#and more importantly WHAT HAPPENED TO PEN PEN??

[shinobi98]

After watching the rebuild movies a couple of years ago I finally gave NGE+EoE a try and like...I would have loved answers for the 100 questions that popped up honestly. The ending wasn't my cup of tea. For such a famous anime, I hoped it would be better?

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses. 

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy. 

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly. 

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials. 

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has. 

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed. 

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer. 

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal. 

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come 

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party? 

i can be ur escort ;) 

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you. 

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before. 

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes. 

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself? 

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy. 

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly. 

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway. 

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy. 

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are. 

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood. 

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can. 

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams. 

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird. 

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room. 

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact. 

but not so bad. 

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.” 

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

[cinematicreid]

for a moment

the one where Spencer reminds reader to slow down.

wc 651

warnings + the rundown: bau!reader, fluff, soft!spencer, i love him, literally can’t live without him, what a sweetheart, mentions of reader getting shot, but nothing explicit, feelings!, yikes!

a/n: can’t beat short and sweet and cutesy. feedback always welcome, come say hi to me i think you’re all so cool!

~

Spencer’s eyes may as well have laser beams shooting out of them with the way his gaze is glued to you. You attempt to focus on the task at hand, securing the Kevlar vest to the upper half of your body and completely ignoring him. But this has been happening for almost two months, ever since your incident, and you can’t take it anymore.

“Give it a rest, Spencer, you’re driving me crazy.”

“I know! I’m sorry, just — will you please let me —”

You let out a huff of exasperation, giving up.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble, and then more loudly, “Fine.”

Your hands fall to your sides in surrender as he quickly moves toward you and reaches for the vest’s fasteners.

A child. He’s making you feel like a child.

You hear Morgan chuckle from the other end of the police precinct’s tiny conference room, as if he can read your thoughts. You’re about to shoot him a death glare when you’re interrupted by Spencer sharply tugging a strap too tight.

“Reid,” you hiss.

“Don’t start,” he interjects over your complaint.

The incident in question was, of course, an accident. It wasn’t like you had intentionally put your vest on in a rush. There just hadn’t been enough time (which was not a proper excuse, as Hotch had gently but firmly reminded you later), and the loosened straps meant the vest moved around more than it should have when you were running, and the UnSub’s bullet found your side all too easy to graze.

It was stupid, really, but it was one time and nearly two months ago.

None of this was enough to ease the seemingly permanent furrow in Spencer’s brow.

It started as small, albeit irritating, reminders to double-check your vest, which you initially laughed off. But it had now escalated to taking the task entirely off your hands.

Spencer finishes with a final tug.

“Happy?” you ask him flatly. He lifts his concentrated gaze to meet your annoyed one.

“I could do without the sass. But yes,” he says, his shoulders visibly lighter and more content.

“It’s like watching a dad get his daughter ready for Take Your Kid To Work Day,” Morgan teases, rushing out of the room before you can hit him with the closest object at your disposal and leaving just you and Spencer. He rolls his eyes at the poor joke and gently takes said object from your hand.

“I don’t think a pen is going to do much damage,” he says. He loosens a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You regard him for a few seconds, a small part of you melting at the undeniable softness in his eyes, which are so vast and deep you could stay there forever.

You get it.

It’s the thing about this job. How it forces an eternity to become temporary. How, in 20 minutes, you’ll be hunting down the bad guy but for now, what can feel like forever if you wanted, you’re only here with Spencer.

It’s all fleeting. Your little “incident” had only served as a reminder of that.

And so, Spencer had to take care of you in this way. You both knew that.

“You don’t need to be,” you offer him. He avoids your gaze and you nudge his shoulder with your hand. “Spencer, I’m here, yeah?” That earns you a gentle nudge back and the hint of a smile.

“I know. I’m here, too.”

And here is everywhere and nowhere and, perhaps most importantly, together. A beat, or maybe a forever passes before he speaks again.

“If this were Take Your Kid To Work Day I’d be the worst father in the world.”

Just like that, he’s back and you’re back with him.

Fleeting.

“I am so getting him back for that,” you mumble, making your way to the door. Spencer’s laugh as he follows behind you is all you can hear.

[b14augrana]

Nenita

You plan a surprise for Irene’s birthday

Irene Paredes x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings needed!

A/N: in honour of irene’s birthday, i decided to write a little fic. there will be a new section in the scrubber masterlist for all the blurbs about cute moments with scrubber and the girls! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Your calendar was very significant. You marked off your birthday, upcoming matches, Christmas, but most importantly… all your big sisters’ birthdays. Each of their birthdays were marked on your calendar in pink glittery gel pen.

You were giddy the night before their birthdays, probably even more excited than they were. Tonight, it was Irene’s big day that you were looking forward to as you laid on your bed stomach-first, filling in a card you made yourself.

Birthdays were a big deal for you because it was probably the most appropriate time to tell someone just how much you loved them.

Your captain was a very special woman. She was your second mother, mentor, and friend, all in one. Everyone needed an Irene in their life, but unfortunately there was just one, and not-so-unfortunately, she ended up with you and your team.

Those were the words you wrote on her card before sealing it in the envelope. With a smile, you placed it on top of the neatly wrapped gift stashed in your closet… that was piled on top of what looked like a dozen more.

The morning of the 4th of July, you were up before Irene. Carefully and quietly, without hitting the walls with your tower of gifts, you walked out of your bedroom with them and placed them on the coffee table. You placed your card in front of them and scrambled to the fridge to pull out the cake you made for her.

You weren’t a professional baker, but you knew how to make simple things like a cake. Irene loved red velvet cake, so when you stacked it all together with a homemade cream cheese frosting you had worked all week on (almost) perfecting, the end product was a birthday cake. You decorated it with the help of Fridolina, using sprinkles and cake toppers she had chosen, then two big ‘3’ candles right in the middle.

You were proud of your cake, even if it wasn’t the best. You figured that it would be nice to test out your baking skills instead of buying a red velvet cake that already cost you an arm and a leg without extra decorations.

Your culinary creations didn’t stop there. Next on the menu was french toast that you dusted with powdered sugar, drizzled with maple syrup, and garnished with strawberries and blueberries. It made you feel like a proper chef, and once you finished constructing your meal, you looked at it in pride. It almost looked good enough to go in your stomach.

“Irene,” you whispered, nudging her bedroom door open as you carried her breakfast and a cup of coffee into her room, on a tray. Your grin was hardly containable.

She rolled over, looking at you through squinted eyes. Her expression brightened and her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she sat up while a smile flashed across her face.

“Meu nenita, moltes gràcies,” she replied, her smile widening as you placed the tray on her lap and put the coffee on her bedside table.

“After you eat, come to the living room. I have to give you something!” you chimed, skipping out of the room and leaving the woman to eat her food.

When she emerged out of her room, you were standing in front of your gift tower with your arms behind your back and a beaming smile on your face. You moved to the side, gesturing to your gifts. “Surprise! Feliz cumple, hermana!”

Irene gasped quietly, placing a hand on her chest as she looked at you in surprise. Before even paying another thought to her gifts, she pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you gently. “Nenita, you didn’t have to. How did you get all of this– no, how did you hide all of this?”

“I can’t tell you that,” you responded, “I’ll have to do it again next year. Open the card!”

You picked up the envelope and handed it to her, almost bouncing off the walls in excitement. She tore it open carefully and pulled out the card, taking a minute to read it before lowering it and looking at you with glossy eyes.

‘Dear Irene,

From the very first day I played with you in Barça, I’ve seen you as a second mother to me, away from my home. Not only do you take care of me and let me live under your roof, but you inspire me and teach me to be better than what I am capable of, on and off the pitch. I am lucky to spend my days with you; a beautiful, loving, and talented person. Being under your guidance and having you by my side during every game has made me the player I am today and I will always be grateful for having you in my life now, and hopefully forever.

Feliz cumpleaños, hermana! T'estimo per sempre.’

You were the one to initiate the hug as you wrapped your arms around her. She was quick to react and do the same, embracing you affectionately. “T’estimo, meu hermanita,” she mumbled.

Once you had pulled away, your grin hadn’t faltered one bit. “When all of the girls get here, we can have cake!”

“What do you mean, all of the girls?” Irene questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Y’know, all the girls. Alexia, Mapi, Frido, Ingrid– who else.. oh, Caro, Marta, Aitana, Lucy and Ona,” you answered, “Now go on, go get ready. The icing is going to start melting!”

[y2katsuki]

german professor!koing x student!reader

word count - 1.3k

i like to think konig being that hot middle age professor who dresses like a hot history professor. also yall this is my first time actually writing smut, so like...don't come for me on how bad it is, i'm trying to get better lmao.

cw: straight up porn lmao, female reader, p in v sex, slight breeding and corruption

you are in the middle of the lecture room, chewing the tip of your pen as you watched your german professor looking down at his notes before continuing with the presentation. you would be lying to yourself if you didn't find him attractive. he was clumsy, cheesy, laid back, and more importantly hot.

as he wrapped up class, he looked out into the room of students, making sure no one had any questions before dismissing the class a bit early, on this nice friday afternoon. his eyes stopped on yours for a second before you shoot him a pretty smile.

you made sure to pack slowly, as the lecture room emptied out, leaving you alone with him. as you come closer to the desk, you can see him give you a kind smile.

"ah y/n, your last paper was good. your german is getting better." he said warmly.

"thank you professor konig. it helps to have an amazing professor." you gave him a sly smile as you looked at him.

"vielen dank für ihre freundlichen worte. i try my best." he felt his face flush slightly.

unknowing to you, he has also had his eyes on you. he found you attractive and a sweetheart. he knows he shouldn't fantasize about a kind student in his class, but he can't help but fisting himself after work to the imagination of your fucked out face, covered in his cum.

the silence was thick, and so was the tension. before you can even process what happens, konig lips on yours. your bag falls as you grip his arms as you kiss him back. his hands pull at the hem of your shirt as he pulls it up, right above your breast. he picks you up placing you on the desk. your legs wrap around his waist bringing him closer to you, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

"i've had my eyes on you since the first day of class." he mumbles against your lips. hearing this instantly turned you on, you can feel your panties getting wet.

"me too." you softly said as his lips trail down to your neck, collarbone, and stopping right before your bra. his fingers pull down your bra, as he held the soft flesh in his hand before attaching his mouth on to your hard nipples. you throw your head back at the sensation of his wet tongue on your breast.

you can feel his bulge grinding into your inner thigh. you leaned up, your fingers tugging at his waistband. before you can reach the zipper of his pants he pushes you back gently, your back hitting the desk.

"geduld, liebling." he groans in your ear. you hear your blood soaring in your ears, getting more turned on by him speaking german. before you can say anything, he pulls down your bottoms, looking at the wet spot on your panties. "your so wet, sweetheart." he chuckles before connecting his hot mouth to your clothed cunt.

"oh fuck..." you moaned, your eyes looking at the empty lecture room upside down. you can feel your panties getting wetter due to the mixture of your sweet juices and his wet tongue.

he gently moves your panties to the side, finally connecting his mouth to your bare cunt. you moan loudly, at the sensation. he continues to explore your folds as he slowly teases his fingers at your entrance. he moans as he laps up all of your juices, making sure he savors it all.

as you whimper and moan under him, your thighs are squeezing his head, but he doesn't mind. he slowly teases his fingers, inching their way into your soft and velvety walls. now you were squirming under him, as his fingers pump in and out of your and his mouth sucked on your sensitive bud.

"o-oh fuck..." my fingers tugged at his hair. "i'm about to c-cum..." your breathing became more ragged, as your chest was heavy. "w-wait p-pleas-" you can't finish your sentence as konig sped up his fingers, driving you to the edge.

"f-fuck" you dragged out your moan, as your body trembled. konig hums, sending shivers up your body, helping you ride out your orgasm. your breathing is heavy as you looked up at him, watching him lick your slick off his fingers while holding eye contact with you your face flush as you watched him.

"mmm...you taste good, meine liebe." he said in a husky voice, as he licked his lips. "i think you are wet enough." he mumbles as he frees his cock. you can't help but be amazed at the sheer size of it. he hooks his arms around your thighs bringing you closer to the edge of the desk. he aligns the tip to your entrances, leaning close enough to you that both of your noses met.

"be a good girl and take it." he smirked before crashing his lips onto yours and slamming his hips into yours. you moan against his lips, feeling your cunt stretching, feeling him bottom out inside you.

he gives you a second to adjust to his size, before slightly beginning to grind his hips against yours. you can feel your soft and velvety walls clench, making him groan in the process. your arms wrapped around his neck, as your nails dug into his shoulder blades.

"i-i feel so...full..." you whined as he picked up his pace, slamming his hips into yours at a steady pace. "ja? nun gut, ich werde dich bald ausstopfen, liebling." he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

the room was completely silent, aside from the sound of skin smacking, the heavy breathing, and the sound of your slick. it was filthy, a professor corrupting his student, but this wasn't about grades or lectures. this was about how much you wanted him and how much he wanted you.

"scheiße, bist du dicht." he groans, as his hips picked up his pace, as you moan breathlessly under him.

his cock relentlessly hitting your cervix, as you slowly became a babbling mess under him. you can feel the ecstasy building up inside you again, as your hands gripped his.

"pl-please professor..." his pace was also getting sloppier. "i'm go-nna cum..." i moaned, as I could hear him groan as well, knowing he was going to cum as well.

"ich auch liebe." his hand moved from your thighs to your waist, now relentlessly slamming into you harder as he chased his high. you were sure your inner things would be bruised by how hard he was slamming into you, but that didn't matter right now.

"shit..." you barely croaked out gripping his hand as your body started trembling, as you cum on his cock. his pace was not staggering, feeling your walls clenched higher than before as you came.

"gutes mädchen." he groans, as he feels his climax coming. he was already corrupting you, so what better way to end it than by stuffing your puffy cunt with his cum. his hand gripped your waist even harder, leaving bruises, as he slams his cock in one last time before releasing his hot and sticky seed in you.

he slams his lips on yours, as he continues to fill you up, and you can't do anything about it because his hips are locked into yours. he gently slides his soft cock out of your hole, and you can feel his cum leak out. you whimpered due to being sensitive, before pulling away from his lips.

"just so you know y/n, this isn't going to reflect how i grade your assignments." he smirks.

"don't worry professor konig, if anything this just gives me the motivation to do better."

"good." he places a tiny peck on your lips, before pulling your panties over your abused cunt that was filled with his seed, before helping you get dressed. he fixes himself before giving his hand to help you stand up from the desk. your knees weak and your cunt was sore.

"we should do this again, professor. wouldn't want to lose motivation to do well in this class." i teased him.

he chuckles before getting you a pat on your ass. he couldn't help his cock getting hard again by watching you stumbling out of the class.

this was definitely not the last time.

[impyssadobsessions]

DPxDC idea/prompt Pen Pals

(Probably more idea but you can run with the concept... im so srry XD) Basically Danny and Damian are pen pals- until Damian receives a letter with Lazarus Water and Blood smeared on the page.

WHAT IF Danny and Damian were pen pals before Danny's accident. A school project for 8th grade. Damian was reluctant to participate but due to it being a grade and being pestered by his siblings that he would just scare the kid off anyways, he deciding to partake in this pen pal. Danny whose not suffering at school, just living a normal life at the moment, is being teased by Dash saying his pen pal could smell loser before even opening the letter. Asking Danny if his parents even let him open the letter or blast it thinking its a ghost. Which makes Danny who wasn't into this idea of writing a stranger more determined to do it. Besides they might only get one letter and teachers drop the subject. They might not even get it. So what the heck. Turns out they become the only ones that constantly wrote each other- even mailing it in person once the school ended the program. (Damian having a post box set up for letters)

At first it was awkward. Danny commented/asking if Damian really was their age or some teacher pretending to write back instead of sending out the letters. If so. He sucks at it because what kid writes perfectly grammar letters and big words to convey something is cool. Guess its better than pretending he knows slang. Damian furious writes back, offended! Also asks if he isn't younger, because everyone with basic english should know to capitalize their letters! This goes back and fourth. Danny writing back every chance he got, and Damian doing the same, even being told not to at the dinner table. It goes from offended at each other to being curious. Danny asking Damian more advice on english because it isn't his favorite subject. Damian asking more about how to sound like his age. Then it devolves to animals. Danny wishing he had one, but his parents didn't want one getting into the lab. Damian happily sending picture of his animals. Danny talking more about the stars.. etc. Until Accident happens- Danny starts having trouble writing the letters. His pen with phase through his hand and replies between them got longer. Danny justifying this by saying he's having trouble with schooling this year. Damian also been unable to send as many replies because he's been busy with teen titans and other heroics. Though he's encouraging Danny saying Danny is far smarter than that school even is aware of. Until one day, after months of not being able to reply. He finds Damian's letter again. It makes him feel better. Even if Damian didn't know him... this person still believes in Danny... Though Danny feels guilty about it- it compels him to write him again. He was about to finish the letter when he gets blasted by a ghost. He returns from the fight, beaten and bloody. He picks up the letter and sighs at the green stain left on it. Folding it up he stuffs it into his bag. Next day after hurrying off to school, his mother finds the letter after it had fallen on the floor. She read a little bit of it and immediately recognize it was to Danny's penpal. She takes the opportunity to try her knew anti-ecto spray and mails it for Danny. "Boy just like his father. So messy. I'll have to give him a lecture about ecto-contamination again." Damian just returned from a mission from Teen Titans, been gone for three months. Alfred informs Damian he had received a letter from his anonymous pen pal in his absence. Damian had almost forgotten about the pen pal- thinking his pal just didn't want to answer anymore. So eagerly he goes to his room to open the letter, but immediately blood drain from his face as his eyes zoomed back the feathery ink to the green blotch of lazurus water.. having almost evaporated.. leaving a water stain that glowed... and more importantly.. the human specks of blood that was revealed with the driest parts of the stain. Damian immediately rushes to the cave.. only to find out his paranoia was right.... and was it his fault his friend was harmed? Also the idea of Damian talking to Phantom in his robin suit. Asking how Daniel Fenton was.. and Phantom surprised and slips out a "Alive as much as he's dead." Damian glaring and Phantom corrects, "He's fine. He has parents that are ghost hunters is all." Stressing his situation complicated. Phantom just so shocked his pen pal is a hero- annnnd also cursing his mom for sending a letter like that. HE KNEW IT WOULD SEND IMPLICATIONS!

but idk if I figured out a good way for Damian to see the smeared letter. I just think it be fun. Also Damian thinking he's to blame for league going after the fentons when he wasn't. At least not as early as he thought. He's very focused on saving/protecting Danny Fenton.. which makes Phantom's job harder.

[entelodante]

Wanted to figure out how chimera’s wrote and ended up starting on their written language proper. MASSIVE info dump below! 

Writing

They write using four fingers of one hand, usually the right, coated in ink. Think like a stamp almost. The three middle fingers draw with the tips of the teeth whilst the thumb will alternate between tip and back. All words are written simultaneously inward. The remaining fingers grip the source of ink, usually a length of hardened pigment only wetted on one side OR those who write often could invest in a pen. A pen for a chimera is a fanning brush saturated with ink that the writing teeth brush through when needing to reink. It allows for much faster wetting of the teeth, but can be messy when learning or refilling. 

Most chimera are right handed but left handed individuals exist, they will simply need to learn to use the two fingers opposite the middle in reverse of how someone who is right handed would! Luckily all fingers can move pretty independently of each other and it is an easy task.  As chimera mostly communicate through direct broadcast most find the written word lacking, so it is a common occupation among Chimera to write for others. It is an impressive skill to eloquently convey ideas/feelings through writing. Though their language set up lends to it MUCH more than others. 

The Nitty Gritty

All subject to change as this is very first drafty. 

Chimeric is a logographic language, there is no set alphabet and all ‘words’ stem from symbols representing things and ideas. Sentences are kind of two sentences atop one another, with one being the literal and the other the reactionary. It is read from out to in and sentences are written in a circle divided into 4 quarters. We’ll start with the top moving counter clockwise. 

Quarter 1 (Red) is the subject area, now subjects function the same as nouns for the most part, people, places, and things. But something important to note is that there must always be an ‘audience’ for the words being spoken. An audience basically means pronouns though they are a lot more encompassing with: I, You, Us, Them, Them excluding me/you, Us excluding you, Everyone, and a bunch of others. These are all acceptable audience subjects to top off your sentence. For instance you wouldn’t say “This pizza tastes good!” you would instead say “I enjoy the taste of this pizza” or “Everyone enjoys the taste of this pizza” the opinion/emotion needs to be applied to a source to make sense grammatically. 

Quarter 2 (Green) is all about emotions and opinions. Chimeric language is an exchange of ideas but also importantly emotions and feelings. Q2 is dedicated to how the sentence is supposed to be interpreted or felt by the reader, as obviously in ‘spoken’ chimeric speaker and listener technically feel the same about what is currently being said. Listener opinion is very distinct from speaker and in writing the speaker takes priority. So for example the statement “Who finished the box but left it in the pantry?” would instead have to be translated into something akin to “I am pissed and questioning who had the audacity to finish the box and did not care enough to remove it from the pantry thus leaving me to find it and become disappointed?” Basically chimeric lends itself to very long translations due to their feelings.  

Quarter 3 (Blue) is the action section of the sentence. The verbs if you will. This is where things are happening and is VERY tied in with Q1. Subjects in Q1 and Q2 will be linked together with lines that follow the same slice through the circle.

When a subject is linked to an action that means that the subject is the one performing the action, whereas subjects closer to the center and unaligned with an action are what is being acted upon. Like with the audience conundrum though an action needs a subject to actually act, whether it is an individual/s or an object or place. This is usually the least word heavy portion of the sentence as it is almost supplemental to Q1, and in contrast to the thin, crisp lines of the other quarters, Q3 will often be smudgey and more messy due to being written mostly with the back of the thumb. 

Quarter 4 (Yellow) is generally not going to have any words written there, as it functions as the anchor point for the hand. The outmost finger rests here on the page to stabilize the hand as it closes during writing. When writing in a ream of papers this is where the hole to hold them all together is punched through. However in modern fanciful writing styles Q4 is also used as a secondary emotional quarter. This style will use Q4 as the reactionary emotion of the reader, more so the expected reaction and emotion from the reader. This is an EXTREMELY class based writing style and it is a GIANT NO NO to write like this for someone of higher status to read. Typically only Clan heads will freely use this writing style, especially towards each other lmao. The writing style of the passive aggressive power struggle. 

All together Quarters are read at once! And I mean that there is no one word the chimera will start with. Every word of the sentence is absorbed at the same time, no following along a line like how I’m currently typing. But what indicates the order of which things are meant to be perceived is how close they are to the outside of the circle. Things closer to the center come later in the sentence and will be understood to be lower in the hierarchy of words. However only subjects and actions are directly linked to each other, emotion/opinion words are to have a more natural seep throughout the entirety of the sentence with only a loose idea of where they are to be felt. In this way while a subjects actions may be concrete, the writers feelings about them are more fluid and organic. 

Chimeric conlang yay! I wanted to make modern Mirum script but decided I needed to start at the roots. So technically two written languages originate from Mirum, but they are extremely similar with one directly branching from the other. Chimeric is the original and Miran is the derivative, they mostly share characters but their sentence structure is different. Chimeric keeps the circular structure whereas Miran is a zigzagging horizontal and completely drops quarters 2 and 4. Leading to modern Miran being a very literal language vs Chimeric’s emotion heavy focus. But if you know one you can pretty much read the other, albeit with some culture shock. 

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

2. in carlos' room

warnings: nothing

summary: in which Lando invites Y/N to hang out after Miami

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 1k

✧ previously • next up

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . MAY 6TH. 　⁺ 　 . ✦

you couldn't sleep.

the notepad in your lap felt heavier than it should, the three sentences you had written mocking you from the page. you stared at them, your mind turning over every possible direction to take, but no words seemed worthy enough to follow. they lingered, daring you to finish them, but you couldn't escape the weight they carried.

“don’t speak, no, don’t try

it’s been a secret for the longest time

don’t run, no, don’t hide

been running from you for the longest time”

the lines thrummed with an undeniable truth, pulling you in deeper with each pulse, each syllable. it was a truth you weren’t ready to face yet, but it wouldn't let go. your thoughts circled, skimming the edge of something you'd rather not admit to yourself.

the sound of the pen tapping against the notepad broke the silence, the rhythmic click a small comfort in the otherwise still room. but the question weighed heavily on your mind, refusing to leave. did he want you? and more importantly, could you handle everything that came with him—especially your father?

the memory of the conversation you’d had with your fathe after leaving the pool came rushing back, sharp and bitter. you’d found him standing outside your door, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as you approached.

“where were you?” his voice was calm, but there was a clear edge to it, like he already knew you weren't telling the whole truth.

“by the pool,” you answered, trying to sound unaffected, “i needed some air.”

his gaze sharpened. “you know you’re supposed to stay low tonight,” he said, his tone laced with disappointment. “this isn’t just about you—it’s about...”

“the team, i know, dad." you swallowed, trying to keep the defensiveness from seeping into your voice. “i wasn’t gone long.”

he didn’t buy it. his eyes searched your face for any sign of dishonesty. “next time, tell me where you're going.” his voice lowered, suspicion creeping in. “alone?”

you hesitated, your stomach turning.

“yeah, alone.” it came out smoother than you expected, but the lie stung like it always did.

he was quiet for a moment, weighing your answer. finally, he nodded, though the doubt in his eyes lingered. “fine. just remember what’s at stake here. for all of us.”

you nodded, the weight of his words pressing down on you as he walked away. once the door clicked shut, you leaned against it, exhaling sharply. you had gotten away with it this time, but just barely.

back in your room, the silence felt suffocating. the words on the notepad seemed to stare back at you, mocking your hesitation. you had no idea how to finish the verse. the melody looped in your mind, the lines demanding to be sung, but it was his face, his presence, that kept blocking your focus.

the version of him you wanted to paint stood just out of reach, too real, too complicated. a dangerous combination of charm and recklessness. you couldn't stop imagining what might've happened if oscar hadn't stepped in when he did—how far you might've let lando push you, how deep you'd have fallen into something you didn't fully understand yet.

just as the thoughts began to spiral, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message that was all too familiar. of course, it was lando.

“we’re in carlos’ room right now.”

“wanna join us?”

you hesitated, your finger hovering over the message. after a moment, you replied with a single question:

“firstly, who’s ‘we’?”

“myself, fewtrell, george, lewis, max v, charles, pierre n carlos ofc.”

“just having a drink and chatting. we’re on the 11th floor, room 202 in case you come.”

you considered it for a moment before standing and heading to your closet. a change of clothes was in order. you swapped the black nightgown for a simple black sundress, sliding it on before you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. this wasn’t about looking perfect—it was about not overthinking it.

when you knocked on carlos’s door, you could hear the laughter from inside fade just slightly. after a moment of murmured voices, the door swung open to reveal lando, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“cinderella,” he said with a grin.

“norris,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“norris? i call you cinderella, and you call me norris, y/n?” he asked, clearly confused.

“as far as i’m concerned, that’s your name.”

he rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. “that is precisely my point!”

“i won’t call you prince charming. drop it, lando,” you warned, pushing past him to enter the room.

“but i—”

“i will call my father for you if you don’t drop it, norris,” you threatened, your voice a little firmer than you intended as you moved past him.

he stepped aside, but his hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he closed the door behind you, the touch lingering longer than necessary.

you made your way into the room, your eyes immediately finding max verstappen. “y/n!” he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

“hey, maxie!” you waved back, then turned to carlos, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, clearly having the time of his life.

“good to know max is the only one worth mentioning and greeting, y/n. really good,” carlos teased.

“oh, c’mon, not you too, carlitos!” you shot back, trying to keep it light. “are you going to the lando norris school of being a pain in the ass?”

“funny, y/n. real funny,” lando muttered from behind you, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

you sat down, pulling your legs beneath you, but the atmosphere was already shifting. the room was a mix of chatter and laughter, the boys gathered around a Monopoly board, bills of real cash scattered haphazardly across the floor. an open bottle of Jack Daniel's sat in the middle of the group, the liquid sloshing as they laughed and argued.

“oh god, are we betting for real?” you asked, eyeing the game with mild disbelief.

“afraid, cinderella?” lando teased, his voice light but with a definite edge.

“give me a bottle of wine and i might end all of you pussies.” you smirked, the banter flowing effortlessly as you settled in.

“can somebody hide that bottle i bought?” lewis joked.

with that, you know you were in for a night that was anything but predictable.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

INSTAGRAM

ynupdates

❤️ by user7, ynfan14, ynfan9 and more

ynupdates: Y/N Stella via Instagram stories, “cinderella & the rats”

click here to open comment section

user8: who do we think are the rats?

landofan7: i think she's with the boys (maybe the ferrari boys, max and lando? idk)

ynfan2: yeah she's great friends with them!

user10: i just want to know if *he* is there

landofan17: y/n baby, tell me a secret...

ynfan18: monopoly post race? simply LOVELY!

landofan15: i might never recover from this speculation ...

[lottins-only]

THE ALCHEMY | PART II

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness

A/N: thank you to those who read the first part. let me know what you think of this one <333

summary: working at real madrid is a dream come true— until kylian mbappe, football's biggest star and the last person you ever want to see, joins the club. as tensions rise between you two and the lines between frustration and fascination blur, you wonder: can you truly resist the man you've sworn to hate?

PART ONE

mallorca is a great place to let loose, have fun, bask in the sun. mallorca is not a great place to be stuck in a meeting with your ex-one night stand and his lawyers, discussing the nitty gritty of his salary and bonuses.

It’s little over a month after kylian’s presentation, and only a couple days after the men’s first team won the super cup in warsaw. you and a handful of others from the finance team flew out to mallorca for the match, and most importantly, for the post-game meeting with the club's leadership. that in itself lasted two hours and was draining, but last minute, you got dragged into this impromtu session with kylian and his lawyers. you don't even know why, to be honest. you're not familiar with the finer points of his deal, since that was your boss' responsibility.

anyways, here you are in one of the conference rooms in the hotel where the team's staying, completely zoned out as your boss speaks. your eyes zero in on kylian, who's just as bored as you, albeit hiding it way worse. he's absentmindedly doodling on a notepad while his lawyer next to him listens attentively to your boss. he's left handed? what a pick me, you think.

as if he can hear your thoughts, kylian glances up and shoots you a wink when his gaze catching yours. you're even more annoyed now. after you reminded him about the disappointing night you shared, you expected at least a little embarrassment from him the next time you saw him. but no, he was completely unfazed when you walked into the room and shook hands with him and his lawyer, and now he's being playful, maybe even a little flirtatious with you. the man is truly shameless.

"...so that will be the figure you'll receive as a bonus if you ever win the ballon d'or as a real madrid player" you catch the end of your boss' words.

"let's hope that's never happening" you mutter under your breath.

you freeze when you realize you've said that louder than you thought.

kylian’s eyes twinkle in amusement. “sorry, what was that?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and twirling the pen in between his fingers, clearly enjoying your slip up.

"n-nothing" you stammer, avoiding looking at your boss who's going red with anger.

your boss continues droning on and on about sums and figures, and an hour or so later, when he declares the meeting finished, you slip out of the room quickly. you don't want to exchange another word with him at all.

a while later you’re at one of the hotel lounge areas, staring blankly at yet another excel sheet when your boss slides up to you with a solemn look on his face. 

“we need to talk” he says.

you know exactly what he’s going to say. in fact, you’ve been anticipating this conversation ever since all the players returned to training and the season started.

you hold up your hand. “before you start, i want to say sorry for what was said when... when he visited. it was totally unprofessional, and i should’ve kept my mouth shut. I’m honestly really lucky you were the only one who overheard.”

he rubs the back of his neck, a relieved look on his face. “ i'm glad you brought it up, y/n. honestly, who cares how long it took the guy to get here, or how much he cost? the important thing is he's here now. he's gonna win us games, and he's sure as hell gonna bring in a lot of cash. so don't dwell on the past, okay?"

you nod along. you don't tell him that a few months ago, this would've been your perspective as well, and you don't say the real reason you hate kylian, because, well, it would be a little tmi to share with your boss, wouldn't it? nonetheless, you enthusiastically express your agreement, ready to move on from your blunder.

"oh, and please, try and make amends" he adds. "i've heard through the grapevine that he mentioned to the coaching staff he wasn't happy with the reception he got from a certain someone in the finance team"

"he didn't mention any names, nor did he file a complaint" he quickly adds at the panicked look on your face. "but you have to be careful with big personalities like his... just apologize if you get the chance, and then keep your head down" he pauses, sighing. "you're my best analyst, y/n. i don't want you to get into trouble over something like this"

"i understand" you reply, voice steady even though you feel anything but. "i'll handle it. whatever it takes to smooth things over. thank you for letting me know"

after he leaves, you bury your head in your hands, groaning. what did i get myself into? you think

a couple days later on a warm madrid evening, you find yourself at the front door of a pretty villa on the outskirts of the city, one hand ringing the bell and the other holding a bottle of wine. you're here for a dinner party hosted by rafael, one of the physiotherapists working in pintus' team. he's a decade or so older than you, but you two struck an unlikely friendship a couple months ago when you were the only two people to join the book club set up by hr to 'enhance company culture'. he's kind and easy to talk to, so it was a no brainer for you to accept when he extended the invitation.

the door swings open, and rafael greets you enthusiastically, giving you a small hug and ushering you in. as you follow him inside the house, you nod hellos to the few familiar faces you see, though you don't recognize most of the people because you don't work with them directly.

"why don't you get yourself a drink?" rafael says as he guides you to the living room, where there's an assortment of drinks laid out on a table. "i still have to finish up in the kitchen. make yourself at home ok?"

you nod, nervously glancing around as he walks away. you’re not socially anxious, but you’re not used to being the youngest person at a social gathering by several decades, either. you start pouring yourself a glass of wine but pause when you hear a familiar laugh.

you glance up, and of course he's here.

kylian stands in the corner of the room, drink in hand, casually leaning against a wall. he's deep in conversation with brahim, laughing at something he said. you're immediately infuriated by the casual confidence he exudes, the magnetism that seems like second nature for him. he's dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, and you're horrified at the wave of attraction that hits you when your eyes catch the way the fabric clings to his bicep, or the way his fingers grip his glass. you're just ovulating you think to yourself, trying to remind yourself of the horrible night you shared – something you should never want to repeat.

you look away before he notices you staring, heading over to a group of people that seem friendly enough. you start chatting with clara, a lovely older lady who works as a receptionist at the training center. when you mention how old you are, her eyes light up.

"oh, there's a couple boys your age here. you have to meet them, they're the sweetest." she starts leading you towards another corner of the room, and your heart sinks a little when you realize who she wants to introduce you to. sure enough, clara stops in front of kylian and brahim.

"kylian, brahim – meet y/n" clara beams.

brahim greets with a warm handshake, but kylian only stares with narrowed eyes, eyes scanning your face for something.

"I take it you two know each other already?" clara asks, pointing between you and kylian.

"yes. we know each other" kylian says, voice cool.

" how wonderful!" clara says, blissfully unaware of how you know each other. she turns to you with a smile. "then y/n you must already know how much of a gentleman kyky is. the other day, he gave my grandson a signed shirt and a tour of the training center! he made that little boy's year, i tell you"

a gentleman? you almost snort. that must be a bad joke.

kylian glances at you, waiting for your reaction, his gaze almost daring you to contradict clara's words.

"that's...nice" you force out weakly.

clara leans over and pinches kylian's cheeks. "he's a real sweetheart our kyky. such a kind soul."

kylian shrugs humbly. " i'll never say no to kids. they're special"

clara coos even more, completely charmed by him, before excusing herself and walking off to greet a friend who just arrived. you grow frustrated as you watch her go – how can someone who left you feeling so insignificant be seen as this perfect figure by everyone else?

"your strap" kylian mutters, suddenly leaning closer.

"huh?"

without another word, he reaches up and adjusts the spaghetti strap of your top that had slipped off your shoulder. his fingers brush lightly against your skin, and without meaning to, you hold your breath. the sensation is infuriatingly gentle, his touch lingering longer than necessary. you don’t let out the breath you're holding until his hand leaves your skin.

"wait, how do you guys know each other again?" brahim, who was watching closely, asks rather curiously.

"old friends" kylian responds quickly.

brahim looks between you two suspiciously, then seemingly decides to let it go. he claps kylian on the back. " so, y/n. think we'll be back to back champions of europe now that this guy's joined?"

"depends" you shrug, taking a sip of your wine. your mind is elsewhere; you're still recovering from his hand on you.

kylian's jaw tightens in annoyance. "why? you don't think i can pull weight?"

" i didn't say that" you say smugly. "but out of everyone in the squad, you do have the lowest success rate in that particular area"

brahim, sensing the tension, quickly changes the subject before kylian responds. they start talking out about recovery routines after matches, and you zone out completely.

when rafael announces dinner is ready, you get a lightbulb moment: this is the perfect opportunity to politely apologize to the guy, as your boss suggested, so he doesn't get you fired. you say sorry tonight, and then you stay out of his way forever. because no matter how much he hurt you, confronting him every chance you get is definitely not worth losing the job that you worked so hard to land.

you stride over to his corner of the table and pull the chair right next to him. he only turns to look at you when you sit down, and it's comical how the smile on his face is completely wiped.

"hi" you say sweetly.

"...hi?" he peers at you suspiciously.

"listen, i–"

"you have a stain right there" he smirks, pointing at a small wine stain on your chest. " honestly, how many tops do you go through in a day? do i need to lend you some cash for the dry cleaners?"

your jaw drops. did he just call you poor?

"why do you stare at my boobs so much?" you whisper back, unable to help yourself.

"what?" he scoffs. "i don't do that"

"you do" you mutter. "only explanation why you notice every fucking imperfection on my clothes"

"do you want me to stare?" he smirks.

"no thanks" you say "i'd rather chew denim"

"pity" he says, flashing you a grin. "i thought maybe you wanted a re-do of that night in paris"

you look at him like he's crazy. "why would i–"

"i'm probably the best you've ever had" he shrugs.

you snort. "quite the opposite actually"

he physically cringes for a second before rearranging his features into a look of casual confidence and winking at you. "okay, that wasn't my best moment. but it's exactly why we need to have a redo"

you stare at him confused. one second he's insulting you, and the other he's hitting on you? you don't understand this man at all.

you don't responding but instead focus on the toast rafael is making to the whole table. you two don't speak for the rest of the dinner, him conversing with brahim and you with your seat neighbor on the other side. at some point, he excuses himself from the table and doesn't return.

at the end of dinner, you find your happy and satisfied, both with the food and the company (well, excluding kylian). you didn't manage to apologize to him like you planned, but whatever. he'll forget about you soon enough; at least that's what you hope.

before you leave, you wander upstairs to look for a bathroom to freshen up. the house is big, with the first floor lined with several closed doors. there's no sign of where the bathroom might be, so you decide to try your luck with the room closest to the stairs.

you stop dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you when you push the door open. kylian sits on the edge of the bed in what seems to be rafael's bedroom, judging from the pictures on the bedside tables. he has his phone in his hand, completely absorbed by whatever's on the screen. his head immediately snaps up at the sound of the door opening.

you frown. “what are you doing in here?”

“watching a game” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“you can’t go a couple hours without football?” you snort, leaning against the door frame. “you really are dedicated”

“my little brother’s playing” he says quietly. “it’s is his first game with his new team”

you sense something in his tone, a hint of longing and vulnerability. for the first time, it hits you: he's new here. madrid might've been the dream, but he's alone in a new city, away from his friends and family. he’s probably missing his loved ones, you realize, but you quickly shake the sympathy away. I’m here to deliver a fake apology and leave you remind yourself not feel bad for him.

you swallow, shutting the door behind you. he raises his eyebrows, but he locks his phone and meets your gaze.

"kylian" you start your practiced script while you take a seat next to him on the bed. "i just want to say i'm really sorry for what i said the day of your presentation. it was uncalled for, and not to mention unprofessional. we may have an...unpleasant past, but that's not an excuse for the way i handed things. so, again, i'd like to apologize and put that behind us, if you're willing"

he stares at you for a long moment then bursts out laughing. "that's the fakest apology i've ever heard. did they threaten your job or something?" he pauses, eyes gleaming as he leans forward and clears his throat, putting on a childish voice. " 'kylian, please say yes to this apology i'm only saying because my boss told me to' "

"that's not what i sound like" you say, face burning.

"you're right. your voice is way more high pitched" he smirks.

you close your eyes, trying to keep the irritation off your voice. " oh my god, kylian. can you just say we're good so we can move on with our lives?"

the smirk on his face is replaced by furrowed eyebrows. "are you listening to yourself? you're literally scolding me for not accepting your apology"

"well what choice do i have?" you grit your teeth. "you're not listening to me!"

"because of how you act, y/n" kylian raises his voice. " you go around insulting me in front of my new teammate, even my fucking lawyer. you think you know me but you don't"

you hadn't realized it, but you're sitting much closer to each other, faces inches apart. the tension between you two is thick, and for a moment you swear you see his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly. you don't have time to dwell on it though because his phone suddenly pings loudly and you both jump apart.

kylian's face spreads into a smile as soon as he sees the notification on his screen.

"ethan assisted a goal" he announces, tone full of pride. he lets out a triumphant laugh, and your anger slightly subsides at the happiness in his voice.

"do you miss him?" you ask after a moment.

"yeah. a lot" he admits, not meeting your eyes.

there's a moment of silence, and you're about to awkwardly change the subject when he continues, voice unsure. " i've lived away from my family before when i was younger, but never in a different country. this is new. i kind of feel... lonely"

"don't we all?" you murmur.

"what do you mean?"

you sigh, shrugging. "i think it's more common than you think. we're all lonely in our own little ways. whether you've moved to a new country or not. some of us just hide it better"

"do you– what about you? have you ever felt like that?"

you think back to the months you couldn't get out of bed. when you felt like no one understood you. yeah, you definitely know what lonliness feels like.

you nod wordlessly. he doesn't ask more questions, which you appreciate.

you clear your throat. "what do you miss most from home?"

a small smile starts playing on his face. " i miss my niece and nephew. here look–"

he taps his phone and shows you the wallpaper on his lock screen. it's a picture of two adorable little kids, a boy and a girl, grinning widely at the camera.

"aww" you coo. "they're so cute!"

"i know right?" he stares at the picture fondly, a slight look of longing on his face.

you didn't expect he'd be the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, especially given his playboy reputation. you think back to clara's words from earlier in the evening, about how good and kind he is, and something tugs at your heart. the thought slowly creeps in: maybe one awful night wasn't enough to fully know someone's character. maybe there's more to him than what his exterior showed.

"i'm sure they're super proud of their uncle kyky, killing it at his dream club" you say teasingly.

he chuckles. "i feel like a part of you just died calling me kyky"

"oh absolutely" you mutter with a deadpan look.

you catch his gaze and you both burst lout laughing at the same time, the sound filling the room. wow, have his eyes always been this sparkly? without thinking, you lean in a little closer. he mirrors your movement, and this time you're absolutely sure he eyes your lips. as the laughter fades, the air cackles with tension, with potential. but just when you think the space between you two is about to vanish entirely, the sound of approaching footsteps jolts you.

instinctively you grab kylian by the arm and pull him towards the walk in closet. you've just managed to get both of you inside the small space and close it when you hear the sound of the bedroom door opening.

someone, who you assume is rafael, shuffles around the room while whistling softly to themselves. meanwhile your eyes adjust to the darkness in the closet, and when you realize your back is pressed up against kylian's front, you try to move away. except there's no space to move.

lovely, you think.

the sound of the footsteps get awfully close to the closet and suddenly you feel kylian's fingertips land on your hips. your breath hitches, and you feel him tense up behind you. the smell of his cologne fills your senses, and you're immediately transported to a stuffy club in paris– the heat, the music, the feeling of his hand on your thigh, the way his lips grazed your neck in the backseat of the car. you remember it all. but just as suddenly, kylian snatches his hand away, snapping you out of your reverie.

"sorry" he whispers. "i didn't mean to. i - sorry"

you tense again when you feel something poking your behind. is that...? you get your answer when you feel kylian shift around uncomfortably. this could not get more awkward for you.

a few moments later you hear rafael leaving the room, and you immediately walk out of the closet, flushing furiously.

your mind whirls, searching for something to say that could distract from the very obvious.

"so, about the apology. am i forgiven?" you blurt.

he scratches the back of his neck. "well, you've made it very hard for me–"

"i can tell" you smirk, glancing down at the bulge in his pants.

"– but we're good" he finishes, ignoring your comment. you, however, don't miss the embarrassed look on his face.

you stand there awkwardly for a second. you think about the fact that he's confided in you that he feels lonely, and you get an idea.

"do you want to grab some desert some place else?" the words are out your mouth before you could second guess them. "you know how the spanish love their late dinners. i have a spot i could show you" you put on grin, hoping he sees this as an olive branch.

"oh" his face immediately twists into an apologetic expression. "i can't tonight. i have to get up for an early meeting in the morning. sorry"

"no worries" you say casually, but a small part of you deflates. at least you tried.

"right" he says "well i should probably head home. and good call back there, by the way. would've looked super weird if rafael saw us in his bedroom all by ourselves"

"yeah" you say, tone even. "super, super weird"

you make sure the coast is clear before heading out of the room and making your way downstairs. after you've both said your goodbyes and thanked rafael, you find yourselves at the front door, him waiting for his driver and you for your uber.

"i could drop you off, you know" he offers. his tone is polite, like you're a stranger he's just met and not someone who he's had heated arguments with. it makes you feel weird.

"it's fine" you wave him off with a smile.

when your uber arrives, you turn to him to say goodbye. you hesitate for a second, a part of you hoping he'll change his mind about getting desert or maybe ask again about dropping you home.

but he only says "i'll see you around"

"see you" you say, and you walk over to the car.

at home, late at night, you're sleepless. you think about the almost kiss. the awkwardness in the closet. you toss and turn, but you can't get kylian out of your mind. you replay every word you said to each other, every touch you exchanged.

but that bubble bursts the next morning when you come across a picture on your instagram explore page that makes your blood boil. it's a paparazzi shot of kylian and a scantily clad woman leaving a club late at night. the caption reads, real madrid star kylian mbappe seen leaving club with mystery blonde

the timestamp reveals it's from last night. the same night he refused your kind offer to spend time with him. you feel deceived, disappointment and anger simmering inside you. you can't believe you were starting to like the guy, that you almost opened up to him.

you send the post to his instagram account, typing out a quick message :

hope she got better sex <3

tags: @kyliansonlygf @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @loonworld @ajsboys @whateveryouloser @greyishbach

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (14) - Fighting Myself

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 6.4k

-I don't want you to promise you can change everything and make it better-

Turns out working again was the best choice Jenna could have made. It certainly kept her mind off of you and made her busy, meaning she had less time to miss you. Yet still, after a long day of shooting, she still went back to her room and wished you were there with her in some way. At the very least to hear your voice, to come back to her room and maybe open the messages and find you've sent her an audio message, or just a text message or anything really, if not outright have a phone call with you. But despite her own wishes to once again see you, and your own desires to fix things, the two of you remained separate, with no contact whatsoever for over a month and a half now.

So, to put her mind at ease and help her fall asleep a bit faster, Jenna got into a bit of a habit. She sat down, pulled out a piece of paper and grabbed a pen, and she began writing a letter that would never reach the one it was addressed to. She put her thoughts on the paper, working through her feelings in a way, and by now she had a clear picture of what was going on in your head back then.

And she truly felt that what Enrique had told her two weeks ago was right, that at the end of the day that choice was nothing but an unhealthy coping mechanism. More importantly, that not only would you never hurt her, there probably wasn't anyone then she could feel safer with. In her heart Jenna felt like you not only stand by her and support her through anything for as long as she wanted you in her life, but also be protective of her in a way she sometimes craved.

This was a lonely job, filled with so many unpleasant experiences, and every now and then Jenna just wished she could have someone who understood it and who she could feel emotionally safe with. That was the kind of protectiveness she craved, to have someone take her heart help shield it from the rest of the world as she did the same for that person. And she wanted that someone to be you.

Thus, she kept writing, and she was somewhat thankful that her writing was kind of difficult to read, even for herself, because she was bearing her heart out on these pages. She usually only wrote about a page and a half per letter, she didn't even think much about what to write, the words just flowed through her, materializing on the white paper until she just had nothing left to write. Once she was done for tonight, she folded the paper and took an empty envelope putting the letter inside and sealing it away.

She wondered what you were doing right now. She guessed you were probably sleeping, since it was the middle of the night in New York, where you probably were right now filming The Daughter with Hugh. But that didn't stop Jenna from still wondering how you were doing, if you were maybe dreaming about something, or if you ever dreamt about her like she so often dreamt about you. She sometimes dreamt of the days spent filming Scream, and sometimes her dreams were about things she wished would happen in the future. Jenna lost count of how many times she dreamed of reuniting with you; those dreams were always the most beautiful while they lasted and despite reality being different, she always woke up from them feeling happy and hopeful for the future.

She got up and put the sealed envelope in her bag next to about a dozen and a half letters already written, never to be sent to you.

~X~

You were sitting in a chair going through the lines of the next scene you had with Hugh; the filming was about a third of the way done and you were actually moving quite quickly with it. Much quicker than you, or anyone else, imagined you would. Hell you were several days ahead of the schedule because you and Hugh just kept nailing the scenes and Florian’s approach really worked for both of you.

It wasn’t just that though, it all felt real. Considering everything you and Hugh went through it was very easy to just tap into this father-daughter relationship that was strained and somewhat fractured, but still there. This idea of not knowing how to approach one another and still at the same time not knowing how to express yourself felt familiar, and in some moments, you almost felt like you weren't acting at all.

“You ready?” Hugh said as he patted you on the shoulder and you grinned, doing your best to lift his spirit as well, because you've had some tough scenes over the past few days.

“Ready whenever you are,” you hopped to your feet and left the script on the chair.

“Let's do this,” you went and took your positions, and soon enough you heard the signal to start.

As Hugh watched over the baby brought in to play Theo, you slowly came in “Dad, do you have a moment?” you asked slowly, speaking as quietly and with as much uncertainty as you could.

“Yeah, of course. I'm just trying to get him to fall sleep,” Hugh whispered back. “What's up?” he asked, rocking the bed slightly.

You stepped closer glancing at the baby with a hint of softness in your eyes, a genuine fondness could be seen in your expression, and it was something you, Hugh and, Florian figured out. Nicole was supposed to show this kind of softness only to her baby brother, showing that despite being hurt by what her father did she neither blamed nor resented the boy. “I was thinking about school,” you nervously brushed the few strands of your hair back.

“You're anxious about it, it's understandable. But you'll do great, you're a bright kid, Nicole, give it a bit of time and you'll be caught up before you even know it,” Hugh said almost dismissively and your jaw tightened at that, but he wasn't paying attention, he was busy with the baby.

“Wouldn't it be better to wait for September? It's the middle of the year,” you still tried, raising your hand slightly, but then letting it drop.

“That's nonsense, going to school will be good for you! It'll all be fine, you’ll meet new people,” he said as he gave up on rocking the bed instead lifting the baby into his arms. Yet you just looked away and sighed quietly. “What is it now? You'll be fine, you just need to put some effort into it.”

“Dad, I just don't want all these people's attention on me. I'm transferring in the middle of the year, everyone will look at me and ask questions,” you tried to explain yourself, putting more effort into your body language than the tone of your voice. You kept your tone a bit more even, resigned, but your body language was jittery. “And I don't have the answers.”

“They’ll just be curious.”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you!” you spread your hands cutting him off in a slightly sharper tone, but Theo began crying and you both fell silent.

“It's OK, it's OK,” Hugh cradled the baby, calming him down and you just took a couple of steps back.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make him cry,” you said while covering your eyes.

“I know,” Hugh’s voice softened as you just leaned back against the wall and pressed the back of your head against it. “Why are you so nervous about this? Why did you even stop going to school in the first place? I keep asking you that and you never even explained it to me,” he sounded tired, which was exactly what Florian wanted. He wanted Hugh to progressively get more frustrated, he wanted that from both of you, and you were giving him that.

You let out an exasperated sigh and quickly looked around the room, just for a moment adding your own flare to the scene. “I've been telling you, I don't know how to explain it. I just I can't take it,” your voice cracked at the exact same spot it was meant to, and you didn't even need to act it out, it just naturally cracked right there.

“Try telling me in your own words then. What can't you take? What happened at your old school?” Hugh tried, he reached out, and you just shook your head.

“I’m trying, dad, but I don't know what to tell you. I can't even explain it to myself, I just feel like I'm suffocating. Dad, I don't know what is wrong with me,” the desperation slipped into your voice as you just for a moment almost reached out to him, and for a moment it almost felt like you would, like your character was just about to open her mouth and ask for help she desperately needed.

“Was Theo crying just now?” and then Vanessa came in, breaking whatever momentum the two of you had.

Hugh looked surprised, as if he just remembered he still had a baby in his arms. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got him,” then he turned to you. “We'll talk later, OK? And you're going to school on Monday, trust me, it’ll be good for you,” and you looked like you were about to argue but you just let resignation show on your face as you walked past Vanessa and out of the room.

“Cut!” and the scene ended, and you could finally properly breathe again.

“Holy shit, this is intense!” you exclaimed, and by now it really looked like this was taking its toll on you and Hugh. You were both genuinely struggling with what was going on here. In every scene you shot you could both recognize the moments where just one tiny difference would have changed the conclusion of the movie, and you knew where you were heading. You were heading toward the tragedy where Nicole takes her life, and right in this scene you felt that if your character was a bit more open, or if Hugh’s character was a bit more attentive, or if Vanessa's character just didn't come in, that maybe it would have been the point where things could have changed.

“You can say that again,” Hugh sat down on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you were filming in while you went to the fridge to grab water for the three of you.

“Forget action scenes, I could do them all day long, but damn am I happy we do this only a few times,” you handed the bottle to Vanessa and then want to Hugh and leaned against the back of the sofa. “Maybe we could do more, today, maybe something lighter?” you asked Florian and then turned to Hugh and Vanessa. “If the two of you are up for it, of course.”

“It’s up to you and Hugh,” Vanessa said, since she mostly had to show up at times and wasn’t an active participant in most of the scenes.

Hugh thought it over. “I’m down, we could use a lighthearted scene after these past couple of days,” he figured.

“That settles it, the three of you go and get changed and we’ll keep going,” Florian clapped, and you all went to get ready for the next scene.

~X~

On the seventh of March, exactly three weeks after you began filming, and full two weeks ahead of the schedule, you were done filming The Daughter. And it felt incredible to have this behind you. You were emotionally drained, completely exhausted, and all you really wanted was to just fall asleep and go back to Denver tomorrow.

The knocking on your door made you sigh, but you still got up from your bed and put the necklace with Jenna's ring back on. You did it almost instinctively, rather than as a conscious effort, and you dragged yourself to the doors to open them. You weren't sure who you were expecting but you probably should have guessed it was Hugh. He looked just as exhausted as you, sleepless nights plagued both of you during these past weeks, caused by the heavy subject of the movie. The scenes you filmed were the most difficult scenes you have ever done. The scene in Logan where you pretend you were cutting yourself with the claws, the scene where Logan dies, or the heavier scenes from Scream, particularly the one in the hospital, none of them compared to what you had to do. It felt like the movie was pulling all the things you desperately tried to ignore about yourself to the surface.

“Hey,” Hugh leaned on the door frame and forced a small smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Can't sleep?” you asked, and he just nodded letting out a heavy sigh carrying all the exhaustion of the past three weeks.

“I just keep thinking,” Hugh paused, and you went and invited him in. You imagined things would have been a lot worse if his family wasn't here. With them here the two of you could have some form of light-heartedness during the nights, they kept both your and Hughes sanity in check. If it was just you and Hugh you doubted you could properly support each other through this.

Hugh came inside and slumped into the chair at the desk, and you just fell back onto the sofa. “You want to talk about it?” you asked, thought your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the conversation. You guessed it was just the final scene you filmed today, where your character broke down and yelled at him and he yelled back, and it just felt way too real and way too raw and you were thankful you didn't have to repeat it.

But instead of talking about himself Hugh looked at you and instead asked: “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” you said, dismissing the question out of habit. You weren't fine, it's been over two months since you last saw Jenna, you've been struggling and though you were adamant on never again fighting, you had to find another way to release all of these emotions.

“Come here. Tell me what's really happening,” his words surprised you, there was a different tone to them. When you sent him a questioning look he gave you a sad smile. “I've been told ‘I'm fine,’ is the biggest lie we tell, so I'm putting it to test. Tell me what's really going on.”

He was right, you did tell a lie. You got up and went to the table, sitting down next to him. “I'm worried. I don't know what will replace fighting for me, it was a form of release and now that I've done two movies and I'm about to take a bit of a break I’m afraid of falling into some other unhealthy coping mechanism,” you said, finally admitting it to someone else as well.

He quietly considered your words, seriously contemplated what you said, what that meant for you. And he took his time, and you patiently waited, knowing he would eventually say something. “I don't,” he began the words getting stuck in his throat. “I don't know what to do,” your eyes widened at that, you've never heard him say that, hell, you never heard any adults in your life say that. At least the ones important to you. “I don't want to make this about myself,” he tried to backtrack, but you put your hand on his shoulder.

“Finish that sentence, don't hold anything back,” you weren't even sure where that came from, but if there was one thing this movie thought you, and probably Hugh as well, it was that people should talk, should be more open about what they felt. And if your own life taught you anything it was that if you didn't take the chance to be open with loved ones, you might never get another one.

“I don't want to lose you, yet I don't know how to help you,” he admitted as tears filled his eyes and all you could do was just sit there and watch, almost unable to breathe. “I've done those scenes with you and all I could see were my kids, and all I could think about was if I was good enough for the three of-“ he stopped, both of you halting completely at the number he chose.

“Three?” you repeated, your voice hoarse and shaky as his lower lip trembled. “You said three,” you said again, a bit harsher than you intended.

“You as well. I consider you my child,” Hugh told you and you just stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you backed away, burying your fingers into your hair as you took several deep breaths. He got up and reached out to you, only to stop just as he was about to touch you, as if afraid that if he did he would only make things worse.

Your mind was in complete chaos, you found yourself caught in the whirlpool of emotions threatening to pull you under and drown you. This wasn't the emotion you were prepared for. Deep down, subconsciously, you were aware of it, you were feeling that warmth, and you knew he was more than capable of looking at you like that. Yet… “I can't give that back to you, I can't call you dad,” you gasped, looking at him as your heart broke over that. “I can't go through that again, Hugh. I already lost my parents once,” it wasn't even about replacing your parents, you knew that wasn't what he wanted. You always considered Hugh as someone like a father to you. Yet, that one word, that ‘like’ was the key difference. Hugh saw you as his child, you could only see him like a father.

“I don't need you to,” Hugh quickly told you, finally bridging that gap, slowly lowering your hands back down from your head and hugging you. “I understand, and I know how much you care about me. I know how many times you had a fight one night, only to the day after come to the hospital so you could be with me while I was waiting for the results. Always making sure that if somehow Deb and my kids couldn't be there that at least you would be there,” he told you and you gripped the back of his shirt, hugging him tightly. “I don't need you to call me dad to know how you feel,” and that brought you so much relief. “But I-“ he stopped again, now more vulnerable than he's ever been with you. “I need to know how you feel about other things, I want to know what troubles you, or what makes you feel alone, what makes you feel the need to escape. I want you to be vulnerable with me about yourself, I need to know that you can do that.”

And those words, perhaps for the first time in four years, just opened the floodgates. “I thought I was going crazy after their deaths,” you said pulling away and stumbling back to the sofa, not to get away from him, but so your legs wouldn’t fail you.

Hugh sat down next to you, full of understanding, as he put his hand on your back. “In what way?”

“I kept coming back to an empty apartment. Day after day, night after night, I kept being all alone. Thought that I would never again come back to an unlocked apartment, to people waiting for me, or to an apartment that someone else would come back to. I was sixteen and I just buried both of my parents in one day,” tears fell down your face, every word you spoke came out as a sort of a cry for help, often coming out as gasps as you tried to get your breathing under control. “I had you and Barbara, but you had your own lives, your own families, you couldn’t fill that void. I would never again be able to hear their voice, to hear them say my name, or laugh,” you paused, sobbing as you tried to put what you felt into words. “They never even got to see Logan, not even the trailers and they all that time in a coma.”

You felt cold, and you gripped Jenna’s ring, trying to find something to anchor yourself to. You felt like you were once again sixteen, going down the rabbit hole of the numerous studies about comatose patients.

“I kept thinking how they must have been in so much pain after that truck run them over. They must have felt it, and I had no idea how unconscious they were. In the worst moments I wondered if they somehow actually knew what was going on. Asking myself what if they were waiting for me to do something and wake them up? Or worse than that what if they wanted everything to end and I kept putting them through it. That pain must have been unimaginable, and I kept them in that state for two months,” you want it to be judged and punished for failing them, yes, but this was another reason you ended up going back to the fighting. “As unreasonable as it was, in that state I let panic and loneliness and dark thoughts consume my mind, and I felt-“ you clutched your head, tightly shutting your eyes. “I felt like I tortured my parents to death by keeping them alive in so much pain.”

And Hugh was unable to come up with words to say, he could only hold you tightly, grounding you, anchoring you to the hotel room you were in so you wouldn't slip back into that state of mind. He sensed you weren’t done talking.

“And then, right before I went back to fighting, that man, that monster that killed nine people, went and pleaded insanity, and instead of being locked away in prison for the rest of his life he got sent to psychiatric ward,” you spat out, anger rising within you again. “My parents and seven other innocent people died because he got high and lost control over his truck, and he gets to-“ you didn’t finish that sentence, instead focusing back on how you felt. “I was consumed with so much rage and hatred, and I became almost terrified of myself. I hated fighting more than anything else, yet it was the only thing that gave me any kind of release,” that was all that drove you back to the fighting, that insanity caused by loneliness, by isolation and the fear that it would just keep going, by rage at the injustice, and by the fear that you somehow ended up not only not saving your parents but hurting them in your attempts to save them. It all just pushed you back into that world.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never wanted things to turn out this way. I just wanted to find release for all those emotions, just for a moment. To feel the pain that I could explain instead of that thing ripping through my hear,” you knew it wasn't healthy, you knew it was wrong, you knew all of that, yet you needed it desperately to stay as sane as you could be.

“I was terrified when I saw what you did to try and save them,” Hugh began, seeing as you shut up and didn't continue. You just had nothing else to say. “I wasn't terrified of what you were doing, I understood it, I was terrified of losing you, because I had no idea how to handle what you went through. I didn't know what to say to you, I didn't know how to approach you, and it made me unable to talk to you properly. I couldn't get you to open up to me because I had no idea how to be open with you. I thought you needed me to be strong, when you actually needed me to approach you like this, without restraints, without fearing that if I didn't appear strong enough, that you wouldn't open up to me,” you supposed there was some truth in his words, and that that might have been a part of it, but it wasn't all there was to it.

“It wasn't just you,” you raised your head and looked him in the eyes, and you saw nothing but compassion and love. “Neither one of us was ready. You could have been open and vulnerable with me, but I wouldn’t have been ready. I needed to feel like maybe I could have someone by my side like that again.”

“And that was Jenna, wasn't it?” he asked, but it was more of a statement.

You nodded. “While we were filming Scream a lot of things happened between us, and one night I was supposed to go to a fight and Jenna appeared at my door just as I was about to leave. She stopped me and that night I spent hours thinking about everything. I was hoping that maybe one day maybe I could be able to find a place with her that I could call home. That it wouldn't be just a house or an apartment, but home we would come back to no matter how long it took or where our jobs took us,” and you still wished to have that with Jenna.

“You'll have a home again,” Hugh told you and somehow you believed him, and you just hugged him, finally letting all those pent-up emotions out. You were being vulnerable and crying without breaking, just releasing everything that made your heart feel heavy, and he cried with you.

And somehow that hour and a half or however long you spent like that healed you more than anything you experienced over the past four years.

“They would be so proud of you,” Hugh said, and it was a thought you held on to, hoping it was true. “I know this, if they were ever conscious of what was going on while they were in a coma, they would have been happy knowing you were trying so hard to save them. Y/N, if they felt anything when they were dying, they felt your love.”

And you cried like a baby, wailing and sobbing, finally letting them rest in peace and learning to live with their deaths instead of letting it define the rest of your future. “Thanks, pops,” that was as close as you could ever get. You couldn't call him dad or father, but pops would do, and the way Hugh’s breath hitched, and he held you a bit tighter made you know it was worth more than anything.

~X~

Barely twelve hours later you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, your suitcases in your hands and your backpack on your back. You set one suitcase down to grab your keys, since Hugh brought them to you, only to find out that your apartment was once again unlocked. You smiled and swung the doors open. “Barbara, you really need to find another hobby!” you exclaimed, leaving the suitcases at the doors and walking into the living room. You kept your backpack still on your back, after all you had some gifts from your vacation for Barbara in it.

“Nah, this is more fun than any other pastime I could acquire,” she jumped from the sofa and ran into your arms. “Welcome home I missed you so much, you stupid asshole,” right, since she met you Barbara hasn't ever in her life spent two months away from you. Not even when you were filming Scream, which lasted about a month and a half, so this must have been a really big shock for her. “I mean, I let you go get your girl and you not only fail to get the girl you take a trip to Italy before you needed to go, and then take a vacation, leaving me here and then instead of coming back here to talk to me, you go to work. That does it, we're breaking up.”

You laughed at her dramatic monologue. “We can't break up! We aren't together,” you chuckled, and she just swatted you on the arm, a playful smile appearing on her face,

“That's what you are latching on to? Incredible,” she pulled away, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I guess,” you shrugged and pulled her into a one armed hug. “Anyway, how about we go and get some shopping done? I wanna make something for you to eat,” you suggested, actually really eager to get some cooking done, especially since you learnt quite a few tricks on your vacation.

“I did the shopping, I was really bored,” Barbara said and you figured that was good, because you wanted to be in the kitchen right away.

“Great, thanks! I'm just gonna go and freshen up a bit, and I'll be right in the kitchen making us an early lunch,” you said and went to the bathroom. For a moment you caught yourself thinking Barbara had a knack for knowing how you felt, and you guessed that deep down she maybe even subconsciously understood your issues with coming back to an empty apartment. So, she tried her best to create an illusion of coming back home to someone, but it was an illusion broken by stepping into the bathroom and seeing only one toothbrush. You replaced it with a new one because it's been two months. That one toothbrush was just one of the little things that broke Barbara illusion, but you guessed the thought was what counted. Especially since she's been with you through the toughest moments

“Say, Barb!” you called out from the bathroom.

“Yeah, what's up?” she asked from the living room.

“I want to reconcile with your family! Think we could go and see them tomorrow night?” you asked her and were met with silence as you washed your hands and dried them on the towel, a clean one at that, courtesy of Barbara being here. You walked out and saw her utterly shocked.

“You mean it?” she asked and you could see the wide grin spreading on her face.

“Yeah, it's about time I start putting all the broken pieces back together,” and the smile on your face told her everything because it looked almost close enough to the way you used to smile before your parents died.

“YES!” Barbara yelled, spreading her arms up in the air and that cheer was for a lot more than just reconciling with her family.

~X~

You could see Barbara was more nervous than she was in a long, long time and as you stood in front of her family’s apartment. You couldn't blame her, you couldn't tell how this would end, or if you could accomplish what you set out to do, but you would do your best. You would start fixing your life one step at a time.

“We’ll be fine, right?” she asked, for the first time looking uncertain. A contrast to how excited and happy she was when you said you wanted to do this. But now that it was time to do it, she was nervous. “They’re going to flip when I tell them there was no boyfriend, and it was only you.”

You stifled a laugh at that, imagining the looks on their faces. From what Barbara told you they were actually happy that she was serious with someone, and it would turn out that it was just you, and it wasn't even that kind of relationship. “I mean, I had to dress up as a guy when I was fighting, so if you really want me to, I can put on a mask and play pretend,” you suggested just to light up the mood for a bit.

“Oh, hell no! I'm not risking Jenna killing me,” Barbara said and then she suddenly froze as you turned to look at her. “Ah, shit! I should really think before speaking,” she slapped her forehead, and you finally pieced everything together.

“You and Jenna are talking?” you completely forgot about the entire meeting with her parents deal and just focused on Barbara. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Why didn't you tell me anything? How is she?”

Barbara just blinked a few times, watching you blankly. “Of course that's what you want to know. She settled down with a guy and she's pregnant,” she paused for a moment. “She misses you, dumbass! How do you think she is? She's been asking about you damn near every day!” you sort of shrunk into yourself at those words and flinched. “You needed to fix things with Jenna the moment she comes back, because that girl loves you!”

You leaned back against her door and stared at your feet, nodding quietly and just taking everything Barbara was saying in. “I'm gonna fix it, I'm going to wait until she's back from New Zealand and then I'm calling her. Or maybe I should just show up at her door? Hell if I know! Fuck!” you ran your fingers through your hair, unsure of what you should do or how you should get in contact with Jenna again. If you should text or call her, maybe that wasn't the best option since Jenna got anxious when someone called her, so calling might be off the table. But then so should be going right there to see her, maybe she would be busy, or tired and sleeping, and your head was all over the place but you knew you needed to do something. Because she loved you, and you loved her, and there was absolutely no reason not to fix things between you.

You’d handle her parents somehow.

And then the doors behind you opened and you fell back on your ass, which all things considered, you deserved.

“Oh,” Barbara and Sophia gasped as you landed on your ass and Barbara burst out laughing as you looked back and then up at Sophia and then awkwardly waved at her,

“Hi, nice to see you again,” why did your voice suddenly sound so hoarse.

Barbara's mother looked at you for a few seconds. “Y/N?” she spoke slowly as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. Of all the ways you imagined meeting up with Barbara's parents again this was not one of the situations you thought would happen. Damn it, you were supposed to knock and slowly approach the reunion instead of going in ass first and falling into their apartment. “Barbara what is going on here?”

“Dear, what's wrong?” and then Richard showed up and looked at you, becoming just as confused as his wife.

“Mom, dad, there is no boyfriend. I've been going to Y/N’s apartment for these past two years,” Barbara told them directly, refusing to do this as if she was pulling teeth, she just went and said it.

You slowly got up and looked at them. “And she's still straight, by the way, it's not like we were in a relationship and trying to hide it,” you assured them because they were concerned about you and Barbara being friends, let alone you and Barbara being in a romantic relationship. They should know their daughter was about as straight as she could be.

“Y/N quit fighting by the way, three months clean now! Wait, can we say clean? Would that be appropriate for this? I never thought about it. Three months punchless? Three months violence-free?” Barbara kept suggesting the different ways they could describe your recovery of sorts.

“I think they get it, Barb,” you said and looked at her parents expecting any kind of reaction.

“And she hasn't hit you in those two years? Hasn't threatened you? Hasn't done anything to hurt you?” her dad asked and despite your best efforts you felt the words getting to you.

Barbara nodded. ”Never even raised her voice, and she put up with all of my bullshit, and all the teasing, and all the complaints about relationships, and all the times I tried to set her up with girls I met. And did I mention that she kind of solved a couple of my problems with some shady guys that wouldn't leave me alone? Because she did!” for once in her life Barbara was rambling and that was a rare sight to see, but you could see she was just as nervous about their reaction as you were.

“And you quit for good?” Barbara's mom asked and approached you, and she just raised her hand and tilted your chin up, only to then smile and push it lower so you would look her in the eyes. Your eyes widened as you were suddenly brought back to your childhood when Sophia would do that to Barbara and you and other kids you hung out. Only she would tilt your chins up because you had to look up at her, and now you were quite a bit taller than her. It was a subtle way she taught you not to lie to her, you would all look her in her warm, understanding eyes and tell the truth.

“I quit. I will never fight again,” you told her honestly and she smiled pulling you in for a hug.

“It's good to have you back, it might take some getting used to having you around again, but it really is good to have you back,” she said and Richard just gave you a thumbs up, trusting Sophia's judgment.

“Thanks,” you said hugging her back. It wasn't a tight hug you were used to, there was some distance still left to be bridged, there was time you needed to make up for, but you took a large step with them right now, and you felt so much lighter because of it.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

A/N: And with this chapter EF crossed the 100k words.

[genericpuff]

oh boy it's that time again

when rachel posts 'video progress' of her work and we proceed to dissect it like a frog in 9th grade science class

like ok first the caption of "is persephone the chicken and hades the egg" makes no fucking sense except to anyone who overthinks it and goes "wait is that a reference to the popularly-perpetuated version of the myth where persephone went down to the underworld willingly and hades didn't actually exist???" because if it is ima scream lmao

but MORE IMPORTANTLY-

Here's the transcript of what she's saying in the video:

"I think I've always wanted to write Hades' and Persephone's story because obviously I really like them. It's like very much a chicken and egg situation because I think in the beginning I thought that I was going to use a very abstract black and white style, and I realized it wasn't very enticing or fun for me, um... and I started drawing these very like vibrant characters and as I drew them I understood more about the story the more that I explored the art style, um and I guess an example of that is, y'know, Persephone is like a very bright color um, and the Underworld, is a very dark dark blue, and so when she says she really sticks out so it's just environmental uh processes like that that really helped inspire the direction of the story."

(despite her expanding on the "chicken and the egg" bit it still doesn't make sense imo lmao)

But what we're seeing isn't S1 LO, it's actually from S3 of LO:

But um... you notice anything interesting about the screenshot I just showed you?

That literally looks NOTHING like what we see in the final panel. At the VERY least I think this goes to show how overcooked it becomes in post-production, when they add the canvas layer and hypersaturate the shit out of the colors, but even the blending technique just isn't matching up?

A lot of what she's doing in this video also feels very... non-existent, like she's brushing her pen around but very little is happening so it feels more like her just putting down random brush strokes to try and make it seem put-together but really she's just kind of pushing colors around and/or doing nothing. Especially when, again, what she's painting here looks nothing like the final picture (so at best it's a lot of wasted work??)

And knowing what we know about the assistants drawing the characters separately so that Rachel can rearrange them in the final episode layout... I don't wanna call foul play here, but this feels like yet another attempt on Rachel's behalf to make her process seem more involved than it is by simply redrawing a scene for the performative aspect of it all. It's like the "sketches" in the books looking way too 'clean' for the final product and giving the impression that she just sketched over the final panels to make them look pretty enough for print.

I also wanna mention that for some reason she's drawing this on her iPad when she owns a Cintiq. It could be because she was drawing this while abroad in the US for her conventions last fall, but despite clearly being ahead of schedule, she still wound up drawing the final episode the night of-

Oh yeah and btw there are like a million clipping layers for what looks like just a simple drawing of Demeter. And this lines up with our previous theories about her using like 128549021809 layers for literally one character.

And aside from all that her commentary, as always, is very nothingburger, just a bunch of word salad. Like she's literally trying to explain LO's color theory as "well Persephone is bright pink and the Underworld is dark blue so she sticks out! That's all you need to know!"

IDK, I'm not coming to any sort of ironclad conclusion based off this one video, but it does feel like yet another desperate attempt to prove that she does work on LO and doesn't just leave it all to her assistants to do at the last minute. But like... she's kind of screwed in that argument either way, because even if she draws the majority of panels in LO, that just further proves the argument that she's stopped trying.

[simplyholl]

The President’s Pet

Summary: Trying to survive in the Void, you find yourself in President Loki’s possession.

Pairing: President Loki x F Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. minors DNI. CNC. Dom Loki. Rough sex. Biting.

This is darker than what I usually write.

W/C: 1.3K

A/N: This idea came from the wild WhatsApp ramblings of me and @wheredafandomat

See my Masterlist here

You run as fast as you can, Alioth was too close for comfort. You had survived two days in the Void, and you intended to make it a lot longer. “Follow me!” A tall man said, running beside you. “I’ll help you.” You look behind you, the giant cloud monster was gaining on you. You didn’t have a choice.

You follow him underground to his hideout. As soon as the entrance door shuts behind you, two other men surround you, tying you up. “She will do nicely. I heard the President is bored with his whore. She will make a great addition for him. She will ensure our protection for at least a month.”

You struggle against them, but it’s no use. The man you shouldn’t have trusted leads the pack as they carry you across the vacant land. When you reach their destination, you’re thrown to the ground in front of a man sitting on a makeshift throne. He’s wearing a suit with a tear near the shoulder, horns on his head, his dark hair frames his face so beautifully. You notice a button on his suit jacket that says “Loki for President”.

You wonder what his story was before he got pruned. He looks at you with a sinister smile. Rising to his feet, he grabs your hair at the nape of your neck lifting your face to meet his gaze. “Oh, I like her.”

With the clap of his hands, another woman is brought out. “Give her to Alioth, I’ve grown tired of her.” Your new captor continues, “Bring this one to her new room.” You’re lifted to your feet and brought to a tiny room. A bed and a cage are the only furnishings in the room.

You sit on the bed waiting for the man who now controls your fate to give you instructions. He keeps you waiting for what feels like hours, but it could be mere minutes. Time seems to move differently in the Void. He enters the small room, strutting over to you.

“I am President Loki. You belong to me now. What happens next is entirely up to you. If you sign this paper-“ A flash of green shines in his hand as a sheet of paper and a pen appear. “And you’re a good little pet, I will care for you. You will be fed, safe, and rest assured, I take care of what is mine. Any jewelry, clothes, sweets, any frivolous thing your heart desires. If my men find it out there, it will be yours. If you disobey me, you will be punished.”

He gestures to the cage. He hands you the paper. You take your time reading it carefully. Basically it says if you please him sexually, you will be safe, more importantly alive. “Apparently, you run this place. What’s with all the paperwork? You could just have your way with all the women who turn up here.” He thinks about your question for a second before answering.

“Consent is still important, even here darling. You make the choice. You can agree or be Alioth’s next meal. I need you to satisfy my needs. You need me to stay alive. We could have a mutually beneficial relationship here.”

He smiles and you see the politician in him. How he used his charisma to climb social ladders in his own timeline. You take a moment to study his face. He is the most handsome man you have ever seen. You weigh your options. It could be a lot worse. He could be hideous. This will ensure you’re alive for a little longer. You sigh, “Give me the pen.” You reach toward him as a wolfish grin appears on his face.

You hear the thud of his boots on the floor outside your door. This is the second time he’s come in to bed you. He was rough, leaving bruises scattered all over your body. You were still sore from last night, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

You want to be the best he’s ever had. That way, he won’t get bored of you so easily. You quickly strip your clothes, laying on the bed spread for him like a feast. He spots you immediately, nodding his approval.

“My perfect little slut, this is how I expect to be greeted from now on, understand?” “Yes, sir.” He removes his belt from his pants, slowly pulling it from each loop. You place your hands in front of you, ready to be tied up. He did the same thing yesterday.

He fastens the belt around your wrists tightly. You watch as he undresses. He gets on the bed, presenting his fingers to you. “Suck.” You take them between your lips sucking and licking them. When he’s satisfied, he pulls them out rubbing your clit with his saliva covered fingers.

“So wet for me.” He observes. “Yes sir, only for you.” He drags his cock against your lips, and you open for him. “Let me use your pretty mouth, pet.” You take him in slowly, your wet tongue traveling his thick length.

You moan around him as his fingers explore you. He grabs your head, making you take him all the way to the back of your throat. Your nose hits his pelvis, drool drips down your chin. He watches as you struggle to take him. You choke when he thrusts forcefully.

You let your jaw go slack, letting him fuck your face. You whine when he removes his fingers from you. “You look so beautiful choking on my cock.” He tells you, his thumb caressing your full cheek. You feel his cock pulsing on your tongue. You know he’s close. You suck your cheeks in and he empties in your mouth.

You swallow most of it, leaving some in your mouth. You stick your tongue out, showing him the release you saved before swallowing. “Thank you for cumming in my mouth, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” He praises. “Good girls get rewarded.” He pushes you against the mattress, raising your belt restrained hands above your head. He licks a stripe up your neck, rough fingers pinching your nipples. He bites down on your shoulder, you cry out reaching for him.

He slings your arms back up with force. He spreads your legs, settling between them. You gasp as he buries his face between your thighs. He tugs on your clit, you writhe underneath him, bucking your hips up into his face.

President Loki’s large arm lays against your stomach, holding you down. He dines on you like you’re the first decent meal he’s had in ages. Considering where you are, it’s probably true. His tongue lashes against you, he’s not gentle. It’s almost like he’s punishing you with the skilled muscle.

You feel your orgasm building. You look down at the beautiful man between your legs, wishing you could hold onto his horns for support. The band low in your belly snaps and you fall apart, shouting his name. He bites your inner thigh as he removes his face from your center. You shutter with anticipation as he parts your legs slowly.

He plunges inside you, bottoming out immediately. “It’s too much.” You tell him, feeling way too full. You’re still sore from last night. “You can take it.” He confirms by pulling out and thrusting back in harder this time. He lifts your leg to his broad shoulder, this new angle making him drag deliciously against the special spot inside you.

“Tell me you love taking my big cock.” He commands. You moan as he looks over your bruised covered body, appreciating his handiwork from the night before. “I love your big cock, sir. It’s all I can think about.” You stroke his ego as he sets a brutal pace. “Good fucking girl.” He growls.

“I want to see this pretty pussy dripping with my cum.” He reaches between you, pinching your sensitive clit. “Please cum inside me. I need you to fill me up, sir.” You beg him. His thrusts grow sloppy, then he spills inside you releasing with a grunt. He pulls out quickly, rough hands spreading you apart.

He collects the cum dripping out of you with his long fingers, pushing it back into you. “You were so good for me.” He coos. “Don’t clean up yet. I’ll be back to do it later.” A hot plate of food and mouth watering desserts appear with a green flourish. “Don’t tell the others I can do that.” He winks at you, magically putting his clothes back on before leaving.

Tags

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[thewertsearch]

@manorinthewoods asked: We're still midway through Act 5, but I'd like to ask - what do you theorise will happen in the rest of A5 and in Acts 6 and 7 of Homestuck? ~LOSS (7/6/24)

It's an interesting question. We're coming up on the halfway point of the comic, but our current main plotlines - namely, Murderstuck, the Blackout, the Green Sun and the Scratch - all feel like they'll be wrapped up in a thousand-ish pages, along with the kids' session and the Act itself. The question of what's next is beginning to present itself, and I have a few thoughts.

My main prediction is that back half of the comic will be extremely English-centric. As the man behind Scratch's schemes, he's going to be revealed as the 'true' villain who's ultimately responsible for the current crisis, as well as crises yet to come. I think he'll elbow Perfect Jack out of the primary antagonist's position - and honestly, his chief minion is already more intimidating than Jack.

To contrast Noir, I think English will be a less instinctive, more cerebral villain. His choice of Scratch as a lieutenant suggests that he's more about carefully laid plans than open aggression, and his absence from the Felt Intermission suggests he prefers to hide in the shadows, weaving a web of conspiracy that would put Vriska to shame.

As a result, I expect the next arc of Homestuck to be more about information warfare than flashy displays of power. Our heroes will need to advance their understanding of the multiverse's wider cosmology, as they come to terms with what English is, what he wants, and most importantly, how to stop him.

The later arcs of the comic will involve discovering a glitch in spacetime that can break through English's supposed invincibility, while English works to keep the protagonists in the dark about his weaknesses. How this weakness could manifest, I can't say - but I do think Spades Slick will be directly involved in his demise.

Outside of English, I think the world of Homestuck will expand in other ways, too. It might finally be time to make contact with other Sburb Players, since our current sessions aren't going to be habitable for much longer. We might even be leaving the 'session' framework behind entirely, and travelling through the Furthest Ring to parts unknown.

I know these aren't very specific predictions, but it's hard to be specific about events which are thousands of pages away. I still don't know how the Pen-Pal fits into everything, for example, or why Gamzee is so important to the story.

I guess we'll find out together!

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 4

Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, October 12; 9:20 AM - In Class

Exactly one week ago, I left Barcelona to join this school. I am slowly getting used to this new environment, even though it's not easy every day. Right now, I'm in my second hour of class, chatting quietly with Alexia. She is no longer as uptight and serious as she was at the beginning. We laugh and talk a lot. It's become a bad habit since we tend to lose focus on the lessons and get scolded by our teachers. Our laughter mingles with the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway. The thick walls pick up every sound when the door is open. No one pays attention until there's a knock at the door. Silence reigns, except for my laughter, which I can't suppress. This earns me a stern look from my teacher, who walks towards the door to invite the unknown visitor in. He wouldn't have needed to bother when I see that it is my furious supervisor. Everyone shrinks back as she visually scans the room until she locks eyes with me. Her eyes narrow and turn black with anger. Alexia has to nudge me to stop my hysterical laughter.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Smith,” she begins without averting her eyes. “I just need to take a student who won’t be returning for the rest of the day. Could you inform your colleagues?”

“Oh, uh... Yes, of course, Miss Bronze.”

Even my teacher is intimidated by her. Pathetic. I understand better why my reputation has skyrocketed in just one week. Most people already know me as the brave student who dares to stand up to the commander. I am tired of this charade. I look to my neighbor for support, but she seems paralyzed by what’s happening. She recoils when Bronze slams her flat hands on my desk, making me jump. Our faces are just inches apart when I turn my head towards her.

“Hey!” I exclaim indignantly. “Be careful with the school property, come on!”

“Shut up, Ona. Just shut up if you don’t want to make me even angrier,” she threatens. “Pack your things. Now!”

She’s really fired up today! I’ve never seen her this angry or heard her use such a disdainful tone. I smile as I gather my things. I must not have been quick enough for her because she grabs my bag from the floor and starts packing my notebook herself while I collect my pens in my pencil case. I barely have time to close it before she snatches it from my hands and throws it into the bag. She shoves it against my chest so hard that my chair slides back from the impact.

“I hope you're ready because I won't spare you today. Move it, let's go.”

I barely have time to put on my camo jacket and sling my bag over my shoulder before she pushes me down the aisle to lead the way. I don’t resist and, more importantly, I don’t talk back. I barely dare to when she’s calm, so doing it now would be like challenging the devil himself. I’ve spent enough time with her last week to know her coldness and strength. I clearly don’t measure up, mentally or physically. I wait in the hallway while she apologizes for the disruption to my teacher. When she rejoins me, I instinctively lower my head to avoid her eyes. I might have pulled off the best trick of my life, but facing her imposing presence, I already dread what’s coming next.

“I don’t know how you managed to do what you did, but you’re in deep trouble!” she scolds.

The thought of denying it crosses my mind, but it wouldn’t help. My silence prompts her to pull my arm to move forward. She still holds me the same way, but this is the first time she’s hurt me this much. She’s really furious. I struggle to keep up with her pace. I say nothing, fearing she might speed up if I complain... But then, damn it, I shouldn’t just take it!

“It’s not like I didn’t warn you that I’d get revenge.”

She stops abruptly, making me instinctively step back after bumping into her. I regret my words the second her icy green eyes pierce through me. I swallow hard.

“You’re really just a poor idiot!” she spits. “You don’t understand anything! You want to play the one who’ll face the worst revenge? Fine, let’s play then! Now I don’t want to hear a word from you until I say so!”

My eyes widen in surprise. I already regret my unnecessary provocation. We reach the first floor of the instructors' dorms. She releases her painful grip only when we arrive at room 7. She roughly pushes me into the room I’ve recently become familiar with. I barely avoid falling headfirst due to her strength. It seems I deserve it now that I see the state of her place. Her room has the same furniture as mine. The only difference is the layout. She has a double bed – which looks more comfortable than my single bed – and her wardrobe stands next to the window. As for the desk, it’s on the opposite side.

“You’re going to tidy up this mess!” she exclaims. “I want everything back in its place! Not a single thing out of order, understood?”

“Don’t you like your new room? I think it’s pretty nice.”

“Don’t push me, Batlle. You don’t even realize what a slippery slope you’re on.”

Oh, I realize it, but it’s worth it. It’s all her fault. I warned her I would get revenge for what she made me endure.

“You shouldn’t have taken my phone and computer!” I retorted.

“And you shouldn’t have disrespected your superiors!” she raises her voice. “Clean up this mess!”

She drags the desk chair to the entrance and sits down. I watch her for a moment, quickly understanding that she will stay here until I finish. I sigh as I assess the extent of the damage. Her anger is justified, but so is mine. I rummaged through her stuff as much as she did through mine to find my hidden electronics. I am proud of my revenge idea.

Our relationship has deteriorated since the shower incident. She hasn't stopped punishing me for the slightest infraction. The first was for being late to my sports class on Thursday morning. As expected, I was sent to Bronze's office. Her decision was radical... I had two hours of personal training doing laps around the field.

Add to that my morning delays, which my bed continues to cause. For that, I got dishwashing duties in the cafeteria on Thursday and Friday after every meal. The upside was being assisted by Leah, who received the same punishment from Engen, Bronze's partner, for skipping classes. Time passed faster. We even ended our last day with a water fight that Bronze interrupted. I thought we would extend our punishment, but in the end, she just scolded us for being soaked and told us to clean up our mess.

I accepted all of this without complaint because it was expected. What I couldn't tolerate was her confiscating all my electronics behind my back just before the weekend. It didn’t take me long to notice and tell her what I thought. She justified her action by keeping her cool. It turns out she had learned about my inattentive and provocative behavior in class. She wanted to make me reflect over the weekend when my outing pass was denied. However, my cheekiness made her change her mind, and she decided to return my things at an unspecified time, more precisely when I had calmed down, according to her.

Because of her, I was irritated all weekend to the point of conducting my little investigation during her absence. My first idea was to find her room to recover my belongings. The problem was, I found nothing while searching it. I then changed my plans, not wanting to waste the opportunity. I knew it would drive her crazy to know I was here, so I emptied her wardrobe and all her drawers, scattering everything around. Surprisingly, I discovered nothing valuable. I expected her to look for me earlier this morning, but she must have been absent since it was Engen who checked our room. It’s a shame because Bronze missed my first-ever achievement of being ready on time. It takes me a good hour to finish cleaning her room. I intended to collapse onto the desk, but she stops me in my tracks.

“Uh-uh. Change the sheets on my bed while you’re at it.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I’m sorry, OK?” I grumble. “I get it, I crossed the line! I just wanted to get my laptop and phone back!”

“You don’t get it at all,” she says in a dismissive tone. “You’re just trying to weasel your way out. If you really understood the lesson, you wouldn’t be talking back!”

I stay silent, faced with the truth. Her words won’t make me regret my actions. I step back as she gets up from her chair. I expected her to do something, but she just walks past me to get new sheets. So she wasn’t joking. I don’t hide my boredom.

“Come on, make my bed,” she encourages. “Then we’ll leave.”

“Again?” I sigh.

“You’re mine for the day. I plan to make you endure things that will make you think twice before pulling your next stunt.”

I go to her to get a sports uniform that she hands me. It's a new one that she must have picked up from the stock. I lock myself in her bathroom, a room I hadn't even thought to check. It's newer than mine. It has a sink with a larger countertop and a big mirror. My small shower cubicle doesn't compare to her huge walk-in shower behind the toilet. I stop making comparisons and place the clothes I'm wearing next to her sink to replace them with sweatpants, a t-shirt, and my jacket. I might need it if we stay outside. I don't linger and rejoin Bronze, who hasn't moved from her spot since earlier.

"What should I do with my uniform?" I asked.

"Where did you put it?"

"Folded next to the sink."

"Leave it there; you'll put it back on later."

I nodded, and she jumped off her desk. We headed out to the multi-sport fields. I didn’t wait for her orders to go to the edge of the field, ready to run. Her grip finally stopped me.

"We’re not starting with that today. First, you’re going to do fifty push-ups," she ordered.

"What? But there’s mud everywhere!"

"So what? At least next time, you’ll remember not to mess with me."

"Please-"

"No, Ona. Stop arguing! I’m already very patient with you, so don’t ask me to be even more patient because it’s not possible!"

"I can't do them..." I finally admitted in a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"I’ve never managed to do them," I said louder, avoiding her eyes.

"Well, you’re going to learn now. Come on, get on the ground, I'll help you."

I sighed but obeyed, looking for a spot with less mud. I could only blame myself for this punishment. My knees weren’t spared, but at least I avoided stains on other parts. I fell onto my hands and extended my legs to stay elevated. It was hard to hold. Even more so when I felt my supervisor's hands on my waist. I tensed, but I held on to avoid making her pull back immediately.

"Relax. I just want to position you correctly, okay?" she said.

I nodded at her explanation. I tried to relax, but it was hard. Her presence was unsettling. One of her hands slid under my belly while the other was on my shoulder to straighten me up.

"Don’t move your back. I’m going to reposition your legs, so try to hold your position."

She unexpectedly grabbed one of my ankles. My body reacted by keeping it on the ground. Again, she asked me to let go. Once I did, she brought my ankle closer to the other until they were almost touching. When she announced I was good, my arms gave out. I ended up flat on my stomach in the mud, growling in frustration.

"It’s okay. You’re just not used to working your arms," she explained. "Try to get back into position like I just showed you."

I nodded and got back on my hands and feet. My position must have been correct since she didn’t have to adjust much. Just my back, which was rounded again.

"Do them with motivation. I’d like you to find a regular rhythm if possible."

"It’s going to be hard," I mumbled.

"That’s the point. I want you to feel your body heating up tomorrow and think of me, remembering why I made you do this."

"I get the lesson, Bronze," I tried.

"No, you don’t. Do something like this again, and it’s going to be worse for you. It won’t just be push-ups and laps around the field next time. Do we agree?"

"Yes..."

Throughout this, I was still holding myself up on my arms. They started to shake from lack of strength. Bronze was no longer angry, but her voice remained firm. She wanted me to submit, and she was getting it. I was at her feet in every sense of the word. I was on the verge of giving up, but she ordered me to hold on. I really had to dig deep mentally to manage it.

"I want you to understand that if I give you a sanction, it’s not for my pleasure. Every punishment has its reasons."

"I understand..."

"No, not yet," she replied. "But it will come."

"I’m telling you I un-"

"I said no," she cut me off harshly. "Do you understand that I’m not against you?"

My silence spoke volumes about my thoughts. No, that I didn’t understand. To me, she was holding me back, so she was against me. I just wanted to be left alone and live my life. Bronze did the opposite by always coming down on me.

"Then you don’t understand," she concluded. "You’ll understand the meaning of your sanctions when you accept that I’m not the villain. Anyway, let’s get back to where we were. Start your push-ups. You’ll even count them out loud for me. I’ll reduce them to thirty since it’s your first time. Okay?"

"Yes, Bronze."

"Let’s go. One!"

I groaned at the sound of the first number. I bent my arms and pushed to try and lift myself. In vain. I fell pitifully to the ground. If I had been in Bronze’s place, I would have laughed at myself, but she didn’t. Instead, she encouraged me to try again with more effort. I’d like to see her try! If she had my body, she’d understand my struggle. I didn’t doubt hers was very athletic. I tried again, putting all my strength into it. I shouted the number in a victorious cry when I managed the push-up. I was back on the ground the next second. I felt my morning was going to be very long...

Monday, October 12; 1:10 p.m. - Bathroom.

I was washing my hands for the second time to remove the dried mud that was hard to get off. The sky had been clear this morning, but yesterday’s rain hadn’t spared me. I had just finished my punishment. Bronze was leaning against the sink next to me, watching me with a mocking smile. I didn’t see what was funny. I was covered in mud, both my clothes and the few inches of visible skin. Don’t even mention my face. I had fallen countless times during the push-ups. My record was probably three in a row.

"Are you okay?" she asked cheerfully. "Let me help you."

"No, it’s fine."

"Oh, stop being a killjoy and let me help."

She tore off a piece of paper towel meant for drying hands and wet it. I tried to take it, but she slapped my fingers. I realized too late that she had trapped me between the faucet and her. I grumbled as she wiped the wet paper on my face.

"I could have done it."

"I’m trying to be nice; can’t you tell?"

I smiled slightly, averting my eyes. I let her continue, crossing my arms. She might be nice in real life, but not with me.

"Stop pouting."

"I’ll pout if I want to."

"Child."

I looked at her indignantly. I doubted an instructor had the right to insult a student. She probably allowed herself because it was unlikely anyone would believe me if I reported her.

"I give myself every right with you, and you’re probably right. No one would believe you."

"Did I speak out loud?"

"It seems so," she smiled. "Don’t move; I’ll be right back."

It was hard to leave with my face dripping water. She got another paper towel to dry my face before throwing it away. I looked in the mirror to admire her work. I thanked her as she washed her hands. I would have liked to change before eating, but Bronze had made it clear it wasn’t possible if we still wanted to be served. It would be the last straw if we couldn’t eat when she planned to keep me this afternoon. I wouldn’t last without something in my stomach. We arrived at an empty cafeteria. Fortunately, the cook offered to reheat a meal for each of us. He probably felt sorry for my appearance. I went first in line and greeted the staff I had recently worked with. They were all super nice. Once served, I went to my usual spot among all the empty tables. I flopped down on my chair, taking a deep breath. This break would finally let me relax. The soreness was already setting in. At the same time, she hadn’t gone easy on me. She had pushed me to the limit, though she admitted holding back. It was a good lesson. I wasn’t going to anger her anytime soon.

"Can I sit?"

I swallowed my bite with difficulty, nodding. I hadn’t expected her to join me. After all, it was just the two of us. It would be ridiculous to eat at two different tables. My break would be less restful than I had imagined.

"I’m here if you ever feel the need to talk," she said, surprising me.

I look up at her two emeralds that disturb me so much. She shows no hint of joking. This isn't the first time she's told me she wants to help. It seems she still doesn't understand that I don't want it, that I can't. It's beyond my strength.

"No, it's okay, thanks. It's not my thing."

"But it would do you good."

"You don't know me, you have no idea," I retorted coldly.

"You're right. So tell me about yourself."

"I don't see why it matters to you. It's been a long time since anyone's taken an interest in me. It's not going to change now."

"I care about you. You owe me that much after what you've put me through. Let's start with something basic. Do you have a passion, perhaps?"

She never gives up. I just found someone even more stubborn than me. I didn't think it was possible. I relax my shoulders and resign myself to answering her.

"I like art. Sometimes I draw."

"Draw?" she repeats, surprised.

"Yeah... It lets me express myself on paper and clear my head," I argued.

"But you don't have any drawing supplies in your room."

"I knew you searched my room!" I exclaimed.

"I didn't search, she rolls her eyes, exasperated. I just looked for your devices."

"You searched!"

"Okay... I searched if you want. Now answer me. Why don't you have any drawing supplies?"

"I thought I'd have access to downtown, but that's not the case."

I've only been here a week, but I admit I miss my pencils. It was my way of clearing my mind before sleeping. Now I listen to music or go on the computer. At least... I used to.

"When can I get my things back?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replies. "We could make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah, we've made one before. I'm ready to give them back to you in exchange for something."

"It depends on what you're proposing..." I said, skeptical.

"Okay. Hmm... How about I give you your things back on Friday if you're on time every morning this week?"

"Really?" I asked enthusiastically.

"It's not the end of the world, is it?" she asks, tilting her head. "I'm not even asking you to stop your other nonsense. Just to be ready in the morning."

"Deal," I agreed, extending my hand.

She looks surprised at my quick response. She shakes my hand firmly. I wouldn't have agreed to the deal if I wasn't sure of myself. I know I can do it.

"And if I fail?"

"We'll extend the deal to the following week. Again and again until you succeed."

"I'll succeed."

"You seem very confident," she says with a smile.

"I practiced making my bed perfectly this weekend," I tell her. "It shouldn't be a problem anymore."

"Well, we'll see if your training pays off. In any case, keep it up, I prefer this behavior."

I smile shyly, lowering my head. I'm not used to being praised. It was quite the opposite in recent years.

"Miss Bronze, I've finally found you!"

I straighten up as I see the director approaching us. Bronze was her entire focus until she saw me. She furrows her brows and turns back to my supervisor when she reaches us.

"Ona has been causing trouble again by not being in class at this time?"

"You could say that," she replies. "Nothing too serious."

Why is she lying? I turned an instructor's room upside down - hers, to be exact. I don't think Wiegman would call that "nothing too serious." She just sighs.

"Fine, if you say so. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"I decided to keep Ona with me," she admits. "Do you need me?"

"Actually, we're missing quite a few things for tonight's meeting. A buffet was supposed to be arranged, but nothing is going right. I'd like you to make a trip to town."

I observe the exchange attentively. My supervisor seems annoyed. She has a habit of running her hand through her hair when something displeases her. She must not appreciate Wiegman changing her plans at the last minute.

"Alright, but I have one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you allow me to take her with me," she says, pointing at me.

I'm as surprised as Wiegman by her request. Nothing would make me happier than for her to take me to town. All I want is to get out of this place, even for just five minutes. The director doesn't share my enthusiasm judging by her expression.

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes," she says, crossing her arms. "I want to keep an eye on her."

"Fine, but you'd better be careful. This is the first time I'm allowing a student to leave the establishment in the middle of the week."

"That's my intention, mam," she replies promptly. "I prefer knowing she's with me rather than leaving her alone here, unsupervised."

"Alright, I trust you anyway. Here's the list of what we need," she says, handing it to her. "Thanks again."

She turns away without waiting for a response. I can hardly believe what just happened. Bronze asked for me to accompany her to town. I can't believe it. I'm going to be able to leave this place! I thought she wanted to skin me alive after what I did to her.

"Wipe that smile off your face," she says, which makes me lose it. "I just don't want to leave you alone. You lost my trust the moment you entered my room."

"I promise you I regret it. At least... Not at first, but now I do."

"Whatever. You've just earned having me more on your back. It's time you got used to my presence, Ona, because you and I won't be parting from now on."

I swallow hard. If she intends to make me regret my mistake, she's already succeeded. She lets me finish my dessert before we clear our trays. Not knowing what to do or where to go, I follow her. We first return to her room where she asks me to put on my uniform.

"Put the one you're wearing in my laundry basket. I'll have it washed."

"When will you stop giving me orders?" I muttered under my breath.

"When you stop doing things your own way."

I thought she wouldn't hear me... I was wrong! She surprises me by giving me a kick in the butt to prompt me to enter the bathroom. I don't hesitate to go. I can finally take off these clothes. I put everything in her laundry basket, as she asked, then I put on my uniform. I come out fixing my messy hair. Bronze is waiting for me patiently on her bed.

"Can we go?"

"Yep."

We head out, passing the cafeteria on foot. I discover a place behind the gym hidden by trees. It's a large parking lot. Bronze unlocks a car from a distance with the key. I think I'm dreaming when I see the orange lights flashing on a black Audi A5.

"Is this your car?"

"Whose else would it be?"

"Well, I don't know... Maybe your boyfriend's."

She smiles slightly, shaking her head. I get into her car, forgetting her answer. I'm in an Audi! I've always had a soft spot for this brand. It has an undeniable class. To think my supervisor owns one. I'm jealous. The interior is equipped with black leather seats more comfortable than my own bed. It has just the right amount of space. I love it! She drives without exceeding second gear to reach the entrance. I'm sure she has a sports package given how the car purrs. I have no doubt when she takes off furiously down the street, leaving me completely pressed into the seat.

"It's mine," she snapped.

"So, no boyfriend then?" I asked playfully. "Not surprising, given your commanding attitude."

"Shut up," she retorted with a slight smile. "I might not know much about you, but you know nothing about me."

"Exactly, I told you something about me. You could do the same."

"No. I don't trust you anymore, and anyway, the rules forbid me from talking about my private life."

I sighed in frustration, settling into the seat. The trip continued in silence as I distracted myself with the scenery. Only houses passed by. It’s always better than the dilapidated walls of the camp. I'm seeing Manchester for the first time. I was so on edge when I arrived that I didn’t pay attention to the outside. We arrived at the supermarket parking lot, where she parked with a view of downtown buildings in the distance. She got out of the car while I looked at the supermarket. It seemed huge, almost double the size of the one I'm used to in Barcelona. I jumped when Bronze knocked on my window.

"Move it, we don't have all day."

Always so friendly... I unbuckled the seatbelt that still held me hostage as she opened the door for me. I grabbed what I recognized as a shopping cart token.

"Where should I get this?" I asked.

"We're going together; I’m not leaving you alone."

The opposite would have been strange. We grabbed a cart at the entrance, and unsurprisingly, I was the one tasked with pushing it. We entered the supermarket. I discreetly observed Bronze, who was busy reading the shopping list.

"Are you from here?"

"None of your business."

"You seem to know the place..."

"Stop."

"You're not funny," I sighed, leaning on the cart.

"I'm not particularly trying to be. Stand up straight, you're not a pasha."

I groaned in frustration. It seemed she decided to go back to being the unpleasant officer. I observed the environment I missed. I hadn't had any social contact for a week. It was mostly old people, but it was still better than the annoying faces of the camp students who kept staring at me. I was brought back to reality when fingers snapped in front of my nose.

"Stop daydreaming, Batlle. Let's go."

I sighed, walking beside her. She kept my pace, giving me time to notice that there were a lot of people for a Monday afternoon. We went aisle by aisle, as they came. We stopped whenever we found something on the list. The cart gradually filled up with towels, plates, drinks, snacks, and biscuits. The guests for tonight's meeting would be well-treated. I wished I could be in their place.

"Wait here, I forgot something in the next aisle."

I nodded. Anyway, I couldn't go anywhere without her. She was driving, and even if I wanted to leave, I didn't know the city and had no money or phone. I wouldn't get far. I watched Bronze until she was out of sight. I sighed in boredom. Shopping with an instructor was far from fun. The worst part was that she hadn't spoken since I insisted on getting information about her. That was stupid. I took advantage of her absence to lean on the cart and scan the surroundings. My gaze stopped on two young people in particular. They were the only ones I'd seen since the beginning. One of them was covered in piercings and tattoos. Nothing too extreme, just enough. I observed their hands seeking each other. I straightened up suddenly. I couldn't believe it! How could they do that in a supermarket! It might have gone unnoticed by others, but not by me. I felt suddenly shaky. Damn... I should never have seen that. The young man who had grabbed the merchandise continued his route as if nothing had happened. The other must have felt someone watching because he turned his head towards me. It was now or never. My hands were trembling. I stood up from the cart. I needed to talk to him, to negotiate to get some too! Just as I decided to go, a strong hand on my shoulder dissuaded me. I turned to see Bronze with a disapproving frown.

"Where were you planning to go?"

I slightly parted my lips, searching for a quick excuse. She looked up at the dealer. I did the same and saw that the guy I was about to approach was fleeing. Damn, he must have been scared!

"I... Well, since you were taking your time... Um... I wanted to see where you were."

"Don't bullshit me!" she snapped coldly.

I widened my eyes, not expecting such an excessive reaction. She understood everything, no doubt about it.

"Walk ahead," she said, pushing me from behind.

My hands clenched around the cart. I couldn't stop trembling. So close to the goal... I was frustrated and had messed up again. Bronze knew. The situation was even tenser than before. We made one last stop to get the final item on the list.

"If you've come this far, you better avoid relapsing," she broke the silence.

"Hmm."

"I'm serious," she frowned. "You don't need that crap to feel good for a short while."

"What does it matter to you? I have the right to do what I want."

"No, you don't have that right since I'm with you. And maybe I care because I'm worried about you!"

"Worried about me?" I scoffed. "Don't bullshit me! No one has worried about me for a long time. I don't need your pity, thanks."

I sped up, trying to find the registers alone. Bronze told me to slow down, but I ignored her. I just wanted her to leave me alone. Unfortunately for me, she caught up quickly.

"You really need to stop being so stubborn! I'm responsible for you, OK? And yes, I worry about you! You'll have to deal with it."

She sighed when she got no reaction from me. I didn't even flinch. I couldn't help it if I didn't believe her. Words are easy to say. It's another thing to back them up. She just guided me to the register when she realized she wouldn't get anything from me. I'd had enough arguments for today. I helped unload the items onto the conveyor belt when it was our turn, then did the reverse. When we finished, she paid with an envelope Wiegman had given her in the cafeteria. We loaded the car, then I returned the cart. The drive back was silent. Thankfully the trip was short because I couldn't stand the situation any longer. It was all my fault, and to top it off, my hands were still shaking.

"Give me your hand."

I shook my head vigorously. I didn't want any contact with her, especially since we were supposed to be on bad terms. But she didn't give me a choice and took my hand herself, slipping hers into mine by force. I hated my body for betraying me. I was supposed to refuse being touched, but I had no strength left. I was mentally disturbed, and my body decided to seek comfort from the person I hated the most at that moment. I hated her for being who she was. I hated her for daring to touch and care about me. And yet, I also hated her when she let go to shift gears. I could have done without her little smile, letting me know she understood that I needed her. I'm so contradictory. My tremors subsided during the ride. We arrived at the camp. She turned off the car after parking.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Thanks," I managed to get out with a tight throat.

"Let's take it easy for the rest of the day. You'll help me set up the meeting room, and we'll take the chance to talk and lower the tension between us. Okay?"

I nodded, and she smiled back. Maybe my day wouldn't end as badly as I thought. I was grateful she didn't continue with punishments. I couldn't imagine doing anything physical after this episode. Once again, I was mentally and physically drained because of her. She'll be the death of me one day, for sure!

[cherryxsang]

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 - 𝙲.𝚂𝚊𝚗

CEO!San x Employee!Fem!Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: semi-public sex, San is a playful dom, fingering, finger sucking, cum eating kind of?, punishment, spanking, dirty talk, sir kink, penetrative sex, masturbation, San gives the reader instructions

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

You had always had a huge crush on your boss. How could you not? He was sweet, witty and charming, with the face of an angel and, you could assume by the way his suit fit around his toned muscles and thin waist, the body of a demon.

It was for this reason that you actually looked forward to doing your paperwork every day, only if it meant going up to Mr. Choi’s office and handing it to him. Every time your desk phone rang, you answered with your nicest voice, hoping to hear Mr. Choi’s classic honey-voiced greeting, “There’s my favorite secretary,” on the other line. Your heart would stutter, and upon being called to his office, you would check your hair and your lipstick in the reflection of your phone, practice your cute smile and then get up.

It was for this reason that you actually looked forward to doing your paperwork every day, only if it meant going up to Mr. Choi’s office and handing it to him. Every time your desk phone rang, you answered with your nicest voice, hoping to hear Mr. Choi’s classic honey-voiced greeting, “There’s my favorite secretary,” on the other line. Your heart would stutter, and upon being called to his office, you would check your hair and your lipstick in the reflection of your phone, practice your cute smile and then get up.

And then there he would be, charismatic eyes scanning over his computer, his chin on his palm and his pen between his teeth. Every time, he would swivel in his chair to face you, never breaking eye contact as the two of you spoke. Most importantly, he would always sit with his legs spread wide and lean back in his chair with his hands on his thighs, making the way his dress pants tightly fit all the more noticeable. 

That posture drove you fucking crazy. He looked so smug, yet so approachable, like he was just waiting for you to climb onto his lap. It took your every last inch of self-control and dignity to keep your eyes on his face. When your eyes did wander, which was probably more often than you’d care to admit, you would walk away dripping.

As professional as he acted, Mr. Choi was not oblivious, nor was he totally innocent. There had been times you had caught him staring. Others in the office had jealously pointed out that sometimes his smiles toward you seemed a little too big. At office parties and other events, Mr. Choi was known to be a bit of a flirt. For the most part, he singled you out, asking questions about your life, giving you an occasional touch on the arm, offering to buy you drinks and show you around various places in town.

As professional as he acted, Mr. Choi was not oblivious, nor was he totally innocent. There had been times you had caught him staring. Others in the office had jealously pointed out that sometimes his smiles toward you seemed a little too big. At office parties and other events, Mr. Choi was known to be a bit of a flirt. For the most part, he singled you out, asking questions about your life, giving you an occasional touch on the arm, offering to buy you drinks and show you around various places in town.

Although nothing had ever happened, there had always been an unspoken understanding between the two of you. Mutual feelings to some degree.

It was a Friday evening, just after 5:30. Most of your coworkers had left by that point. You realized that you had to stay late after some paperwork had slipped your mind until the last minute. Once you finished your work, you made your way to Mr. Choi’s office. You planned to leave it on his desk where he would see it on Monday.

As you pushed open the heavy wooden door and took a step inside, what you saw made you freeze in your tracks. It was Mr. Choi’s large, muscular back, wearing only a tight and revealing black tank. You briefly saw the way his muscles tensed before his broad shoulders rotated to face you. You glanced at his face, which showed surprise and confusion, then down at his tightly clad chest, and back up.

Your brain was screaming, “Just apologize and close the damn door already,” but you were frozen in place, staring with your mouth wide open. Though you should have felt guilty, your body couldn’t lie as your insides heated up to the point of melting, sending you on a tingling buzz.

Mr. Choi chuckled at your shock and began to move slowly toward you. You realized, feeling so small and stupid, that only now had you noticed just how broad those shoulders really were, and how tall he was. You felt he was towering over you, especially as he made his way closer.

Finally, you snapped out of it, and he was standing right in front of you. Looking down at your flustered face, he smirked, cocky, and let out a chuckle. He spoke quietly to not be heard around the office, “Caught me changing.” You gulped. “You’re so shy, y/n?”

You unconsciously closed the door behind you. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I’m just surprised to see you like this.” He took another step and your heart pounded faster. He looked focused, like he was trying to read you. “Do you always change in your office, sir?”

You could hardly finish your question before Mr. Choi responded, “Can I kiss you?”

“Okay.”

Another cocky smile lit up his face and he lifted a gentle hand to brush your hair out of your face. He seemed eager, willing to waste no time as he leaned down to your face, seeking out your lips. As Mr. Choi’s lips softly pressed against yours, you had no inkling that it was your boss you were kissing. As far as you were concerned right then, Mr. Choi—San—was a man, nothing more, nothing less.

Having already thrown your position out the window, you dove in. You opened your mouth, giving San’s tongue the freedom to do as it pleased. Gently grabbing his waist, you walked backwards, pulling him with you until your back crashed into his door. You giggled when you hit your head and San did the same in a way that felt slightly teasing.

San pulled his mouth away and he spoke softly again, but still firmly with that deep, sweet voice like butter, “Tsk. Naughty thing… Now…” He tapped your lips with his index finger, watching expectantly for you to let him stick two fingers inside your mouth. “Are you ever gonna learn how to knock or am I gonna have to bend you over this desk and teach you?”

You moaned around his fingers, looking up at the tall man with puppy eyes. His words made you throb with need. “Mmhmm,” you answered, swirling your tongue around his digits.

San pulled his fingers away and looked at you serious, asking, “Do you want to do this?”

“Yes,” you rushed to say, closing your eyes tight, embarrassed to see his reaction.

“Just tell me if you wanna stop,” was the last thing he said before taking the next step, entering the point of no return. Your professional relationship was officially ruined from that point forward, but fuck if you cared at all.

He slammed his lips back into yours, biting and moaning around your lips while his hand traveled down your work blouse, fingers tugging at your waistband. He shoved his hand inside and you stood with your legs slightly spread, your back pressed against the door. His fingers, still wet with your saliva, immediately landed on your swollen clit, rubbing gently back and forth. You moaned into his mouth, instinctively grabbing a hold of San’s wrists, one of which was down your pants, the other pressed against the door beside your head.

When he pressed a little harder on your clit, you moaned in surprise and closed your thighs around his hand. He let out a soft chuckle, this one unmistakably teasing. “When you’re at home…” his movements sped up, ��…lying in your bed…” then they stopped and slid to your entrance, “…do you imagine it’s me?” His voice was shaking and breathless, desperate by the time two of his slender fingers plunged inside of you. “Doing this?”

You moaned both at how his fingers felt, filling you and pressing tenderly against your sweet spot, and at how sexy his confidence was. How dare he assume that he was the subject of your dirty fantasies? And how dare he be right? “Yes, sir,” you said, smiling with feigned innocence.

San smiled back at you, his ego doubling in size. “Good girl.” He pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty and clenching around nothing. You watched in shock as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them both clean. For a moment, you were embarrassed. You had never seen someone do that before and you wondered what it tasted like. Your worries were wiped away though by the satisfied moan that followed his actions. “Sweet. I knew you’d be. But now look at what you've done to me.”

Standing tightly sandwiched between San and the wall, you had to strain your eyes to look down. “Uh-uh,” he shook his head, then whispered, “Feel me.”

You carefully reached out to touch your boss’s hard cock through his pants, your jaw nearly hitting the floor when you felt just how much it was pushing against his dress pants. It was bigger than you imagined and desperate for attention. San busied himself with kissing your neck while you rubbed him through his pants.

You let out a few breathy moans, feeling the fire inside of you burn out of control. “I need you inside me,” you blurted out.

“Try again,” he said sternly.

You gulped. “Please, sir. I need you now. Please.”

He hummed happily. “Can I be rough?”

“Yes,” you practically shouted, excited by the notion of San having his way with you. You deserved it after all, having entered his office without knocking.

From there, a switch flipped in San. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward his desk. He sat you down on the cold wooden surface then lifted the black tank from his muscular body. You happily drank in the sight of his tan skin, his defined abs, his large biceps. But you were quickly snapped out of it when he said, “Take your clothes off, baby.”

You pulled your shirt off slowly and teasingly, watching San as he stared you down impatiently. You touched the waistband of your pants and said, “I’m gonna need some help with these, sir.”

San obliged, kneeling on the carpet to pull your pants over your ankles as you kicked off your shoes. Standing back up, San leaned over you and stoked your cheek, trailing his fingers to your neck and gently wrapping around it. With his face inches from yours, he firmly said, “Bend over.”

Without hesitation, you did as you were told, embarrassingly noticing the wet spot you left on his desk as you bent over it with your ass up in the air. San stood behind you, petting your ass and grabbing a hold of the squishy flesh. “You still need to learn your lesson first. Yes?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” He let go of your skin, soon replacing the sensation with a hard spank that made you squeal. Feeling your ass burn, San soothed it with a soft touch. “Shhh… We wouldn’t want somebody to hear you, now would we?”

Suddenly you remembered something, perking up. “Did you lock the door?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Anyone could walk in, just like you.” Another slap. He leaned down behind your ear and whispered, “That’s why you have to be quiet.”

“Yes sir,” you whispered. You felt your wetness dripping, and maybe San noticed too, because he kneeled down, his face just in front of your pussy. He ran a teasing finger from your entrance to your clit, giving you a few gentle strokes before his hand came down on your pussy in a light slap.

“Naughty girl,” he sighed. “Dripping wet, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

By this point your legs were shaking from the excitement. Your head dropped to his desk and you pleaded, “Please San, I need it so bad.”

Another slap to your ass, this one a bit harder. “What’s my name?” he demanded.

“Please sir,” you corrected yourself. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Tell me how much you want my cock,” he said. You thought you heard him fiddling with his belt. You tried to turn around, only for him to quickly say, “And don’t. Move.”

You whined, your aching pussy still clenching around nothing, impatient for satisfaction. “I don’t want it, sir, I need it. I need to feel your big, hard cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me and ruin me.”

That was when you felt his dick prod at your entrance. “Good girl,” he said before he moved his hips forward, his large dick slowly filling you up inch by inch. You felt your stomach flip when he brushed over your sweet spot, and the both of you let out a deep moan as San bottomed out inside of you. He seemed even bigger now that you could feel every inch of him.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “You feel so good.” He pulled out slowly, giving you time to adjust, before pushing back in. Hearing him try to suppress his moans and grunts made you wish you could see what his face looked like. Instead you closed your eyes and imagined it.

“Mm, so tight,” he sighed. He began to thrust faster, your insides fluttering each time as he repeatedly poked at your sweet spot. “So good and wet for me. I always knew you’d feel amazing.” As San’s hips crashed against yours, rocking you roughly against his desk, he held your waist and pulled you to him with each thrust.

You revelled in the sounds of breathy moans and skin-on-skin contact that filled the small office, in the drop of sweat that landed on your back, in the never-ending stream of pleasure that filled your body up to the brim. His dick thrusted so perfectly inside of you, curved in such a way that he hit all the right spots seemingly without even trying. It was the perfect size, big enough for you to wrap tightly around him like a glove but not too big. You let yourself get lost in the sweet feeling of San.

Until he spoke again. “Turn around,” he said, pulling out. “I want to see you when you cum.” You obeyed, your back sore as you straightened out, sitting on his desk again. You finally got to look at him again, hungrily taking in the sight of his reddened cheeks, slightly sweaty torso, and erect cock.

San grabbed your knees and spread your legs wider. He then put one hand on your back and leaned you back slightly, his other hand guiding his dick back to you. You smiled like an idiot when you got to feel his dick again, but San was, for the first time, not smiling. He was focused on nothing but sex. Pounding into you with a new aggression and fervor, he stared down at where your bodies melded together.

“Rub your clit,” he commanded, and you obeyed. You closed your eyes and moaned, your pussy tensing around San’s cock. “Does it feel good?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” you squeaked out, focused on the orgasm that was just over your horizon.

“You feel so good for me, baby,” he panted. “Are you close?”

“Yes, so close.” And judging by the shakiness of San’s voice, you guessed he was just as close as you.

“Cum for me, y/n.”

You looked at San’s eyes, which were looking right back at you. The look on his face—serious, desperate, and pure sex—was enough to push you over the edge. You held San’s arms as you tightened around him, trying not to scream but surely making some pretty sounds as you let the waves of your orgasm take you over.

Each pulse around San’s dick strangled him in the best way, almost to the point that he couldn’t move, and the sensation of your orgasm brought him to his own. His body stilled and you felt his warm seed fill you as you rode the last fading waves of your orgasm. You dug your nails into his back and held him close, his choked moans flowing into your ears like music.

San’s head fell into the crook of your neck and you innocently petted his soft hair for a few moments as a soothing action for him as well as yourself after a thrilling and tiring experience. Once San had caught his breath, he looked at you, oddly smileless. He said about the last thing that you expected to hear from him, “Did we make a mistake?”

Whereas before you might have wondered the same thing, now with San relying on you to be shameless, you were. “I don’t think so,” you answered honestly, your thumb now mindlessly stroking his arm. “I mean…from a professional standpoint, yeah. But I don’t regret it.” You looked at San for agreement, but you were scared when you couldn’t find it. You looked at him closer, and said the words you wanted so badly to hold back: “Do you?”

San took only a couple seconds to think. Seconds that felt to you like hours. “No,” he shook his head, and he sounded sincere. But as he stared at the floor, you could tell there was something more he wasn’t telling you. “I just wish we’d done it right.”

“You mean-?”

“I know this is backwards, and we’re naked right now and it’s weird, but…” A smile crept up on him. “Can I take you on a date?”

“Yes,” you said perhaps a little too excitedly, because then you remembered: “But we can’t. We’d lose our jobs.”

“No one has to know,” he smirked. It made you laugh out loud. How could he be so over-confident as to propose a secret, forbidden relationship that would put your jobs at risk, mere seconds after a sloppy fuck? And how dumb were you for being completely on board?

Eventually, San helped you off of his desk. The two of you briefly cleaned up using a box of tissues San had handy, and you began to redress. You glanced at the time. 6:30. Surely everyone must have gone home by now. You turned around to see San putting on his evening clothes, this time for good, and started for the door. Shit, you thought. It really was unlocked the whole time.

Pulling the door open, you took one step before stopping dead in your tracks, your heart dropping as you saw a confused face peek up from a nearby cubicle. It was that guy. The kiss-ass who stayed late every damn night.

“Y/n?” He looked at the clock on the wall then back at you. “Were you meeting with Mr. Choi?”

You cleared your throat and tried to sound casual, not letting your post-orgasm shaky voice come out. “Yes, we were talking about…numbers and the time got away from us. He said he needs a few minutes of privacy and then he’ll be out.” You made sure San could hear everything you said before closing the office door. As you left the office, you tried to hide your red face and to think about anything other than the fact that your dumb coworker may have just heard you fucking your boss.

Sitting in your running car, you scrolled through your phone, responding to messages you received during work hours. A tap on your window made you jump. You rolled your window down.

“That was very cute, y/n,” San smirked, referencing your embarrassing conversation with your coworker. “This is going to be fun.”

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

a/n: shout out to @toxicccred bc i’m pretty sure this fic was all her idea!!! thank you bestie 🥰 also i have a tag list now!

tag list: @kitty4hwa

♡ tag list form ♡

© cherryxsang DO NOT REPOST

[sinnabarmoth]

Worthy of Devotion (6/9)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: Rafayel and Reader talk about why it was him that she had chosen to worship and what exactly happened to put her in his path.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Mentions of past child abuse. Attempted murder of a child.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (7) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel. You knew that. There was a difference between loving your god and being in love with your god. You had heard many tales of other followers of other deities that had fallen in love with their god. It never worked out well. Most of them ended up dying in the end, and you knew none that actually ended up with the god they so adored.

You knew the responsible thing would have been to pull away, to put those walls up that divided you and Rafayel into your respective positions. He the god. You the follower. You reminded yourself that once the temple was repaired you would be constructing a boat to take you home. It was only a matter of time till you left this island and returned to the mainland to become a priestess. That was the goal. It was the whole reason you had spent countless hours penning the history Rafayel told you. You were going to be his priestess, maybe a high priestess. And that was all you were going to be. All you would allow yourself to want.

And you tried to be that. You tried to put up those walls. You tried to be proper and revere him just as your god and nothing more. But you couldn’t.

Every day when he came by you forgot about the future. You laughed and joked and talked as if you were old friends. At night before he would leave to return to Lemuria you would lay in bed together. He’d rest his head on your lap while you ran your hands through his soft hair. You’d say your prayer to him and fall asleep.

Some evenings he even stayed. You’d wake up with him next to you, holding you. You would feign still being asleep in those instances. Your whole body melting into his touch when you felt him stir. Because he probably thought you were still asleep he’d kiss you. Your forehead, your cheek, or if he was behind you he’d press one to the back of your neck.

The simple intimacy of it all made you want to weep.

You never spoke about any of it. How could you? If you said anything it would mean you’d have to confront everything you knew couldn’t happen. It would mean breaking your own heart.

So you slowed your work, just to have that extra day with Rafayel before having to return to the mainland. Days would go by when you didn’t do any work at all. You’d claim you were tired or needed to draw up a plan on how to repair something. Each excuse more flimsy than the last. You knew your time was running out.

Finally all there was left to fix was the roof. There was no way for you to restore it to what it was before but you could board it up to keep the elements from coming in. But that would take some time and an actual plan. You needed to figure out how to get to the roof and more importantly how to get supplies to the roof.

For a brief moment a hope swelled in your chest at the idea that it may very well be impossible. Which meant that you’d have to stay here forever. You couldn’t leave it destroyed like that. It would practically be sacrilege to return to the mainland with that giant hole in the roof. And you were not going to leave the temple in such a state.

Then your stupid conscience kicked in and reminded you that you could in fact not just leave it to further your own selfish agenda. Whether you liked it or not, you had to fix it. The temple didn’t do anything wrong. It deserved the respect and care you had been putting in for months. But you did indeed still need a plan so until you figured something out you could remain as long as you were needed.

Amidst all this work and excuses and personal crisis there was Rafayel. One evening he had informed you that a meteor shower was happening that night and sat with you on the beach to watch the stars streak across the clear night sky.

When you were child you had heard stories about how if you wished on a falling star your wish was sure to come true. As you grew you weren’t sure how much you believed in those tales. But considering that one of your childhood wishes was to meet the Sea God, you were starting to think it wasn’t all sparkle with no substance. Maybe there was some magic in it.

What would you wish for now if you knew it would come true? Your gaze flicked to Rafayel.

He caught you staring and you whipped your head back to look at the sky.

“I have a question for you that I don’t think I’ve asked before.” Rafayel said. “You said that you had traveled to this temple for your pilgrimage. That if all had gone as intended you would have come here, done your work, retrieved a pearl and left to become a priestess. Is that correct?”

“Yes. That was the plan. Still is the plan, although renovations are still slow going and I also still have no way to return to the mainland. It was always my intended goal and with your blessing and everything that we’ve recorded in the book I may even be raised to high priestess when I return.”

“What would you do if you were made high priestess?”

“Well, I’d set the records straight first. Make sure everyone knew the real history of the Sea Gods and what you desire from your followers. Next I would see followers return to this temple as they were supposed to. I could bring in so many others that would not only restore this place to its former glory but make it even better. With the influence as a high priestess I could do it.”

 He brushed a bit of sand off your face. “You really do worship me, don’t you?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you’re one of my devoted followers when you’re not tossing pebbles at me or demolishing me at Jumping Shrimp. But you are a very good follower, best I’ve ever seen anyway. I’d be lucky to have you as a high priestess.”

Your heart swelled with the affection given. “Thank you.”

“My question then is, before you met me why did you want to become a priestess? Out of all the gods, why me?”

“Oh…” you hugged your arms to your sides. “It…it isn’t a very happy story I’m afraid.”

His eyebrows knit in concern. “What do you mean?”

“There are many superstitions regarding the sea, especially where I grew up. I didn’t take much heed of any of them when I was a kid. And I remember there was this one cave that could only be entered at low tide. Everyone on the island said it was cursed, haunted by the lives of those who disrespected the sea. Everyone who went into that cave never came out alive. Their bodies would be dragged back out with the pull of the tide mangled and bloody.

“I don’t remember what possessed me to go to the cave. Maybe I was trying to be brave. Maybe I was chasing a colorful fish I saw in the shallows. But I went in. It was dark and the waves were up to my waist. I got caught in some kind of riptide and it pushed me deeper and deeper into the cave. I got scared and started praying that I would make it out of there alive. Then that pull stopped and I was on land at the back of the cave. There was this bioluminescent algae that was growing along the walls, it cast everything in serene light. I stayed there until the tide went back down.

“When I left the cave someone saw me. Saw how I was covered in this glowing algae and not dead. People didn’t know how to react to my being alive despite entering the cave. My parents…” you took in a shaky breath, “My parents thought it was a bad omen. That I was cursed, that I would only bring misfortune. So they threw me into the sea. But I survived again. The priests saw my miraculous defiance of death not once but twice and saw it as a blessing. They said I had been marked with the favor of the Sea God. So they took me into the city temple.

“From that point on you were my reason for living. If not for the priests thinking me blessed I may have ended up abandoned on the streets or dead. My becoming a priestess was what they expected of me and what I strove for.”

You turned to Rafayel. There were tears in his eyes. “They threw you into the sea?” he said.

“Yes. They had sewn rocks into my pockets so I would sink and drown. I remember sinking further and further beneath the waves, unable to kick back to the surface with the added weight. The sunlight started to disappear and I couldn’t breathe. I sucked in a lungful of water, the world went dark but then I woke up on the shore. I don’t know how it happened but--”

“The pockets of your dress were ripped.” Rafayel said.

“Yes…how did you know that?” You were positive you had never told him this story before.

“So much trouble, even as a child.” he said, a disbelieving smile growing on his face.

“Raf?”

“Many years ago when I was still nothing more than a pup, I had been wandering by the land. I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near land. Especially not the continent. But I was young and curious and I had been able to ditch my tutors. I was swimming near a cliffside when I saw a girl drop into the water. She had stone stitched into her pockets.” he touched your face, cupping your cheek. “I cut the pockets open with my dagger and swam her back to shore.”

“You saved me?”

“Seems so.”

“You do that a lot.”

“I’m supposed to. God of the Seas and all. I protect my followers.”

“Me especially?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe the priests were right. Maybe I really do have your favor.”

“You have much more than just my favor, cor meum.”

There was that word again. He had said it numerous times but you didn’t know what it meant. Any time you tried to ask he brushed it off. Said it was just a Lemurian phrase.

He was close again, his forehead pressed to yours. “We’re missing the meteor shower.” you whispered, a last ditch effort to pull you back to something resembling propriety.

“I’ve already made my wishes.” he said, his nose bumping against yours.

“What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you, it may not come true.”

“Raf…”

“Cor meum…”

Your eyes began to drift closed. I wish…I wish…

Then were was air. Rafayel was no longer pressed against you and you tipped forward, trying to chase his presence. He stood up, hands on his hips, his back to you. Shit! You messed up. You had to have. He saw, he knew. Did you pray? You were wishing, that didn’t mean you were praying. You wanted him to come back.

“Rafayel?” you felt ridiculous with how pitiful you sounded. You wanted him back. You needed to get him back before he realized. You could fix this. You just needed to--to--you didn’t know! You just wanted him to face you.

Several long seconds that stretched like lifetimes passed. The space between you might as well have been a desert, vast and dry. Not a sign of water or hope of oasis anywhere.

He finally turned and held a hand out for you. You took it and he pulled you to your feet. “I want to show you something.” he started tugging you down the beach towards the water.

You followed, your head in a daze as you tried to figure out what was going on. What was he doing?

You began to wade into the water, his hand still tightly interlaced with yours. You were up to your chest in the waves. Rafayel turned you to him and pulled your arms around his neck. The water around the pair of you began to glow. You stared down at the light wandering what was going on.

When the light cleared away you saw the shadow of a tail where his legs had been. You looked back up and the scales on his face and his torso were back. Those webbed fins over his ears and that blue flaming glow in his eyes too. His Lemurian form was much like his god form but severely smaller.

“What are you doing?”

“I said I wanted to show you something.” he grabbed your legs and hooked them around his hips. “Now hold on tight and don’t worry about breathing. You’re with me, I won’t let you drown.”

With that he dove into the water with you clinging onto him for dear life. He was right about you not needing to breathe. Water passed in and out of your lungs as if you had gills. Outside of the pinpricks of light coming off of Rafayel there was no other light where you were going. It was nothing but surrounding darkness the deeper and deeper you went.

You panicked for a moment as memories of drowning replayed in your mind. You nails dug into his back and he held you tighter. “It’s alright, I’ve got you. We’re almost there.”

Finally he stopped. It was so dark you couldn’t see anything. “Raf?” you tested out the word. It was strange to talk while water was flowing in and out your mouth. “What are we doing down here? I don’t like it.”

“Wait for it.” he rubbed your back. “Just give it a moment.”

You waited, you weren’t sure what for. Then a jet of bright orange light erupted next to you. You shrieked, clinging onto Rafayel tighter. “What--”

Another jet of light erupted, this time on your other side. It was a bright green. All around you more and more eruptions occurred in various colors. Jets of hot light and millions of bubbles lighting the dark sea in a rainbow of colors. The cold was banished as each column of heat and light cut through the darkness.

Geysers. Underwater geysers. You had heard about them but you had never seen one before.

“Wow…” a geyser of bright pink erupted next. “What is this place?”

“I call it the Kaleidoscope but the elders call it the Burning Rainbow. There are certain minerals in the geysers that cause them to light in all these different colors. This happens about once every month, I had been thinking about showing you for a while now. I thought you may like it.”

“I love it.” another column of light, this time purple, lit your faces. You turned to Rafayel, your smile wide. “And I like Kaleidoscope better than Burning Rainbow too. It sounds prettier.”

“That’s what I keep saying.” he held you a bit tighter. “I know that the temple is close to being fully repaired. So I don’t know how long we have left so I wanted to take you now…in case you aren’t around for next month.”

You were glad you were underwater so he couldn’t tell you were crying. “Rafayel,” you fought back the sob in your throat. “I want you to know in case I don’t have the strength to say it later. But these past couple of months, this time getting to know you, it has been the best time of my life. I will treasure every second I was here for the rest of my life.”

“So will I.” The geysers began to sputter and die, their eruptions dormant until next month and you were cast back into darkness. All you could make out again was the light in Rafayel’s eyes. “I will never forget you. Not a single moment. I promise, cor meum.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”

“Another day, perhaps.” he hugged you tightly, “Let’s go home now.”