#and we are going to ignore the fact that i have evaporated for the last what. 4 weeks??? idk

[ahaha-ahahaha]

uhhh contest has ended today so I guess I get to post this without a somewhat irrational fear of plagiarism

[dilfl0v3rss]

I can just see soft and sweet ony getting a demeanor change once we piss him off real baddd and putting us in our place🫣

thank you booooo!!! i feel like these fit well so i put them togetherrrr💋💋

“cmon ma y’know i love you. please stop wit the tears” ony kept his voice soft as he watched you cry in the passenger seat of his car. “i-if you loved me..y-you’d take me to get my nails doneeee” your sentences were broken between sobs as you covered your lash adorning eyelids with your palms. hiding your face from the man next to you.

ony sighed deeply as he watched you cause a scene in the car. you literally got your nails done last week, with his money at that, but since they weren’t done how you liked you soaked them off as soon as you got home. he’s told you plenty of times that you shouldn’t have left the shop without it done properly, but you ignored him. wasting his money with tears in your eyes and now here you were crying again because he refused to let that go.

“ma you know i love you. if i didn’t i would be giving you a band right now to go get your nails and feet done, but i love you so much i’m teaching you a lesson.” you rolled your teary eyes, turning your head towards the window as well as your feet while you basically ignored his lecture. “can’t waste my money and expect me to just keep reimbursing you. ion reward that type of behavior, and this?…this little attitude you getting wit me is gon get you nowhere”

although he was right, you were just as stubborn as could be. flipping your long blonde buss down with attitude before you aggressively dug in your purse for your phone. “rewarding my behavior? pshh…ima grown ass woman” you mumbled as you scrolled through the different apps on your phone. of course ony heard you, but he decided to let you rock, continuing to drive the two of you to the ice cream shop. he was teaching you a lesson, but he wasn’t going to be an asshole about it. if there was something else you wanted he had no problem giving it to you, but as far as nails went it was an absolute no.

“ima just get my other man to get it. might suck his di-” your mumbles were cut off by ony’s inked hand around your throat. before you knew it the car was on the side of the road and he had your face close to his. you giggled as you looked at his change in attitude, not taking him serious since it’s been so long since he’s acted this way. “that’s funny huh? c’mere lemme show you what’s funny” he practically yanked you over the center console, hands gripping your ass tightly as he situated your body on top of him.

“lean over my shoulder” he grumbled deeply, eyes piercing into yours, watching the giggly attitude you just had evaporate from your body before impatiently moving you himself. he yanked your skirt over your ass, gripping and rubbing you roughly as he spoke. “you like when daddy’s mean to you? like talking about this ‘other nigga’ and getting me mad?…huh?” a hard smack was sent to your ass, making you jolt as your hand flew back to cover the burning flesh. “move your fuckin hand and answer me mama. you like actin like a spoiled brat?”

he held both of your wrists in the same hand he held your skirt up with. holding them tight to keep you from moving. your wetness was already soaking your bright pink thong as you tried to plead with your angry boyfriend. “n-no! i don’t want you mad at me daddy. i was just p-playinggg” you whimpered as you felt two more slaps get brought to your warm ass. “i don’t give a fuck what you was doing. don’t you ever say you gon call anybody when i say no, y’hear me?”

it was time to break that stupid habit once and for all. every time you didn’t get your way from ony, you thought it was cute to say some “other nigga” was going to get it done. now obviously there was no other man, but the fact that you thought it was okay to talk about doing things with someone else boiled his blood. “when i say ‘no’ then it’s final, understand?” he said in an aggressive tone. “y-yea. i hear you daddy…swear i hear you” you mumbled before abruptly being sat back into your seat, ass sore and uncomfortable rubbing against the cushion of the seats.

“glad your ears work mama. now we gon do sum about that mouth.” ony slightly pulled his sweats down, releasing his dick from its restraints before taking your hand and touching himself with it. he’s been hard since you sat your pretty ass in his car. the sight of your khaki skirt barely covering your thighs and ass making him ready to take you in the backseat, but of course you ruined that by being a brat. “come suck this dick mama”

you eagerly leaned towards his dick, giving his tip some light licks before closing your pretty lips around it. as you continued, ony began driving the two of you home, forgetting the ice cream shop as you sucked him just the way he liked. “that’s right baby. this the only dick you ever gon be sucking aight?” you moaned a “mhmm”, letting the vibrations of your voice pleasure him even more. although you were doing a great job, ony knew that you gained pleasure sucking his dick almost just as much as he did receiving it, reaching around and brushing his fingers across your panties clarified that as he looked at your essence practically drip from his hand.

“cant have you having too much fun now can i? you wont learn that way” before you knew it, his large hand was outstretched behind your head, pushing you lower so you can take him down your throat. your gagging was like music to his ears as ony released deep groans into the air. “mmshit baby. taking me deep down that pretty throat” his words only brought more wetness to your core as you gripped his thigh as tight as you could to distract yourself from the lack of air you were getting. his dick moved in and out of your mouth at a steady pace, giving you only a second to breath in and another to breath back out every time he brought your head up.

“you gon cut that shit out f’me? gon clean that act up right?” he pulled your head from his dick, groaning at the quiet pop that rang in the air as you released him. you looked beautiful. spit soaking your lips as well as your chin, hair disheveled, and eyes eagerly looking up at him as you took deep breaths of air before speaking. “i’ll fix it daddy…promise” you moaned. ony didn’t miss the small movement of your legs. thighs clenching tight together to ease the ache you gained from neglecting your poor pussy. a small smirk adorned his face. “i’ll deal wit her when we get home.” he nodded his head, glancing towards between your legs before continuing. “but right now we worried about that mouth. cmere mama” your face lit up at the thought of what was to come at home, making the wet stain in your underwear begin to grow as you let your man lead your face back towards his lap.

[777gojosgf]

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: reader x ex!satorugojo

IN WHERE :: satoru gojo is indeed the smallest man who ever lived who has fucked it up with you beyond repair.

a/n: this hurts ANGST very ooc!satoru but i just wanted to write something like this for a while. and umm welcome back to me i guess…

ONE THING ABOUT YOU is that you didn’t like to give a show. no, instead you were always thinking about others and how they would feel if you were to say something. additionally you hated confrontation and especially those joined by others. it just wasn’t your style and added upon the anxiety you already felt on the daily basis due to the rocky situation you had with satoru.

you hadn’t asked him where he had been for the past week because you didn’t want to know. even though deep inside you knew that you knew enough.

there was no denying that he cheated on you with your best friend.

and perhaps that should have hurt you the most, the fact that he threw away a four year relationship just because he gave in to his desire. but it was the disrespect that hurt you the most. where did he get the nerve to treat you like that? you hadn’t done anything but love him truly for who he was and the smile he brought upon your face every single day. but you were afraid that those days had officially come to an end.

sometimes good things don’t last.

ever since shoko told you the news, you weren’t sure how to go about it. if you would wait until the both of you were back in the apartment you shared. where the memories and promises you had created with each other haunted the very same hallway where you broke down after seeing the photos of him and your best friend.

good riddance.

you whispered to yourself. good riddance.

but why was it so hard to believe?

and so, you hadn’t realized where your feet had brought you until you had found yourself on the grounds of jujutsu high. the anger that resumed inside of you made it seem as if there was a curse of a special grade roaming the area and the students knew better than to ask how you were doing. in fact, you looked terrifying.

your vision turned red and the only thing you could focus on was the terrible heartache that screamed for vengeance and an explanation.

for so far he was able to give you one.

the sound of the main door slamming in the teacher’s lounge echoed through the entire building, but unluckily for him his friends were there too.

but you didn’t care. not anymore.

because you have cared, you have been caring for years and apparently it didn’t mean shit.

the white haired male leaned against the wall as he watched you walk up to him, and some would say that he begged the gods above that he would make it out alive.

“baby—“ he started, reaching out to touch you like he always used to do but when you stood still in your tracks and flinched away from him…

he knew.

“am i a joke to you?” your question that desperately demanded an answer only made the entire room go quieter than it was before. the tension wavered through the air and he didn’t know what to say. perhaps because he didn’t expect you to ask him that out of all the things you could have.

why did you cheat? did you cheat?

but instead of that, you asked him if you were a joke to him.

“what do you mean? maybe we shouldn’t do this here—“ he once again miserably failed at trying to start his explanation because you took a step forward and all the words evaporated from his mouth while his vocal chords estranged. he didn’t dare to say a word.

“are you fucking kidding me, satoru? are you embarrassed that everyone is watching? because you didn’t care that you would embarrass me after fucking my friend, did you?”

you felt tears prickling in your eyes but not because you were sad. no, those tears had spilled in your apartment. instead, these were tears made out of pure anger. formed deep inside from the quiet resentment of him that you had tried to ignore and endure for days.

your hands trembled, “did you think i wouldn’t find out? do you believe i’m an idiot, is that all that i am to you? a pushover, a people pleaser?”

he didn’t say anything. there were tears streaming down his face as he knew that he had lost the one thing that mattered to him. four years of someone who loved him for who he was, and not for who he had to be.

someone who would have died for his sins.

and he threw it all away.

he knew that he couldn’t say anything that would change this and the way you felt, instead he was afraid that he would only ruin it. so he decided to take it.

“answer me.”

that made him snap out of his trance and he shake his head, stepping forward and meeting your eyes that were so full of fury he started to wonder if you weren’t a stranger.

“i fucked up, okay? i know that i did, and i cannot change anything that i did. and i know that it wasn’t right.” satoru muttered defeated.

but the only thing he heard was your laugh. it wasn’t a laugh he recognized. and it certainly wasn’t the one you let out the times before the two of you would go to bed but not before he made you laugh.

and at that same exact moment the two of you wondered the same thing.

do i know you at all?

but only one had the right to ask that question, of course.

“is that all you have to say for yourself? you can’t even apologize? because i have tried to figure out why you did what you did and if it was my fucking fault, satoru. after everything, i wondered if it was my fault. and i cannot believe-“ a sob made its way through your words and it was hard to keep the tears in now, but you had to. “i can’t believe this.”

“and i cannot grasp why you would. you deserve fucking prison for the way you have treated me these past weeks, making me wonder if i was the problem as to why you would ignore me in our apartment. ours! and i so desperately hate you for it.”

he leaned to touch your cheek, his hand rising and caressing it softly and you hated it that you let him.

“y/n, please. i can’t lose you. i am so sorry for what i did, but i can live with you hating me. i just can’t live without you.” his words embedded your skin and trailed up to your brain, almost planting it seeds and giving into his words,

but you had grown and knew better.

“maybe you should have decided that before you decided to throw this all away. i’m sure you have had a good laugh too considering the way you kicked the fucking stage lights. but you’re still performing, aren’t you? i would have given up my life for you every time. any fucking time. and while i was making promises and thinking about what the future upholds for us, you were busy giving into your desires.” your breathing had surprisingly calmed and the rational version of you had finally asserted itself into your veins as you wiped away the tears from your face and took three steps back.

“tell me. was it all worth it? was she good?”

what?

satoru couldn’t decide whether you actually asked him that or if his imagination was having its own little fun with him. but no, you truly asked him.

“baby don’t say stuff like that you know—“

“if you ever call me that again i will spoon the fucking six eyes out of you. now, tell me.”

fortunately the white haired male was wiser than to answer that question so he remained silent. his tears made its work onto his shirt and the crystal blue eyes that you had longed for since you laid eyes upon them, were now vibrant red.

you knew that he was feeling the same heartache like you were. the only difference however was that you were glad that he was.

“fine.“

and with that, you turned around to walk away.

but not before you stopped, turned around and threw the one thing that had mattered.

he caught the engagement ring mid-air that was a gojo family heirloom.

satoru swore that he loved you but the clues weren’t to be found.

perhaps you died dead at the altar.

“i’m leaving tonight.” you announced but it fell upon deaf ears and you let out a sigh before making your way back to the shared apartment leaving satoru behind at jujutsu high.

literally and figuratively.

after moving out the same exact day, having only taken a few personal belongings, you immediately booked the first flight out of tokyo.

that was the last time you ever saw him again.

©777gojosgf

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Stepdad!Hopper x Reader • age gap (reader is 21, Hop’s in his 40’s) • angst, mutual pining, masturbation mentioned, troubled marriage, Hopper is a pervert wracked with guilt aka my favorite kind of Hopper… 🤪

You wiggled on Hopper’s lap, causing him to stifle a groan. God you were beautiful. So fucking pretty and sweet, using his lap to sit in while you did your makeup at the dresser mirror.

“Thanks for the boost, by the way,” you told him, smiling at his serious reflection in the glass. “I’m too short for this dresser, I swear.” You giggled, patting your cheeks with a rosy blush. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be stretching on my tiptoes just to put my makeup on.”

Hopper swallowed back another groan as you adjusted on his lap. “But with you in this chair, and me on your lap-” You finished slicking your lips with a cherry-flavored gloss, and popped them. “-We make a great team, don’t we?”

Hopper forced a polite smile back at you, struggling internally. He shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, or doing it at all. You were so trusting of him, so naive in many ways. Even though you were an adult now, Hopper was aware of the fact that you had next to no experience with boys. He wasn’t doing anything wrong right now, by letting you sit on his lap…not technically. But because of the feelings he’d secretly had for you, for awhile now, even the most innocent gestures Hopper made toward you felt taboo…

When he’d met your mother, you’d just turned nineteen. And without an older, stable male figure in your life, you became attached to Hopper quickly. After marrying your mother the following year, Hopper hoped you’d finally begin dating, forming relationships with boys your age. But now, at twenty-one years old, you still insisted on designating Hopper the only man in your life.

He hadn’t minded, at first. Not when his relationship with your mother was going well, when she and Hopper were still being intimate together. But things had soured between them over the last six months or so, to the point that now, Hopper couldn’t remember the last time he and his wife had made love. There never seemed to be any interest on her part, leading Hopper to wonder sometimes if perhaps she were having her sexual needs met by another man?

With the tension in his marriage at a peak and its intimacy completely evaporated, Hopper found his desires traveling elsewhere in the home. He hated himself for it, despised the way he came almost daily to the thought of having you…but the woman you’d become was a temptation too great for Hopper to ignore.

Seeing you every morning, moving about the house in just your pajama shorts and a tank top like it was nothing, Hopper realized how disgusting he’d truly become. You obviously trusted him, just as you had for years, enough to prance around him half naked and think nothing of it. This realization only added to Hopper’s guilt, making him hate himself a little more each time he masturbated with your body in mind.

“There,” you said, capping your mascara and placing it on the dresser. “All done. What do you think?” You fanned your fingers around your face and batted your lashes dramatically, smiling at Hopper’s reflection.

“Beautiful,” he replied; and from the almost reverent sincerity in Hopper’s tone, you knew he meant it.

You slid off his lap, his hands immediately moving to your hips to steady you as you dismounted. Hopper rose from the chair, turning aside so you wouldn’t see him discreetly adjust himself in his pants.

He sighed with relief, feeling as if he’d passed some kind of test. “Hey,” he said. “You really do look great, kid. But-.” Hopper moved his finger to boop your powdered nose. “-Who’s all this for, anyway? You gettin’ all dolled up just for the hell of it?”

You glanced down at the floor, a blush warming your cheeks beneath the makeup. “I…uh,” you stammered bashfully. “I have a date.”

Hopper’s eyebrows lifted, his lips parting in surprise. “A date?” he asked, before quickly softening the accidental sharpness in his voice. “Oh. Who’s the lucky guy?”

There was a pause before you answered Hopper, and he found it a bit strange that you didn’t answer him right away. Maybe you were just shy, he wondered? This was the first date Hopper had ever known you to have, in the two years he’d known you. Maybe the situation was so new, you didn’t know how to talk about it casually?

“Uh, just a guy from work,” you explained. “You’d like him, he’s funny. But serious too, when he needs to be.” You bit your glossy bottom lip, chuckling. “He kinda reminds me of you, Hop.”

Your stepdad’s eyebrow quirked curiously, as if he doubted your sincerity. “Hmm,” he muttered. “You meeting this guy somewhere?”

“At the new mall they just built, yeah,” you replied, checking your look again in the mirror. “We’ll probably see a movie, or something.”

Hopper nodded, another polite smile once again fixed onto his face. “Well, be safe,” he told you, and gently squeezed your shoulder before heading for the door.

“Just, one more thing,” Hopper said, lingering in your doorway. “What’s this kid’s name, anyway?”

You froze outwardly, but your mind was scrambling for a response. “Jack,” you blurted. “His name’s Jack. He’s a nice guy, really.”

Hopper’s brow was creased in ‘detective mode,’ a familiar expression for him, but one you rarely saw directed at yourself. He nodded silently as he exited your room, patting the doorframe on his way out. You watched Hopper leave, exhaling the knot of tension you’d been holding.

“Like I said,” he called from the hallway as he walked away. “Be safe.”

Be safe. A sentiment that struck you as both ironic and unnecessary, as you observed your made-up reflection in the mirror…the mirror you could easily access, without having to strain. You hadn’t needed Hopper’s lap to boost you; you wanted him to be there. The innocence you feigned around your stepfather was as fake as your date for the evening, Jack.

The truth, which as always is more complicated than fiction, was that you’d been in love with Hopper for awhile now. You weren’t as naive as he (and your mother) thought you were. What you lacked in actual life experience, you made up for in observing others. And as you began to see problems in your mother and Hopper’s marriage arise, you watched each crack form on the surface with a growing interest.

Although Hopper didn’t realize it, your choosing him as the only man in your life was not an accident. You didn’t want anyone else; you wanted him. Tonight had been a test, to gauge his reaction to you actually having a date for once. And from the way Hopper had reacted, his change of tone, his sudden and deliberate need for details, you were convinced that jealousy was at play in his response.

Reaching for your bag, you checked to make sure you had your car keys and enough cash on you for a movie ticket and some popcorn. You’d go to the mall and see a movie, just as you’d told Hopper, minus a date…

…or at least, you thought you’d be going alone. You didn’t notice, as you exited the driveway and drove through the streets of Hawkins, that another (very familiar) vehicle was discreetly following a few cars behind you.

Hopper wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see, with his own eyes, the boy you’d suddenly, uncharacteristically, made the choice to go out with. The expression ‘know your enemy,’ may have been resting at the back of Hopper’s mind as he followed you to the mall; but more accurately, Hopper was hoping to know his competition…

PART TWO

[j0kers-light]

His Angel: Just a Feeling (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Just a Feeling

series summary:

Y/n is secretly a guardian angel with a home base in Gotham City. All of your previous assignments have passed on peacefully and you fail to take on another; much to your counsel's growing concern. You spend your days blending in with the citizens of Gotham until an unexpected encounter throws your entire existence upside down.

chapter summary:

Thrown into an unexpected assignment, Y/n copes with the realization that her charge is not who she initially signed up for. Driven by foreign emotions, Y/n must fulfill her duties or face the consequences.

author's note:

I need some more angel!reader in my life so here we are! Fun fact, Lumen by Jada is the song that Y/n hears when she realizes that Joker is her new assignment. I love how my brain works. 🤍✨

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Angel taglist! Be alerted with the story updates!

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The tension in the bank was palpable and for once, you were a victim, caught up in the madness. 

You expected the humans in the room to evaporate or combust into goo, but a quick self reflection confirmed that the fundamentals of your glamor remained intact. You wouldn’t need to summon Amenadiel after all. Which meant the crowd was more shocked by your random appearance than seeing an angel with their natural eye.  

A shame that was the least of your concerns.  

Pain. You hadn’t felt it in ages; however, the dulling ache was nothing compared to the warmth of this stranger’s touch. You could feel the heat seeping from his gloves permeating your skin. It made you feel... alive. Desired. Emboldened.  

A deadly cocktail in your opinion and especially towards a human. 

Despite your better judgement, your e/c eyes fell closed, and you leaned into his hold. Nothing was making any sense, but you relished in the brief moment of peace.  

That is, until the strange man opened his mouth.  

"Did it hurt?"  

Three words was all it took to yank you back into reality— or perhaps it was the intriguing sight of his pupils dilating as they bore into your soul that helped steer you back.  

What could he see? Did he learn your identity just by looking into your eyes?  

You didn’t want to believe this mortal could detect your angelic prowess even with your glamor at its current low levels. Nothing about you screamed, ‘ I’m an angel.’ Were your eyes glowing by any chance?  

Surely it was a coincidence and you feigned ignorance to avoid further suspicion. "What?" You gasped. 

Joker hated repeating himself, yet he didn’t mind if it was for you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite place.  

To Joker, life was a meaningless thing that he navigated without a care of the conclusion, until an electric charge made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt an odd sensation— like he was being watched— and glanced across the room where he felt the pull.  

There was nothing there but thin air, yet Joker swore he felt a presence, observing him. He guessed that today was the day he finally lost his mind or rather what was left of it.  

It wasn’t like The Joker to become distracted during a fight and Batman was not going to let the rare opportunity go to waste. He delivered a crucial blow hoping to would take Joker out. It hardly phased the clown who laughed off the pain.  

However, Joker did feel something; it was strangely familiar yet undeniably foreign that overwhelmed him all at once. He wasn’t imagining things. The best way to describe it was like a phone on ten percent being connected to a charger. There was no denying it now, something happened, he just didn’t know what.   

A sharp gasp drew everyone’s attention away from the fight and Joker swore he saw an angel when he locked eyes with you. 

Just how could Joker overlook someone like you?  

You. Doubled over, wheezing in pain, but looking as radiant as ever. Ignore the fact you appeared literally out of nowhere, Joker had to know who you were. You captured his interest without even trying and kept it firmly within your grip. Life became a lot more meaningful now that you were in the picture. 

Your fleeting gaze towards Batman stirred up jealousy in Joker’s heart so he dug his nails further into your jaw to steal your attention away. "I saiddd.. did it hurt... when you, ahh, fell from heaven?" He asked. 

Oh. So you did hear him correctly.  

Somehow this mortal saw through your glamor and deduced your existence. That would not do at all. You weighed the options available to handle this oversight. You could wipe this man out of existence, or you could deny deny deny.  

It had been decades since you harmed a human and you didn’t want to go through the unnecessary paperwork and protocols that would follow if you did so. It was best practice to talk your way out of the situation.  

Or take a page out of Ario’s textbook and charm your way out. “Are you implying I’m a fallen angel like Lucifer?” you batted your lashes and watched the man falter with a response.  

“Well. I.. uhh—” 

“Let her go Joker.” You frowned at your charge for butting his way into the conversation. You were beginning to dislike the bat more and more.  

Batman had finally come to and wanted control back over the situation. How he managed to be taken seriously in that ridiculous suit was a miracle, but you had to thank him for his service. He put a name to this odd looking man who piqued your interest.  

Joker.  

You could see the irony in the name. His ghastly makeup reminded you of 15th century court jesters. Long ago, you were a guardian angel to one that served the infamous Tudor King. Both men were fools in name and practice.  

The present-day clown holding you hostage had yet to prove if he was one as well.  

Nothing about robbing a bank in the middle of the night seemed like a joke to you. To each their own you assumed. Humans were an unusual lot.  

Batman and the Joker threw insults and witty comments back and forth and you wisely tuned out their conversation. They acted more like old friends than mortal enemies. Typical male behavior.  

What drew your attention away was the red paint this Joker fellow wore. It accentuated the gruesome scars etched in his skin. You didn’t care if was rude, you had the urge to touch them. Your finger brushed against his scarred check, and you knew you messed up the moment Joker stopped talking.  

Joker visibly shivered and directed all his attention on you.  

Nothing else mattered inside the bank. Not the terrified civilians, not the gravelly voice of Batman demanding Joker to surrender, and definitely not the sound of approaching sirens.  

All that mattered was the bubble you and Joker created. That nagging feeling from earlier returned tenfold the second your finger grazed his skin. He thought he was being electrocuted; it was so intense, and you were inclined to agree.  

Just who were you? You must’ve been new to Gotham or simply dumb enough to chance death; no one dared to touch him, let alone his scars.  

Joker couldn’t help but make an example out of you.  

He grabbed your fingers in his strong grip and squeezed. All you did was blink owlishly at him. “Do ya like em? The scars?” Joker craned his neck so you could see them better. “C’mere, we can match.” 

Everything else that followed, happened simultaneously.  

You watched Joker raise his army knife up to your cheek right as a swarm of people entering the room caught your eye. The police had arrived guns in hand, and one of the officers had a clear shot of the Joker and pulled his trigger to fire, all without a second thought.  

You knew for the humans involved it had only been a few seconds that passed, but you watched all of this unfold naturally. 

You knew without intervention the bullet would hit you and The Joker. It would barely leave a scratch on you but the wound would be fatal for him.  

Batman would be too slow to stop the trajectory with his feeble Batarang. You didn’t care what happened to the clown, that is until your duty hit you with full force. Your wings bristled with the need to expand. 

Your charge was in danger. Protect! You had to protect!!  

It didn’t make any sense. Ario informed you that the Batman was your potential charge. He was not in any danger— yet you felt the guardian connection (at last), lock into place. Just on the wrong person.  

Impossible. Fate had never made a mistake, yet there was no denying it. You were now bound to this unpredictable clown.  

You stared at The Joker in a newfound light as your vows to protect him transcended through the bond.  

How were you supposed to protect this man’s life when he cared so little for it? In all your years, never have you met anyone like him. Even now with the guardian link complete, you couldn’t feel anything from his side. Joker did not fear death. He sensed the danger, but he did nothing to prevent it.  

He was a walking contradiction to your purpose.  

You were a guardian angel, a protector of life, now bound to a suicidal maniac.  

You had a brief notion to do nothing and let him to die. That would serve a better example than coddling him. You doubted this human would be missed and you would be free to move onto avoiding your next assignment, but as quickly as that thought appeared in your mind, you banished it away. 

You were The Great Y/n. You did not make mistakes. You could not fail another charge. This was your duty. This was your purpose.  

Somehow, you would make the best of this situation, starting with preventing Joker’s demise. And just like that, time caught up with the present and you moved faster than the scale of lumen to protect your charge.  

Batman heard the GCPD approaching and shouted at them to hold their fire, but it was too late. The civilian hostages screamed when they heard the gunshots ring out and chose to duck for cover. Bats quick fired a Batarang to try and stop the bullets or at least intercept it from its intended target, but it was an unnecessary effort.  

The Joker was gone.  

Jim Gordon and his police officers stopped in their tracks at the Houdini act. “What the...” Gordon said aloud.  

Even Batman and his detective like mind could not understand what had happened.  

Where Joker was previously standing, was a single black feather gently floating in the air where it vanished upon contact with the ground.  

Joker had seen some bizarre things in his life however today proved to be the icing on the cake.  

He could’ve sworn he was robbing Gotham City’s Regional Bank with a small group of his goons tonight. Everything was going smoothly until Batman just had to intervene but after that, things became too blurry to recall. 

Joker thought he met someone, which sounded insane by itself, but he couldn’t get the image of a beautiful woman out of his head. She was stunning, albeit aloof in demeanor, and her eyes were truly unforgettable. He never seen e/c glow the way hers did.  

Was it all a dream, he wasn’t so sure. It wouldn’t be the first time that his sick mind made something up to push the narrative. It would not be the last time either.  

Joker groaned as he woke up further. He didn’t know where he was but that didn’t matter. As long as he was still in Gotham, he could work with that.  

A glass of water was sitting on a nearby table and Joker downed the entire cup before throwing it against the wall. The sound of broken glass was a small reprieve to his troubled mind. He needed answers. He hated being in the dark.  

Joker was prone to forgetting things—with a broken mind like his it was bound to happen, but he distinctly remembered robbing a bank one moment and the next he woke up in some stranger’s room.  

He got up and looked around searching for clues as to how he got there.  

The apartment was decent enough yet it was sparsely decorated, giving it an empty feeling. It didn’t feel like a home, just a place to occupy when the need arose. It provided nothing but more questions and quite frankly, Joker had enough of the guessing game.  

He patted his pockets hoping that his burner phone was still on him. Thankfully it was and he wasted no time dialing a number by heart. It rang until someone answered.  

Joker didn’t let the person speak. “Track my location and come with answers on how I got here.” He hung up after barking his orders into the phone.  

He roamed the apartment looking for personal effects, mementoes, trash— anything that would give him insight on the person who owned the place but there was nothing .  

For all intense purposes, the place could be a stage home for rent. Joker was getting a headache when his search was unsuccessful, so he found himself back in the bedroom—the only place that looked somewhat lived in.  

He fell backwards on the disheveled bed and sighed up at the ceiling. Just what was going on? Nothing was making sense and why did it seem like he was missing something, or rather someone in his state of confusion.  

You hadn’t worked this hard as a guardian since you were entrusted to a politician.  

By the time you dumped an unconscious clown onto your bed, you had to double back to the active crime scene and distort the memories of all the humans involved. All eighty seven of them.  

Each human had to have alternate memories of the night that excluded you being in the bank while erasing you saving Joker’s life. It wasn’t easy yet tis the duty of a guardian angel. The hardest mind to alter was Batman’s.  

He was convinced of what he thought he saw.  

He threw a Batarang towards his arch nemesis (was he holding a hostage?), who simply vanished into thin air. The police officer who fired his gun had the spotty memory of someone in Joker’s arms too, although he wasn’t quite sure. It didn’t sound believable, so he dismissed the idea early on without your influence. 

He only remembered catching sight of The Joker upon entering the room and firing two shots. Neither bullet hit their target, and no impact holes were found.  

The security cameras were disabled before Joker and his men broke in so that was a dead end for investigators.  

Everyone had the same million-dollar question. How did The Joker escape? 

Batman was convinced that Joker was holding someone but every time he strained his mind to describe them, a migraine thwarted his attempts. Something wasn’t right here. There were just too many pieces of the picture missing to make a definitive report. Batman had to know how Joker escaped so it couldn’t happen again.  

You rolled your eyes and added an extra sedative to Batman’s mind to make sure it remained blocked towards any evidence of the truth. You couldn’t allow anyone to know that guardian angels existed.  

People could believe all they want— having tangible proof of the divine was where things crossed the line.  

It wasn’t your role to decide the logistics behind the rule. You would leave that burden to your more delegated angels. Your job as a guardian was done and you prepared to return to your charge when a searing pain in your shoulder made you falter. 

You were still adjusting to feeling things again. 

You tried pulling out whatever causing the pain but you quickly realized that whatever it was, it was lodged in your wings, right out of your reach. You would have to extend them to remove the foreign object. 

Great. That meant a trip in the clouds.  

You were already exhausted from cleaning up Joker’s escape act, but the pain just would not pass.  

“What I’d do to not feel once more.” you muttered to yourself.  

In a flash you were airborne, high above Gotham City and the Earth’s atmosphere, as far as the human mind could comprehend. It was far enough to safely spread your wings in all of their glory.  

It had been too long since you flew around so freely. Living amongst humans really did a number on you. You adapted so well that some mannerisms became second nature.  

You took the subway, you adopted a Gotham accent, you paid bills; never did you forget your origin. It was hard not to during times like this.  

Up in the clouds with the moon as your spotlight, you could stretch out your angel wings and bask in the joy of flight. Blending in with the humans could never take away your divinity no matter how much you tried to denounce it.  

The objects wedged itself out of your obsidian feathers and you twisted midair to catch them before they plummeted to the earth below.  

“Humans and their primitive weapons.” Two bullets rolled around in your palm along with some kind of metal bat symbol. This must’ve been the infamous, Batarang.  

Day one of your assignment and you already took a bullet for your charge and whatever this silly thing was. What would the rest of your servitude look like in comparison? You flicked the batarang in between your fingers, lost in thought.  

You felt jilted about being assigned to Joker and not the Batman.  

Nowhere on the assignment scroll hinted at a possible mix up and you hated being misinformed. Being the Joker’s guardian angel vastly changed things.  

You had the mindset that Batman would hardly require your protection and you were already determined to have an easy job until his death but with the Joker, that would not be the case.  

Already you were put to work, and it seemed it would be a busy assignment until death earned him. You weren’t frustrated at Joker—he would remain clueless about your role in his life. No, you were upset with Ario for deceiving you. 

It wasn’t like him to get caught up in these types of scandals and you flipped on your back to gaze up in the direction of home.  

The batarang pricked your thumb as you mulled over how upset you were. A ghost of a smile haunted your face once you reached a decision. You would pay Ario another visit. He would be delighted to see you again.   

Ario was entertaining a few angels in a communal garden when something shiny came flying at his face. He batted it away with his hand, but the fact remained. Just who would dare attack him on holy grounds? 

Ario soon received his answer when a dark shadow fell over the garden.  

There was only a handful of angels with jet-black wings, and he knew yours better than most. He thought you would still be on Earth observing your potential new charge and his heart grew tight, thinking that something had gone amiss.  

None of that mattered. You skipped pleasantries and slammed Ario’s face into a column, allowing spider cracks to form in the once pristine stone. Shocked gasps rang out as spectators looked on in horror.  

“Did you think I wouldn’t unearth your misdeeds? My, I thought you smarter.” You hissed into his ear.  

In Ario’s defense, he was caught off guard in more ways than one. For starters, your anger was a new concept for him. In all the years as your friend, you never let emotions control in such a way. “Whatever are you referring to, Y/n?”  

You clued him in, “Hard of hearing and scatter minded. You are becoming ancient Ario. You sent me on a botched mission. Where you aware of the deception it entailed?” 

“D-Deception? My dear Y/n I would—!” His words were cut off as you shoved his face further into the stone pillar. You did not want to hear him grovel. 

Your e/c eyes cut to an angel who tried to interfere with your conversation. You raised an eyebrow at their defiance. Surely she knew you would win any fight she dared to pick. She came to that conclusion rather quickly and backed off.  

These new angels were too pretentious for their own good. You turned your attention back to your friend who struggled to speak.  

“I mean it, Y/n, I know not of which you speak!” He pleaded. You sighed and let him go. You were drawing quite the audience, and you never were one for large crowds.  

Ario had the decency to brush off his clothes, acting as though he wasn’t fighting for his life moments prior. His milky white eyes glared at the throng of angels who were watching, and his flawless skin bloomed bright crimson.  

He grabbed your hand and yanked you away from prying eyes. Once he found a corner with enough privacy, he let you hear his mind. “Thanks for making a fool of me.” Ario huffed.  

Your eyes fell to Ario’s hold of you. You could feel again, but it lacked the intensity and warmth displayed like when the Joker did it. You let that odd observation fade away. 

“You have no one to thank but yourself and don’t touch me, I am still wroth with you.” 

“Why, what have I done?” Ario looked into your eyes, trying to find reason. “I am at a loss. You connected with the human bat did you not?”  

He sensed a guardian bond coming off of you. What was botched then about your mission? Ario was glad that you accepted the assignment since he and the counsel began to worry. 

It wasn’t normal for a guardian to go so long without a charge, and you were well past overdue. 

This was cause for a celebration, yet you did not look happy. In fact, he saw a storm brewing deep within your striking e/c eyes. It was beautiful yet deadly to witness and it made him weary. “What really happened, Y/n?”  

You rolled those deadly eyes of yours, “You truly are deaf. I followed your instruction and went to observe the mortal, only to be linked to another! How could that be, unless you sent me in vain, knowing the truth.” 

You backed Ario into a wall and your wings blocked any means of escape. He knew when to cut his losses.  

Ario held his hands up, surrendering. “I speaketh the truth. The counsel asked of me to pass along the assignment. I had no clue of any discrepancy.”  

You heard the truth laced with Ario’s word and backed off.  

He ruled himself out, but you still had to find the culprit behind this confusion. It would take some time and an audience with the counsel (something you did not look forward to) to solve.  

And all of this after you swore to remain in the shadows and live out your days in relative peace. This Joker would be your undoing. You already had the feeling.  

But back to the matter at hand. Ario’s charming aura was giving you a headache and he knew it given that a sly grin bloomed across his face. You hated when he did that.  

“Old habits my friend. Forgive me.” He cooed. He was going to sweet talk you further, until he saw your eyes glow. “Surely, this human can’t be in danger again?” He asked.  

Unfortunately so. You barely left him alone for a few hours and trouble had once again found him. You blinked out of your premonition and extended your wings to take flight.  

You were shaking your head in annoyance all the way to the garden’s balcony. “I must go.” You sighed to yourself. 

Spectators looked on as you climbed the edge and dove head first into the sea of clouds below.  

[taliesin-19]

Random Fact (scene) of the Week: September 1st edition

"Just breathe, you've got nothing to be afraid of. We'll all be here for you, and we'll be proud of you no matter what happens."

"Oi! Who's the one going off to Hogwarts, here?" James said, pushing past them all and making his way casually through the barrier to platform 9 and 3/4.

Abby let out a little squeak. "He doesn't have to be so blase about it," she said, looking at Harry with a frown.

"Ignore him," Harry said, directing her towards the brick wall. "Why don't you take Al's hand, yeah? He'll guide you through."

Harry squeezed the boy's shoulder, then watched as Al led Abby gently towards the brick wall before abruptly tugging on her arm and sprinting towards it.

"She's totally going to kill me for that later, isn't she?" Harry told Lily as Abby's scream evaporated into thin air.

"Eh, once she's seen the train, she'll get over it," Lily said with a wave of her hand. "That's how it goes every year with Teddy."

The first time Abby had tagged along to see Teddy off to Hogwarts, the entrance to the platform had unlocked a fear in her that she hadn't known she possessed.

"I guess I just don't like running straight at brick walls!" she'd exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air after coming down from a mini panic attack.

"You three, go with Grandmum and Teddy, we'll meet you there--and stop laughing James, this isn't funny," Harry said as Abby took several deep breaths.

It took a lot of coaxing, a lot of breathing, and a lot of encouragement, but Harry had learned to always leave the house an extra twenty minutes early every 1st of September.

Abby had offered plenty of times to stay behind, but he knew it was only because she hated being a bother. The look on her face whenever she saw the Hogwarts Express was enough to make Harry forcibly bring her along each year. And she'd never forgive herself if she didn't see Teddy, and now James, off for the year.

And besides, she was getting better about it. She hasn't even hyperventilated this year.

"Come on, flower, you're up," Harry said.

"Can we leave James at Hogwarts for the winter and summer holidays, too?" she said, over her shoulder.

"I'll consider it."

Lily grinned.

They both knew they'd be counting down the days till December, but if Harry spent too much time thinking about it, he might just break down into a panic attack himself.

When he was a kid, he'd never given a second thought to what everyone else might feel like, standing on platform 9 and 3/4, watching the train leave.

Hogwarts was his escape, the train was a beacon of hope and freedom.

But as an adult, he dreaded the sight of it.

Through the barrier and onto the platform, he watched as one by one, everyone bid James and Teddy farewell. It was Teddy's final year at Hogwarts. And the fact that he'd be there during James' first year was just about the only thing that prevented Harry from calling this all off together.

He pulled Teddy aside and gave him a long hug. "Have fun, Mr Head Boy," he said, causing Teddy to grin. "They'd be so proud of you, you know. Especially Remus. Tonks, well...she'd probably call you a nerd."

Teddy laughed and looked down.

"But she'd also be really proud," Harry said with a wink. "As am I. Ridiculously so."

"I know," Teddy said. "And before you say anything. Don't worry. I'll watch out for the little bugger. I promise, Harry."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing Teddy's shoulder. "I know he'll forget to write to me tonight. Can you just let me know what House he's in?"

Teddy nodded. "I'll let you know as soon as he gets into Gryffindor."

"Oi, don't jinx it," Harry said before giving Teddy one last hug.

With a long exhale, Harry then went to find James, his heart heavy in his chest.

The rest of the family subtly moved away as he approached, for which he was grateful.

"How are you feeling, mate?" Harry said, crouching down so they were at eye level.

"Good," James said with a shrug. "Freddie's saved me a seat. Oh, that reminds me, can I have some extra money for sweets? Freddie said that Uncle George said that there's a trolley lady that turns into a carnivorous bird who attacks you if you try to leave the train, but she also sells a bunch of different sweets and if you buy some, you'll be on her good side."

Harry sighed. "There's money in the pocket of your trunk, don't waste it all on sweets."

James grinned and went in for a hug. "Okay, bye, Dad!"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Harry said, pulling him back before he could leave. "That's it? Just 'bye, Dad'? I'm not gonna see you for several months, you know."

With a small groan, James relented. "I'll write to you, okay? And besides Teddy will be there. And Fred. And Vic. And Dom. And Alice--"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Harry said. "I'm gonna miss you, is all. But...I want you to have fun. And stay out of trouble, make friends, and just...just make good choices."

James stared at him as if he'd grown another head. "Sure, Dad, I'll do that," he said before going in for another hug. "I'll miss you, too."

Harry closed his eyes and squeezed the boy tight, willing the moment to last forever.

"Love you, Jamie," he said.

"Love you, too, Dad."

After finally letting go, Harry took hold of the boy's trunk and helped him load it on the train.

A few upper year Ravenclaws were passing by, but when they spotted Harry, they stopped abruptly in the corridor and stared openly.

James snorted. "Bye, Dad!" he said in a loud voice. "I'm so glad you could take time out of your busy schedule saving the world to see me off today."

The Ravenclaws erupted into furious whispers as they continued their paths to their compartments.

"That'll get old real quick," Harry said.

James shrugged. "Might as well give them what they want. It's fun to see their reactions."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You've been spending too much time with Abby."

"Should've thought about that before you married her," James said, patting him on the shoulder. "Anyway...guess I should be going."

With a nod, Harry stood up with a long sigh. "You better write me tonight. Even if it's just to say what House you're in."

"I will, Dad."

"Otherwise I'll come to Hogwarts myself--"

"Dad."

Harry winked. "Have fun," he said. "I'll see you at Christmas."

James paused for a moment, his face pinching into a small frown. He then hurried over to Harry and gave him once last, bone-crushing hug, before running down the corridor.

With a smile, Harry met the rest of the family on the platform and waved goodbye till the last carriage of the train disappeared from sight.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Luck of the Draw (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 900 Warning: None Premise: There’s no one else in the world she’d rather be stuck with. 

A/N: Terrible summary lol. Just a bit of fluff! 

“Home visits are part of the job now,” June argued, beating an annoyed Ethan to the punch. “The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be Ethan.”

“Doubt that,” Baz teased.

Ethan ignored the jab, glaring at June with unflinching ferocity. Anyone else would shrivel under the deathly stare, but not June Hirata. In fact, all of the room’s occupants would argue that they have developed immunity to Dr. Ramsey’s wrath. Lilac shifted on her seat, watching how the handsome doctor’s fury pulled his muscles taut. It made already sharp cheekbones and jaw so pronounced, she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers along the ridge.

Then she remembered she had.

All while kissing him passionately, their half-naked bodies sliding against each other.

“Then you go,” Ethan returned through grinding teeth.

June laughed with the bravery of someone mocking a furious lion.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take one for the team and go. I still need one of you to come with me, though.”

“Not me!” Baz exclaimed almost at once.

June rolled her eyes. “That goes without saying. No one wants to willingly go. Doctor Allende feels the same way. She’s just too nice to say so.”

Ethan’s eyes moved to meet Lilac’s and the impact felt like the crackle of lightning. Every inch of her body sizzled with the weight of those blue eyes on her. Face as unreadable as ever, he averted his gaze quickly, leaving her aching for him.

“We’ll just leave it up to fate, then,” June continued. “I’ll draw a name out of a hat and that’s who’s going with me.”

“We don’t have hats here,” Baz pointed out.

“Out of Ethan’s pencil cup, then.”

“Or,” interjected Ethan pointedly. “I can just assign it to someone since I’m the leader of this team.”

Baz laughed.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Besides, we all know you’ll just have Baz go with me,” June added.

Lilac’s blood ran cold when June’s eyes found her at once. Her astute, narrow gaze silently communicated what she left unsaid: Ethan would pick Lilac to stay behind with him. Lilac’s stomach plunged with nauseating speed.

Ethan began to protest, but June was already dumping the contents of Ethan’s pencil cup all over his desk.

“Live a little,” June said to a red-faced Ethan.

There was a long, heavy pause in the room. Even Baz’s jovial smile faltered slightly the longer the silence stretched. Everyone, including the seemingly confident June, wondered what Ethan would do next.

Without betraying anything, Ethan took a pad of post-its from his desks. Wordlessly, he scribbled names on three, crumpled them up haphazardly, and tossed them in the empty cup. The tension evaporated out of the room at once.

“Alright, and the unlucky winner is…” June uncrumpled the paper and sighed. “Baz.”

“Damn,” the other doctor said. “All of that and you’re still stuck with me, Hirata.” Resigned to their fate, the two doctors left in a flurry of good-natured teasing. Lilac waited until she was sure they were completely out of earshot before letting out a relieved sigh.

“Thank God.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows.

“I really didn’t want to be stuck with June.”

Ethan’s face betrayed nothing. “Sometimes you won’t have a choice.”

“I know, I know. Let me just enjoy today, okay?”

At last, a ghost of a smile crossed his face. “You really dislike working with Dr. Hirata?”

Lilac paused at that, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t that she had anything against June herself. In fact, Lilac admired what a formidable doctor she was. It was the knowing glances she threw at Ethan and Lilac once in a while that put her on edge. Instead of answering, she turned the question on him.

“Would you have preferred to go instead?”

“God no,” he returned without pause. “Which is why I made sure I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I made sure it was Baz.”

Lilac stared at him.

“How?”

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Ethan extended the cup to her. Inside were the remaining two post-its. With one last skeptical look at him, Lilac reached in for them.

“Baz,” she read out loud. “And… Baz.”

To her surprise, Ethan let out a laugh. It was a low rumble of a sound that stirred her stomach pleasantly. Lilac blinked at him stupidly, which only increased his amusement.

“You cheated.”

“No, I took my authority back from June’s ridiculous antics.”

“You could’ve just told Baz to go and be done with it.”

“Baz was right. It was more fun this way.”

Still shell-shocked, Lilac said, “That’s so…”

The natural end of that sentence was “hot.” But she couldn’t exactly say that without reopening the wound their so-called reset inflicted. Ethan must’ve read her mind because he moved past her unfinished sentence.

“We better get back to work on this paperwork.”

“Right.”

Their eyes met, as though they couldn’t help but drink in the sight of the other.

“I’d rather be stuck doing paperwork with you, Dr. Ramsey,” she confessed quietly.

In the silence, his characteristic stony expression softened.

“I’ll make us coffee,” he said in response, already moving toward his prized machine.

And though he said nothing more, Lilac felt the blue eyes she adored the most in the world find her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Note: Thank you so much for reading!

And thank you all for all your kindness, well-wishes, patience, understanding, and grace. Without boring you with the painful details, the last few weeks have been difficult for me and everyone here has been so sweet!

Love you guys! 

[grateful-to-my-superiors]

Since the last part got some attention, here's part 2:

It felt weird tongue-bathing a man's feet. I did kiss another man's foot before, as a sign of submission, but this was new. It was borderline gay, on my side at least. A minute or two passed where the only thing I could think about was how repulsed I was by this whole thing, full with questioning my life choices, asking myself if I could have been less pathetic, just a regular family guy, with a loving wife to come home to, have boring sex and just call it a day. I found however that those ideas rapidly evaporated, and my mind magically shifted to focusing on the task on hand. The texture was crazy, the edge of each toe had more angle to it than any other woman I worshipped. I found myself forgetting about what was happening around me, ignoring the fact that my wife was now gagging on this magnificent man's cock, eyes all teared up and drooling all over the place. I found myself only focus on the feet in front of me. For a second I forgot there was a cage on my dick, it just felt like I have a clit that was really aching to be rubbed. I woke up from my reverie with a deep moan from my master, and a louder gag sound, which was enough to know his cum was shooting deep into my wife's throat, and she was taking it like a champ.

His gaze shifted to me a few seconds after. "well well well, it looks like we're not the only ones having fun here" he said speaking to the woman of my life who was kneeling in front of him, all messed up with drool, sweat and cum. Then looking at me "You're not really the kind of slaves I classically enjoy toying with. I know there isn't a trace of manhood left your psyche, but your morphology is just too reminiscent of a male's." He molested my natural man boobs for a second, while I froze in there, not knowing what to do. "You're already halfway there, but you still need some work". With that, he put on a transparent plastic glove and ordered me to kneel on all fours. He produced a small bag that looked like it had coke in it and I was genuinely wondering what was all of this leading to. Then it hit me, I remembered I saw a similar bag once, it was MDMA. We shared a gram once, my wife, a random bull and I, which made me more subservient that night. I remember however we mixed it in a glass of water before we drank it..

A weird sensation in my butt cut through my line of thought. I immediately recognized it as master's finger making its way through my hole. Something felt off however, it felt kinda sandy and it burned. He was shoving fucking MD deep into my butt, and I was meaning. "This will be your daily routine from now on. It has immediate effects of course, which you'll discover shortly, but on the long run it will slowly but surely destroy your testosterone production, while at the same time conditioning your dopamine production to correlate with .. anal action".

Too much science for me, but I got the main idea. This man was set on changing my hormonal equilibrium, not with HRT, not with meds, but just the unhealthiest way possible, and I felt grateful. Suddenly he was done with me, he grabbed my wife, laid her on the bed and started fingering her. With a gesture he motioned me to start licking her simultaneously which I happily did. I licked and licked and licked and I suddenly felt it. My asshole took a life of its own, and it felt like it was opening on itself, while my view of the room radically changed. I was no longer a cuckold husband licking hus queen to orgasm, I was some kind of a female freak, my gaze instantly turning towards master's veiny dick. I was craving it and he noticed. "Not so fast cucky, you still have a long way to go before you're allowed to even touch it, for now however" he said while he flipped my wife to put her in a doggy-style position as he would a toy, "now you're allowed to worship my ass while I fuck this cheap slut you call a wife" .

The night was just starting, I thought to myself through my drug-dazed brain. This was the life I was made for. This was heaven. I was happy

[hoeshiworld]

rogue court — two: cheating?

"i really can't believe it's finally time!!!" riki yells from the changing room across from yours.

you swore your ears were going to bleed soon from the crowd. if not the crowd, riki was going to do the honours for you. they were this close from bursting.

"shut up, kid!" sunwoo screams at last.

you thank salazar for the occurrence because the youngest is quiet.

it doesn't seem like it takes a lot to make sunwoo angry but it does. he has an abundance of patience.

riki drove the last ounce of it off the table and a different side of sunwoo resurrected as a cause. you don't know whether that is a bad thing or a good thing but you know that you need to tread lightly or you will drown.

getting a last look at your uniform in the dusty mirror, you leave the changing rooms. the robe restricts you but you'd rather wear it than let madam pomfrey give you an earful and delay the inevitable—wearing the robe.

one by one, your team members come out of the changing room. as each member comes out, the volume of the crowd outside increases. more people are filling up the field, you can feel it in your bloodstream.

it's been a while since you've seen the hidden excitement in your team's eyes. and the endearment in sunwoo's...it's his last year as captain and you've gotta give it to him. every year has led to success.

this year will be the same.

"it's my last year as captain..." he starts and he's at the brink of getting emotional. he gave you guys a pep talk last practice. it was emotional. he managed to make sunghoon cry. not you, though. it's not that you don't care. it's just you'd rather cry when it's all over. so you were helping your teammates recover and comforting them. your heart drops a little at sunwoo's remark, "let's make it the best year!"

jay and riki start yelling and wraps their arms around the captain.

they walk out, allowing the rays of sunshine.

you do too, grabbing your broom inside of the changing room.

"ready?" rei asks, almost forced.

she's just filling in the gaps of the nervous air.

you don't look at the crowd. it's nerve-wracking and hard to process. you would get used to it as you fly around.

you nod at her, trying not to prolong the conversation. "we got this. we've always got it."

the firebolt feels sturdy in your hand. as the sunshine shines on you guys the loud cheers wash the nervous energy away. you can feel it practically evaporate from the team.

today, you're up against ravenclaw.

you don't know much about the team...you barely remember names of opponents. you remember them by their best distinguishing feature because you find it easier that way. also because you don't have time to remember the names of people from other houses, it's not important. it's been drilled in your head since birth to be that way.

your team gets up on their broom and to their position. you follow jay. you're a good metre away from him and look in front, ignoring the cheers and taking the time to relax a little before the game starts.

the bludger is right in front of you.

when madam pomfrey blows the whistle, it is up to you to get over there and bludgeon it up a ravenclaw's ass. it's your main goal and you'll risk your life making sure every ravenclaw gets hit once, if not, twice.

you're in your planning when suddenly, eyes catch you in a trance, a little further from the bludger. your direct opposite.

he has cat-like eyes. in fact, he might as well be a hybrid from how much he reminds you of one. he's staring at you for some odd reason and you're not sure why.

he almost seems...angry...but maybe it's just the way the sun is hitting his face, causing his eyebrows to furrow. he looks at madam pomfrey rather intently...like he wants to say something to her, with the same look.

your fingers grip tighter on the broom as you assess your competition.

this is his first year as a beater. last year, he was a chaser and an awfully good one. you recall chasing him around with the bludger, trying to knock him off the broom.

he'd glare every time he saw you trailing behind him.

it wasn't your fault. you just wanted the satisfaction of seeing him knocked out of the broom.

this year he's a beater.

you don't know why. it must be a new plan the ravenclaws are working on. not that you care but it is his first year and it'll take some time to adjust to the new environment.

especially when slytherin is the first team you're against.

"y/n!" jay calls.

you look to your left, a bat being thrown at you. you catch it quickly, missing the feeling of it.

"please...play fairly..." she says and doesn't fail to give the slytherins that morbid look, yet again. "any questions before we begin?"

the boy almost immediately raises his hand.

why is he so desparate?

"yeah?"

"i'm not sure if i should say it here..."

everyone nearly fell off their broom.

his voice is loud.

not just loud but like sonorus-spell loud.

you grip your broom tightly, ears straining.

he probably does have the sonorus spell, he must have hexed himself.

but he looks...confused at his voice?

"we can fix that later." madam pomfrey said, indicating the voice problem. "tell us what's wrong."

he looks at you.

"i've been told ten minutes ago that the slytherins are using chelidonium miniscula."

you gasp.

everyone gasps.

the quidditch field becomes so quiet that you could heard a pin drop, even on the grass, in that moment.

you can already see the ending of this and you're shocked. the boy is still looking at you.

and then, the hushed whispers and exclamations begin from everywhere. louder than the sonorus spell.

"what?" sunwoo finally breaks out. "that can't be!"

"who gave you this information?" professor mcgonagall asks from one of the stands.

she's close to you which explains why you can hear her. she's peering from underneath a gothic sunhat. you can barely see her underneath it if it wasn't for her gown.

"i don't want to say who the person is in case it can be used against them." the boy said.

you're so confused. by saying that, it obviously makes you guys look bad. as if, if you knew who the person was with the 'information', you would harm them.

you're misunderstood.

but you're mad.

who would accuse your team of such a thing?

chelidonium miniscula is a potion used to increase adrenaline in the bloodstream. it's considered cheating since it's inducing an altered state of consciousness, like alcohol or drugs.

"i suggest we check." the boy says, urging a search.

"i suggest the same thing." another loud voice comes.

dumbledore.

he's staring at your team.

not at anyone in particular, but he's staring at you guys.

you can't read his eyes.

it's serious.

"an investigation?!" riki yells as if he's trying to argue.

madam pomfrey isn't even looking at your team and there's a visible disappointment from everyone at the end of a game. but a bigger problem awaits you.

"an investigation. everyone, back to your dorms."

your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

previous | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ➤when ravenclaw’s new beater accuses the slytherin team of cheating, turns into the truth, turns into y/n fixating absolute rage on jungwon. add tension, an accidental kiss & an ex, forces them to be unbearable around and to each other.

GENRE ➤ enemies to lovers, hogwarts au, ravenclaw x slytherin, quidditch teams, angst, fluff, threats, slight violence, tension, fluff, drug mention

TAGLIST ➤ @sunasbbie @kange3939 @shinsou-rii @flower-lise @woncheecks @boowoowho @shwizhies @faelyncore

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Brute force in the service of religious nationalism

July 1, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

JUL 1, 2023

          On Friday, the Court’s reactionary majority issued opinions in two cases that did not include a constitutional prerequisite to the Court’s jurisdiction—that the issue to be decided presents an actual “case or controversy.” That requirement is set forth plainly and simply in the Constitution. You can look it up.

          Instead, the reactionary majority ignored the absence of jurisdiction and proceeded to issue decisions in fake controversies because they can. Looking for deeper meaning is pointless. The reactionary majority has reduced the rule of law to brute force in the service of religious nationalism.

          I will briefly address the constitutional issues below, but before I do, it is appropriate to set aside legal arguments to discuss the human dimensions of the majority’s ruling in 303 Creative. The majority ruled that a business offering creative services to the public can refuse to provide those services to LGBTQ people if the business claims doing so will impair its right to free speech. Forget the procedural background and the judicial arm-waving designed to distract us. At root, the decision authorizes American business owners to discriminate against LGBTQ people. Period. It is a first step, taken in bad faith and wrapped in lies.

          I listened to an interview with the plaintiff in the case who said, “There are lots of other web design businesses where gay couples can take their business.” That statement betrays a profound ignorance of the injury inflicted by the new right to discriminate against LGBTQ people. In 1960, there were plenty of lunch counters that would give a seat to a Black customer ordering a cup of coffee. But the fact that the Woolworth’s store in Greensboro refused service to a single customer because of the color of his skin was the injury. It did not matter that he could buy a cup of coffee down the street or across town. The injury was the refusal to serve a customer on account of race. And it was an injury to every Black person in America, whether they entered Woolworth’s or not. Separate but equal is not equal. It is discrimination.

          So, too, with the ruling in 303 Creative that a business can turn away an LGBTQ customer. It does not matter that the customer can go elsewhere; the injury is the refusal to serve that customer. And it is an injury to every LGBTQ person in America—whether they choose to patronize 303 Creative or not.

          And it is more than a “legal” injury. It is an injury to every LGBTQ teenager wondering where they fit into a society that says they are fair game for discrimination because . . . because why? Are they “less than?” Is the core of their personhood an “affront” to an angry Christian god? Are their feelings of love for another person “wrong” or “immoral?”

          Those are the messages that Amy Barrett, John Roberts, Neil Gorsuch, Sam Alito, Clarence Thomas, and Bret Kavanaugh have sent to every gay teenager—and adult—in America. Their decision is reprehensible and morally wrong. It is harmful, mean-spirited, un-Christian, and depraved. And they know so. Otherwise, they would not have contorted themselves into human pretzels to issue a ruling in a fake case fabricated by activist lawyers that presented no victim, no injury, and no case or controversy. In their haste to enshrine another tenet of Christian nationalism, they have violated their oaths to the Constitution at the most basic level.

          I hope you can tell that I am angry about this decision. I hope you are angrier. We cannot let this decision stand. We must rally to support LGBTQ people and their families during a time of anxiety and fear that their hard-won gains of the last half-century are evaporating. And we must raise our voices in protest and anger so that the reactionary majority understands that it has crossed a line—many lines—in the last year. They must understand that they will soon be in the minority of a Court that is 13 or 17 or 29 members. The time for hand wringing and half-steps has passed. Real people have lost real liberties—starting with Dobbs and ending 303 Creative. If we do not stand up to protect them with every ounce of our will, we deserve what’s coming.

          As to the fabricated nature of the 303 Creative case, I refer you to Ian Milliser’s excellent article in Vox, Supreme Court LGBTQ ruling: Neil Gorsuch has a problem with telling the truth, in 303 Creative v. Elenis. I will quote liberally from Millhiser, but please read his original article for additional important details. Millhiser writes,

“The case centers on Lorie Smith, a website designer who wishes to expand her business into designing wedding websites — something she has never done before. She says she’s reluctant to do so, however, because she fears that if she designs such a website for an opposite-sex couple, Colorado’s anti-discrimination law will compel her to also design wedding websites for same-sex couples. And Smith objects to same-sex marriages.

“The frustrating thing about this case is that it involves an entirely fabricated legal dispute. Again, Lorie Smith has never actually made a wedding website for a paying customer. Nor has Colorado ever attempted to enforce its civil rights law against Ms. Smith. Indeed, in its brief to the Supreme Court, Colorado expressed doubt that its anti-discrimination law would even apply to Smith.

“Yet Gorsuch’s majority opinion repeatedly paints Smith as a hapless victim, oppressed by wicked state officials who insist that she must proclaim a dogma that she denies. As he writes in the very first paragraph of his opinion, “Colorado does not just seek to ensure the sale of goods or services on equal terms. It seeks to use its law to compel an individual to create speech she does not believe.”

“This claim is simply untrue. Colorado has not brought any enforcement action against Smith, or taken any other step to compel her to say anything at all — or to design any website that she does not want to design. Nor has anyone ever sued Smith for allegedly violating Colorado’s anti-discrimination law.

“Indeed, in one particularly amusing turn, Smith alleged during an early stage of this litigation that she was approached by a man about doing some design work for his wedding to another man. Yet, after the New Republic’s Melissa Gira Grant contacted this man, she learned that he never reached out to Smith — and that he was married to a woman.”

          The reactionary majority knows that Smith’s claim that she was approached to create a website for a gay man is likely untrue. But instead of jealously guarding the Court’s jurisdiction by applying the “case or controversy” requirement, it simply ignored the fabricated nature of the claim to issue an advisory opinion that amounts to a legislative repeal of a Colorado statute.

          Justice Kagan wrote in dissent:

“Battling discrimination is like “battling the Hydra.” Whenever you defeat “one form of . . .discrimination,” another “spr[ings] up in its place.” Time and again, businesses and other commercial entities have claimed constitutional rights to discriminate. And time and again, this Court has courageously stood up to those claims—until today. Today, the Court shrinks. [¶¶¶]

“Today is a sad day in American constitutional law and in the lives of LGBT people. The Supreme Court of the United States declares that a particular kind of business, though open to the public, has a constitutional right to refuse to serve members of a protected class. The Court does so for the first time in its history. By issuing this new license to discriminate in a case brought by a company that seeks to deny same-sex couples the full and equal enjoyment of its services, the immediate, symbolic effect of the decision is to mark gays and lesbians for second-class status. In this way, the decision itself inflicts a kind of stigmatic harm, on top of any harm caused by denials of service. The opinion of the Court is, quite literally, a notice that reads: “Some services may be denied to same-sex couples.”

          There is so much more to say on this topic, but I will stop here for the evening. I urge readers to express themselves in the Comments section, which is open to everyone this weekend. As always, be respectful.

          The reactionary majority utilized the same gambit in the student loan forgiveness case. As explained by Mark Joseph Stern in Slate,

“The biggest question in the case was whether anyone could establish standing to challenge the program in the first place. After all, the federal government itself holds this debt, and no one is obviously “injured” by the government helping somebody else by erasing their debt.

“Missouri tried to get around this problem by fixating on MOHELA, a corporation created by the state that services student loans. The Missouri attorney general asserted that MOHELA would suffer financially because of Biden’s plan—which turns out to be false—and that the state itself could represent its interests in court.

“A key flaw in this reasoning is that MOHELA is an independent entity from Missouri that could have sued to defend its own interests, but refused to do so, and even refused to help Missouri “represent” it in court.

“Roberts didn’t care about any of that. MOHELA is “an instrumentality of Missouri,” he wrote, and Biden’s plan “will cut MOHELA’s revenues.” (Again: provably false!) “

          So, even though the actual party in interest—the corporation that serviced the student loan debt—refused to file suit or assist Missouri in the appeal to the Supreme Court, John Roberts found that Missouri could assert the interests of a party not before the Court and which claimed no injury.

          John Roberts didn’t care about the absence of jurisdiction. He was too eager to ensure that students who borrowed to get an education pay every penny they owed. Of course, it turns out that the largest block of borrowers who would have benefitted from the loan forgiveness plan are Black women. See US Census Bureau, Student Debt Weighed Heavily on Millions Even Before Pandemic.

          Per the Census Bureau,

“Women overall were 28% more likely than men to have student debt. “In 2017, non-Hispanic Black women were the most likely of any gender group to have student loans. About 1 in 4 non-Hispanic Black women had student debt, compared to 1 in 8 non-Hispanic White men.”

          And, according to ABC News,

“Black women, in particular, carry a disproportionate burden of student debt. They hold nearly two-thirds of the nearly $2 trillion outstanding student debt in the U.S., according to data from the Census Bureau.”

          John Roberts has now authored three opinions that disadvantage Black Americans—in voting (Shelby County), educational access (Students for Fair Admissions), and debt relief (Biden v. Nebraska). At some point, it is too coincidental to be a coincidence that it is always John Roberts pulling up the ladder from Black Americans with the wag of his finger and a condescending “Tsk, tsk.”

          Roberts was clearly stung by Elana Kagan’s dissent in the student loan case. He wrote,

“It has become a disturbing feature of some recent opinions to criticize the decisions with which they disagree as going beyond the proper role of the judiciary. “We have employed the traditional tools of judicial decision-making in doing so. Reasonable minds may disagree with our analysis — in fact, at least three do.

“We do not mistake this plainly heartfelt disagreement for disparagement. “It is important that the public not be misled either. Any such misperception would be harmful to this institution and our country.”

          “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” The fact that John Roberts inserted the defensive footnote designed to “mansplain” what Justices Kagan, Sotomayor, and Jackson are saying is insulting. They have, in fact, said plainly that the reactionary majority’s rejection of precedent and resort to advisory opinions based on lies is “harmful to the Court and our country.” Don’t pretend that their cries of “foul” are “heartfelt disagreement.” They are not. They are saying the Court has eroded its legitimacy and is acting as a roving legislature. Read the room, John.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[your-krazy-uncle-bob]

An Ex-Leftist Reacts to Biden’s Speech About 'Democracy'

BY LINCOLN BROWN

Dear Mr. President,

First of all, the United States of America is not a democracy. Dear God, that is Civics 101. America is a republic. It was designed as a republic because the framers knew that democracies could easily descend into mob rule. That includes mobs you like. More on that later.

Secondly, the man who attacked Paul Pelosi is a mentally ill drug addict whose interests and intentions were all over the map. I don’t see you shedding any tears for the people who face these lunatics every single day on city streets. But your people found enough to get back on the MAGA horse.

Speaking of that, and mobs…

Third, no one is buying ”MAGA Republicans” anymore. You’ve ridden said horse into the ground. It’s dead. Leave it be. It was not the vast majority of Republicans who stormed the Capitol on January 6. It wasn’t even the majority of people at the rally. But you just can’t leave it alone. Americans, sir, have been struggling with increasing crime under the watch of you and your counterparts, and they have very few tears left to shed for the protected class who, for a few hours out of one day, felt threatened. And frankly, sir, you and your party have trotted out the routine so many times that any dramatic value it may have had is lost on everyone but yourselves and your pet media. Nary a word from you about the sieges in cities by anarchists or the threats against a Supreme Court justice. You cry crocodile tears over J6 and talk about unifying a nation while finding any reason to raid the homes of abortion opponents and ignore the destruction of pregnancy centers.

Democracy versus autocracy, you say? Who but an autocrat would weaponize the Department of Justice to terrorize his political opponents, cast concerned parents as domestic terrorists, and even try to find ways to criminalize election rhetoric he doesn’t like? Who but an autocrat would freeze energy production in his own country, raid the reserves, and flirt with nationalizing the oil industry?

We won’t know the results until a few days after the election? I’ve been voting since 1985. Going back as far as I can remember (Al Gore aside), most elections have been finished on Election Day. It is patently obvious to anyone with half a brain at their disposal that your handlers, speech writers, and members of the Democratic upper echelon are setting the scene to buy time. After all, Big Tech needs to sow the seeds of doubt, and hell, you might just skeeve your way out of this one, if the vote is close enough.

Related: Biden Goes Full Steve Martin, Has His ‘I Was Born a Poor Black Child’ Moment

You want your fellow Americans to help you meet this day? Maybe your fellow Americans are worried about putting gas in the tank, heating their homes, or making their rent or mortgage. Maybe they are reeling from the fact that you and your media lied to them about a drug that did nothing to prevent the spread of a disease, and watched their businesses and livelihoods evaporate. And you and the people who profited from it could not have cared less. Maybe the voters are hearing about the supply chain being interrupted by a lack of diesel fuel or an impending railroad strike, which, despite your crowing about fixing it, may occur after the election after all. Maybe they are worried about getting attacked on the street or having their stores or boutiques cleaned out. They know how your allies are trying to divide and judge their children on the color of their skin, and mutilate their growing bodies. Some don’t feel safe outside their homes and barely feel safe inside them. Some still remember the Afghanistan debacle. Some of them are even worried about nuclear war. I wasn’t even alive the last time that concern was on the table.

Maybe they understand that you want them to help you meet this day so that you and your people can stay in office. These people don’t even know what the next day will bring for them, and they do not have the financial cushion of you and your party leaders and mouthpieces.

Back during the earliest stages of the 2008 election, I believed in you. I backed you and hell, I even liked you. And yes, I probably owe every reader at PJ Media an apology for that. Of course, Obama came along and all of us donkeys got the vapors for him, but that just goes to show you how easily Democrats can be emotionally manipulated. Had I only known then what I know now. Not that it would have mattered, but at least I wouldn’t have to admit to having supported you.

But people aren’t being manipulated now. And that has nothing to do with “election deniers.” It has nothing to do with MAGA Republicans. They can see what you and your party have done to them. The kitty or perhaps the donkey is out of the proverbial burlap. You and your party failed us, just like you failed me twelve years ago. But instead of apologizing and maybe listening, you doubled down, you dug in. And the rest of us paid for it.

People have figured out something about you and the rest of your ruling class, sir. You are everything you accuse conservatives of being. And you were able to hide that. Until now.

[juststuffshere]

I have a love-hate relationship with those posts that are like "if you want your friend group to do this thing, be the one to organize that thing!" "you have to be the one to text first" "if you want genuine friendships, the fact is that you have to put in the work." I get it, yeah, and I agree, connections come easier when you're reaching out. but I have spent my entire life in draining, one-sided, often toxic relationships, desperately putting every last ounce of my energy into maintaining and improving relationships that I never get anything close to the same amount of effort out of. it is fucking exhausting. boyfriends, best friends, family members, I have had to fight, tooth and nail, to have a fulfilling relationship with. and the vast majority of those relationships don't exist anymore, because the second my effort level dropped, the relationship evaporated, because the other person wouldn't pick up the slack and we just weren't able to recover, no matter what I did. I am tired. so, so tired, and so, so lonely, but I just can't make myself do it anymore. I can't make myself text another group chat and get ignored day after day. if I get another "sorry for the late reply, I'm not available at that time but can we reschedule :)" text two days after I send an invite, I'm going to implode. I've had enough of clinging to people that can't even reach for me. I've had enough of vain attempts at arranging get togethers. I've had enough of being the organizer, the first texter, the planner, the rock. I can't even stand making small talk in my classes anymore, because the second I stop, the whole table goes silent. I've never had a friend that wasn't either using me, or someone I felt responsible for. I've never had a friend I could depend on, because the ones I could bring my problems to either brushed them off or used them to manipulate me, and the others I needed to be there for, so I couldn't make them feel like I wasn't capable of doing so. I've never had a friend willing to put the same amount of effort into our relationship, even for a little while, as I was routinely putting in just to keep it alive. I know there are people out there who would. I know there are people out there who could be everything I've ever wanted in a friend, a partner, whatever. I'm just tired. I can't do it anymore. I can't continue to be the one to do the work. I think about those goddamn posts every time I wish my lab mates were more talkative, my project group would actually meet in person, my coworker would text or even ask for my instagram. I know I don't have friends because I don't try to make friends. but I'm sick of it. and I say that and I still try. but every time I realize I'm the only one really conversing, and the three people at my lab table are just giving me "uh huh's" and "that's crazy's," it feels like getting punched in the gut. every time I send a message to my shitty roommates and it goes unanswered for days I feel like I'm losing my mind. I am burning myself up just trying to find someone to get lunch with me. I don't understand how other people do it. the mental illness probably isn't helping. but I no longer put any more effort into my friendships than I'm getting back, and it's depressing as hell that I can already see them fading. I stop trying to reach out to new friends when they aren't doing the same for me. I cried three times writing this stupid post, and all I can think about is how this might make me toxic, or lazy, or in some other way the problem. maybe it does. I don't know. I'm tired. I'm lonely. I can't do it anymore. maybe I'm being unrealistic. maybe I'm doing something wrong. I don't know. but just once, I want someone to put in the effort for me.

[mackenzielovee]

unpolished (3) — andy barber

summary: You think you figure some things out about Andy — and he returns the favor.

warnings: swearing

wc: 3.2k

a/n: here's a little piece just to hold everyone over while i work on other stuff!! i hope you enjoy!!!

     “Call me Andy?”

Ana’s eyes are wide and her jaw is dropped as you tell her the story of your day. You chuckle and take another long sip of your drink, hoping the rush of alcohol you’re intaking will somehow make the picture of your day clearler. 

You hadn’t said goodnight to Andy when you left because his office door was closed, and the last thing you wanted was to stumble over your words just to tell him you’re leaving. Instead, you signed yourself off and waited a few minutes in case he needed anything, then left. 

“Yep,” you mumble, “Please tell me I didn’t completely fuck up by looking at those papers.”

Ana snorts, “You definitely did not fuck up. It’s honestly no wonder he’s divorced, I mean, he’s condescending and rude, he’s—”

“Maybe we don’t know his side of things,” you blurt, feeling some sort of protection around Andy. 

“You’re defending him?” she raises a brow, “Y/N, he’s treated you like shit since your first day. He’s been nothing but rude to you, and now, what? He buys you one lunch and you’re pledging your loyalty?”

“No,” you frown, “I’m just saying that we don’t know the full picture.”

Ana rolls her eyes and drops back half of her margarita before looking over at you again, noting your hesitant expression. 

“He didn’t know your full picture when he met you, and he’s still an asshole.”

Your eyes drift from Ana’s as you process her statement. You get what she’s trying to say, and eventually, you nod. She’s right. He’d been professional when he interviewed you, but wasn’t overly warm or welcoming. Since then, the only thing he’d expressed that he knows about you is where you went to school. Which is on your resume.

“You’re right,” you agree, “I deserve better than this. He has no right to treat me the way he does.”

“Exactly,” Ana smiles, then turns to the bartender, “Another round?”

     You’ve never been late to Andy’s office a day in your time spent here. In fact, you’ve always been so painfully on time that you’ve had to sit in the parking lot before going upstairs so you don’t look like a maniac. 

Yet, here you are, hurrying off of the elevator two minutes before you’re supposed to clock in. Your head is thumping and the greasy fast food breakfast bag in your hand is calling out to you. You’re sure Andy won’t even notice — how could he? You swear you could evaporate at that desk and he wouldn’t even notice until you failed to bring him his coffee. 

So, when you round the corner and find Andy pacing in front of your desk with his hands on his hips, furrowed brows, and worried eyes, you freeze. 

Not a word is said as you stand there, waiting for him to notice you. Part of you wants to greet him, while the other part of you is still fuming from your realization last night with Ana. Maybe you’re grumpy from the hangover, maybe you’re grumpy from being mistreated, but you vow to yourself that it all stops today. 

Andy catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, and when he looks up and sees you, his face floods with a look of relief. Your heart tugs in your chest, but you don’t break.

“Y/N,” he says, “You’re here.”

“I am,” you confirm, walking right past him and around to your desk without so much as a glance. 

“Hm,” Andy hums, turning around to face you, “One too many drinks last night?”

You frown and sit down in your chair, powering on your computer. He watches you ignore him, yet, it doesn’t seem to bother him. His stance, facial expression, and energy all remain the same. 

“You have a client in fifteen minutes,” you remind him, “Might want to prepare.”

“I’m prepared,” he replies coolly. 

You shrug, “Okay.”

Without another look, you tear open your bag and unwrap your food, practically drooling at the sight of the grease. Andy remains standing over you, and just before you take a bite, you can’t help but steal a glance. He looks amused, almost, at your state. His lips tip up and he refuses to look away, even though you’ve technically caught him staring. 

“Go ahead,” he encourages, “Don’t let me stop you from destroying your insides with alcohol and fast food.”

You drop the breakfast sandwich back down, doing your best not to roll your eyes directly in his face. Andy chuckles at your exasperation, stepping closer and resting his hands on your desk. 

“Fine. I won’t eat it.”

His smile drops, “You need to eat something. Just not that.”

You shake your head stubbornly, then fix your gaze back on your computer. He stands there for another moment before hurrying into his office. You wonder if that’s how he’s going to leave things, and if so, you wonder if you have time to quickly devour your breakfast before he sees you. 

He comes back out with a protein bar, a bag of almonds, and a water bottle. He sets them down in front of you, nods down to them, and then lifts up your greasy goodness and dumps it into the trash can. 

“I’ll make you some tea. It’ll help with the detox. Eat this.”

Words fail to escape your lips as Andy walks away. His offer alone is enough to cause your brain to short-circuit, leaving you with your jaw half open in your chair. You stare down at the protein bar and almonds he’d brought out, wondering if this is his breakfast. The thought that he’d give up his own food causes you to push it away. 

If you’re going to be mad at him, you can’t accept any of his sudden nice gestures. 

     When Andy returns, it’s with a white and yellow mug and a tea bag swimming inside. The mug has a bright, smiling sun on the front, making you snort as you compare it to Andy. 

“Here,” he says gently, setting it down. When he catches sight of the unopened protein bar and almond bag, he frowns. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I—” you start, shaking off your fear of him and remembering why you’re mad, “I don’t need your food.”

Surprised, Andy leans back and places his hands on his hips, “Really?”

“Yes,” you say proudly, avoiding his eyes. 

He’s silent for a moment. A long moment. Such a long moment that you almost cave, because his stare on the side of your head is enough to drive you crazy. 

“Look at me.”

You obey. Then you curse yourself. Andy swallows and relaxes slightly when he sees that, at least, you’re still listening to him. 

“What?” you mumble. 

“You didn’t say good morning like you always do. You were practically late. You’ve had an attitude with me since the second you saw me. Ignored me when I asked you a question. Now, you’re refusing the food I’ve offered you just because I offered it. What’s going on?”

You shrug, “I’m just trying to get to work.”

Andy laughs, but it’s condescending, “I’m sure. I guess I’ll be getting my own coffee this morning.”

You clench your jaw to hide your emotions as you curse yourself. Andy’s Starbucks. You forgot it on your way to get the greasy food currently at the bottom of your trash can, thanks to Andy himself. 

“Well, you threw away my breakfast,” you mumble under your breath. 

Andy’s eyes widen, “Excuse me?”

You swallow under the pressure he’s laying on, letting your eyes squeeze shut. You try to urge yourself to remain strong, but instead, you cave, letting your fear of conflict with the man who employs you take over. 

“Nothing.”

His stare is long and intense, “Eat and drink. We can regroup later when you’ve had time to digest.”

You don’t move a muscle as he turns and walks back into his office, closing the door behind him softly. You know it’s not a normal thing to notice, but he never worries about closing his door softly. Not until today. 

With a defeated sigh, you open Andy’s protein bar and take a bite, pretending it’s full of grease and carbs, instead. Your email dings, dragging you out of your head. 

So? What did the big, bad boss have to say for himself? Hopefully you didn’t chicken out. 

Lunch today? I had a big breakfast. Maybe 2 p.m.? 

Let me know. Don’t give in. 

XOXO,

Ana

You groan and exit out of the email, opting to not respond. Your bold move with Andy seems to have failed, and you really don’t have it in you to try again. Instead, you finish off the protein bar and open the almonds, then sip on the tea. It’s hot, but not too hot, and the fact that Andy took the time to make you tea forces an excitement in your stomach that you’re certain should not be there. 

You insist silently that it all means nothing, then move to stand and wait by the elevator for Andy’s client to arrive. You have no idea what Andy Barber’s definition of regrouping is, but your brain doesn’t hesitate to try and figure it out. 

     It’s three hours and four clients before you hear from Andy again, save bringing the clients into his office. No interaction occurs between the two of you until, all of the sudden, your desk phone lights up. You’re sure it’s a client calling in need of Andy’s extension, and you try not to actively roll your eyes. That is, until you see that it’s Andy himself. 

“Hello?”

“Is that the greeting you give clients?” Andy fires back, a sort of teasing tone laced in his voice. 

“No,” you say quietly, not sure how to respond, “I saw that it was you.”

“Hold my calls for the next half hour and come in here, please.”

You swear your blood stops in your veins. Your throat constricts and swallowing becomes the hardest task you face, let alone speaking. 

Andy clears his throat after a second, but you barely register the sound. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m on my way,” you squeak, then slam the phone back down to the receiver. 

You hold Andy’s calls as instructed, then mark yourself ‘away’ on your computer. You’re not sure of the nature of Andy’s meeting with you, so you bring a pad and a pen in with you, hoping it’s all just a misunderstanding on your part. 

You knock on Andy’s office door, listening to the silence on the other side of it.

“Come in.”

You feel your entire body heat up the second his eyes meet your own. He isn’t subtle as he looks you up and down, taking you in completely before he stands from his desk. 

“Hi,” you say, more or less to break the silence. 

He smiles.

Andy Barber smiles. 

“Hi,” he replies, “Come sit, please.”

You do as instructed, dropping your eyes from his and watching the floor as you walk over. He stands tall, shoulders back, and watches you curiously as you settle in. Only once you’re seated does he sit back down. 

“We didn’t have a meeting scheduled,” you tell him. 

“I know,” he replies, “Your big, bad boss just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

You freeze, eyes widening as he pulls a direct quote from Ana’s email to you this morning. Andy watches your eyes dart around the floor as you try to figure out how to respond, if you should test it, or if it’s all just a huge coincidence. 

“I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” Andy hums, “Is that why you haven’t looked me in the eye since you sat down?”

Your eyes dart up, meeting his own as you repeat, “I’m fine.”

“Convincing,” he mutters dryly, “I want to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N.”

Your suspicion raises at his concern, wondering if it’s coming from your actions from this morning, or if it runs deeper than that. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, watching Andy smirk. 

Clearly he’s enjoying this, because he leans back in his chair and adjusts his tie, all with that shit-eating smirk lining his lips. 

“Based on your attitude with me this morning, I would say I’m on your list,” he says, “Would that be true?”

You swallow, “No.”

“No?” he raises a brow, “So your little show was just for fun?”

“Yes.”

Andy chuckles to himself and sits forward, watching you squirm around in your seat. His grin is wide, and under any other occasion, you would have reveled in it. 

“I think you’re lying,” he states, “I think you’re chickening out.”

You scramble to cover your facial expression as he confirms that, somehow, he’s reading your emails. At least, the one you received this morning. But, how? Your lips part but no sound comes out, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to say. 

“I’m sorry for my attitude this morning, Mr. Barber,” you choke out, refusing to meet his eye, “It won’t happen again.”

“Andy,” he corrects you, his voice softer now, “Y/N, if I’ve upset you, you need to tell me.”

A part of you believes him. A part of you thinks that maybe, if you tell him you want to be treated nicer, he might just listen. But the potential violation of your privacy, of your emails, pushes you to shake your head. 

“I’m fine,” you say, “Andy.”

With an unconvincing look in his eye, he clenches his jaw and nods toward the door. 

“You’re free to go, then,” he mutters, “Do you have lunch plans?”

You stand and start toward the door, back to him as you mumble, “I’m sure you’re already aware.”

Andy stands abruptly, “Repeat that.”

“Repeat what?” you question, spinning around and raising your eyebrows innocently. 

He shakes his head and rounds his desk, keeping his gaze on the floor. You take steps backward as he walks closer, finally looking up at you when he’s only a few paces away. When your back hits the door, he smirks. 

“Enjoy your lunch, Y/N,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

Your eyes scale down his body, taking in how handsome he looks in navy blue. No part of you even attempts to deny it — especially with the lack of a gold band on his left hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

You turn again, hand on the knob as you pull it open to escape. Just as you catch a glimpse of your desk, Andy’s large palm meets the door and closes it again. Jumping, you spin around to face him, finding him only inches from you. 

“Andy,” he reminds you again, eyes beating into yours. 

You barely nod, “Right. Sorry.”

He doesn’t move or take his hand off the door, but instead, stares at you until you feel like his gaze is physically burning your skin. 

“Last chance,” he says, his voice deeper than before, “Tell me if I’ve done something wrong.”

Your eyes travel up his suit jacket, through his beard, and up to his eyes. They’re kinder now, but not by much. He seems to be begging for some sort of confession, but, with the way your throat is constricting, you know you can’t give him that. 

“Everything is fine,” you promise him weakly. 

His tongue peaks out of his mouth, wetting his lips as he stares, “Alright. I’m trusting you.”

Something inside your chest tugs. Trust? You’ve never trusted Andy a day in your life, and now, he’s playing that card? 

You’re sure it’s manipulation. He’s reading your emails, violating your privacy, and hoping to get something in return. The flame burns brighter inside of you, forcing you to stand a little taller, eyes now unafraid to look at him. 

“I have work to do, Andy,” you mutter. 

Slowly, his hand falls from the door. You maintain eye contact with him for another second, swearing he glances down at your mouth before his gaze drops completely, and then turn to let yourself out. 

He doesn’t say another word, just remains standing in place as you close his door behind you. Part of you wants to collapse in your chair, replaying his facial expressions and trying to figure out exactly what cologne he wears, while the other part can’t wait to test it out. 

You pull out your phone and text Ana, a plan already completely formed in your brain. 

I’m gonna send you an email. Play along when you respond. Something’s up with Andy. 

Knowing how Ana lives for the drama, her response is immediate. 

Oooh, you’re actually calling him Andy, huh? Just teasing. I’ve got you. 

Glancing back at Andy’s closed door, you drag your chair up to your keyboard and type away. If he is reading your email, you’ll know. One more snarky comment, and it can no longer be considered just coincidence. 

Ana, 

Lunch sounds great! I have SO much to tell you about today. 

Could you bring me the names and numbers of the companies you said are looking for an assistant? I’m fed up. I need a better working environment. Andy called me into his office just now demanding to know if something’s wrong. I should get out sooner rather than later. 

Let me know, 

Y/N

Your finger hesitates over the mouse for exactly two seconds before you hit send. For a moment, the building seems almost deafeningly quiet. A pit settles in your stomach, wondering if you’re being absolutely ridiculous, or if all of your suspicions are true. 

Ana’s response is almost as fast as her text back. 

Of course! I don’t blame you — if I was as underappreciated as you, I’d have left a long time ago. Also, I heard Neal Loguidice is looking for an assistant! I’m sure he’d treat you well! 

Meet you at 2 p.m. Looking forward to hearing everything. 

XOXO,

Ana

Just as you exhale a breath, a crash comes out of Andy’s office. You jump and your head jolts over to the door, staring at it as if it will hold all the answers. Your entire body freezes, waiting for Andy to emerge and drag you back into his office, demanding answers. 

It doesn’t happen. 

Instead, your eye catches on the green light indicating Andy’s office phone is in use. For a moment, you debate picking it up. You debate listening to who he’s calling, trying to figure out if it’s in any way related to your email. Ultimately, you decide the risk of getting caught is greater than the potential reward. 

Instead, you try to busy yourself with some actual work, all the while looking over at the phone line. He’s on a call for approximately ten minutes, and the second the green light shuts off, you swallow. 

Andy’s office door opening abruptly forces you to jump, and when you look over at him, he keeps his own gaze straight forward. His car keys hang from his index finger; a rare sight for you given that you get him everything he needs during the day so he doesn’t have to leave. 

“Hold my calls,” he gruffs as he passes your desk, not looking at you, “I have something to take care of.”

You just nod, never taking your eyes off of him until he rounds the corner. It isn’t until the elevator is off the floor that you work up the nerve to walk into Andy’s office, adrenaline running wild as you hurry over to his phone. 

You redial the last number he called, only for a moment, just to get the name on the caller ID.

The Office of Neal Loguidice.

Tags:

@goldenjo @onmykneesforrafe @r0und3bitch @bellsnuit @infatuatedjanes

[rafescoke]

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: The second one I was hoping could be a Rafe x reader based on the song why’d you only call me when you’re high by arctic monkeys. Maybe something along the lines of rafe only calling and giving the reader attention when he wants to hook up. Finally, the reader gets tired of it their feelings known.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself thinking about a certain boy more than what they had agreed on

Warnings: Hella angst, mentions of sex, masterbating, substance, cursing, toxic relationship

A/N: I’ve been updating a new fic every single day and the amount of love you guys are returning is beyond amazing. I love you so much, thank you for all of your kind words <3

p.s, again, my request box is always open. drop in any ideas and i’ll present to you my best :)

p.p.s, does anyone know why i can’t tag some users? im going crazy.

“I was thinking. . .” Rafe trailed, drawing invisible circles against her soft skin. She hummed in response, her eyes closed, feeling so relaxed under the silk bedsheet wrapping around her body.

“We should do this often.”

“Is twice a day isn’t enough for you?” she asked, hiding her smile. She felt him shift, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him. She giggled lightly, feeling him behind her, but she was too tired to do anything.

“We should try doing it every minute,” he simply replied, smelling into her scent. She smelt like vanilla and caramel, just the way he likes it. “Is this the perfume I bought?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, feeling so peaceful she could sleep if he hadn’t pulled her closer against his hardening member. She groaned, trying to scoot forward by an inch, but was stopped by his fingers gripping her hips.

“I’m sore.”

“I know,” he replied casually, still brushing against her bottom. Before he could do anything else she turned, now facing him. She looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes and his soft lips. Her thumb grazed over his top lip, and Rafe swore he could fuck her anytime soon if she kept doing that.

“Are you not tired?” she asked, now cupping his face. He stared into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them before giving her a smile.

“No.”

“You’re mental,” she sighed, but she failed to contain her laugh after. She giggled, still cupping his face, and she has never felt so calm and relax before. Just them two, on top of a bed in some cheap motel, sometimes hearing the couple staying on top of them screaming at each other.

“Are you?” he continued, tilting his head into her hands. She smiled when he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from her. He loves it. He feels at peace.

(Y/N) sighed, loving yet also hating these kind of moments where she knew they would be acting like strangers after, in front of everyone else. She remembered the exact day after she had had sex with him for the first time, and how he acted so cold afterwards.

“Hey,” (Y/N) smiled, standing beside his form as he squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight to inspect his goal. He didn’t reply, swinging his golf club upwards and hit the golf ball. (Y/N) watched as it flew and landed near the goal, and expressed a smile.

“You’re good.”

“Huh?” he looked up to her, as if just noticed her existence. (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart, especially when he had just whispered so many love words into her ear the night before.

“I said you’re good.”

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered, already making his way back to where his friends were. Clearly not satisfied, she followed him suit, watching as his friends cheered for him. Rafe groaned even harder, and turned to look at her before they got too close to his friends.

“What are you fucking doing here?” he scolded, his eyes staring at a space beside her. (Y/N) raised a brow, being caught off guard, but she tried to play it cool.

“I’m a member of this country club too, Rafe,” she replied, scoffing. “You’re an asshole, do you know that? Are we not going to talk about last ni-”

“Shut up,” he grunted, looking backwards to check on his friends before pulling her a few distance away. “Look, I was on drugs last night. That was not me. Let it go, okay?”

(Y/N) has never experienced that kind of disrespect, and she swore she hated Rafe Cameron so bad that when she got home, she cried against her pillows until the night sky greeted her. 

She thought about the many other guys who tried to be with her, but she had pushed them all away for a certain rich boy living 6 houses away from her. The fact that her parents are good friends with Ward and Rose Cameron doesn’t make it any easier, not when she is forced to see him every single Saturday night for ‘barbecue night’.

“What are you thinking?” he suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed, suddenly scooting away from him. He watched as she turned away, but he didn’t put much thoughts into it.

“I can still smell the weed from you,” she suddenly said, and Rafe let out a laugh. He rubbed his eyes, hating the fact that they are going to repeat the same topic they have fought countless of times before, especially after sex and they had both came down from the high.

“Don’t start, (Y/N), fuck,” he sighed, covering his face with his large hands. He watched as she scooted further, wrapping the covers around her body. “Can you please just lay right next to me?”

“I want to sleep,” she replied, and bit her lips before she could express any tears. Rafe sighed, groaning, and sat up straight, resting on the edge of the bed before reaching for his jeans discarded on the corner of the room.

“I’m leaving,” he said, and (Y/N) heard the metal bar of his belt clanking against his jeans button. “Since you wanna act like a bitch again.”

“You’re an asshole,” she replied, still not looking at him. A tear rolled down her cheeks before she could stop herself, and she quickly wiped them away.

“Whatever,” he said, and she heard the door slammed shut. She cursed, unable to stop her tears now that she was alone. The banter between the husband and wife from the room above filled the silence as (Y/N) sobbed against the pillow and she thought about how it resembled her and Rafe’s relationship so much.

He would call her when he’s under the influence, whispering sweet-nothings through the phone, saying how much he’s missing her and longing for her forehead kisses. The fight they had before the phone call will immediately evaporate into thin air, and (Y/N) will make her way to wherever Rafe is. Sometimes they’ll do it in the car in a secluded alley or sometimes in the cheap motel at Chapel Hill. 

But then it was the moments after their brief meeting that had her all moody and depress throughout the week; how he would ignore her, pretending not to see her and forcing himself to say ‘hi’ during their family barbecue.

(Y/N) never thought of herself as someone who’s prone to being in a sneaky relationship, but if that what it takes to be with Rafe Cameron, she was willing to be in one.

It had been a week since the incidence, and Rafe hadn’t call her to meet or anything of the sort. (Y/N) frowned when she thought of this, because the longest fight they had before only lasted for 2 days before he rang her up, asking to meet up. 

(Y/N) shook her head, sipping on her martini before setting it on the side of the swimming pool. She dived into the water, trying to get the heat from the scorching sun off of her, and resurfaced seconds after, her wet hair falling down her shoulders.

“(Y/N), where’s dad?” Topper appeared, squatting in front of her as she took another sip on the martini. Her eyes fell to the figure behind her brother, and she almost choked on the liquid.

“Um, I don’t know,” (Y/N) replied, staring at Rafe Cameron as he took out his phone to check on his messages, ignoring her like always. She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that there were no new texts and he was just trying to act like she wasn’t there. She dived into the water again and swam to the other side, away from Rafe and his negative energy.

If Rafe knew she was going to be in the swimming pool, he would have made an excuse to Topper, perhaps saying how he has to take Wheezie to the clinic for an appointment. (Y/N) was almost never home every time he hang out with Topper, so he thought he was safe. But there she was; in the most tempting bikini, swimming and constantly sipping on a martini.

Rafe sat right next to Topper, watching her back from the corners of his eyes as she gazed at the view in front of her. She was laying on her arms, lazily humming to a rock song Rafe plays every time he’s driving.

He jolted when Topper touched his hand. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Topper laughed, “I said, do you wanna eat?”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and thinking about good she looked in that bikini. He made a mental note to guess the brand to purchase more of that sort for her. 

“Okay, I’m going in to get myself some food. Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Topper asked, sitting on the edge of the seat. Rafe nodded, his eyes still closed, and heard him walking towards the sliding door into the kitchen.

“Why are you ignoring me?” 

Rafe opened his eyes, and to his satisfaction, the girl with the (H/C) locks stared at him with her face rested against her arms. His breath hitched, seeing how beautiful she was with the chlorine water dripping from her face, down to her neck, continuing to her che-

“God, you’re a fucking asshole,” she suddenly said, and Rafe had to shook his head from the involuntary thought that appeared in his mind. He groaned, watching as she dived in the water again, and almost catching a glimpse of her bottom. He smiled.

“Are you still a bitch?” he asked when she resurfaced, crossing his arms. “Because if you are, I don’t feel like fucking you right here and right now.”

(Y/N) halted her movements as she tried her best not to look at the smirking boy, and instead staring into the swimming pool as if there was something interesting in it. Rafe laughed, knowing exactly the impact of his words towards her, and thought about wanting to have a little more fun with her.

“I’m asking, baby,” he said softly, and her eyes landed on his. “Are you still a bitch?”

“I brought cookies!” Topper suddenly yelled, appearing from the sliding door and walking towards them with a bright smile. Rafe cursed, laying his back against the seat again and pretending to close his eyes while (Y/N) dived underwater, trying to hide her red face. He was glad when Topper handed him a cookie, talking about wanting to surf tomorrow - so oblivious towards the sexual tension between him and his own twin.

“What do you think?” Topper asked, munching on the cookies all the while trying to see Rafe’s reaction. Rafe nodded, muttering his agreement, but under his sunglasses, he was watching (Y/N) and she too, was watching him.

“Can I have a cookie, Tops?” (Y/N) suddenly interrupted, and without looking at her, Topper gave her a thumbs up sign. (Y/N) smiled, pulling herself up from the pool and Rafe almost had a heart attack from the sight of her curves donning the bikini and the water dripping off of her.

She walked towards them, hair swept to her left shoulder, and Rafe’s gaze followed her fingers as she grabbed a cookie and immediately putting it in her mouth. He watched as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet taste, all the while sitting under the glowing sun that highlighted her features even more.

He could feel himself getting harder.

“Well,” (Y/N) suddenly said, and Rafe had realized he was too busy looking at her to realize that she was already conversing with Topper. “I’ll go. Is Rafe coming too?” 

Both of the siblings’ attention fell towards him, and Rafe found himself clearing his throat before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, where are we?”

“Man, are you sure you’re okay?” Topper asked, removing his sunglasses to look at him clearly. “Do you need water?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Rafe quickly added, “Can I, um, go up to your room? I think I need a nap.”

“Yeah, okay,” Topper replied, not thinking much of it. They had been spending so much time under the sun during the summer, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them got sick. “I’ll go upstairs in a second.”

He muttered a thanks, quickly making his way to the top of the house, where Topper stayed. He groaned, feeling himself getting harder, and hating the fact that she was most probably liking the way he was reacting. 

He locked the door of the bathroom he has been using since the first day he became friends with Topper, watching himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes while he tried to picture her in his mind, his fingers trying their best to untie the knot of the band of his swimming shorts.

He held himself in the palm of his hands as he pictured her again, this time with her under him. He started sliding his palm over his hardened member, his other hand safely placed on the sink for balance. He thought of the way she’ll bounce on him when she rides him, and bit his lips before he could let out any sounds.

Fuck. 

He hated how easy she’ll make him hard and how she has him wrapped around her finger. It was true how they would only do the unholy thing when he was under the influence or they were both under the influence, but he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling in his stomach every time he saw her.

“Fuck,” he expressed, his grip on the sink tightening. His movements became faster as he tried to picture her mouth and around him, and felt his end coming. He left a string of curses as he finally released himself, watching the shot dripping off the sides of the sink. He grunted, having to do more work, and grabbed himself the white tissues before wiping his mess.

. . .

“Hey.”

“Hey, Rafe,” (Y/N) said, trying to maintain her normal tone. She bit her lips at the sound of his heavy breathing, missing his voice and also his handsome face. She longed to have his face in her hands again, staring at each other’s eyes and kissing each other’s lips right after.

“Can you come over?” he asked, his voice slurring. “No, I mean, can I pick you up?” The sound of laughter and booming music could be heard behind him, giving out his location. (Y/N) sighed, knowing the exact request behind the words, and looked at her wall to check on the time.

“It’s 12 a.m., my mom won’t allow me to go out.”

“Sneak out, then,” Rafe replied, and he said something to his friends before focusing back on her. “Please? I missed you.”

(Y/N) sighed, knowing exactly her problem.

This.

“Okay,” she replied, leaning over her mattress to close her laptop now that she had new plans for the night. “What time are you picking me up?”

“I can’t drive right now,” he said, suddenly realizing how sloshed he was. “Can you come and pick me up, please?”

She sighed again, but she had missed him so much. Him and his touches. His and his words.

Him.

“Okay, send me your location, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

(Y/N) thought about how she couldn’t do it anymore. Not when she has spent most of her life trying to make him love her. He had been friends with her brother since forever, but yet he never seemed to settle on her. She heard about the amount of girls he dated and how she tried to become like them, but after a while, she grew bored of it. She was tired of running after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

Until the night at the party, where they had been smoking and doing coke and god knows what else. (Y/N) had watched him from the corners of her eyes, liking how attractive he looked under the party lights. He was in a black shirt, his hair messily parted, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips.

“Thornton, do you know how perfect your smile is?” he asked, leaning towards her. (Y/N) giggled, her back against the wall as she stared into his eyes. 

“You’re mistaking me for my brother, Rafe?” she asked, with that smile again. Rafe licked his lips, looking down to hers before leaning closer to whisper into her ear.

“I’ve got to confess, (Y/N),” he whispered, sending shivers down to her spine. “You’re the hottest sibling.”

When she woke up the next day, laying right next to Rafe Cameron, she had to pinch herself a few times to make sure that she was living in reality, but when she tried to approach him that evening on the golf course, it was like nothing happened that night.

It scarred her until he rang her up again, six days after. 

“Rafe,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning over to open the passenger’s door from her seat, seeing how drunk he was. Rafe giggled, getting himself in before shutting the door and staring at her. He leaned towards her and placed a sloppy kiss against her cheeks, down to her neck and stopped directly before her chest.

“Just park in the back,” he ordered, placing his palm on the upper side of her thigh, too close to her heat. She bit her lips as she turned her steering wheel, entering the back alley of the club. Soon after he had texted her his location, she sneaked out through her brother’s porch and stole his car, driving straight towards Rafe.

She turned the ignition off and looked at him, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, groaning when he missed one button. He tried to reach for her, but she pushed his hand away, her face expressing into anger.

“Don’t pull this shit again, fuck,” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back against the seat and covering his face with his hands. (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a gold ring, and noticed how it looked so similar to hers hanging around her neck.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, filling the silence. Rafe let out a shrill laugh, still closing his eyes.

“Still a bitch, I guess.”

“This is the problem, Rafe!” she groaned, causing Rafe to look at her fully in the face when he noticed her increasing volume. “What are we?”

“What do you want to hear?” he simply said, staring at her with empty eyes. He licked his lips, “No, seriously. Tell me the answer, and I’ll say it.”

How cold could he be?

“Rafe, do you see how you’re treating me?” she asked, and she could feel her tears threatening to fall. “Do you realize the difference between sober Rafe and intoxicated Rafe?”

Of course he knew. He just chose to ignore it.

“I can’t do this right now,” Rafe said, putting his hands up in defeat. “Can we just fuck, get over whatever fight we’re having right now, and live our best lives the next day? Can we do that?”

He turned to look at her, and noticed her glassy eyes. He sighed, trying to cup her face, but she flinched at his touch.

“You make me feel like a whore,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “One second you love me, the next second you’re spitting on me.”

He just had the worst night of his life; having a fight with Ward about his business, bumping onto the pogues, catching Sarah and John B. . . and now this?

“You think too much,” he said, but his heartbeat was quickening. He stole a glance at her and watched as she stared at him with empty eyes. “I’m sober now. You know what, (Y/N)? You’re right. I can’t even look at you when I’m not under the influence.”

He turned to open the door, getting out while buttoning his shirt back, not wanting to look at her. He couldn’t stand it, he knew he’ll be too broken if he sees her cry over him. He didn’t know what to do; he panicked, never preparing for this exact moment where he knew she will ask about the state of their relationship.

He watched as she sped away from the alley, her engine roaring against the silence of that particular Friday night, where his day had been nothing but miserable. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to contain his feelings, but before he knew it, he had kicked on the empty beer can on the side of the road, watching its movement as it hit the opposite wall and fell into the trash can.

He laughed at the strange occurrence, his tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and made his way back to the club.

If there’s one thing he’s so sure about himself; Rafe Cameron hates himself more than anyone else in the world.

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[savnofilter]

Kinkuary Day 22

octopus!t. amajiki

☠️ warning(s): 𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕤, semi-public.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 1.9k words [7 minutes, 45 seconds].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary) | part one | flf

☠️ summary: tamaki had a request he was sure you would be more than willing to fill out.

Tamaki was excited to see you again. He had successfully fulfilled his mother’s wishes she wanted from him and he was destined to come up to see you again. His heart pounded as he could feel himself shift once again, keeping in all the oxygen he needed before he would eventually turn into his proper form. It didn't take long for him to finally reach the surface of the water, taking a long awaited deep breath when he reached the surface. He was pleased to see that you were sitting near the shore line like you always did, the cute blush he always gained came up to his cheeks as he swam to the sand and eventually walked up. 

"Tama, you made it!" You threw your hands up as he got closer, smiling up at him as he pulled you up and into his arms. 

"Of course. I'd never miss a time to visit you…" Amajiki smiles softly, giving your waist a squeeze before pulling away and giving you a look over. "You've already been in the water?" He asks leaning back to look before realizing he didn't think about him possibly getting you wet. 

"Yeah! It's kinda hot today so I went for a small swim before you came up." You pull away to walk over to the pile of equipment you had brought along, beginning to get the change of clothes you always bought for him when he’d have his visits. His eyes follow your movements as you move. He couldn't help his eyes wander as you bent over to get them, biting his lip as he contemplated his next words. 

"Here you go! Saw you eyeing these the last time you came up so I saved up some money and got them." You turn to hand it to him, met with his anxious nature starting to creep up again. "What's wrong?" You ask with the furrow of your brows, pouting a bit. 

"D-Do you think we can try my tentacles again?" Tamaki blurts out, catching you off guard. To understand, Amajiki was never one to be confident enough to relay his lust in a direct manner. Giving you bouts of spontaneity that would get you every time It caught you a second to register before you were getting flustered yourself. You tried to think of something to say, looking away from him as you fiddled with your fingers. 

"I haven't thought of it before…." 

That was a lie. You had never admitted it, but after the first night you two had slept together, you had thought about them as well. Tamaki coming on to you like this was something you were not used to. Most times out of ten you were the one to initiate it. Ten times out of ten when it was him, it wasn't something as lewd as his request was now. You looked up at him and noticed that he was watching you expectantly. Your eyes couldn’t help but stare at his nudity while your mind started to race with it’s own thoughts. Your body felt tingly as you started to consider the possibilities, slowly nodding your head before clearing your throat to speak. “There’s a changing booth not too far from this spot, we have some time before the rest comes and the beach gets crowded.” 

You stand up and dust yourself off, whilst still holding the spare clothes you had for him. You grabbed him with your free hand as you guided him to the location, leaving your other stuff behind for your friends to find. Luckily, the stall is still open for use. Tamaki let you enter first, letting you hang up your stuff on the hooks that were set up. The box was big enough to fit you two in it and hopefully the extra appendages that were going to accompany y’all as well. Your cheeks felt hot as you glanced back at Tamaki, trying not to give a good run down at his toned and tanned body. He sat down on the bench that was opposite to the mirror, his stance open as if the only thing stopping him from continuing was your hesitance.

The booth wasn't the most spacious, and seeing yourself reflected back in its mirror made you nervous if this quickie would go well. While you removed your clothes, you ignored the pitter-patter of the school girl as you got excited. You yelped at the force when he pulled you to stand between his legs and stood between his knees. Yet again you did not say a thing. All of your thoughts and comments evaporated, and you were more focused on adjusting to your surroundings. You moved to sit in his lap, his soft but firm hand stopping you as he looked up at you finally.

“I-I want you to face the mirror.” Although his words were timid, his gaze was stern as ever. If your body and cheeks didn’t feel hot before, it sure as hell did now. "A-Are you sure about this?" Tamaki asked with a nervous bite to his lip, his tentacles holding your legs up along with your wrists. You nodded as you looked back at him through the mirror. You weren’t shy to activities like these. But this felt different although you had tried them before. You watched his aquatic limbs hold you up, slowly nodding your head as you gathered your courage.

“I’m ready.” You respond when you snap out of your gaze, looking up at him with a determined stare. 

He nodded and looked down to where his dick pressed against your skin, his tentacles using their mighty strength to lift you onto his tip. You moved your gaze from the mirror feeling him carefully slide his length into you. Your breath shook as he was precise with his insertion, going until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your walls wrapped tightly around his cock from the angle he held you open, perfectly presenting you to the mirror that sat in front of you. 

"I want you to look at me." Tamaki mumbles in your ear. His expression darkened once you didn’t comply, giving you a sharp thrust to demonstrate he meant business. You choked on a moan as his length poked deeper inside of you, his tentacles tightening their grips on your limbs. 

You timidly looked up at your reflection as requested, a small whimper coming from your lips as you recognized at how lewd the sight really was. Your breath hitched once he started to move, your body not prepared for the sensation. His appendages held you wide open, his posture perfect and his feet anchored into the floor to thrust up into you. You were too entranced in watching as his cock slid in and out of you to notice that his other limbs wanted to keep active too. The cool but oddly warm tentacles came up to experimentally latch onto your nipples, the suction on the bottom of the limbs stuck and sucked at your sensitive buds. A moan left your lips as he started to pick up his speed, the sound of your cunt taking his cock ever so slightly clashing with the distant swishing of the waves of the beach at shore.

Your toes clenched as you tried to keep yourself up, your back pressed against his front as he worked at pleasuring himself as well. Tamaki moved to nuzzle your neck, his lips pressing against your skin and peppers light kisses and bites to mark up your skin. You moved to reach down to relieve yourself from the build up of arousal only being stopped from the thing that wrapped around your wrist. The bundle of nerves between your legs ached as it needed stimulation for you to get your proper work. Your hips bucked at wanting to touch yourself, tilting your head back onto his free shoulder to speak to him.

“T-Tama…” You looked up at him as he looked down at you, your eyes pleadingly searching for sympathy for him to hear you out. “Tama rub my clit.” You were going to speak up again but stopped yourself when voices grew louder and populated outside. The possibility of the inappropriate noises alerting those outside caused you to panic, and your gaze snapped back to look at how terrible this situation was if anyone were to come inside. 

Tamaki couldn't help but smile as he observed the adrenaline rushing through your body as you dedicated yourself to it. For that you deserved to be rewarded. One of the tips slithered down as asked and did exactly as told without wasting any time. His cocked twitched at your expression falling into one of ecstasy, but as always, he wanted to see more. He dropped your legs and stood up carefully, holding your back close to his front and increasing his thrusts pace. His hips were precise in their ramming, hips angled properly to hit up at your g-spot that always made you weak.

Your legs trembled as his tip continuously prodded against it. Your head felt light and you had forgotten about the people outside as quickly as you had realized they were out there. You bowed your head as you took his unrelenting thrusts, enjoying way too much at the fact that any and everyone could hear you. There was no room for any coherent thoughts as he fucked you inside the small box, only regiesting the pleasured sensations of his cock sliding inside of your cunt. Your fluids dripped down your legs as you had slicked up that much to the point it was too easy for him to move. The tentacle at that pressed and sucked at your clit made you see stars, tensing up as you came closer to impending orgasm. 

“Nghhh~” You clenched your jaw and squeezed your eyes shut, an unrestrained whine leaving your mouth as he dragged on your climax. Your body shook as he didn’t stop playing with your clit and gyrated his hips into yours to find the release he was chasing as well. 

“Y-Y/N…!” He gasped, pressing his pelvis against your ass and came inside of you. His tentacles tightened to keep you close not letting any of his cum escape from you. You groaned as his warm semen filled you up, some spilling out by the sheer amount of itself. You hadn't before when he finished, his tentacles did too. The white substance coated your beautiful skin, giving you no decency to leave the changing boother. You softly painted to catch your breath, missing his hot body against yours when he leans away and admires how your reflection looks in front of you. He clears his throat as he hesitantly pulls away, still holding you up in his arms. 

“Everyone is here now, we should get going.” He doesn’t mind the stickiness of your body, smiling softly down at you as he uses the spare towel you bring in case of emergencies to clean you down. You gently nod at his suggestion, still trying to recuperate from the pounding you just received. You held onto him as you got dressed, waiting for him to finish. He grabs the beach bag when he’s sure both of you are set, gripping your hand and leaving as if nothing had happened. You could feel cheeks get hot as you avoided people stares, choosing to stay close to him the whole trip.

Oddly enough, you had hoped you two would try more risky things soon.

[boymeetsweevil]

Call me maybe

Grouping: Reader x Namjoon

Word Count: ~6.59k

Warnings/Themes: Club meet-cute AU, 1% angst +99% suggestive fluff, (legal!) alcohol consumption, language, flirting anxiety(?)

Summary: It all started with a stupid drinking game...

A/N: this is the One Direction wattpad-style fanfic that's been haunting me for so long. beware of that and the fact that this is unedited hahaha...

“You know the rules, girls. Whoever wins this round of rock-paper-scissors is It.”

You and your three friends, warm and bubbly from 2 rounds of shots at this point in the evening, assume your battle stances and stick your hands into the center of your table. Four hands make a square over the scattered layer of empty decorative shot glasses from the bar in the club.

There’s an air of electric excitement that comes with this game, lovingly nicknamed Hunter-Gathering. Whoever is It gets a target and has to pursue that target in hopes of bringing ‘home’ free drinks for everyone the rest of the night. But no matter how attractive the target is, you can't ever bring them home.

“Wait, wait!” Lia chimes in. “I can’t be It this time. I did it twice already and my ass still hurts from the last time.”

Dani nods seriously. “Fair enough. That means the odds are upped for the rest of you.”

“So, we’re just gonna ignore that ass thing,” another friend, Alexa, looks around the table with confused eyes.

“Do you actually want me to give you the details?” Lia smiles slowly at her from across the table.

Alexa’s face brightens with her own smile, worry evaporated. “You know what? I don’t! Never mind.”

The game begins and somehow you find yourself the lone rock amongst two pairs of scissors. Alexa and Dani laugh with relief because they don’t have to put in any work tonight. You roll your eyes to the heavens and silently question your karma.

“Are you ready to pick your target?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Nope!” Dani grins.

She steps forward and grabs a clean face mask out of her clutch bag and wraps it around your eyes, careful not to muss your makeup or hair. Three pairs of hands rest on your shoulders and you let them spin you lightly around a few times. Not enough to get you dizzy but just enough to make sure you don’t know what direction you’re facing anymore.

“Alright,” Dani’s voice sounds out over the music of the club. “Take your pick!”

You stick your hand out blindly and someone unties the makeshift blindfold. Everyone follows the line your hand makes all the way to a tall figure standing by the side of the bar.

He’s probably the most handsome man any of you have seen in a while. There's an intimidating aura emanating from him. You figure it's the understated all-black outfit complete with the heinously expensive watch he's wearing and the sheer height of him as he towers over people near him at the bar.

“Oh my god,” Dani whispers as you all take in the stranger’s face.

“We can finally get top shelf vodka,” Alexa pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Not bad,” Lia hums in appreciation.

“Okay, why is everyone acting like I bagged him already?” Your voice grows high with nerves. “I'm pretty sure I have, like, a 2% chance of interesting him."

“What are you so worried about?” Dani crosses her arms at you. “Just do whatever you did to get those history nerds to help you out that one time."

"This is not the same thing. Those guys parted their hair 90/10 unironically and thought Diva Cups are for when you don't want to hold your pee when you stand in line for roller coasters."

"You're kidding," Lia gasps. You wish you were.

"Well, just pretend he's one of them anyway." Dani suggests, "Every guy is the same."

You can't argue with that logic.

“I mean, I can try flirting with him, but he’s probably so used to people throwing themselves at him. I don’t think anything I do would, like, make a dent, you know?”

“Babe, no. No—listen to me, okay?” Alexa takes you by the shoulders and forces you around so you can see how serious she is.

“Tonight is the last free night of vacation. After tonight, we have less than a day to get over our hangovers, pack up the Airbnb, and then catch our 6am flight back home to start the spring term. Our last night of freedom lies in your hands.”

“But, what if—”

“No ‘but’s. Do you see yourself? Do you see your skin in this fresh white two piece? Have you seen how your tits look in this off the shoulder top? That poor man doesn’t stand a chance!”

Lia murmurs her agreement in the background and Dani mentions something about fearing for the guy's soul. You think about the freakishly good pictures you all took in the stylish club bathroom when you first arrived.

“I see your point.”

You turn back toward the bar to review your target. He sips from a dark green bottle as he looks around at the people on the dance floor between your table and the bar. As he continues to scan the room, he locks eyes with you. You hold his gaze even though your instincts are screaming at you to duck for cover. Surprisingly, he gives a small smile and raises his bottle in salute.

"See, you got the hardest part down already. Just fake the rest until you make it."

You chance a look back in his direction only to catch him staring in the direction of the table. When he catches your gaze again, he whips his head away, cheeks tinging pink under the soft yellow lighting at the bar.

Alexa cackles and starts detailing all the drinks she wants made with the top shelf vodka. Lia and Dani discuss leaving early to go back and clean up the apartment so it’s clean in case you break the rules and bring this guy back for the night.

“Uh, aren’t you guys moving a little fast?”

“Aren’t you moving a little slow,” Alexa counters.

“Hold on, Lex.” Dani turns to you. “You know you don’t actually have to do this if you don’t want to, right? Hunter-Gathering is just a game, there's no pressure.”

For all their poking and teasing, you're reminded right then and there that your friends would never put you in a situation where they thought you were actually at any risk. The weight you felt on your shoulders lightens somewhat.

“No, no, I definitely still want to play, I just don’t want you guys to get your hopes up.”

“I believe in you.”

Lia bumps shoulders with you quietly. She’s not the most affectionate, so you know she really means it.

“I’ll do my best.”

You let them tweak you a little bit, fixing stray hairs and wiping away smeared lip gloss and hiking up your skirt, giving you their drink orders, before you grab your purse and phone and push in your stool.

When you finally make it to the bar, he’s in the same spot as you first found him in. He spots you once you get close enough and naturally makes room for you. You set your bag on the bar countertop before hopping up on the empty stool immediately in front of him. The movement causes your skirt to ride up even more and you’re glad you only let Lia hike it up one inch instead of three.

Dani's advice about treating this guy like any other scrub from school reverbs in the back of your head right as the nerves start to set in. With the guys in your art history class, your grade was on the line. There was no room for hesitation when you could barely draw a stick figure, much less write an essay analyzing what an old painting style could tell you about the dairy economy in a certain town like some of your classmates were doing. It was because you were desperate that you were suddenly able to transform into a femme fatale. It also helped that these guys quivered at any interaction with an adult woman.

Tonight's drinks are on the line, you tell yourself. As best you can, you try to trick yourself into entering the same mindset you were in when you would lay on the charm extra thick for the art history guys.

You let the corner of your mouth lift up in a coy smile while you survey the bar. The bartender is moving back and forth quickly to handle the high demand. A second later the girl next to you leaves her spot with a tray of 8 bright pink drinks, practically glowing in the dark. You wonder briefly if you should try to get a round of those for the table.

“—one of those before?”

His voice is deep and pleasant. When you give him a look over your shoulder, you have to suppress a gasp. Up close he's even more handsome. You really have your work cut out for you.

“What?"

"That neon pink drink," he nods back in the direction of the girl who'd taken the cotton candy pink drinks with her. "I was wondering if you'd tried them before."

“No, I haven’t,” you smile, letting your lips part slowly. His eyes dart from your painted eyes to the colored stretch of your mouth and then quickly back up. “Have you?”

“No. But I like to try new things.”

You purse your lips as if in thought, something you've seen other girls do while flirting with guys at school. “You must be pretty unpredictable, then.”

“Huh? Well, I wouldn’t say that.” He stammers a bit and nearly drops his beer bottle trying and failing to put it down. All the intimidation you felt coming from him earlier seems to have disappeared.

“I was just kidding.”

Like it has a mind of its own, your hand reaches out to rest on his arm reassuringly while you continue to laugh at him. His features clear up then and a relieved smile blooms on his face, bringing out an adorable dimple with it.

“You’re teasing me,” he realizes with a good natured huff and steps into your touch.

“You seem kinda fun to tease.” You let your hand linger a little longer before finally pulling it back.

“It’s kinda fun. You're pretty good at it.”

Oddly enough, this isn't as difficult for you as you thought it was going to be. In fact, you find yourself naturally tilting your head and fixing him with an intrigued look from under your lashes. He takes the opportunity to look you over as well, a small smile on his lips.

The personal attention does make you a little nervous despite the fact that it’s positive. So you dig in your purse to avoid looking directly at him for too long and to give your hands something to do. You brush up against a tube of lip gloss, pull it out, and reapply some to your lips.

You look back at him when you realize he’s grown quiet, only to find him following the movements of the gloss brush tracing the curve of your lips, cheeks dusted pink and eyes half-closed like he's in some sort of trance.

Experimentally you press your lips together and then purse them to make sure the gloss is distributed evenly. The man doesn't blink once. Suddenly, all his expensive apparel and large stature aren’t so intimidating.

"Is there something on my face," you smirk.

He slow blinks down at your mouth twice before realizing you're speaking again. His eyes grow wide and he raises a ringed hand to rub at the back of his neck. The movement rustles the hair covering his ears, revealing their pink tips. Cute.

"Just looking."

You laugh a little at him again. He marvels at the way the club lighting dances around in your glossy smile.

"So, how come I've never seen you here before?"

"Well...it's the first time me and my friends have come here."

"I see." He pivots to face you and leans his closest elbow on the counter of the bar. "Are you guys new to the area?"

"You could say that, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow when you don’t elaborate. Without looking away, he raises his hand to signal to the bartender that he wants another drink. When the bartender runs right over, you realize this guy actually might be a big deal. Silently you pull your card out of your wallet as the bartender makes their way over. You figure you’ll have to spend some money before you can really ask someone like him to buy drinks for your table.

"What'll it be,” the bartender asks.

"Two of those pink drinks please," he says and before you can place any order the bartender zooms away.

While the bartender starts preparing the drinks, you turn toward him.

"Who said I wanted the pink drink?"

He grins down at you, a dimple now popping up in each cheek. "Who said it's for you?"

"I'm pretty sure it's for me."

"And what makes you so sure?" He takes a step closer to you.

"Just a hunch," you hum before crossing your legs.

The white fabric of your skirt hikes up your thighs again with the movement. You smooth your palms over the soft material.

"Nice skirt."

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I like it," he admits quietly.

"And the top?" You gesture toward the pair of straps on the matching tube top, manicured nails gliding over your décolletage. He wets his lips.

"The top too."

He reaches out one large hand to one of the straps that have fallen over your shoulder. The drag of his fingers against your bare arm as he fixes it makes you shiver. You lament the loss of contact when pulls his hand back.

The bartender arrives with your drinks then, startling the both of you out of the little staring competition that had spontaneously started. The pink drink seems to glow from within, topped with whipped cream and full of little round ice cubes made from some sort of darker rose syrup floating in the liquid like lava in a lava lamp. The color barely prepares you for the thick sweetness that floods your mouth on the first sip.

"Oh, that's kinda..."

He huffs a laugh around his own first swallow and nods in agreement.

"Not what you wanted?"

"It's just really sweet. You like it?”

He shrugs. “It’s alright. But—"

The way he cuts himself off has you confused for a moment before he's reaching towards you cautiously. You're not too sure what's going on until you feel the pad of his thumb swipe over the corner of your lips carrying away some of the whipped topping from the drink. Your eyes widen when instead of wiping the cream on one of the cocktail napkins available on the counter he brings his thumb to his own lips. In a fraction of a second the cream is gone, but you're left feeling a rush of fluttering warmth on the side of your mouth and in the center of your chest.

"You think your friends would like these?” He slides his drink to the side so he can lean on his elbow and turn to you again. Now's your chance.

“Um, I don’t think this is really their style.”

“What is their style?”

You rattle off their drinks of choice, making sure to mention their favorite brands with a sigh. Of course, whenever you play this game, the brands can change depending on the budget of whoever’s buying. This time, you make sure to name drop as much as possible, per Alexa's request.

“Sounds like your friends really know what they like.”

“Yeah, they have really…unique tastes.” You falter a little under his amused stare. “But we don’t always drink that way. I mean, not every bar even carries all those to begin with.”

“That’s true.” He nods. “This bar has every single of them, though. Pretty lucky, huh?”

“Yep,” you chirp. You’re not sure if you’re in trouble or not because he’s still smiling. He seems to be onto the game, but doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Well, it would be a shame not to welcome you all to the city. Get whatever you want. My treat.”

“Are you sure?”

You place your hand on his arm again and squeeze for good measure. You don’t miss the way his large bicep flexes under your touch. After a beat, he brings his hand up to grasp yours and holds it while signaling to the bartender again. You give him a blindingly bright smile and he strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

He asks the bartender to ‘take care’ of your table tonight on him, and you realize then that you’ve won the game. The victory isn't nearly as sweet as the pink drinks from earlier. The rules prohibit you from bringing him home or going over to his place. And even if it wasn't prohibited, your vacation is basically over.

“Where are you and your friends from?

You take his hand between yours and play with some of the rings on his fingers. They’re beautiful together in an eclectic way and you wonder if someone chose them for him.

“It’s a kind of small city, not like this one. It’s really just our university and then a few surrounding towns.”

“What made you guys move here then?"

"Oh, Right." You feel guilty. "Me and my friends are just here for vacation."

He blinks at you but takes the news in stride. "Well, if you want—I know the city pretty well since I have a place here—maybe I can give you a tour of the town later this week."

"I'd love that, I really would. But we're actually leaving tomorrow."

"For real?” His eyes grow wide and he looks down at your linked hands before looking over your face. You're shocked to see his features fall.

"Yeah, it sucks."

“Damn,” he smiles bittersweet at the floor. “I wish we’d bumped into each other sooner.”

“I absolutely agree," the sound of Alexa's voice rings loud in your ear.

“Uh, hello. Did you need me for something?" Your voice is high and tight as you fix her with an accusatory stare. You're not 100% positive, but it seemed like you and he were having a moment.

"No, babe, I just wanted to come over and show you my beautiful drink. I wanted to come show my gratitude to you both for making sure we have a good last night. The girls will appreciate that. Thank you, kind sir."

“Name’s Namjoon. And no need to thank me,” he smiles at the exchange between you two and sticks out his hand. Alexa daintily lays her hand in his and he lets out an incredulous laugh before playing along and raising it to his lips.

"What a gentleman," she coos before pinching lightly at the skin of your exposed back. It's a clear message just for you, telling you that there's about to be a change in plans. "What were you guys discussing?"

"I was actually about to offer up our booth. There's more than enough room for your table if you wanted to move. Me and my team—friends definitely wouldn't mind the company."

“You don’t have to do that!” You pipe up, suddenly shy. But it's quickly dashed away as Alexa pulls out her phone and opens up the groupchat.

"Let me just ask our friends if they’d like that."

You already know the answer, so you sigh quietly and gather up your card, phone, and purse. You can’t say you won’t miss the privacy from when it was just you and Namjoon, but you’re glad to be with your friends again as well.

The move from your little table to the VIP booth is lightning fast. By the time you get your own drink, Lia and Dani are already clutching their things and vibrating with excitement near the ropes leading to the VIP booth. A few of Namjoon’s friends are chatting with them from the other side of the ropes.

Once your group trickles in, you don't miss how they all arrange themselves in the booth so you're forced to sit on the end next to Namjoon with barely any space. The only options are to let one of your legs hang off the edge of the booth the whole time or sit practically half in his lap. Alexa winks at you over the first sip of her next very expensive drink.

Namjoon's friends are occupied by your friends re-telling some of the more exciting parts of the beginning of your vacation. Some story about how 'someone' lost their top while trying to jet ski. You send a weak glare to Lia as she tries to get them to guess just whose top it was. That's what you get for experimenting with spaghetti strings, you suppose.

"Do you guys like to dance," one of his friends says after a while of vibing to the music once the chatter cools down. Hoseok, you think his name was.

"Yes, definitely." Dani remarks while re-applying lip gloss. "You know who's a great dancer?"

"Who?" Hoseok looks around excitedly.

"She's gonna say me," you groan. "Which is not even true but let’s just all move down there already, no more 20 questions."

"Just one more," she pouts. "Namjoon, do you like to dance?"

He looks down at you once he's also out the booth, that little amused smile back on his lips.

"Well, it's not really part of my day job, but I don't mind it too much."

"What's your day job," you blurt out.

"I'm a...musician."

"A musician!" Alexa rushes over to you to link arms. "Did you hear that? Namjoon’s a musician."

"I don't recognize you," Lia says and Hoseok and another one of his friends burst into quiet laughter behind her.

"You definitely won't find Joon’s pics anywhere, that's for sure," one of his friends says. The rest of them dissolve into another fit of giggles.

The club lights hide the muted pink tinge his cheeks take on, and Namjoon leads the way to the dance-floor with a chagrined roll of his eyes.

"You think he's really a musician?” You whisper to Alexa and Lia. Dani is somewhere up ahead, already dancing.

"Maybe technically. Going off the way his friends keep laughing, he's probably, like, a failed SoundCloud rapper or something."

"No failed SoundCloud rapper wears Gucci like that," Lia motions with her chin to some piece of Namjoon’s outfit.

"That's true," you hum.

"Rich parents," Alexa says simply.

You and Lia consider it and then nod.

As you settle on the dance floor, you feel the rest of your nerves drift away. Lia comes over to take a selfie with you, and the two of you flirt with the camera until she's satisfied with the photos you've taken. She grabs your hand and makes a show of spinning you around and you figure that this is how the night will go before you stumble out around 2 or 3am and drunk pack for the flight home the next morning. You let her lead you back, further into the crowd before you bump into someone.

Namjoon's large hand comes to stabilize you at your waist and Lia acts like nothing happened before dancing away, phone light illuminating her sneaky smile.

"You good?" Namjoon's voice is soft in your ear.

"Y-yeah."

"You wanna dance, or should I let you go?"

Your friends shamelessly all look at the way he curves himself around you, all with their thumbs up in encouragement. You're reminded of the way you did the same a few nights prior when Dani was getting hit on by some cute guy at a different club.

At that time it felt fun hyping her up and watching her make a move, seeing how enamored this random guy was with your friend. Of course he is, you thought at the time, she's amazing. And you remember that this is probably what's driving them tonight as well with you and Namjoon.

You chance a look at him and realize that he's come to rest his cheek lightly near your temple, a soft look in his gaze as he awaits your answer.

"Sure, let's dance."

Namjoon was telling the truth when he said he wasn't all that into dancing. But he put in enough work to be able to follow you and meet you halfway while you were grinding on him to the music.

Even when you shyly stepped away after the first few dances to return to your squealing friends, you loosened up over time with more music and drinks and found yourself naturally ending up on him again. The first few songs turned into more and more and soon you were face-to-face, with his thigh wedged between yours and a heavy palm on your lower back guiding you to the beat.

You're not sure when you decided to abandon your friends and his, but at some point you did return to the booth under the guise of checking your phones. And you did check your phone first. But soon he was crowding you toward the wall by the booth and leaving you with no air of your own.

"You're really leaving tomorrow," he sighed into a bruise he was trying to leave near the hollow of your throat. "Or did you just say that because I was some creep at a bar."

"I never thought you were a creep."

He looks down at you with disbelief before getting distracted by your kiss-swollen lips.

"I mean it. I'm just a little shy sometimes."

"What do you have to be shy about when you look like this, huh?"

"Stop," you laugh lightly and look away from him.

He'd made a comment earlier about how much he liked the pristine white two piece you wore, but you'd been inching his hand up your skirt then. Now, one of his thumbs rubs an idle pattern just below the curve of your breast.

"No, but seriously. Are you actually leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah. The new term starts for us all in a few days."

"So, leave in a few days," Namjoon whines.

"That's not enough time to get ready for the term."

"But I'll be so alone without you."

He gives you an exaggerated pout that splits into a real smile when you snort at his stupid expression. He pulls you to him just a smidgen tighter then.

"Does this usually work with other girls?"

"I don't know. Never tried it with other girls," he frowns a little at you.

"Sure."

"You know me and the team almost went to Club BigHit last Saturday?"

"Oh, really? That's kinda funny." You try to imagine what might have happened if he'd come to the same club you went to earlier.

"Yeah," Namjoon's voice grows quiet. "If I hadn't gotten sick then we would have met last week."

"Yeah, maybe."

"You sure you can't miss a few days of the term?"

"Yes, I'm sure." You let out an exasperated laugh. "You can't really be this upset that an actual stranger is just passing through your life."

"No, I know. I just—," he lets his head fall forward until he's touching his forehead to yours. "It was like something clicked when I saw you. I feel like I need more time with you."

"Oh," your voice comes out a little breathier than you expected.

The same look that had flashed across his face when you first came up to him finally gets to rest on his features. You want to let him down gently because you really can't play catch up during the first week of school.

"Tell you what. I can't miss the beginning of the term but if you make a song with my name in it and it gets...say, 50,000 listens, I'll buy a ticket that same day and come meet you. Wherever you are."

He pins you with a look then, inquisitive and dark. His eyes scan your open expression for something, before whatever he finds passes the test. He stands up tall.

"And it just needs to have 50,000 listens?"

In your mind you were thinking it would be too lofty for a failed SoundCloud rapper, but something in his tone sounds like he's rising to the challenge and it makes you nervous. You spent a lot on this vacation, you can't afford to actually fly out so soon if he somehow managed to get the listens and call your bluff. Besides, targets are off limits.

"Um, actually make that 150,000. And it has to have my area code in it too." You rattle off the three digits to him and he quickly types your conditions into the notes app on his phone.

"Is that it?"

"That's it, I guess."

"Deal."

Namjoon pockets his phone and leans back into your space. Any worries you had clawing to the forefront of your mind vanish when he presses soft lips to yours once more.

A month passes.

You don't end up having a one-night-stand with Namjoon because it wouldn't be fair to your friends when they'd clicked with a target but didn't take them home. That and because Dani got sick on the dance floor from mixing strawberry daiquiri with one too many pink drinks. But you do pass on your full number after he very nearly begs you to give it to him while packing into a cab.

And then he never used it.

It's not that you were expecting much, but when a month passes with not so much as word from him, you figure he forgot about you and your little bet.

Then 2 months pass.

Even though you know that you only spent a fraction of a day with him, you can't help thinking about Namjoon. Namjoon and his pretty eyes and pretty words that made you think there was some sort of connection there. You realize after the first two weeks back that you don't have his number but by the time 2 months pass, you realize that was definitely on purpose.

4 months pass.

You're over it, swamped with end of term work like finals and grading and putting in hours at work. But every time your friends suggest a little fun and hooking you up with someone, every time someone asked for your number at a coffee shop, you said no. Because you're over it and you're busy and not at all disappointed for how hard you fell for the lies some failed SoundCloud rapper fed you on a vacation one time.

19 weeks pass.

You're all in Lia's apartment, basking in the first few days of the end of classes even if it means finals are a few days later. Alexa is playing her favorite playlist on the speakers and you're taking a break to get some coffee going in the small kitchenette.

While the coffee machine starts up you wander back to the main room. Alexa is leaning over to turn the music up, one of her favorite songs just now coming up.

"Who's this again," Dani pipes up from her spot on the couch. "It's that one guy's collab with the Bulletproof Girlscouts, right?"

"Yep," Alexa checks the song title before sighing. "This song is so old now."

"True, but it's my favorite one on the whole album."

"I guess it really has been two years since his last album, huh." Dani muses and then goes back to her practice problem set.

You try not to laugh at how cute Alexa looks sulking because her favorite artist hasn't put out any music in so long.

"Why don't you just play his new stuff," Lia says.

"He's on indefinite hiatus. This is as new as it gets."

Lia picks up her own phone, showing it to the group.

"He released a new single this morning."

"What!"

Alexa scrambles from her seat to grab her headphones and jam them into her phone. You all know how she gets about her music and let her have a moment to soak up the new song while you get up to check on the coffee.

It takes a few minutes to get cups out and put everything together since everyone has different tastes, so you're in the middle of pouring creamer when you hear a chorus of screams.

"Why are we screaming?"

You rush into the main room again only to be bombarded with music from the speaker, this time turned up as high as it can go. What must be the new song comes through the speaker, the bass vibrating on the ground as the speaker pumps.

"Okay, yes, new song. It's good but I don't get—"

"Just listen to the fucking bridge," Dani's voice comes out incredibly shrill as she cuts you off.

The beat surges for the bridge and suddenly the lyrics turn into the artist growling about some girl he met at the club with the prettiest little white outfit he'd ever seen. Saying something that sounds oddly like your name, although you figure that can't be right. But then the next verse has your name in it too, and the next one, and the next one.

Your feet take you to where Alexa's phone is plugged in and you pick up the phone to look at the song. It's indeed a song by her favorite artist, a prolific and mysterious rapper who's never shown his face and who'd been on hiatus from making music. The song title is simple, a small string of numbers that look suspiciously like your area code.

When you let out a tiny gasp, your friends let out more excited shrieks. You ignore them in favor of thumbing through the music app to the artist's page where the new single lies at the top of his discography. To the right of all his songs are the stream counts. Most of his older songs have a few dozen million or so. This brand new one sits at a modest 4 million, but the numbers trickle up as the app updates them in real time.

"What the hell?"

"I know!" Alexa cries, tears shining in her eyes. "I can't believe we sat in a VIP booth with him and I didn't even recognize his stupid voice!"

"What are you gonna do," Dani smiles widely at your stunned face. "Are you gonna call him?"

"I don't have his number," you say simply. Your voice comes out monotone with shock.

"You didn't get his number?" Alexa starts crying for real.

"People are blowing my phone up about this," Lia says once the song ends and begins again on a loop. "You might want to turn off your phone. It's just a matter of time until people start snooping around."

"Right."

You grab your phone from your pocket. On instinct you scan through your socials one last time before turning it off. There's a startling number of texts, calls, emails, and notifications on your social media apps. Curiosity gets the best of you and you open up one of them only to find your name trending as the top hashtag. Clicking on it brings up a bunch of tweets both from fans raving about the new song and wondering who the muse is, to random accounts with identical names in the handle all claiming to be said muse.

"Oh my god, he tweeted!" Dani shoves her phone into your hands.

As of right now [2:38pm] we're at 5.76 million streams. That's more than 150,000...

"What does that mean," she asks you.

"It means...he wants me to fly out to see him. Today."

"Oh my god."

Alexa screams again and at this point you've lost count of how many that is. Lia gets out of her chair and tucks her chin over your shoulder to read the post herself.

"You need to go," Alexa shouts. "I'll help you pack, let's go."

"What about finals?"

"Are you—are you actually thinking of not going because of finals?"

"I mean—"

"If you want me die, just say that," she does something with her mouth that looks like a manic smile.

"What Lex means to say is that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I'm sure even the profs would understand."

You're not sure what to say. First of all, you still don't have his number. Second of all, you're not sure how to fight through all the other accounts claiming to be you to let him know you saw the song. Third, you don't even know where to fly to. Fourth—

A Twitter notification chimes from your phone and a deadly hush falls over everyone. You go to your DM inbox with shaking fingers only to find a message request from an unknown sender. When you open the request, it's from Namjoon's agency.

Good afternoon,

You are being contacted today because one of our artists wishes to meet you. If you consent to the meeting, please review the flight information and tentative itinerary below and respond with your address and contact information. Please also note that the travel plans are for today [MM/DD/YYYY], so your response at your earliest convenience would be much appreciated. If you would like to go but cannot make it today—

"Do you think they'll send a car or should I book her a ride to the airport now?" Dani turns to Alexa.

"They'll probably send one to make sure the schedule is followed."

"That's true but what about—"

Lia taps you on the shoulder, startling you out of your stupor.

"There's a convenience store two doors down. Whatever you buy we can put in one of my suitcases and you can just take that. There's probably not enough time to go all the way back to your place."

"I—yeah, okay."

7 hours later finds Alexa, Dani and Lia finished with studying for the night. The entertainment channel is playing on the TV and the three of them have their heads bent over their phones and laptops, refreshing all the major gossip sites for updates.

"Maybe she's not even there yet," Dani sighs when the page she just refreshed shows no new posts.

"Yeah, I mean we still don't even know where she is," Lia says while putting her laptop to sleep. "What if they made her sign an NDA?"

"Even if they did, she'd probably still tell us once she got there. She's probably just busy killing time on the plane."

"She's sleeping!" Alexa screams a second later.

"Huh? How do you know that?"

"Check his instagram," is all she says before frantically typing a message to you about souvenirs.

Lia looks over at Dani's phone as she pulls up Namjoon's page. The rest of the layout is bare given his up until recent hiatus and the fact that he never posted any type of selfie. The video uploaded a mere 20 seconds ago undoes all the previous minimalism of the entire account.

The post isn't even of Namjoon. It's a black and white 5 second video of the top half of your naked back and shoulders, the rest of your body covered by the sheets. One of your arms is raised to cover your head with a pillow. The only sign of Namjoon is the arm that reaches out from the bottom of the frame, making it clear that he took the video himself. His hand reaches out to trace a heart over the skin of your shoulder blade. The caption reads:

Thanks for keeping your promise