dissipates that he's scared and (he hates it but) grateful for the harsh training Ra's' agents recieve. If they are told not to kill, they won't. It's Jason who somehow almost crossed the line. It's not Bruce's line, it's Jason's. Some things are worth jumping over it. But he is not sure this applies here. Talia, Bruce wrote in her file, was already proficient in martial arts at thirteen, when Bruce first came to the League of Shadows. When did she start training? Are all people serving Ra's start that young? How deep the brainwashing goes?

He doesn't want to kill unless it's necessary. And that, right now, didn't feel necessary, it felt... Like he wanted to tear them apart.

He steals a new phone, calls a number he committed to memory. He is shocked that it connects. It makes him feel warm all over.

"It will happen from time to time," Talia explains after listening to his incoherent babbling. "It will get worse before it gets better. Can you get to the north of Province A in three days? I have a place where you can recuperate."

Jason is not sure he can, but he promises. So he has no other choice but to do it.

On the way there he is attacked two more times. The last time, one of the pursuers did not manage to fall back in time. When Jason meets Talia again, he is shacking, his eyes red. He makes a pretty pathetic picture before her, and he doesn't even care about it.

He killed someone for the first time.

She reads it on his face, or maybe she has her ways of getting information. She doesn't offer platitudes. She warned him it would get worse, it did; Ra's is the one who sent them but it's not not Jason's fault anyway, it was his hands on the throat. So what could she say?

"How was it?" She asks.

He turns his face away, but her hand pinches his chin, making him look up at her.

She raises a brow.

"How was it for you?" He says hotly instead of answering, starting to get mad again.

It's the first time he gets mad at her, and it's even more awful because of what she reveals in turn.

"My father set up a kidnapping attempt, to persuade me to be more conscientious about my studies. A rival war lord of his unwittingly helped him out, so it was two birds in one stone. Of course, I only knew that he was proud of me managing to rescue myself. I was glad. Truthfully, I don't regret it even now. Would you?"

"No," Jason snaps out of the haze, horrified. "No, but that's different, they..."

"They did worse. They will do worse."

With that, the topic is closed. Strangely, Jason does feel better, even if he's also pained to hear about what Talia experienced.

***

She takes him up the mountain. They meet an old woman. That's who Talia leaves him with for three years.

Ducra isn't really all that happy about her new pupil, Jason can tell. He is a bother in the tranquil space of All Acres. He clashes with other students. He is not quick on uptake the lessons for meditation. He is good at technical stuff, but lacks something inside that would make the enlightenment possible. Or has abidance of things that are harmful.

"Let go of your hate," Ducra says, puffing her pipe. "Let go of your anger."

But Jason isn't holding on, he swears. He won't let Joker go if he sees him, and in the future, when he is sure he is control, he will seek him out. Only it's far into the future, and he doesn't focus on that here and now. Tries not to.

But his cultivation turns against him again and again. Forget flying, even a move that he learned from Talia at thirteen is outside of his reach.

Essence is the only one except the Teacher who is willing to talk to Jason (apparently, he wasn't fated to get here; and letting him learn their way as a favor for the Daughter of the Demon is sure to bring misfortune upon them when he turns against them, or something. Personally, Jason thinks they hate that someone pulled the strings for him, and okay, nobody loves people with background who easily get what you sweat, cried and bleeded for; he understands it - but there's nothing he can do about it and he wouldn't let go of his only chance to get the side effects of the Pit under control even if he could). Still, he couldn't say they have a profound friendship. It's more awkward that one day she offers the dual cultivation to him.

He rejects her in the nicest way possible, making sure to let her know that he didn't think she likes him or something. That he is grateful for her taking pity on him. He still blushes.

Essence pinches his cheeks.

"What's pitiful about you," she says in a slightly haughty tone. "However great or bad you are, it does not matter in the great scheme of things. You're not the one who is prophesied, you are also not the one who will inherit from my mother. In fact, I should not help you to get better, because it will bring closer the time when you go back. And the moment you leave is the moment when you could betray us at any time."

It gets him going. He pushes her away and hops to his feet.

"So why did you offer?"

Essence smirks.

"Seems like I miscalculated. If you can't figure it out, you are not fit for it."

She leaves, and only long, long after, when Jason get his hands on actual manuals, and couldn't help but think if Talia knew that this sort of thing existed, if she knew that the Pit filled his body with yang energy to the brim in order to heal him, and purging it with injection if yin energy could work... He berates himself for being too horny to even think about something like this. He starts getting up even earlier and exercise even harder.

He still doesn't figure out what Essence was talking about.

***

Jason does end up approaching Essence himself. She is not interested anymore, though. She tested him before rejection: a kiss under a thousand years old plum tree.

It felt wet, and awkward, and not at all sexy. Jason was screaming inside: all the books and movies trying to brainwash young people that kisses are good and somehow desirable! No, they are gross!

Judging by Essence's grimace, she feels the same way. It's not a punch to his pride, surprisingly, but a relief. They agree not to mention about it to anyone.

Though, Jason asks, curious and not at all because he plans to use this information in the future.

"Have you ever... With anyone?"

Essence is not offended by his question but rather looks like he's very very slow.

"I know the rest of them for almost a millennium, a hundred years at the very least. They are rather like siblings to me. Not to mention, one day I would have to lead them."

This makes things awkward, Jason agrees.

"Sucks that you can't leave, then."

Essence hums, but her look turns thoughtful.

***

With no considerable progress for more than a year, Ducra offers to remove his memories. Jason resists at first, but then let Sar'u get rid of his final hours. Then, that paper he read. Meeting Sheila. Bruce's accusing tone: did he fall, or was he pushed. A few more. Nothing works.

He does feel lighter, though, when he's not trying to murder everyone in vicinity. But it makes him also feel less like himself. Dull.

He doesn't get the memories back, but asks Sar'u to project him so Jason could see, like a movie. He doesn't feel better, but he feels more settled.

***

His power slowly climbs up. His movement are basically perfect when he is still aware enough; if he's in rage, bad form does not matter as much because for a short period of time, his drive compensates for it.

People here use him for exercise nowadays, with tacit agreement from Ducra. It's strangely does not piss Jason off. They are on another level entirely, one step away from being immortals. He doesn't have to worry about killing them. It also not so much as brings all of them together, but they tend to be more tolerant of his presence now that it has uses.

He falls into Qi deviation a few times, and people even help him out instead of trying to take him down.

With time, Jason does get worse and does get better.

And then he's allowed to go for his first mission.

[taeslovehandles]

I never meant to target you and I'm sorry you felt that way. You properly tag everything and adhere to the "don't like, don't read" rule. I don't follow you nor you follow, because we simply don't vibe together and that's okay.

But there are posts that are on the more "innocent" side that do represent fat people as a joke and it's like they don't even realize it because it's something so well ingrained in our fatphobic society.

For example, all the characters are having fun except the fat one or referring to someone as "twice his size" (like... If they want to say he's huge, they should just say it, not imply that there's a "right size" for someone to be).

I don't think authors should censor themselves, just acknowledge the role they play in how fat characters are perceived by the community they write for.

-🍓

First of all, since you obviously haven’t blocked me, you could have come to me via direct message. This is not a topic that needs to be brought out into the public eye even more than it already is. I have worked with anons before, I would have been the last person to reveal who you are. You could have made a trash account to message me in dm’s, but since you didn’t, I will reply to you here.

I want to make one thing clear. This will be my last response on the topic. If you do not like me as a member of the community please use the block button and filter me out, because I will stay. I have many friends here, and know that many people enjoy my content. Just because a small handful of people don’t appreciate dark themes in fiction, the contents of which they can easily protect themselves from, won’t make me falter.

Now, I want to debunk this ask because your ‘apology’ actually made me very upset.

I know you don’t mean it when you say you are sorry because you’re backpedaling on what you’ve told your friends and it really rubs me the wrong way. You could have owned up to your mistakes and apologized sincerely like others had but you continue to play victim and excuse your behaviour with tales of your own trauma, projecting your own insecurities onto my blog and thus hating me.

I know for a fact that you despise my blog, especially my writing, because you do not like how “obviously skinny people write about weight gain.”

Honey.

I couldn’t be any further from skinny.

I don’t mind sharing my actual weight, which has actually gotten worse due to COVID. I weigh 490lbs. I am morbidly obese. I have always been morbidly obese. For you to come and be “nitpicky” about a genre you don’t even enjoy? Why are you even reading my fics then?

The way I write about obese people, their struggles with literally everything… that comes from real life experience. I write this to share embarrassing and exhausting daily life tasks I personally struggle with.

A skinny person would never write some of the stuff I do, because they simply don’t know. They don’t know how scary it is to hear the line “we are going to a restaurant.” They don’t know how scary it is to go into that new restaurant, scan the chairs and think “Shit, am I gonna fit? Is the chair gonna creak? Is there enough space for the next table? What if I won’t fit?” A thin person doesn’t have to think this way.

And, let me tell you something else. Yes, I agree. The world is fatphobic.

In one of my recent posts I talked about movies and shows where they make fun of fat people because I hate it. Because it is REAL LIFE. And I am all for the body positivity movement and I do believe that all bodies are beautiful, because they are.

You do not know me personally.

And that leads to my next point. If you personally have issues with the phrase “twice my size”, then that is on you. And guess what? I cannot count how often I’ve heard lines like that my whole life.

“Oh wow two people would fit in one of your pant legs.”

“Wow, you are so fat, I could use your pants as a tent.”

So trust me, I know. I KNOW. But anon, this is the important part for me. Everyone processes trauma differently.

Inked ch3? Or literally any story I have written with a fat character being forced, insulted and talked down to like they’re dumb? That’s what I have been living with my entire life. Most of these stories, some obviously more extreme than how I had experienced them since it’s fiction, have been recordings of trauma I have went through.

My own dad force fed me. Forced me to eat food and gain weight. My first boyfriend was a feeder that manipulated me into gaining more weight and took measurements. Called me pig names and abused me. Hit me, manipulated me into having s** with him and then let all of his fantasies out on me.

I don’t make this shit up. I hate my brain for being so twisted now, that I actually find it hot and arousing. It’s weird. I know, but that’s how it is.

I’ve also never had friends in school. Not even kindergarten. Why? Because my “fat incased body could spread like a virus.” I was being bullied like JK was in Pondus.

I had hot water thrown at me, got glue put on my seats and hair, had my hair ripped out and even got a cigarette burn mark on my arm. Just because I was fat. Just because of how my body was shaped.

I was strangled and locked into a small locker for a night. I was almost killed for running away from my abusive dad from his car and had to listen to things like, “You are going to die when you are 30. No one will ever love you and your body.” That I have trust issues now and am paranoid about everything and everyone.

Those dark stories. I use those dark stories to try to work through my trauma. And yes, it may be absurd to you. It may disgust you, what I write. But sadly, most of it? Most of it really happened to me. To me and other people I’ve talked to as a friend or seen online. Most of what I write will be dark because the human species is made up of terrible creatures.

Fatphobia is an important topic, and I am happy the media has been slowly getting better about it, that people accept us more. But my writing is how I work with my trauma. If I can make fictional characters feel the same things I had to feel, that makes me feel better.

And I’m not hurting anyone with it. So how is it wrong?

I do not support any of this behaviour in real life. I never bullied anyone, I always try to speak up for my friends and tell people if they are being assholes. Because I hate them too and it makes me angry when good people get shit when they do nothing but breathe.

And how @pudgecuddles already said. I don't need you to advocate for body positivity and all that shit when you go out of your way to bully someone that may have experienced the same shit you have. I do not know you or what you went through in your life, but I am sorry. I’m sorry you feel like my stories aren’t okay to write, but this is how I work on my trauma and I need you to respect that.

I’ve said this before. We don’t have to be friends, or even talk to each other.

Just be neutral.

Block me. Filter me out. Pretend I don't exist. But, whatever you do, don’t make posts that call me out while making it obvious you’re talking about me, with the cover that you are advocating against fatphobia. That’s got a name. Cyber-bullying.

Have you hurt me with those posts? Yes you have, but I’ve never wanted bad blood. As you may have noticed, it wasn’t me that made a post. It was my good friend. Because I told her how exhausting it was and she knew about the posts back then.

I have a good idea of who you are.

I remember you.

But I kept my mouth shut. Because this community is my home and the last thing I wanted was for the people who like both of our types of content to feel like they have to choose sides.

In the end, we all rub one out to fat gay boys in a band. No user is better than the rest, and if there are topics you do not enjoy, there is a button for it. No need to drag everyone into it with posts. It’s exhausting and irritating.

Now, I do not accept your apology because you lied to me and I also do not feel like you meant it sincerely knowing what I know now after reading some dm’s. But I also won’t sit here and start shit.

This is my last post about this.

Please block me and enjoy the content you do like.

Nonetheless, I hope you have a nice day and a lovely weekend. Whatever you are experiencing or going through, I hope it gets better. Because even if you hate me personally for creating content you do not support, I’d say that I am a really friendly and nice person.

I do not believe that anyone deserves to be bullied like that and talked down in official posts. It happened before with a friend of mine and you probably remember that I did speak up about it.... But apparently no one learned from it. I really hope this time you do.

Insult me and shit talk me all you want in dm’s, but don’t do it publicly. No one deserves that kind of hate or passive aggressiveness. No one. Since you sound like someone that went through a lot of shit too, you should know better. You should know how it feels to be bullied and what damage it can cause.

I’m already depressed enough and I have bad lows. Let me write my erotica and just enjoy it? That’s all I want? I am a part of this community just like you were. You leaving because you did not like my content, is not my problem. If you cannot block me or ignore it and go so far as to read them and then rant about them negatively, what do you want me to do? I won’t leave the scene just because you don’t like me.

So, you either trash talk me in dm’s from now on so that I do not see it, or you block me. The latter of which would be the more mature thing to do. The more humane thing to do. Because talking behind someone’s back is just as bad.

Again, I don’t know why you felt like it was necessary to send me an ask with lies in it when I got screenshot proof of something else you have said/issues with, so don’t backpedal on me. I know Hun. I know already.

At least stick to what you said and actually apologize or, if you can’t, just block me.

But this ask? This ask just upset me.

Have a nice day.

p.s: The fact that this even needs to be talked about is so absurd and ridiculous to me. The whole thing is a petty party in my eyes that isn't even worth anyone's time? Do people on here really not have any other issues right now or am I in the wrong movie?

[solomonish]

From the Mouths of Fools

Belphegor has a habit of forcing his brothers into trouble, mostly with you. There’s nothing more satisfying than the look of horror on their face when they think they must have dashed their chances with you and that they’re digging the hole deeper. Each time, you reach out a hand and ease their worries, and Belphegor’s stomach twists as you tell them with kind eyes not to worry, that they’re very sweet. Why did you have to be such a spoilsport?

(also posted on ao3 @ treetunkdaddy)

Poems:  A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, I Carry Your Heart With Me by E. E. Cummings, I Love You by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

Leviathan: I love you. Leviathan: I love you more than anyone else in this world. You: Thanks! Leviathan: Happy now? Leviathan: As I thought, this was the right thing to say.

You stared at your phone screen for a moment longer with one eyebrow raised. Something here wasn’t right. Though you weren’t some grand detective, you could tell that the texts didn’t sound like Levi at all Even beyond the sudden boldness, if you pictured Levi texting those messages you could only imagine him with a rain cloud over his head as he hunched over his phone in sorrow. The somber tone didn’t match his usual excitement. Maybe he was trying to get into character for some sort of cosplay…? Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to figure out if he had mentioned getting into character for something. Still, there was no way he wouldn’t know all the lines of a character he was trying to embody, and it seemed far-fetched that he’d choose something so...overt, let alone practice it with you.

Before you could distract yourself too much from the tasks you were supposed to be working on, a solid oof a few feet away from your door caught your attention. You could just barely hear a half-hearted grumble barely covering the low boyish giggles of a scheming Belphegor as Levi freaked out in a jumble of words that sounded more like a keysmash than an argument. A moment later, you got another slew of texts that seemed much more like the demon you knew.

Leviathan: AAAEWAGVNAFBPEABD Leviathan: WAAAAAIT! Leviathan: I take that back! Leviathan: AARGH, no, that’s not what I meant! Leviathan: I left my D.D.D. on the couch and Belphie ran off with it!

Ah. That made sense. It also explained the nervous energy you could practically feel radiating from where the two demons undoubtedly still lay in a heap. With a devious look on your face, you tapped away at your phone.

You: I took a screenshot of it!

You were right about one of them being outside your door. You could hear Levi’s startled yelp, followed shortly by frantic footsteps running down the hall to his door. The three dots danced on your screen as the sound got quieter, the message reaching you just as the door to Levi’s room slammed shut.

Leviathan: No, you can’t! Delete that ASAP! DELETEIIIITTTTT!

Snickering to yourself, you hefted yourself out of your seat and opened your door to peer out into the hallway. A little ways to your left, Belphie lay sprawled out on the carpet with a half-dazed expression on his face. Taking care to keep your footsteps quiet in case he actually was asleep, you bent over his face to look at his half-lidded eyes. After a moment of shifting into focus, Belphie gave you a lazy smile and patted the floor next to him.

“You should join me,” He offered. “The carpet is surprisingly soft.”

“Yeah, and surprisingly dirty,” You added, gently toeing at his shoulder as if that would spur him to move.

“If you stare at the pattern on the ceiling and let your eyes get unfocused, it’s real easy to fall asleep,” He suggested. You turned your head to look at the ceiling, seeing nothing but a boring, dark texture above you. If you squinted, you could almost make out swirls in the paint. Maybe demons had a better time seeing details in the dark.

Beneath you, Belphie hummed contentedly, folding his hands at his stomach. He almost looked like he was sunbathing in a meadow, surrounded by fragrant flowers - the image made your heart jump the slightest bit. Maybe, if that was the case, you would have joined him. Lying next to him as a gentle breeze danced over your skin and the tall grass kissed your skin...that didn’t seem like a bad way to spend an afternoon.

“Hey,” Belphie asked suddenly, holding you in a serious stare. It was one he didn’t bother to give you often, saving it only for when you trespassed him so greatly he needed to make it known (more often than not when he told you how lame Lucifer was if you mentioned how he’s helped you with some administrative details for the exchange program). “What did you feel when Levi sent you that message?”

“What?” You asked, shaken by the jarring change in his voice. He sounded much more stern, and though it was hard to tell while looking at him upside down, you were pretty sure he was holding you in a glare, albeit a very gentle one.

“Did it make you happy?” He asked. “That he might love you?”

Your face flushed at the personal question and you averted your gaze, missing the way Belphie’s gaze hardened at your reaction. “I-I knew they weren’t from Levi,” You answered, shaking your head and looking back at Belphie. “They sounded way too suave for him. I thought maybe he was playing a character, or something. I didn’t think they meant anything.”

“You thought they didn’t mean anything…” Nodding, Belphie’s mouth twisted in thought as he looked just past your shoulder blankly. Suddenly his arms shot up and he grabbed at the air a few times, shutting off any gateway to questions you might have. “Help me up. I wanna nap somewhere softer than this where I won’t get trampled.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the idea of leaving him there around once before shifting to his side and pulling him up. He took the chance to stumble into you, jamming his chin into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. Instead of feeling his breath tickle your skin, however, you felt his hair brush against you as he adjusted, eventually stopping once he was satisfied. You realized for a moment he was listening for your pulse, and your breathing shallowed on instinct, as if you wanted him to hear it. He didn’t tell you what he was listening for, only groaning when you started to ask him to let go so you could resume your day.

“Mmmm….maybe I should nap here? So comfy….” He murmured. Though he made no move to let go, he also didn’t fight you when you finally separated him from your body. Giving him a farewell smile, you turned your back to leave, not seeing his face fall in displeasure.

---

A few days later, there was a book on your bed that you were positive wasn’t there when you left that morning.

Dropping your backpack unceremoniously by your door, you peered at the worn cover to see it was an old collection of romantic poems. There was no suspicious Latin on the cover, now jewels (or missing jewels) to indicate it was a spellbook or otherwise enchanted, so you picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you saw it was a collection of human poems, many of which you read in your early school days. There were a few multicolored tabs stuck in it, no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Though it looked to be Satan’s book, you couldn’t imagine him risking getting adhesive on the worn pages. Curious, you flipped to the first marked page and scanned it, face flushing almost immediately.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

Flipping to the next marked page, your face turned an even deeper red as they scanned the page.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Each page you turned to gave you smooth velvet words that someone very clearly wanted to direct at you, each getting more intimate than the last. Every poem you read sent more blush to your face until you were positive another word would have you passing out.

I love your lips when they’re wet with wine And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the lovelight lies Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm white flesh Touches mine in a fond embrace; I love your hair when the strands enmesh Your kisses against my face.

Honeyed words of Shakespeare and Dickinson forced your heart to pump faster in your chest than you ever thought possible. Though your body really did feel like it might collapse under the affection the poems held, you couldn’t stop yourself from flipping through. Even though it was clear these poems weren’t written for you, the slightest implication that someone could think so highly of you had your head spinning. Before long, you were skimming the last marked page, barely able to catch your breath.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

A loud roar of Belphegor’s name shook you out of your love-stricken trance. Slamming the book shut as if you’d been caught doing something wrong, you listened to the hasty, angry footsteps of Satan right outside your door. The closer he got, you could hear his heavy breathing as he fought to contain his anger. “Where is that book? I know you were the last person in my room!”

Though the thought of being on the receiving end of Satan’s anger was enough to send you running, you slowly cracked open your door and peered out. Satan immediately whipped his head around to look at you, softening just a bit in an effort to let you know that you weren’t what he was after.

In a timid voice, you asked, “Which book would you happen to be looking for?”

“It was a collection of poems. You wouldn’t have happened to see it, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door all the way and held the book out to him. Snatching it out of your hands, Satan widened his eyes at the tabs. “Did you-”

“It was like that!” You defended. Satan realized you were jumpy and slowly inhaled, willing himself to calm down before you continued. “It was on my bed when I came home.”

With a gruff hum, Satan nodded at your explanation before flipping through the marked pages. “It’s alright, (Y/n). It’s not your fault. I’m positive Belphie was the one who took it since he was-”

Stopping mid-sentence, Satan flushed a deep red once he read which poems were marked to be read. “O-oh,” He murmured, pulling at his sweater collar and clearing his throat. “This is...these are pretty romantic, huh?”

“Well, it is a love poem collection,” You offered helpfully with a shrug. As if he didn’t believe you, Satan looked at the cover himself.

“I hope you didn’t mistake my intent. I didn’t mean for this book to end up in your care.”

“Ouch,” You hissed through your teeth. “Aren’t you a heartbreaker?”

Satan’s eyes widened before he furrowed his brows and backed a few steps away. “No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Heaving a sigh, he placed a hand on his chest and shut his eyes as he scowled. “Thank you for returning it to me. Have a good day.”

Satan turned on his heel and walked briskly away, leaving you to chuckle at the empty space before retreating back to your room. On your bed, beneath where the book was, lay a green sticky note you had missed in the excitement. Picking it up, you saw a note scrawled in messy handwriting that made you question just how genuine these advances were.

I’m not the best at expressing myself with words. Maybe if I borrow the words of others, you can finally know how I feel.

---

The pattern continued for a few days, with each brother falling victim to one of Belphie’s tricks. Each time, they managed to fluster themselves to impossible standards, aside from Asmo who insisted he never sent you that love letter and don’t you know how beautiful his handwriting is like the rest of him? Oh, but if a love letter was what you were after, he’d send mountains and mountains until you just couldn’t resist him anymore-

By that time, you had gently shut the door in his face and jogged back to your room, just as red as the rest of the brothers were when it was their time to be the victim. Belphegor even managed to send you an email with a fake account with a name so similar to Lucifer’s you almost didn’t catch the differences. By that time, you saw through his jokes and simply asked:

You: Really? An email? lvcifer.pride@dmail.com: What? He’s such a loser that I wouldn’t put it past him.

Even now, over a week since the last incident, Mammon was shouting in the hall as he kept running circles around himself, demanding Belphie to stop making advances on his human and to stop making him look like a fool. Without fail, Belphie always asked, “Oh? Is it foolish to think highly of the human?” Mammon was sent into a new frenzy every time.

By the time they were finished, you were exhausted just from listening to their incessant bickering. Mammon had scurried off, desperate to hide his embarrassment, while Belphie slumped down on the couch next to you and gave you a lazy grin. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to return it. The antics had to stop.

“I think you should stop using me as a tool to mess with your brothers,” You said, not yet unpausing the show you were watching before the fighting started. Belphie scrunched his face and looked at you without moving his head.

“No can do. It’s too fun to see how desperately they try to save your honor from themselves. Idiots.”

Cringing at the insult, you continued, “Okay, but can you stop with the love advances? It’s a bit...much.”

Finally moving, Belphie turned his head to give you a scrutinizing look you didn’t understand before relaxing back into the couch. “Sure,” He answered humorlessly, tone dry and brittle with what was, to you, misplaced disgust. “It was losing its charm anyway.”

Now he was sulking, and you had half a mind to press play and just ignore his bitter mood. Still, you didn’t mean to make him pout, even if you had no idea where it came from and therefore weren’t exactly responsible for the shift. Sighing, you turned your back on him and leaned back, moving so your head was resting on his slumped chest. Without sparing you a look, Belphie reached his slim finger up and slowly carded them through your hair, making no effort to comb any tangles and deciding to ruffle it instead.

“I would like to know what’s got you in such a sour mood,” You said bluntly, turning your head to watch Belphegor stare at the ceiling blankly. Other than the occasional slow blink, you would have thought he had fallen asleep with how long it took him to respond. You knew better than to think he was ignoring you - he was either thinking of an answer he was satisfied to give or teasing you, seeing how long you’d wait for him and then pointing out how much you must value what he has to say if you’d wait that long.

“You enjoyed it too much,” He finally said, keeping his gaze from yours.

“I enjoyed it?” You repeated, narrowing your eyes. “I can assure you, I enjoyed none of what happened.”

“The fighting, maybe,” He agreed. “But I heard you tell Levi you thought it’d be sweet if he had texted you. I saw your face when you thought the poems were from Satan.”

“You were there?” Trying to remember the scene with Satan, you ran a hand partially through your hair and rested your palm on your forehead.

“The love letter, the gift basket, everything- you enjoyed it before you realized it was fake.”

“Belphegor, where were you?” You asked, knowing he would ignore your question. How many other times had he been secretly watching you without your knowledge? The thought made you shiver.

Clearly disgruntled, Belphegor growled at your questions before rolling his eyes. “At first I was just messing with you, but I never would have guessed you would sooner take sweet nothings from the mouths of fools before you’d ever take the real deal from me when I offer it out to you.”

Blinking rapidly, you felt your face warm and your heartbeat stutter for the thousandth time this week. “You...you never offered me anything,” you answered dumbly. Displeasure flickered across Belphie’s face before he sighed again and slumped further down, forcing your head down with him.

“Of course I didn’t. The others did, but not me,” He replied in such a way that barely hid the frustration in his tone, but the irony he was lamenting was lost on you. Sitting up, you shifted to sit on your knees and bent over Belphie to look at him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Belphie turned his head away, but you grabbed his cheeks and gently pulled them towards you so he could face you directly. “Belphie, tell me what you were trying to do.”

For a moment, Belphie wondered if he could just slump out of your grasp and lock himself back in the attic, clear by the pondering expression he wore on his face. You squished his face a little tighter, just enough to keep him in place and speak up. “I guess...I was hoping you would think the love letters and everything were from them and you’d reject them.” He looked to the side to avoid the pity you couldn’t hide on your face, his gaze unintentionally hardening. “Why didn’t you reject them? You should have rejected them.”

“I knew it wasn’t real! I was just trying to make them feel better,” You defended. Swiping your hand away from him, Belphie lifted himself up so he was sitting straight and crossed his arms, the image of a petulant child. “Is this...is this your version of a confession?”

Though he did his best to maintain his glare, Belphie couldn’t fight the light pink that tinted his cheeks. “So what if it is?”

Thoroughly pleased with yourself, you sat back on your heels and pretended you needed to mull things over. His hair was covering his eye and he kept his head turned away from you, but you could feel Belphie’s pensive gaze on you as you made your decision. Grinning and leaning closer, you asked, “Is this another prank?”

You felt his cold hands on either side of your face before you even saw him move. He glowered at you with no heat, putting on an upset show. If anything, he was more upset that you insisted on teasing him when you were so nice to the others. “If you can look at me and say you think I’m pranking you right now, you really are just a stupid human.”

Your grin widened. “A stupid human you’d have no qualms about kissing, though, right?”

There was no need to answer you with words when showing you was much more enjoyable.

[sweetestlamb]

The Greatest Show

Summary: Come on, get into it. 

Author's note: I haven’t been inspired to write for this fandom in a while because honestly the writers are doing amazing, everything I think of is pure filth because I am eagerly awaiting their next kiss. But episode 17 broke my brain with their squash the rumor scene, the growling and grunting that So-Bong was so unaffected by. These two need a tent, desperately. Enjoy my royal pervs, here is my offering. 

p.s. picture borrowed from @tomorrowsdrama- thank you for the screenshots of this amazing moment! 

He's doing what he must to survive, that's all. End of sentence. He takes no pleasure in slamming the King into the closest surface and rubbing their body against him like a cat in heat, not in the slightest. Rumors are weeds, you have to rip them out for flowers and crops to flourish. That's all they're doing, weeding the garden of Joseon so it can flourish for their future child. 

That's what he tells himself as they cross paths in the royal hall, the King is flagged by the entire royal court animatedly discussing something of seemingly vast importance if their volume suggests anything. As he takes a step forward, Court Lady Choi seizes their hand halting them in place.

"Your highness you just not approach the King when he is with the Royal court. It is not proper. We just simply bow as they walk by."

But he doesn't care about propriety or appearing decent and well-behaved in front of these corrupt old bags, they are simply larger weeds that need to be disposed of. Smirking at their potential outrage, he grins evilly letting that fuel him even more before pulling up their dress to run over to their Cheoljongie. He looks bored out of his mind so it can also be considered a good deed, he's such a giving wife.

"My King!" Her voice rings out as he calls to his husband, who immediately looks over at them warmth filling those expressive eyes. Without hesitation the King bounds over to them happily, his movement only slightly faster than his usual glide ever the diligent King.

"My Queen, I have missed you."

The members of the backstabbing clan look disgruntled at the King's sudden departure, grumbling and pointing at them as if they have committed the highest crime.

If they think this is inappropriate then they're in for a huge surprise.

Looking down demurely, he thinks of his younger days when he was a junior understudy for the school play his acting prowess would come in handy now.

"Not as much as I have missed you, my love." He whispers the word of affection, reaching up to caress the King's cheeks softly making sure to appear infatuated. He has to force that after all because he doesn't do that naturally, despite what the royal maids claim. They are just confused, So-yong has a soft face that appears adoring at time despite his true emotions. 

With a soft whimper he throws himself into the King's arm, feeling those strong arms encircle her small waist, lightning zips through their veins but he ignores her bodily reaction.

We're just acting, take the memo! He internally berates the other inhabitant of this hormonally charged body.

But when Cheoljong strokes their neck and easily lifts them off their feet, he gasps loudly clinging to him harder for balance and because her knees suddenly feel weak.

"Your majesty, we do not have time for such....improper dalliance. You must not do this in such a public venue." One of the old farts stage whispers sounding positively scandalized and it revs him up even further. As he feels the King starting to retreat he jumps forward, wrapping their body around the King's like a limpet.

Cheoljong's eyes sparks to life the new position placing them eye to eye, panting softly onto each other. The air between them is charged and thick like a bowl of porridge. 

"Your highness, I agree you mustn't do this." Court lady Choi pleads with her, averting her eyes away from the tangled couple. 

He looks over Cheoljong's wide shoulders to see the Royal court affronted and wide eyed and Court Lady Choi with a similar expression, Hong Yeon is trying desperately to smother her smile as she averts her eyes. Sending her a secret wink, he pulls the King's head forward staring hungrily at his lips.

"I cannot resist, seeing him awakens such deep passion inside of me. Just one?"

He looks at her dazed, as if he's forgotten everyone surrounding them.

"Just...one?" He questions, confusion morphing into sudden realization as he watches them slide their tongue across plush lips.

"Oh."

Ignoring the cacophony of voices around them, he closes the miniscule space between them puckering up and kissing the soft skin of the King's cheek. Cheoljong tries blindly to catch her lips when they retract but he places a slim finger on his pursed lips.

Shaking their head lightly, he starts to slide down the King's hard body feeling the tight muscles even through the layers of fabric.

"We must save the rest for later, my heart. Come and visit us soon." He rubs at his stomach fondly, staring up into Cheoljong’s red face, he looks good enough to eat.

Wait what. Who thought that? No, it's the baby talking I'm just hungry, that's enough of a show.

Bowing deeply at the men, he steps around the King who is still frozen in his spot. Gathering himself he turns to the royal court with an innocent smile, "I apologize, I could not control myself. I will take a long walk to reflect on my behavior."

They collectively stare at her with gaped mouths as she walks off regally, shoulders straight as if nothing happened. After a few steps he turns around, calling over their shoulder, "Don't keep me waiting!" And then to add the proverbial cherry on top, he curls their finger before letting out a roar to which everyone jumps looking bewildered, except the King whose eyes could pierce a hole through their face.

He looks like a starved man. Maybe they should make him some more ramyeon?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To say he's flustered is a bit of an understatement considered the problem in his pants. Logically he understands the Queen's actions earlier, she'd merely been doing what they had both agreed to feigning affection to dissolve those erroneous rumors that were circulating the kingdom. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this immensely.

His Queen was an enigma he had even up on fully understanding, instead choosing to accept her and all that came with her. And her feelings for him were part of his confusion, she seemed to fluctuate between her emotions without rhyme or reason. He never knew which version of her he would be receiving at any given moment. So having her acting the way he'd only imagined in his dreams was both satisfying and unsettling.

It would be most difficult to go back to their normal, he wanted her in his arms always. Desperately yearned for intimacy that didn't dissipate when the sun peeked over the horizon.

Pushing his work to the side of the table he sighs leaning back into his seat thinking about his Queen.

"Why must she be so confusing?" He groans to myself thinking about their first night together, how passionate she'd been his ears burn remembering the sharp pain of her teeth sinking it. He had bite marks in... interesting places from that heated encounter but her behavior after had been consistent only in it's in inconsistency.

Running away from him, even going as far as hiding. Then just as suddenly she stopped avoiding him and they settled into comfortable nights together. However, they hadn't been intimate since despite his many efforts, he just wanted a kiss those plush pink lips were so tempting and today they'd been so very close. He needed that kiss like he needed air, he didn't care who was around. If she had kissed him he wouldn't have controlled himself, he would have hungrily devoured.

"Your majesty it is getting late, we must leave now if you wish to see the Queen." The head eunuch interrupts his inklings, bowing low in respect.

Is he ready for this? His control feels paper thin at the moment. But he did promise and they have an image to uphold.

Gathering his strength he rises, "Alright, let us take over leave. I shouldn't keep my Queen waiting."

The walk to Daejeon Hall is short but it feels like he's traversing miles, despite his previous concerns he is now eager to see the Queen. Her face is gorgeous at all hours but there's something about her face lit with candlelight, knowing he's the only one who is allowed to see her at such hours.

Accelerating his feet, he almost races to her ignoring cries from the head eunuch in the distance. Every second not spent in her company is a second wasted.

The Queen's Court lady announces his arrival before they all bow walking backwards out of the room before sliding the doors shut.

"You took your sweet time, I told you not to keep me waiting." She glares at him, pouting slightly bringing all his attention to her mouth.

"I apologize my Queen there were pressing matters to deal with." He lies easily no attention of clarifying his meaning, she doesn't need to know that dousing his arousal was the pressing matter at hand.

"Whatever. What's more important than me?" She scoffs looking offended turning away from him.

He lowers down into a crouch, crawling across the room until they are side by side. The Queen gasps at his unexpected closeness, staring at him with wide eyes and open lips.

Grasping at her hands he stares deeply into her gorgeous eyes solemnly with no humor in his voice, "Nothing. You are most important to me, both of you." Reverently he reaches out a hand to palm at her still small belly, impatient to see her round with his seed.

Her face slowly softens as he rubs her stomach and then she places her hand atop his, no longer resistant to these fleeting moments of intimacy.

Instinctively he starts to lean forward, laser focus on her lips as he inches closer to her. When he's close enough to breath into her mouth she snaps from her haze, moving back marginally he almost growls at her he's so frustrated, he's barely able to swallow the sound.

"What are you doing? There's no one to put on a show for."

He peers at her searching her face, her pupils are dilated and he can feel how fast she's breathing each puff landing on his face, her expression near identical to their last night together. But she's stopping him. Even though she clearly desires this too.

He thinks back to her behavior earlier too, she was brazen then comfortable climbing him in front of so many others all in the name of squashing the rumors.

She needs an excuse to do this.

He should feel offended by this epiphany but instead it brings him resolve, she clearly still hasn't fully let him into her heart but she feels something for him she's more than proven that to him. If she needs to draw a line to be with him then so be it for now, he will prove himself to her everyday.

"There are several court maids and servants outside your room, they are pretending they are not listening but they are. Sometimes your imagination can be even more powerful than reality."

She looks towards the door, eying the shadows through the thin covering before turning back to him and nodding in understanding.

"Okay. Let's give them a show."

Without warning she knocks a marble vase to the ground, the loud crash filling the room as it makes contact with the floor.

Then she moans. Loudly. A suggestive gasping moan that goes straight to his chest before zinging lower, tucking at his loins.

She pushes him when he sits silently merely staring at her, "You need to play along too. Come on, get into it."

There's it is again. That damn phrase.

Get into it.

If only she knew how into it he truly was. Grabbing at her ankle and tucking her underneath him, he slams his arms on either side of her head before groaning deeply, "My Queen, please."

Pride explodes in his chest when he sees a deep blush glide across her face. Not unaffected.

"Am I getting into it enough for you now?" He whispers darkly, itching to lower his weight and kiss that delicious look off her face.

Surprisingly she stutters out, "Ye-a-ah. You seem very into it now, nobody can see us though. We don't need to be like this." She motions between their bodies, unable to meet his gaze now. She motions between their bodies, unable to meet his gaze now. She's right but he also knows that he can't miss this chance, he has her right where he wants her and besides squirming distractedly she hasn't shown any desire for him to move away.

"Do you want me to stop?" When she doesn't immediately answer he begins to move backward giving her space but she latches onto his forearm, tight.

"Wait! Maybe we should commit even if they can't see us, it'll help us play our roles better." She reasons and he smiles, razor sharp. She wants this just as badly as he does, he's studied her long enough to read between these lines.

Swiftly he rolls them over so she's on top, pressed together from shoulders to feet her long braid swinging over and brushing against his cheek. Gently wrapping it around his hand he uses it to bring her closer, her breath hitches seductively and he whispers, "Louder. So they can hear you." Without waiting for a reply he tugs at her hair again harder this time and the sound that escapes her lips is orgasmic, a high whining moan that sets his skin on fire. Emboldened and aroused he grabs her neck, speaking into her opened mouth "Do you like that my Queen?" Her eyes are glazed over as she sways as if intoxicated by him.

"Cheoljong, kiss me."

It's too quiet for anyone's ears but his and that makes him even hotter, this wasn't part of the show. This was just for him, just for them.

Always one to seize the moment, he yanks her down to meet his eagerly waiting mouth swallowing the moan that rolls off her tongue. The kiss escalates immediately with both twisting and licking, wet sucking noises soaking the room as they bring apart to gasp for air and crash back together, chaotically and perfectly. When he feels a wondering hand graze his groin he can't resist the urge to thrust up into her touch. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her even closer, although there is no space between them.

When he pulls back, her eyes remain close as she licks her lips as if chasing his taste on them. His cock jumps jealously.

"I want you." He admits, wanting to make it clear if his intentions are not already crystalline to her. He wants no room for misunderstandings tonight.

She stares wordlessly before reaching across his body and then he sees the oil in her hand, he hadn't noticed its presence next to them but he eagerly takes it from her.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Don't go soft on me now, bring back the guy who was pulling my hair. Do you want me to call you Daddy too?"

His breath hitches at the word, he doesn't understand why but hearing her makes something dark coil in his belly. She lifts an eyebrow at his heavy silence, "You're so kinky."

He stares confused again, nothing new to him but he stores the word away for further inspection of its meaning. "Is kin-ky bad?" He asks reaching down to lower his pants and cover himself in the thick oil coating each inch of the hard pole.

She doesn't answer right away, avidly watching him stroke himself to fullness before rubbing at the bulbous deep scarlet head, serving to make him almost painfully turned on. "No, kinky is good. I like kinky." She tugs her skirt up and his eyes bulge when instead of seeing the various layers he should see there is only bare skin.

Had he been seduced? It feels as if he has been but he doesn't care enough to question her or pause this for a second. He would happily be her fool.

Gripping at her hips he rubs against her, groaning when her wetness smears across him obscenely. She grinds down onto him meeting him head on, they are definitely on the same page now.

Unable to wait for even another second, he envelopes her in his arms before sliding into her smoothly her natural moisture and the oil easing the way until he is completely encased. She moans long and wailing as he slides to the hilt, he groans loudly joining her as she scratches roughly down his back even through the sturdy material he can feel the burn. Absently he considers gentling his moves, she is pregnant and more fragile after all. But she must read his face and be vehemently against his plan because suddenly she rises up, slipping off his hardness before slamming back down the loud smacking of skin filling the room.

"It's time for the main event. Don’t stop now.” She challenges him, squeezing around his erection. 

Pushing his reservations to the side, he gets into it full heartedly thrusting hard before capturing her mouth in a harsh kiss, hissing when he feels her teeth tug roughly at his bottom lip, his lioness has returned. He teasingly roars into her mouth and she laughs around his tongue, breaking free only to latch on his neck sucking hard. He hopes it leaves a mark.

Her laughter causes her to tighten around him and he groans at her vice like grip on his cock, he can feel himself nearing the end. Recalling their first night he suddenly grabs her neck, squeezing lightly and when she whines in a broken gasp he tightens his hand and delights as she melts slowly limp in his hold, he supports her weight easily bucking into her tight heat. When he thrusts up a second time he feels her wetness gush around him before he loses himself, his climax tensing his body as he slowly falls apart.

The entire kingdom will surely be in an uproar tomorrow.

He's looking forward to it. That will teach them to spread rumors about their intimate affairs. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the hallway, Hong Yeon brings her hands to her hot cheeks feeling overheated from the King and Queen's boisterous gathering. Every court maid is blushing as they look discretely at the door with every moan and groan that escapes. She hopes this will qualm the rumors in the kingdom, she cannot take this for much longer. Court lady Choi had left to retrieve water after their first moans and had yet to return, she surmised if the Queen were not already with child she would have been impregnated again going by the sounds they were making. It was all too obvious to her, despite the Queen's strange behavior at times, they were desperately in love with each other. She'd never seen two people who were more crafted for the other.

Anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. 

[thevoilinauttheory]

The Missing Students

[ i would’ve posted a nice screenshot with this, but my fingies have not been nice to me recently and writing itself is very difficult (and so i am now late to the party with jumping in on the event but i wanted to get it out anyways to at least say that i was here lol). apparently typing is very hard when you can’t feel your fingers ]

[ this is for an ongoing event/thread started by @the-children​! while this specific piece was not in response to one of the public threads, another should be up sometime today regarding one of them - and if i can get my fingies to work, maybe a second one too. thank you so much for the opportunity to join in! ]

==

“Grandfather?” Lothaire peered around the corner of one of the library’s entrances, keeping a close eye on Maximiloix as the man paced back and forth down the library’s hall - wearing holes in the floor during a frenzied one-sided conversation with himself. He spoke to himself, low, under his breath, muttering like the already-mad man he was. His thoughts weren’t so easily broken, and he continued to gesture vaguely with his inaudible words until Lothaire was directly in front of him. Maximiloix stopped right in his grandson’s face, staring blankly at him for a moment in some much needed silence before he took a large step back. “Is there something you need?” “Uh, yeah. The library. The kids need it for, y’know… studying? You’re kinda taking up the whole place. And you’re scaring them. Can you pace elsewhere, please?” Another blank stare - it was always so unsettling, having his grandfather look at him like another victim. Whatever thought was going through his head wasn’t a good one, he knew that much. “Actually.” “I knew it.” “This is a matter I should be speaking with you about.” “Great.” “Sit down.” Lothaire let out a heavy sigh, throwing himself down on the nearest chair - it had been a long day already, he didn’t want to deal with this more than he had to. He watched as Maximiloix began pacing back and forth again, much to his dismay.

“Are all of the children here accounted for?” “Of course - we just did roll earlier today.” “Both for the school and orphanage?” “I don’t like where this is going, but yes. We make certain to count heads when we can, especially during meals.” “And your own children?” “Misha would have both my heads if I lost track of even one of them for half a second.” Lothaire snorted, folding his arms over his chest. He shook his head as the realization sunk in a little more. “What’s going on? And have you checked your school?” “Mm.” Maximiloix stopped in the middle of the hall, turning his head to the opposite side of the room towards a slowly dying fireplace. “...Some of my students have gone missing, yes. But there is a strangeness to the story that I… am not fond of. When I had visited the school last, Reinaire relayed to me that the same students had been missing their class - those students were ones that ended up being housed in the Featherfall Orphanage. She wrote it off as them being adopted and having moved to a home with their own schooling system but…” His eye turned over to his grandson now, watching the anxiety creep on him slowly. “...well, I made my way there to ask them of what happened - and what am I to find but a horror story in waiting. Missing children, one account of a caretaker ripped to shreds; and among the gone, my students. So. Keep your eyes on them. I mean it, Lothaire.” “Y- Yeah… All eyes on them, got it. I’ll let Misha know. I take it… you’re going to try and find the missing students?” “I made my mistake with Quinn and his friends, I will not let the same mistake happen twice. Yes, I am going to attempt finding them… on top of the Maelstrom breathing down my neck for aid. Apparently another island has so graciously appeared in a group of storms, and the first they turn to is the expert in magic - and while I am more than confident in my abilities… I cannot fathom why they would believe I have the answers at my fingertips.” Lothaire leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees - he wanted to help in this mystery where he could, but he had too much on his plate as it was; and he certainly wasn’t going to leave his husband to run the place on his own time. “Do you think they’re connected?” “Hm?” “Children disappearing all of a sudden, murders of caretakers, this unexplainable appearance of an entire damned island?” “While you likely are not the first to think so, you are the first in my presence to - and… ugh. I suppose I should not discredit the idea. It is a little far-fetched, if I am to believe it, but if that is the first lead I have, then I suppose I should return to the Maelstrom and let them know that I am willing to lend my expertise where I can.” Lothaire heaved himself to his feet, leaning back to stretch as he got ready to step out again. “Well, I’ll at least let Misha know to be vigilant in counting heads; and I’ll rope Caromont into it too - good, uh… good luck.” “I am going to need it, if the good luck is coming from you.” Maximiloix snorted. “Oh, ah. Lothaire.” “Hm?” “...Have you been hearing… anything strange, recently?” “You’re likely having another hallucination, Grandfather - how long has it been since you’ve slept.” “Eight days, but no. This is different.” “Gods, without a beat either… no, I haven’t. No voices. No noises. Everything’s been normal. Well, it’s not going to be now, since you brought all of this up.” Lothaire shook his head. “Ignore the voices and get some sleep before you leave, okay?” “Like hells I will.” He sighed, waving Lothaire off without another word. 

“Difficult to ignore the multitudes of childrens’ voices at once, but… certainly is not much different than what I am used to, I suppose.”

[signed-yours-truly-the-whale]

Thoughts/Observations on Joker, part 1

AKA I Spent 7 Hours on This, I Will Die if it Gets Less Than Three Notes

I could rave for hours about this movie’s cinematography. Literal hours.

Nobody talks enough about Arthur’s full-fledged dedication to his clown craft. Man is working 60+ hours a week and does not break a sweat. I also fucking love this clowny face he pulls here. The first shot we see of Arthur in full. Holy shit is it beautiful. God bless Joaquin Phoenix.

These two shots together are incredibly important to me. In a split-second we see Arthur’s disbelief that he cannot control the whirlwind of emotions inside of his own head, not even being able to produce a smile, and then his resignation because it’s just another day. Heartbreaking.

Awwww shiiiiit

Gotham City is such a dump but I’d be bullshitting myself if I said I didn’t love the grimy aesthetic of it. It’s technicolor trash.

Arthur loves his job so much. He genuinely enjoys being Carnival. That hurts a lot to think about in hindsight.

This man just got his ass handed to him and he is STILL SPRAYING THE FAKE FLOWER ON HIS VEST

YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT DEDICATION

This opening card is so imposing. Not only does it take up the entire screen to the point of running off the edges, but it’s shielding Arthur from view. Arthur is invisible in light of Joker in Arthur’s own movie.

I screenshotted this by accident but I felt a need to put it here because he’s just so adorable. Even right before an episode.

E y e s s s s s

E Y E S S S S S

I desperately want to know what got Arthur sent to Arkham the first time. A suicide attempt? A public breakdown? I really want fanfics of it.

There’s a really, really good fanfiction on AO3 by Arthur_Fleck about Arthur slowly recovering and meeting a girl called In the Major and Minor Arcana

I highly, highly recommend it

Okay. Joaquin’s immersion into his characters -- all of them -- is absolutely incredible. But Arthur is just ... off the charts, man. No two of his characters are the same and he embeds himself so deeply in their skin, but Joaquin buried himself so deeply into Arthur’s brain that it is so hard for me to see any of Joaquin at all. God, he’s incredible and this shot makes me emotional because this just is Arthur.

ARTHUR WOULD BE A GREAT DAD AND I DO NOT ACCEPT ARGUMENTS

It really speaks to how shitty Gotham is that this man is having a full-fledged screaming/laughing breakdown on the bus and nobody is batting an eye

I adore how the cinematography paints Arthur as so small to his own environment. He’s a speck of dust. A fleck.

Babie is wincing :((((

I have been trying to figure out the layout of this apartment for months and my inability to, even with a floor plan, is driving me insane

I just found out that the Budweiser beer jingle Here Comes the King is on the soundtrack and plays when Arthur comes home and that made me go feral

I  A M  M U R R A Y , K I N G  O F  A S S H O L E S

It is second nature for me to do this stupid pose every time I watch this scene

Arthur blending into the crowd here makes me ... so happy. He looks so happy.

This is Arthur’s best laugh of the movie, fuck you. I am incredulous that I was the only person laughing when I saw this in the theater opening night.

This is one of the few moments I really see Joaquin shine through Arthur. I don’t know why, but this lighting and his voice and his intensity gives me visceral flashbacks to watching a little boy Joaquin in Parenthood. God, I love this man.

It really is a testament to Penny’s (lack of) parenting that Arthur is day dreaming about receiving affection and validation from a parent figure when his own mother is literally right there

GOD DAMN THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

But also big bruise :(

Yes, I shall trust you, man named Randall smiling down at me in low angle light

Why was Hoyt not informed that Arthur got his ass beat on the job? As Arthur’s employer he should’ve literally been the first person to know so he could make a note of it. Either he wasn’t told or he gave so little of a fuck that his consciousness astral projected to another plane of existence while he shoved the white powder down his throat and forgot Arthur existed at all.

Literally fuck Hoyt. I hate him even more that his office is the coolest shit in the world

ARTHUR KNOWS THE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILE

Joaquin dislocated his knee in this scene, the poor boy

I could write a full damn essay about why the misleading advertising of Sophie as a prominent character was the greatest twist of the whole movie. Literally I am still speechless how the movie did that.

I am not kidding when I say my sister has this same color scheme in the bathroom of our house and realizing that made me werewolf

Also Arthur being the son Penny doesn’t deserve warms and breaks my heart

The complete lack of reaction to Penny’s “Don’t you have to be funny to be a comedian” makes me laugh and cry internally

This shot? Gorgeous. His face? Deadly. That jawline? Cutting diamonds. Hotel? Trivago.

I really, really want a Joker 2, but at the same time I do not want a Joker 2 because Joaquin Phoenix has a baby who needs him now and he cannot be pulling shit like losing 52 lbs for a role

Also I REALLY need to discuss how much this brass ballet reminds me so heavily of Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. Holy fuck, I got actually chills in the theater

Like holy fuck

And then this shot reminds me so heavily of the opening of Fedddy vs Jason with Freddy Krueger laughing over his newspaper collage of missing children. Holy fuck I love this cinematography.

Guys. G - Guys, his name tag says Dr. Carnival, can you hear me  s o b b i n g

This part is so Chaplinesque, the way he slides the gun into his coat again

These children look so afraid of him for dropping the gun and wowie, does that really hurt

Was this asshole supposed to be modeled after Eric Trump? Because I get really douchebaggy Eric Trump vibes (minus the jacked teeth) from this ringleader

I don’t have much to say here except I am in love with the way Artie’s hair sticks straight up in bottle curls when the clown wig slides off

Also if you decide it’s a good idea to mess with a man dressed as a clown laughing maniacally on the subway of one of the most dangerous cities in the world, you are asking him to shoot you and I will not feel sorry for you

I will never not be in love with this image. I fell in love with it in the teaser trailer and almost went feral in the middle of the mall when I saw this was the poster they used to advertise the movie with. My friend described this movie as “chaos, beautified,” and nothing sums it up as well as this picture.

JOAQUIN AND TODD MADE THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE UP AND I AM IN LOVE

Hello, handsome

[drethanramslay]

Voicemails (part 1)

Pairing: Ethan x mc

Word count: 5.5 K words (damn that's the most I have written

Masterlist

Warning: ANGST

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 @an-urban-witch-ig @ramseyegerton @noboundariesplease @mrsdr-ethan-ramsey @newcolonies @theodorepjames4 @unluckygs @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey  @caseyvalentineramsey @ohramsey @virtualrain202 @squishywizardhq  @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @nooruleman @itsgoingnuts @cordonianbleu @agent-breakdance @jamespotterthefirst @choicesfanaf @temptress-of-death-and-desire @ac27dj @rookiefromedenbrook @gaiusimp @theeccentricbibliophile @oofchoices @hatescapsicum @sanchita012 @edgiestwinter (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know ☺️)

Author's note: Well I know I said I was going on semi hiatus but, my studies are going great so I decided to post 🤪 also, shout out to @kittykatchoices for helping me in bouncing ideas( she is amazing)

also I went full out and posted screenshots and dividers sike

Songs: Callin by Alec Bailey is my main muse but I made a playlist too

Forgive me if there are any errors

Day 1

Ethan was jolted awake from his slumber as the flight touched down. It continued to speed down the runaway when it eventually reduced to a slow crawl and he saw the glass facade of the airport, glinting in the afternoon sun.

AEROPORTO INTERNACIONAL DE MANAUS EDUARDO GOMES. The banner read and Ethan let the reality sink in that he actually was in the state of Amazonas, South America.

"Welcome to Manaus International Airport. The weather here is partly sunny with 98% chance of precipitation. The temperature is..."

Ethan zoned out. His back was killing him and the need to stretch was becoming unbearable. Even though the WHO team of doctors had settled in comfortably in the plush seats of the private jet, it was a very boring flight.

There is a certain restrictions to the number of boring and wasteful romantic comedies you could watch in a 40 hour flight.

They did have 2 stops for refueling but they weren't allowed to step out of the plane.

God I want to go on a run so bad. He thought mentally as he massaged his spasming neck.

The doctors kicked back and relaxed, ocassionally discussing the cholera epidemic break out in Tefé, a small city on the riverside. It was very productive and they did manage to make a dent in the treatment plan but, when everybody was asleep and it was just him and his thoughts.

And his thoughts mostly revolved around the reason why he volunteered to join these prestigious doctors to battle the epidemic.

It wasn't out of selflessness, or the need to save humanity or for some mindless award.

It was an opportunity.

An opportunity to run from the girl who has invaded his head and heart, and resided there. 

Leah.

You are doing this for her own good. You are doing this for her professional development. You are doing this for her success. Feelings are fleeting, they will fade away. Ethan repeated those sentences like mantra, trying to ingrain it in his mind that he was doing the right thing leaving her behind.

No call, no text. A clean break.

But no matter how much you lie to your brain, you can't lie to your heart.

Ethan you know you are running away from her because she confessed that she loved you, stop lying to yourself. The snarky inside voice spoke up.

But, if he paid attention to it closely, it sounded just like Leah, calling him out in his bullshit.

He shook his head, trying to erase all the thoughts in his head as the aero-bridge connected to the door and they were opened. Standing up, he stretched his sore muscles and took out his duffle bag.

When he reached the exit, the air hostess with a face caked with makeup, gave him a polite smile. "Hope you had a pleasant flight doctor."

Pleasant my ass...

As he walked through the corridors towards the baggage claim area, he switched on his phone.

As he stood there waiting, he saw an influx of messages from Naveen and his dad.

But that was not what caught his eye.

Leah🌞

(3) missed calls (1) voicemail -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was midnight here and around 1 am in Boston.

Ethan walked out of the bathroom, exhausted to the bone. It had been a long day for him. The moment they had landed they had been rushed to Tefé, where they dived straight into work. The hospital was already flooding and there was so much pain and suffering all around.

Ethan has the emotions of a block of granite but, seeing so much misery and sadness, made his energies drop low.

And it did not help that the pocket in which his phone was kept, was weighing him down.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞.

He wanted to delete it immediately but every time his finger hovered above the delete button, he just could not. So, he let it lay there in his inbox as a heavy reminder.

The moment Ethan's back hit the mattress a huge sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was weary and his body ached.

But, sleep didn't come to him.

He just lay there staring at the ceiling, seeing the different shadows casted by the moonlight. He saw the shadows of the trees swaying and the reflection of the Amazon.

His eyes landed on his phone on the bedside table and he stared at it for a long time, contemplating if listening to the voicemail was worth it or not.

You don't have to respond...

But, then my resolve will weaken...

His logic and conscience went back and forth but there wasn't any clear winner.

If this is what having feelings for someone is like, I don't want it...

But, you would take a 100 leap of faiths for Leah, won't you?

"ARGH!" Ethan threw the comforter off and got up. He started pacing around the room, trying to work off his restlessness. He walked around the room, his eyes trained on the phone as if it was a bomb. He clenched his jaw and tried to not let one insignificant notification affect him, but it was getting harder with every passing minute.

"Ah fuck it." Ethan said as he picked up the phone to listen to the voicemail. Leah's uncertain and raw voice flooded which forced him to lie down because of the emotions which bubbled to the surface.

"Umm.. hey Ethan, Leah here. I..uh heard that you went to the Amazon to fight the cholera epidemic from Naveen today... And I am proud of you but, I know that is not the reason why you ran, is it?

It's because I said 'I love you' three days ago, isn't it?"

Leah's voice cracked as she took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Are those three words that scary?

I had prepared myself that you would ignore my very existence and shut out all the feelings and that would have been painful but bearable, but... You literally ran to another fucking continent?!"

She bitterly chuckled and Ethan's heart squeezed.

"I don't even know what to do at this point. Don't they say that you should confess your feelings the moment you realize them, otherwise you will regret it? But... I can't help but feel regret... Why do I even try? I should have just shut the fuck up and get on with my day but NO! I had to open my mouth and here I am here talking to your answering machine.

I just can't help but feel that I let you slip away from me...

Anyways, it's okay.. I will wait. I promised you I would always wait.

Just...come back to me..okay? Bye."

The phone beeped, signalling the end of the voicemail. Ethan lowered his hand to stare at his phone's screen.

"I love you Ethan. And it's okay if you don't say it back. I know you need time and I will be here waiting for you..."

That's what she had said three days ago. And as much as they lifted him, it pained him. He was confused and just couldn't think straight. He needed some space.

But, he could feel his resolution weakening. The itch to dial that number and talk to her was irresistible.

You made a promise to yourself Ethan. You can't go back on that now.

He let out a deep sigh and ran his hand through his brown locks. His eyes landed on the table on which there was the complementary stationary provided by the b&b. An idea slowly bloomed in his head and he nodded to himself.

Sure I can't call her. But atleast I can write down my reply so that it won't keep on being a burden on my shoulder.

With that being said, Ethan sat down on the desk and poured his heart out on the loose sheets of papers.

DAY 10

For the next ten days, Ethan would keep an eye on the phone for any notification.

And by any notification, it meant a voicemail or a message from that one particular woman who had him in the palm of her hand.

He would get excited whenever his phone would ping but, his hopes would immediately crash when it would just be a message from the telecom company telling him about his telephone bill.

After he got his seventh 'Bem-vindo à Amazônia'(welcome to the Amazons,) he just let out a sigh of disappointment and turned his phone off and got on with his day.

I am such a moron... Look at where the mighty have fallen. The person who hated texting looks forward to a text. Ethan chastised himself as he entered the local hospital for a busy day.

Around noon when he headed to the cafeteria down the street, he turned his phone on to find a notification that made his heart beat faster.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞

He pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Ethan, just wanted to update you on the hospital and your patients. Everything is running smoothly and all your patients are alive. Chief Naveen and someone named Dr. Hirata are managing them. Mrs. Rodriguez went home today and she left you some cookies which I may or may not have stolen because well... they might catch fungi and that's sure would be a tragedy. Also, you don't even like anything sweet and would have given it to me anyways."

Ethan could imagine her shrugging as she stuffed her face with a cookie. That mental image was way too cute and Ethan couldn't help but melt a little. He sat down on his designated seat in the cafeteria and Leah continued.

"Also, Mr. Agarwal from room 456 was taken in by Harper for emergency brain surgery. He had an aneurysm and is in recovery. So far, he is showing great scope of a full recovery.

In short, everything is fine and smoothly running in your absence.

To be honest, I don't miss you that much. It just feel like a normal day when you are in one side of the hospital and I am in the opposite side. But... When I cross your office before clocking out, instead of seeing you working on your desk or lounging on the couch in your office, I just see emptiness.

And then that reminds me of the emptiness in my chest... But fuck that, who cares?!

Seriously, I don't miss you at all. But... That doesn't mean it's an invitation to stay in the Amazons indefinitely.

I would very much like it if you come back to me...okay? Bye."

A grin decorated his face and it made him so happy that his cheekbones were hurting. He shook his head as he put his phone down on the wooden table.

I don't miss you at all...

Who are you trying to convince sunshine?

Those words may be biting but he also knew his sunshine pretty well. He knew that she also missed him the way he did but, both of them were stubborn and had their heads all the way up their asses.

Neither of them were going to cave in and confess.

It's a tiring game and Ethan often wondered how long is he going to last.

So with his head full of thoughts, he took out the hotel stationary and began writing his response.

DAY 19

"Put the patients in bed number 4 and 25 in the recovery ward and ask if they are willing to provide blood for plasma therapy. Bed number 20 is going downhill so increase the dosage of the narrow spectrum antibiotics from 100mg to 250 mg every two hours. And..."

Ethan turned around and let his eyes run over the different patients. He was covered from head to toe in scrubs and goggles donned his face. The mask muffled his speech.

"Bed number 40 should move to another ward because it isn't too severe in her case. And can you update me on the patients in the gymnasium?" Ethan asked as he looked up from the clipboard.

"Most of them are infected sir. We have been segregating them from the healthy ones. We made the banquet hall the centre of testing and if anyone tests positive we are either sending that person to the hospital or to the gym. We have even initiated lockdown to prevent the spread of the disease." The doctor spoke with a heavy Portuguese accent.

"Good. Keep me informed about the patients in bed 12, 39, and 26 throughout the night."

"Yes Dr. Ramsey. Boa noite!"

"Good night."

Ethan walked out of the isolation ward and headed into the locker room where he could sterilize himself. Getting out of the numerous layers of scrubs was a task in itself and he felt so suffocated in them.

As he pealed out the layers off his sweaty body and removed the mask he stepped into the shower cubicle and turned the tap on.

He sighed in relief as the cold water washed over him, washing away the day's dirt, grime and sadness. Working in the isolation ward was never easy. It was always filled with fear and despair. Ethan would try his best to make them comfortable but, he never had a knack of people's skills.

If Leah was here she would have them laughing in no time. The thought rushed through his mind.

Leah.

Ethan was missing her terribly. The first few days were easy to handle the absence but now? Good lord, he craved her.

She was his sunshine and she always knew how to lift his spirits up when he had a rough day be it by cracking awful dad jokes, her infamous puns or her just being around him.

He missed those hazel eyes which would fill up with concern the moment she noticed his discomfort. He missed the way she would reach out for his hand and squeeze it twice when they were in broad daylight. He missed the way she would wrap her arms around his waist and lean her head against his chest when it was just them.

He stepped out of the cubicle, water dripping down his toned abs. He slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and a plain tshirt. He was about to pick up his messenger bag when he saw the screen of his phone light up with a notification.

Leah🌞

(1) missed call (1) voicemail

Ethan gave a small smile before pressing the button to hear the message.

"So apparently now I am Jenner's emergency contact, huh?"

Amusement laced her voice and Ethan groaned, hiding his face with hand. He hoped that Leah would never have to know but now the secret is out and all he wanted to do was curl up and hide.

She chuckled before continuing. "Don't be embarassed Ethan. I think that it is cute and I am so glad that you can trust me with your girl. Look at you, growing up and trusting people."

Ethan chuckled and Leah's tinkling laugh joined his.

"Basically, Jenner's dog sitter had to go out on an emergency so she called me to go to your apartment and feed her. Not going to lie but... I am scared."

She sighed before continuing.

"It's just that once I cross the threshold and see the cold empty penthouse shrouded in darkness... It would confirm that you are actually gone and that I can not continue living in the state of denial.

So, if you are getting calls from your neighbours that there is a hobo muttering to herself and pacing in front of your door, that's me."

Nervous laughter resounded on the line followed by another sigh.

"...you know what, fuck it. It's just a door."

Jingling of keys was heard on the line and it was shortly followed by excited barks.

"Oomph!" Leah was cut off by Jenner tackling her. A crash was heard, which might probably be the phone falling down on the ground.

Ethan smiled. He liked seeing his girls interacting.

Leah's coos were heard along with barks and whines from Jenner. Leah's voice sounded faraway as she spoke to Jenner in a baby voice.

"Oh girl... Don't be sad. I know he hurt you by leaving you here all alone. But you are not alone. Well, he hurt me too. So, don't worry we are on the same boat girl."

Those words were like a sucker punch in the gut and Ethan could not help but sit down on the bench as an after effect.

Don't worry... He hurt me too... Those words continue to echo through his head. He knew that Leah didn't say those words intentionally but, it just made him realise just how much of a facade she had put up, to hide her pain.

God, sunshine...

Leah's voice continued. "Well Jenner misses you too. We are okay, aren't we?" An excited bark sounded throught the phone and Leah chuckled.

"Sorry to disturb you. Go back to do your job of saving lives. You are doing a service to humanity Ethan, and I am super proud. You are so brave."

There was a pause before Leah blurted out.

"I- I miss you Ethan. A lot. And it hurts not seeing you here. But don't worry about me, I am a strong cookie and I will stay strong... For you. I just have one request though..

Come back to me soon...okay? Bye."

You have reached the end of the voicemail. If you want to hear agai-

Ethan immediately pressed the button and he heard her voice through the speaker of his phone. As she spoke, Ethan hauled a taxi to take him to his b&b.

You are doing a service to humanity... You are so brave..

Oh sunshine, if only you knew... it wasn't bravery.

I miss you a lot...

I miss you too sunshine...

Ethan sat and stared out of the window of his cab, a turmoil of emotions just running wildly in him as the words of the woman he loved, ran in his mind.

DAY 28

It was 12 am in Tefé and Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone's screen with narrowed gaze.

C'mon Ethan, don't be a pussy. It's just a message.

And that one message will be the breaking point for all of my will power and resolve. Might as well catch a flight home and personally wish her.

You are blowing things out of proportion... His inner voice reasoned.

"Shut the fuck up." Ethan exhaled, clenching his jaw, the muscle ticking as his eyes again landed on the blinking cursor, mocking him.

It was the 29th of April.

His sunshine's birthday.

And Ethan sat, twiddling his thumbs, contemplating what to type and send.

His thoughts went to last year when they were so at ease and could stay up and talk for hours but now, here he was, not able to formulate a single text message for the girl he had feelings for.

What have we come to?

Ethan couldn't help but feel guilty all of a sudden. Doubt clouded his mind and he wondered if running to the Amazon was really a good idea or not.

I needed space to think and figure out this 'love' thing... Right?

Shaking his head, he cleared all those lingering doubts and looked down at his phone again and wrote what came to his mind.

When did the great Ethan Ramsey get so cheesy? His inner voice snickered.

As he continued to read and re-read the message again and again, he started hating what he wrote.

"This is utter garbage. Who in their right mind uses emojis? Fuck this." Ethan muttered as he erased the entire message. He locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table before getting comfortable in the sheets and slipping into a deep slumber.

11:57 am Ethan had finished his rounds and was just taking a five minute break before he headed into the conference room where the team of doctors would discuss their approach.

The condition did improve a bit here on Tefé, but it was a massive outbreak and things were getting harder to control. It was a stress fest 24/7 and Ethan could feel his brown locks greying by the second.

In this five minute break, instead of grabbing something to eat and regroup his thoughts, he stood in the hallway, looking down at his phone. He had typed another message with lesser mixed signals.

Well... This sounds robotic... No wonder Leah called me Dr. Terminator the first time. Ethan snorted as he shook his head, disappointed.

He was about to type more when he heard his name being called by one of his colleagues.

"Dr. Ramsey, we are good to go."

Ethan looked up and curtly nodded. "Yes, I'm coming." He locked his phone and slipped into the pocket of his denim jeans, diving into work again.

7:16 pm Ethan was sat down on the bench outside the hospital and let out a breath of relief. He had been on his feet since the last 5 hours, running between the gymnasium, the hospital and the banquet hall.

The mask and goggles he had worn, had left bruises on his face and he just needed a fresh breath of air. Ethan took big gulps of the humid air which had hints of rain.

The thing about Tefé was that it rained everyday, without doubt. He enjoyed the rain but hated the humidity which was an inconvenient side effect. Though it was relatively cool at night, Ethan's shirt stuck to his chiseled body due to the excessive sweat.

Ethan took his phone out of the pocket and opened the messaging app again. "Short and sweet is better." Ethan mumbled as he started typing again.

He was half way through the message when his phone died due to the low battery. Ethan just looked up at the sky with defeat.

Was this the time to come at me karma?

He was about to head to the locker room to put his phone on charging when he heard panicked voices calling him. "Dr. Ramsey!"

"Yes?" He got up and started jogging to the entrance.

"Five patients in isolation ward CC-23 are deteriorating and they need help ASAP. We are short-handed and-"

"Say no more. We have lives to save."

12:00 am It was a stressful evening to say the least.

The patients kept on flat lining and Ethan and the staff tried bringing them back to life by injecting them with adrenaline. After a giving quite a few scares, they were finally stable and moved to the ICU.

Ethan dropped his duffle bag on to the sofa in his b&b and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck to release the tension in his shoulders. He fished his phone out of his pocket and immediately connected it to the charging port.

His screen lit up after sometime and he saw a notification which made his heart sink.

Leah🌞 (1) voicemail

I could not wish her...

Ethan opened his notifications and pressed on the voicemail she left, preparing himself to face the music.

"Uh..hi Ethan. I hope things are going as smooth as they can over there. I have been reading the news and keeping up with the situation there. I ain't worried about that because well... You are Ethan freaking Ramsey, the best diagnostician of your generation!"

Nervous laughter flitted through the phone speaker before it turned into a sigh.

"I know you are busy with the epidemic and all but... You missed my birthday. And- and I don't want to sound like those middle school teenager crying over an unwished birthday but... It hurts when the love of your life doesn't do it.

I have been trying to reason with myself that you could have forgotten but, I know you. I know that you never forget... And I didn't expect an elaborate gesture or anything! Even a small 'happy birthday Leah' message could have made my day... And I know you are caught up in your work but... How long does it take to type three words?"

Leah's voice cracked and Ethan felt regret gripping at his throat.

"Ethan- I am running out of reasons to convince myself. I am running out of those optimistic reinforcing shit. I am running out of the the number of benefits of doubts to give you. I am running out of faith that you feel the same way as me.

The longer I am spending time without any communication from you, the more I am loosing myself into the vicious cycle of doubt and self loathing.

I am angry at you and I hate you so much right now. I want to burn down your sweater in my closet and throw away the sun pendant you gave me. Just forget that you existed and go back to being the old happy me."

Ethan gasped, feeling breathless all of a sudden. The heavy burden of her pain and his self loathing was crushing his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

In a soft, broken voice Leah spoke.

"But I won't. I don't have the strength to yank the necklace off me. Even though it burns me and is a reminder of the person who left me, I still wear it. Even though your name hurts me, I still want to hear it...

...I love you Ethan, so damn much that it hurts me. I need you Ethan, I really do and I know it's selfish of me but...

Just come back to me... Please. Bye."

Ethan leaned his elbows on his knees and let out a breath which rattled through his body. He put his head in his hands and let out another breath, trying to breathe through the heart shattering pain.

I am so sorry sunshine...

So fucking sorry...

DAY 36

It had been eight days since the last voicemail and Ethan had been tormented, swimming in gut wrenching guilt.

Most of the times he found himself reaching for the phone to call her, but he would just clench his fist and resume his work. All the words left unsaid, he would just pour it out on to the loose sheets of paper. That was the only thing that prevented him from slipping into insanity.

He was never one to understand the sentimental reason behind having a diary or journal. From a scientific perspective, he knew that it has long lasting effects in mental health and helps get rid of the anxiety.

But now, whenever he felt like he was going to get crushed under the guilt, he often found himself writing.

If he wasn't writing, he would be working. He started staying at the hospital longer and worked for longer hours so that he could tire himself out. That way, when he went to sleep, he would immediately fall asleep.

But still, no matter how much he tried, his thoughts would always go back to her.

Funny how one person could make or break your life.

It was 4:45 am and Ethan was in the lab, checking in on the newest vaccine that they had worked on. The doctors had been utilising the plasma of the recovered patients to formulate vaccines using the antibodies created in defense. And so far, it had been helping them. They were already vaccinating the asymptomatic people and it made a huge impact.

But still, there was a long way to go.

"Dr. Ramsey, why are you still here?" Dr. Batra, a 50 year old woman from India asked, her voice laced with inquisitiveness.

"Just working on the vaccine strains, Dr. Batra."

"You and I both know that those strains are highly effective." She said as she leaned against the door frame.

"Never hurt to be perfect." He shrugged as he leaned back from the microscope.

"But it does hurt when you over work yourself."

Ethan sighed as he took his glasses off. He rubbed his face.

"How long have you been awake Ethan?" Dr. Batra asked, the maternal concern evident in her tone.

Silence.

"Ethan..." She gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, yeah I will go now. After some ti-"

"You do know that avoiding your problems won't make them go away, right?"

Ethan's eyes snapped to her and immediately looked away not able to hold her gaze. She reminded him of Naveen and how he could never hide anything for him.

I wonder how he is doing...

"But I am delaying the inevitable, as most doctors must do."

"Ethan... I have known you for a very short duration but, I know for a fact that you are not a man who gives excuses."

Ethan sighed. "It's complicated."

"As must all the things in this universe."

"It's just... There is this girl, and she confessed her feelings for me. And the intensity of the feelings scared me. So here I am, taking a break. But... There is this small pain in my chest whenever I think about her. She fills me up with euphoria but can also break me down. When I reflect back on all the happy moments, I get light headed, as if I am on drugs. That is why I am here, to analyse and figure out my feelings whilst helping with the epidemic."

"Well... I think you know the answer but, you are just living in a state of denial."

Ethan sighed as he looked down at his hands. "Don't I know that?"

"Well, if you know the answer then what's stopping you?"

"I-" they were interrupted by the shrill ring of Ethan's phone. He saw the name 'Leah🌞' and pressed the silent button immediately.

"You won't take that?" she asked eyeing the phone.

"I don't think I am strong enough to do that."

"Love is for the brave Ethan. Remember that." She got up and patted his shoulder before stepping out. The sun rays filtered through the gigantic windows of the lab, slowly illuminating the clinical set up with its golden rays. Ethan picked up the phone and saw that Leah had left another voicemail.

Picking up the phone, he stood in front of the window, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him. Be brought the phone to his ear and he heard her.

"Hey. Its 6 am here and I was bored so I decided to call you. Or leave a voicemail because you never pick up my call. I was just feeling lonely so here I am! Kinda ironic but meh.”

Ethan could hear her shrug though the phone.

“I have been taking double shifts all week and it's been so productive. The cool cases I have done and solved, the lives I have saved... they have been giving me my quota of serotonin.

Literally nothing interests or makes me happy now. So my job is the only thing which I look forward to. The things I used to enjoy doing, seems like a chore.

Everything seems like a chore.

Sleeping, eating, breathing, everything seems like an exhausting task. I don't even like sleeping anymore. Because whenever I sleep I dream fo you and when I dream of you, it's like I am being stabbed in the heart.

I don't even want to go home, because whenever I am home, I see your sweater and then my mind goes back to the numerous night outs we had, working on our cases.

The hospital is okay but, every corner I turn I think I see you which, I am going to blame on my sleep deprivation. Don't worry, I am not going into self destruct mode. I still force myself to eat three square meals a day and I get around 4 hours of sleep for every 48 hours I am awake.

So it's okay... I am okay.

I maybe a ticking time bomb BUT, I am not a working hazard. I am alert at all times and all my patients are in tip top condition. I think I should give credit to the two energy drinks I downed along with a cup of coffee.

Don't worry, my heartbeat is under the safe limit of 180 BPM.

In short, don't worry. I am golden.

I hope you are taking care of yourself too! I just hope that you come back to me.

Bye. Love you."

"FUCK!" Ethan exclaimed as he threw he phone with a thud on the table. He placed his palms on the cool granite countertop, breathing heavily.

Shit, shit, shit.

He started pacing in the lab, playing with his beard, his mind racing with worry and concern.

This was not supposed to happen.

Ethan stood and gripped the counter again closing his eyes, trying to centre his breathing but it was futile.

I need to do something, anything! His conscience egged him.

He opened his eyes and it landed on his phone.

Well, I guess it's time to make a call.

well, I hope you guys liked it!

do you think Ethan finally caved in and called her?

like, comment, reblog and let me know what do you think :))

[emilyplaysotome]

The Game of Love - Chapter 1

Since I have a bad tendency to obsess over what I write until I give up on it, I’m posting the first chapter of something new I’ve been dabbling with. Think of it like an original Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole, without the characters you know.

Meeting someone special is hard for anyone, but more so when you’re famous.

I can’t tell you when it was that I went from being Hana to being Hana on a billboard, but it happened slowly enough that I went from eating virtually unnoticed at a restaurant to being bombarded with selfie requests during the short time I picked up my food. I suppose that being one of the youngest women to ever win a Grand Slam will force you into the spotlight, but I’ve never thought of myself as a superstar.

The goal had always been to win gold at the Olympics.

Maybe Roland Garros.

And Wimbledon.

The U.S. and Australian Open if I was lucky.

They never told me that if you win the Australian Open and then manage to win the others in the same year, the world goes mad. They never told me that Nike, Adidas, and Reebok fall all over themselves trying to get you to agree to let them put out the “Hana shoe” and you go from being a struggling journeywoman on the tour to being richer than you ever could have imagined, thanks mostly to your team who milks you for every free moment when you’re not on the court.

You learn how to wear dresses and talk on camera and carry the weight of what it means to be a champion, constantly looking over your shoulder at the younger, hungrier crowd behind you that works twice as hard and trains harder because they don’t need to be on Good Morning America when you do. Your identity becomes “Hana the Tennis Champion” and you forget who you were when you were just “Hana, the girl who loves tennis” – hitting balls after dinner with dad on the courts by your house or joking around with the girls on the junior tour.

Those girls become competition, and your friendship is forced to change despite wanting it to be the way it was when things were simpler. They are nice and you love them, but the feelings are complicated and you forget what it means to have friends who see you as you are. There is always a commitment, a show, a movie, a project, a product – even during the off season, and of course, there’s the training.

You’re grateful to be successful doing what you love, but you know it can’t last forever and one day you decide you want to go out on top and announce that you’re done with the game that up until this point has been your entire life.

And you’re only 32.

I’m only 32.

The day after I retired I woke up as Hana, for the first time in 20 years. I suppose it’s out of habit that I still wake up at 7 A.M. and go for a run, but it’s been a few months and not much has changed.

My mom suggested I get a therapist.

That this major transition would be hard on anyone, but even harder on a prodigy who has been used to a regimented training schedule since she was 11.

I laughed it off, but after a couple of weeks I could feel the unease nagging at me, mocking me, asking me, “Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

My therapist says a lot of high achieving people struggle with their self-worth outside of their profession. She challenged me to reconnect with friends I’d made at all stages of my life and I learned that being great at one thing left little time for love, creativity, music, and hobbies.

I also learned that I didn’t make many friends in my 32 years since I was too focused, too dialed in to waste time on anything outside of the goal. To be the best in the world I had taken on the mentality that everything outside of my goal was superfluous, but now I struggle to make it through the day.

“Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

“I am…I am…”

“What are you feeling Hana?” my therapist asks.

“Scared. Confused. Angry. Lost.”

I’d had this rosy image of retirement, where I’d leisurely wake up next to a partner and make breakfast for us. Not just any partner if I’m being honest…him.

“I wake up at 7 A.M. and run 5 miles,” I find myself saying. “Then I make a breakfast smoothie. And then I remember that I don’t have anywhere to be and the depression takes over.”

“Have you been doing interviews?”

I shrug, “Not as many. They asked me to do commentary for the U.S. Open this year and I said I’d think about it.”

“What is your hesitation?”

I pause, thinking about what it would be like to live a tournament without participating in it. To see and comment on someone’s legacy that wasn’t my own. To one day have to announce that I’d been dethroned in my achievements and smile as if it didn’t bother me, when I’d probably just wonder if I’d retired too early.

“I never wanted to be on television. And I want to be able to answer the question who Hana is if there is no tennis.”

“It sounds like this time is providing you with a beautiful gift – to explore that question and your interests without limitations.”

She’s right, and I feel guilty for pitying myself when I have the freedom to do and go wherever I want. I let out a caustic chuckle and say, “I want to live in my games.”

“The ones you used to play on the road?”

I nod, wondering how serious she thinks I am and wondering if the statement is a joke at all.

“Why do you think you like them so much?”

“It’s fun to be someone who isn’t Hana. And it’s fun to fall in love.”

“Has Hana ever been in love?”

I think for a minute and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” I ask.

She shrugs and pushes her glasses up.

“I’m asking Hana the person, not Hana the superstar.”

“But our breakup was all over the tabloids…”

“Our time together is about you, not what’s in a tabloid.”

“Superstars have to date superstars. It’s like a law,” I say laughing. “What would Instagram think if I gave them anything other than aspirational?”

I’m lying but I can’t help myself, even in therapy my pride gets in the way of being honest. Dating him was never about appearances, at least, it wasn’t for me.

“Tell me about him.”

Eight years of memories flash in my mind, 22 to 30.

“We met after I won my first major. His movie premiere had him in Australia and he got tickets to the final. We ended up at an after party together and he gave me his number. It was good until it wasn’t and then he broke up with me.”

“That’s a very condensed version.”

I shrug again, feeling bitter that he seems to have moved on just fine and I haven’t dated anyone despite the rumors that pop up from time to time. I don’t feel like talking about how I kept pushing for us to move forward, with a vision for my retirement and life with him as he kept pushing for me to stay on the road. I don’t feel like talking about how much of our time was spent apart and how I suspected he preferred things that way.

That it was better to have a girlfriend too busy to take up more than an hour of his day on a regular basis than a girlfriend who could be present the way she wanted to be when we were together.

A pleasant chime goes off and she silences the alarm, noting we’re out of time and asking if next week works.

“My schedule is free,” I joke, but I feel annoyed that there’s nothing but endless free time and nothing to do with it.

When I’m home I open the games I referenced in therapy – the ones I jokingly call “choose your anime romance adventure games” with my mom versus their proper designation of “otome” games, as they’re known with the fandom online that I’m a part of. It’s only when I’m online that I feel like I can momentarily answer the question that nags at me, and that’s because no one know I’m me.

HanaLovesOtome the tumblr user is popular because of the screenshots she posts, not because she’s one of the most celebrated athletes of a generation.

She participates in every event and has spent an ungodly amount of money on special date stories and lottery gatcha items that put her consistently in the top ten featured users of Ikemen Inc.

She’s popular because people will ask her to purchase stories and games they can’t afford, and she’ll video record herself playing or twitch live stream the sessions so everyone can get a sense of what it’s like to fall in love with Ikemen Inc.’s most exclusive bachelors.

Even when I was on tour, I loved playing otome games because for a couple of hours I could stop thinking about my life and instead lose myself in a world overseas where I get to make choices for a protagonist whose name I’ve made my own as I decide what eligible bachelor she’ll fall in love with.

I’d found the games a year before we’d broken up, mostly by chance after seeing an ad on twitter that boasted, “The Perfect Boyfriend is in your phone - meet him now!” While normally I would have continued to scroll past, something about the caption had stopped me in my tracks. Looking back it was probably because the idea of the “perfect boyfriend” being in my phone was ironic having had such a drawn out long distance relationship in which it often felt that he only existed in my life virtually.

After entering my name for the main character I would be controlling, “Decoding His Affections” thrust me into a world that consisted of a simple illustrated background, paired with a cartoon character sprite whose various expressions matched the dialogue being said in the text box where the story played out.

While the prologue of “Decoding His Affections” was free, it ended with a prompt asking me who out of the five characters I’d just met, I wanted to get to know as my Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department partner and future perfect boyfriend. For the low price of $3.99, I could purchase one of five options and determine how my protagonist would fall in love. Depending on my dialogue selections, I was either granted a “Love Ending!” or a less desired “Happy Ending!”

Throughout the course of 13 interactive chapters, Sebastian went from being my underling, to my partner, and finally, to my boyfriend. As the protagonist with my name started to fall for Sebastian, I found myself enjoying the escape from my reality with a game “self” who always met with a positive response in love.

I soon found myself lost in a world where I could be transparent with my intentions without any fear of rejection. Sebastian clearly liked my main character back, but was conflicted about falling for a woman whose time in Tokyo had an expiration date. Even though their relationship was in a grey zone for the majority of the game, he was always warm, always loving, and most importantly, had responses that gave me butterflies as I read his poetic musings from a cold hotel room after a long day of training.

Seeing as how these games were a product of Japan, in addition to the subdued romance I also found myself getting a kick out of the cultural differences that were peppered throughout the story. Simple gestures such as the time that Sebastian grabbed her hand in order to protect her from an impending explosion, resulted in a shook inner monologue where my heroine wondered if her heart was racing from the danger, or because of the physical contact. There was something sweet about this world in which men and women shared a shyness around physical touching that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced as a Western woman. Handshakes, hugs, and even kisses on the cheek were something that happened in my life on a daily basis, yet I was suddenly living in a world via my phone where every gesture was laced with romantic subtext.

It was clear that the only thing Ikemen Inc. changed in their games was the names of their clearly Japanese love interests, in order to better appeal to a western audience. Other than that, their games remained true to their point of origin.

Looking back, our relationship was already strained with me hinting towards my expiration date and him pushing me to stay on the tour. The day I’d played my first otome game we were bickering over text about it, him convinced it would be better for both of us if I refocused on my career instead of settling down with him in his Calabasas home. As I achieved Sebastian’s coveted “Love Ending!” thanks to my carefully selected dialogue choices, I surprised myself by tearing up in which I read an ending where Sebastian confessed to me, or moreover the woman I whose life I was intermittently controlling, his undying love.

I’d felt a bit foolish at the time, having fallen prey to simple plot devices and romantic tropes, however Sebastian had done something for me that my relationship could not.

He’d managed to touch that part deep in my heart that still wanted to believe that romance was possible in this world, and more importantly, was possible for me.

In the weeks to come I found myself leaning on these games more and more as it became clear that my vision for the future did not align with his, it felt like every free second I was pouring myself into my fantasy life. By the time he ended things, I’d made way through the entire Ikemen Inc. catalogue of premium games and started to make my way into the exclusives with a higher price point, more beautifully illustrated scenes (CGs), and the Ikemen Inc. community leaderboard.

I play them a lot lately.

Maybe too much.

When I log in to my tumblr I see a message from my friend KittyGirl.

OMG Hana! Did you see they released Tyler Holland?

I saw and I played and I’m posting the full vid on twitch later ;)

…

I wonder who KittyGirl is as she types, and I wonder if she ever wonders who I am. I wonder if she would care if I was Hana the superstar or if she even follows tennis.

A lot of the girls on here don’t.

A lot of the girls on here are much younger than I am.

I wonder if it’s weird I don’t have many friends my age and that the people I feel closest to at the moment are all usernames in my feed.

STOP HANA YOURE THE BEST!

I smile because it gives me a sense of purpose and I haven’t felt that for some time.

It’s really good. He might be in my top 5 boyfriends.

NO. Really!?

Really.

Sometimes I wish that the men in my phone would come to life. That one day I would wake up and Sebastian would be there in human form, not his two-dimensional anime character form. I’ve thought about what he would look like if he were real.

Not just him.

Him and all the others I’ve dated over the years.

I wonder what it’d be like to date someone you know would never leave you.

Who could be that perfect boyfriend, or husband, or father.

It’s just as I’m thinking about this again that my phone chimes, letting me know I’ve received an email. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ikemen Inc. and that HanaLovesOtome has been invited along with the four other top Ikemen community users for an all-expenses paid, one month vacation to Ikemen’s Dream Resort.

My gut reaction is to scream, “Yes!” but then I remember I’m Hana the superstar.

What would people think if they found out?

What would the tabloids write if they saw me?

I pause.

Who is Hana if there is no tennis?

Hana is HanaLovesOtome.

And so I write an email back, deciding not to loop in my management team, and let the team at Ikemen Inc. know that I would be delighted to experience the resort. The response back is immediate and includes additional details and an NDA.

I skim the details of the agreement, relieved that I am not allowed to talk about the experience as that means no one else will and my identity as Hana the superstar will most likely be off limits to the press and send it back.

It all happens quickly and before the hour is up I’ve managed to secure my spot in the Ikemen Fan 5.

In the two weeks leading up to my departure, I no longer feel depressed or as if time stretches out in a way that makes me feel small and insignificant. I have an event to look forward to and arrangements to be made.

My therapist thinks a solo trip will be good for me and encourages me to journal and continue with the homework she’s given me outside of our sessions. My mom agrees that it will be good for me to have a real vacation which is something I haven’t had in years.

I’ve seen the world through touring but I’ve never really had time for tourism.

To that point, when I get on the plane it strikes me that this is my first time on a plane without the purpose of coming from or going to a tournament. I check two large suitcases and still bring a racquet in case I need the release of losing myself in a training session or two, despite the fact my performance no longer matters.

I wear the sunglasses I always wear to obscure my identity in first class and a wig and baseball hat and n95 mask, which always does the trip. At Narita airport, I see a man holding a sign that says “HanaLovesOtome” and I follow him to a town car that takes me two hours outside of Tokyo proper. It’s only when we pull off the main road, down a long skinny isolated one that I take off my disguise and breathe a sigh of relief that I managed not to attract the attention of any photographers or fans.

In my head I always saw Ikemen Inc. as a small developer, tucked away on a floor in a nondescript office building somewhere in Toyko.

The reality of their facilities surprised me, and we drove 15 minutes through dense woodland, past another small road with a sign indicating guest and employee parking - up to a manicured property where at the center was a sleek looking high rise. My driver stopped under the porte-cochere and helped me with my suitcases, triggering the mechanism for the large glass double doors to open which caught the attention of a man inside.

“Please, allow me to be of assistance,” he said, quickly grabbing the roller’s handles and helping me in to a spacious reception area. “I’m Roman and I run the resort division of Ikemen Inc.”

“Hana.”

There was something familiar about the way that Roman talked and the way he dressed that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as he introduced me to the woman at reception and made small talk about my trip. I engaged in the idle banter until the persistent feeling that I knew him from somewhere became so overwhelming that I finally found myself asking, “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” a female voice called out behind me.

I turned to see a girl, no older than 20 approaching us with a suitcase of her own. She wore the same expression that countless fans wore upon recognizing me as they rushed up to me and asked for a selfie except she was not looking at me, but at Roman.

“He’s Roman Hinton, from Ikemen’s Paradise Palace.”

“Ah, you’ve stayed with us in Paradise I assume?” Roman asked the girl smiling.

“Oh you have no idea,” she said dreamily, and it was then that I realized my wish of dating one of the men in my phone might come true.

That’s the end of my rough first chapter. Let me know if you want to know where we go from here and I might post more. Tagging @nitelotus​ since she asked to see it