#author: Blue Stiletto

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hey baes! Can you do the outsiders (separate) with a reader who always gets their nails done? Thank you!!

Summary: The Outsiders x Reader who gets her nails done Warnings: none Author's Note: none

PONYBOY thinks your nails are so pretty. He loves how they elongate your fingers and make you look more classy and elegant. He'll always prefer the small almond shapes over long and square, only because it's easier to give him head massages and he doesn't want your nails to get in the way of anything you do. Don't get me wrong though, he loves gyaru nails and will always ALWAYS help you design them. JOHNNY thinks your nails are beautiful. He thinks it ties together your whole look and he loves it. He's always asking you to do his favorite color (red) because he thinks it looks the best on you. Johnny was always interested on how they put the nails together so sometimes he'll sit in on your nail sessions and watch you get them done. If you get his initials he'll be over the moon excited! SODAPOP sometimes says that he only loves you because of your nails. THIS IS BECAUSE, he loves it when you draw little patterns on his skin and give him head massages because it gives him tingles, so he'll joke about it often. Has once asked you to get the DX logo on your nails and has not regretted it when he saw it. He loves when you get funny nail art, especially for Christmas. He finds the little santa and reindeer nail art so cute that he'll always beg you to get it. STEVE loves when you get your nails done. His favorite set was probably the red, blue and white ones. Not because it was an American flag but because those are his favorite colors. He thinks the long sharp stiletto nails are top tier and he jokes that it's good for self defense. He always tries to pay for your nails when he can scrape together enough, too! TWO BIT loves your nails, and so does his sister! If you ever get thermal color changing nails, they'll spend an hour staring at it change in awe. Has let you paint his nails before but only a clear top coat! You and his sister play 'nail salon' when she wants and he's always the customer and has to deal with marker scribbles on his hand. He always asks you to get funny images on your nails but you always turn him down, EXCEPT ON HIS BIRTHDAY! and he was sooo happy and full of laughs because of it. DARRY likes your nails. He thinks they're pretty without nails, he thinks their pretty with nails. He loves you for you, not your nails! He does really like when you get colored french tips though, they're his personal favorites! Especially the gradient two toned ones! He tries to always pay for your nails, but sometimes forgets you have appointments and you have to pay for it yourself. DALLAS really likes your nails. He loves when you get black and a dark red stiletto because he thinks they make you look tuff as hell. He wont spend hours admiring them like Two but if he notices your new set, he'll grab your hand, look at it nonchalantly and say, "Was it worth 60$?" Because he's SO sore that he had to pay 60 for nails! But as long as your happy that's all he'll say.

[marysdigdiaries101]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[cursingtoji]

ᥫ᭡ — EXECUTIVE AFFAIRS: In a cutthroat world of boardroom battles and power struggles, you must navigate ambition , corporate intrigue, and unexpected love affairs.

✧ PRELUDE

— contents: CEO!reader, construction worker!Toji, lawyer!Nanami, therapist!Geto, ex-husband!Gojo; power imbalance, sexual frustration, manipulation, use of 'darling', 'baby', 'dear' & 'boss', 4k words, on-going series

— note: osha is the occupational safety and health administration agency in the USA, even tho i'm not american seems easier to just say osha (also a fun word to pronunce)

A young man opens the rear door of the Jaguar as soon as your driver stops by the construction site, “This way ma’am” you accept his hand, touching the cement with your stiletto first before getting out of the vehicle.

As scheduled you are heading to a meeting with the architect responsible for this particular project, a big one. Normally the CEO wouldn’t be involved in such routine visits like this, but you definitely don’t want to be like the previous CEO, who barely stepped out of his office for anything.

Besides, you have to make a good impression with the other directors that would be there today as well, and what better way to do that if not going to the construction site yourself, even though you clearly do not belong there given the way your heel wobbled as soon as it touched the uneven ground.

“Excuse me, miss” you’re stopped by a man twice your size — horizontally and almost vertically — extending a white helmet in your direction, “I’m sure that hair costed a lot and you don’t wanna cover it, but every person on site, even the ladies, ‘gotta wear it.”

You stand a bit shocked at the man addressing you like it’s not your last name on his uniform.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I should inform you that it’s your CEO you’re talking to” the boy beside you speaks up, he’s wearing a white helmet and the unknown man a yellow one.

“Great, so you are able to afford the OSHA fine if they decide today is a good day for inspection, but I’d rather not have another pointless safety training just ‘cause no one had the balls to tell you to protect your pretty ‘lil head” his expression doesn’t change a bit with the new information. You find that respectable, especially having so many people stuttering when talking to you.

If you were to say that you don’t get even a little bit amused by people being nervous in your presence Nanami would have to warn you about perjury. 

It’s quite a change to have a blue collar employee sticking to the rules and not batting an eye when the highest possible authority of the company is standing right in front of him, especially when that someone looks like he just got out of a sexy construction men calendar… not that you have ever seen one of those. That’s just what you think they might look like, plus that scar only adds up to fantasy.

You clean your throat, “I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Fushiguro” you repeat the name so you won’t forget, “I wasn’t aware of the rules” you side-look the young man beside you who’s now staring at his own feet embarrassed since it was his duty to inform you.

“Call me Toji” you take the helmet and put it on, “By the way, you’re supposed to wear trousers too and… literally anything but that” he points with his chin to your high heels thinking how that alone was a safety hazard not just on a construction site. Toji leans closer “but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you have quite beautiful legs.”

You are left mouth agape, internally appreciating that he didn’t say that out loud — after all being sexualized when you are trying to impose respect would require you to put a show and fire the man — but also makes you question if he was straight forward with you because of his work ethics or because he does not respect you as his superior. 

Not that you wouldn’t let him do disrespectful things to you, but still!

You’re taken to where the rest of the directors are, they’re easy to spot — a bunch of men in suits that clearly don’t belong to the place — surrounding a table with the blue prints. They greet you and you realize this is the first time you see all of them around a table and not sitting, poor guys must be dying for a room with AC right now.

It’s not like you belonged there either, with your tailor made beige suit that had a pencil skirt instead of the newly-discovered-necessary trousers and how-the-fuck-you-thought-that-was-a-good-idea high heels. But in your own defense you did visit a lot of construction sites when you first started at the company all those years ago and that’s much more than the white collar men in front of you can say.

The main architect starts to give you all an status of the project being interrupted by the senior engineer every few minutes, the last one clearly thinking he’s better than the first even though neither of them lifts a finger in this ground.

Your sight is drawn to the man that scolded you before, while the architect is pointing to something on top of the construction and everyone else is shielding their eyes from the sun to find it, you’re looking straight ahead to Toji who’s currently lifting an apparently very heavy sack of cement on his shoulder and taking it all across the site. God, he’s strong.

His handsome face shines with sweat, you’re sure the wife beater he has on also violates some OSHA code, but who would be crazy enough to report that? Not you for sure, the view is worth the OSHA fine.

Especially when he drops the sack with a grunt and uses the shirt to wipe his face, revealing a torso you’re sure Michelangelo would die to use as inspiration to sculpt into marble then having people saying ‘whoa that’s real art’. 

You wonder if someone would scream at you for touching that piece of art.

Unfortunately you don’t expect to get caught ogling by the subject himself. So the best thing you can do is find whatever the architect is pointing to and pretend to pay attention like you should have from the beginning instead of eye fucking one of your employees.

“Hey, boss” you hear on your way out of the site and back to your cozy office where you wouldn’t get your ankle broken that easily. You turn around and see Toji catwalking his way to you.

“Technically I'm out of the hazard zone, mr. Fushiguro” you justify your lack of a helmet which you ditched a few seconds ago.

“Toji” he corrects you, taking his own helmet off “and I’m not this uptight, unlike some people here today” he mutters the last part looking behind him to some of the directors that seemed to be looking for tiny errors on the project so they could fix it and justify being there.

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“I’m pretty sure you're being robbed.” 

“What?” you look around, “What do you mean?”

“You’re paying for double the stuff that’s actually being delivered” he took a sheet of folded paper out of his pants, you reach for it but he pulls it back, “I have proof and I can say names.”

“Did you say that to your field supervisor?”

“Please, who do ya think it’s signin’ under this?” he rolls his eyes.

“So you came to the CEO instead? You’re going behind some big backs here, sir.”

“Look, miss, I want a promotion, I know a lot of big shots will go down for this and I’m the only one capable of handling the people here. Besides I stand by what I said before, no one has the guts to do this so I’m taking a big risk and I deserve compensation” he hands back the paper and this time he let you take it. You stare into his deep green eyes suspiciously, the man has the looks of a fantasy villain with his sharp features and dark eyelashes, you're not entirely sure if you should believe him.

“Give your number to my assistant, we’ll schedule a meeting in the office, you tell me everything you know and I see what I can do about it.”

“In the office? Didn’t know you allowed commonores in your castle” he smirks.

“Only the pretty ones” you wink and his smile grows wider. 

“How long have you known about this?” Nanami questions.

“Not even 24 hours” you sit on your white couch signing for him to take the seat in front of you.

Your lawyer does that thing you find really hot where he unbuttons the coat of his five digit worth suit before sitting down. You admire Nanami’s elegance while he roams his eyes through the paper, he has a vest between the coat and the dress shirt. Navy blue suits him so well, matches his eyes. He makes you think every man should wear vests, but of course not every man can pull it off. Honestly, you find it hard to believe there's anything Nanami can’t pull off, but you haven't seen your lawyer without a suit… ever. 

Maybe he looks bad with a plain T-shirt? 

No way. 

Perhaps with an overall and cowboy hat? 

Mmm the image makes you wanna ride something. 

What about emo hair, eyeliner and a band tee? 

No, you can’t imagine Kento with emo hair, no chance he had a rebellious phase except if his parents wanted him to be a surgeon and he became the best lawyer in the city just to piss them off. 

“I’m glad you came to me first, but we’ll need to involve auditing and probably internal affairs. That’ll probably put the project on hold for some weeks, also I’ll need more evidence than this” he shook the one paper sheet that was merely a quotation of supplies even you could understand is way too much for a single building.

“I got the guy for that, say the word and Yuuta will arrange a meeting” you pointed to your assistant sitting outside.

“Tell me, dear” he put the sheet aside, taking that posture that intimidated you a bit, “A blue collar worker just saw your pretty self on the site and handed criminal evidence? Just like that?”

You open your mouth, thinking what to say that won’t sound like you are being taken advantage of, and failing.

“Oh darling” he says a bit too condescendingly for someone that technically works for you, “Thought I told you about being too naive” he leans on the couch, making himself comfortable like you’re about to have The Talk.

“Kento, is not like that” you cross your arms defensively, “He said he wants a promotion, how risky that would be?”

“Thought you would say that” he takes his phone and hands it to you, “So I did my own little research.”

“What’s this?” you find yourself looking at a picture of the man you met yesterday. 

Only now you could see tiny numbers behind him indicating his height and he held a plaque with his name. He looks way younger, still very handsome, you wonder how popular he used to be in his youth, with a face like that and the implication he was arrested was enough to make every girl’s bad-boy-dream come true.

“What was he accused of?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Not relevant, also sealed records” he breaks eye contact and that’s enough for you to understand he actually knows it and he did not get this information by any legal means.

“So what? The man got a bit of trouble with the law when he was young” you shrug, remembering even your ex husband had a little rich boy “criminal” file, if you can even call the dumb shit he did outta spite for his parents an actual crime.

“HR will find out about this, then you’re going to have to justify why you’re recommending a filled man for a managing position.”

“And I’ll tell them he actually found out about a theft scheme and whatever public-pissing crime he did will surely be overlooked.”

“Darling, you have to start thinking about your image, we’ve been through that before” he tilts his head.

“You don’t like my image?” you question playfully twirling your hair, Nanami smiles for a brief second.

“You know what I mean: your image towards the board, you barely made the votes necessary to be where you are today.”

Indeed, you owned the company and no one could take that away, but the CEO position needed to be voted and you only got the necessary votes because your ex-husband had the strongest voting rights and part of the divorce agreement was that he voted for you, so his, plus a few more other members of the board's votes and you made chief executive officer.

“Fine, then write a contract, he tells everything including testify if he has to in exchange of the supervisor position and I’ll pitch it to the board before any decisions are made” you uncross your arms raising from your seat.

Bringing the board into the conversation made you nervous, most of them don't like you and you’ve been trying to prove yourself for months. Even though you worked your ass off way before marrying the owner all they saw was a hurt ex-wife making pretend.

“Atta girl” Nanami raises too, buttoning his coat back and placing his hands on your tense shoulders. Nanami smells like what you think it should be every handsome lawyer's trademark scent, cause damn that smell would make you sign anything he gives you.

“Don’t worry much, you’re doing great” he presses a bit and you melt.

“Take me out to lunch?” you pout.

“I would love to” he lets go of your shoulder, “Unfortunately I have a hearing, but I'll be back for that meeting soon, okay?”

You sigh in defeat, getting even a few minutes of Nanami’s time for yourself is as hard as it can get, only a corruption scheme to get him to come to your office in such short notice.

“Ma’am” Yuuta says from the speakerphone, “Your ex-husband is calling” you groan, throwing your head back.

Of course he would want to interrupt your moment with Nanami.

“I can get you a restriction order” your lawyer offers jokily (or not).

Aside from being the company's lawyer, Nanami Kento was also your divorce attorney, which you managed to get only after agreeing to give him your company's account if he managed to land you the CEO position. Like everything in this merciless corporate world, it was give and take, you got what you wanted – not surprisingly so, afterall Nanami, even though is not a divorce specialist, is the best. Still, you like to think of him being more than another contractor of yours.

“I appreciate the offering” you smile tiredly, Nanami kisses your hand like the gentleman he is before leaving your office, “Yuuta, I’ll take him– it. I’ll take the call” you sit back behind your desk massaging your temple “Put him through.”

“Hello, beautiful” he greets over the speakerphone in that always so cheerful tone.

“Satoru, what do you want?”

“No chit-chat? It’s the least you could do for me after I gave you the company” entitled as always…

“You didn’t give it to me, you gave it up for the rest of your assets” you remind, already sick of this same discussion over and over.

When the divorce was officially on the table you told Kento exactly what you wanted: the company. The one thing you knew your ex husband would hate to lose, but also didn’t love as much as his lifestyle – which would be brutally affected if you decided to go for the 50% you were entitled to.

So through a carefully written agreement you accepted way less than you were owed in the form of full ownership of the respected construction company and title of chief executive officer.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. How have you been?”

“Fine. Just tell me what you want, I actually take this job seriously and have important things to do.”

Oh god, he would tease you so bad if he knew about the corruption scheme, and the worst part is that, eventually, he will know. Gojo has ears everywhere around here.

“Nanami” he says simply. You start to look around your office, wondering if he has cameras there.

“You… want… Nanami?”

“Yes, beautiful” he confirms slowly like he's talking to a kid that has just learned the alphabet.

“Why? You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, you can’t have him” you lean on your chair, denying Gojo gives you great satisfaction.

“It’s not for any bullshit reason, alright?”

“I don’t care, Satoru. Besides, I don’t own Kento, you can approach him anytime” you smile knowing he would never be able to do that without you.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” condescension drips from your phone and onto your desk, “He won’t represent me even if I run for president.”

“So you need legal representation? You’re not calling me from jail, are you Satoru?” you mirror his condescending tone, surely he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Thought you didn't care, or would you bail me out? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t have the money for that” he laughs, arguing was never a thing with him, he would mock you and find a way to make you doubt your accusations. Gaslighting is it? “I’ll give it a shot, just so you know, but this is a great opportunity for you to ask something in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Think about it, baby, I’m sure there's plenty of things I can do for you” his tone is lower, more seductive.

“Doubt it” you roll your eyes hearing his chuckle.

“Yeah? When was the last time you had–” 

You hang up.

Then sigh loudly and press the button to talk to Yuuta.

“Yes, ma’am?” you scrunch your nose, still not used to being called that, Nanami said you should let your sweet assistant call you ma'am or madam at least in front of others since you could use the recognition of your authority.

“Please put Geto on the line.”

“Certainly” you wait, stepping out of your heels and digging your toes on the fluff carpet under the table.

“Hi, doc” you salute your psychologist.

“Sugar, I told you there’s no need to address me like that, hurts my feelings” his honeyed voice is everything you need to hear in such stressful times.

“It does? Maybe you should see a therapist to talk about that, I have a great recommendation” you can’t help but smile like a little girl when talking to him, being playful is a way to cope with your harmless crush.

“Just great?”

“He’s the best, I can assure you” he laughs, “Do you have a few minutes?”

“For you, absolutely” your face warms up then you remember the subject of the call and cools down again.

“It’s Satoru.”

‘It’s always Satoru’ Geto thinks.

“He just called wanting something, I told him no and he made that same old joke about me not having money” you huffed.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Helpless? I don't know, he must think I’m poor now or something” which is ridiculous, you’re not nearly close to his patrimony as you used to when you were married but what you have is still fuckload more than what it takes to be considered poor.

“He’s trying to remind you of what you lost when you left him, this is just another manipulation technique, my love. Don’t let him get in your head” you need this as a mantra to hear every time your ex-husband calls, “Did he bring up sex this time?”

“No, but he was about to.”

“And what did you say?”

“Hanged up” you hear him snorting.

“Well, that can work on the phone, but what if you were talking face to face? What would you have done?”

Geto knows a lot about you. Obviously since you pay him to listen while you ramble and complain. Still, feels overwhelming having someone recalling your previous actions, especially the ones you're not exactly proud of.

“Tell him to shut up, throw a stapler on him, call security, threaten him with a restriction order.”

“Would you really?” Geto likes to take a joke you make and dig on that.

“Well, probably not the last two…” 

“Have you been looking up restriction orders?”

“No, that was a joke my lawyer made early. A restriction order would be too… bureaucratic? Also unnecessary, afterall Satoru he never physically hurt me or threatened to.”

“That would be a good way of making him leave you alone for a while since you're not able to fully detach from him” you sat up.

“That's not true! I’ve been doing everything by myself lately, don't even have time to think about him! I’m detached, doc.”

“Wanna know what I think you would have done if he made that sexual comment face to face with you?” you gulp and Geto takes your silence as consent to continue, “I think you would let him go forward with it.”

You make an offended sound but don't fight his statement, “And what would happen next?” he tones the question like a professor trying to make the class complete a sentence, you keep your head down and mouth shut, “You would’ve let him sweet talk you into sleeping with him again.”

“You don't know that” you murmur.

“It’s a pattern, love. This is how abusive husbands keep their wives from leaving them or even telling anyone about the abuse. They use sex to make them think how good it is to be with them despite everything else.”

“Satoru was not abusive.” you defend your ex-husband firmly, “And I already left him!” you defend yourself less firmly.

“And he still thinks he can have you back! You know why?”

“Because I’m a catch that he shouldn’t have cheated?” Geto stays quiet for a few seconds and you feel a lump in your throat forming. The comment was supposed to sound more like a joke but you're still too hurt for that , clearly.

“That as well, but you really think he regrets it?”

“He seemed pretty sorry in the divorce mediation” you murmur recalling his lost-puppy expression.

“The meeting where he signed a paper that would make him lose his company and his wife? Gee I wonder why” the little sarcastic remark made you smile and shake your head, your psychologist using sarcasm against you is quite funny, “My point is, if you really want to be independent from him you ‘gotta stop letting yourself be attracted back like a magnet” you let his words sink in hearing some papers being ruffled on his side.

“I’m giving you homework.”

“Oh no…”

“Find your sexuality by yourself, you can watch porn, masturbate or even better: have sex with someone. Anyone but Satoru, because right now that’s what he’s using to control you.”

“Geto, I don’t know about this. Porn is too gross, masturbation is too ineffective and sex is too…” you trail off.

“Vulnerable?” he completes.

“I guess…”

“It’s been a few months since you last slept with Satoru, right? What’re you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” you rub your face.

“You know what I mean” he's strict and you let out a long sigh.

“I feel frustrated, sometimes stressed and distracted” all caused by the men you have to deal with including the handsome psychologist putting some sense in you. Not exactly what you wanted him to put in, but oh well…

“Exactly, in your current state it’s only a matter of time until you end up on his bed. You gotta decide if you are willing to: find porn that is not gross, masturbate more effectively or let yourself relax and be vulnerable.”

Is easy to like Geto Suguru, he’s handsome, has a sweet voice, he listens without interrupting (manterrupting is a big no-no for this job thankfully). Though sometimes it’s easy to hate him too, you have to remember he's saying what you need to hear not what you want to, even if your ears could use some tickling from time to time.

“Still with me?” he asks after you remain quiet.

“Yes, doc” he says your name in a warning tone, “Sorry, Suguru.”

“All good for our appointment next week?”

“Hm” your thoughts go to the newly found out corruption scheme that will need your attention the following days, “I’ll ask Yuuta to confirm with your secretary alright?”

“Whatever works best for you, love.”

“Bye, Suguru.”

“Don’t forget your homework.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sakurasimppp @sad-darksoul — to be tagged in future works of this series please comment “@ me” in this post.

note: i’m not sure if tickle the ears is a known term worldwide but means “saying or suggesting things to please even if untrue”. also i have some big plans for kinktober so next chapter might take a little while to be posted, let me know your thoughts <3

© all content belongs to cursingtoji; do not repost!

[sc0tters]

Tied Up | Sidney Crosby

summary: when it’s the team end of season gala and you begin to run your mouth, Sidney is there to put you in your place.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v (unprotected), swearing, drinking, light mentions of bondage.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: just like normal the Sidney pieces are the ones where I can get carried away… no but frl I’ve been writing this one for the last few days and it makes me happy to see it out.

You seemed to want to cause trouble tonight.

It was the end of season team charity gala and you were in some pretty black dress that served as a perfect contract from the white stilettos that you wore on your feet.

If it was a post break up outfit it would have been fitting, your dress hugged your curves as it made your breasts look heavenly.

But it wasn’t because of a break up, no this was arguably worse. You and Sidney had been sleeping together for the last three months yet that abruptly ended after rumours came to twitter of him spending time with some model.

Now you usually weren’t one for jealousy, it was an emotion you tried to avoid. But here you were sending Sidney a message that was simple telling him that you were done.

Yet that was so much easier said than actually put to practice. The captain looked gorgeous tonight as he walked around in a suit that was tight enough to leave little to imagination.

Sidney hadn’t let his eyes leave you since he arrived. It was hard to ignore how gorgeous you looked as you were in a conversation with some of the players, laughing as you let your hand brush over Ryan’s arm.

The Canadian always thought you had an eye for that boy, it was how you let your camera linger on him even as you started sleeping with Sidney. As it felt like he was proving his point the captain watched as you made your way to the bar to get another drink “just go talk to her.” Jeff groaned as he had been swearing for the last few weeks that all would make sense if you and Sidney got together.

If only he knew right?

The captains cheeks turned a tinge of red locking eyes with you as you went back to your conversation with Evgeni “sort that shit out for the sakes of the team.” The fellow Canadian added before he placed his hand on Sidney’s back pushing him in your direction.

Sidney wondered what you and Evgeni were talking about as your eyes sparkled looking at the captain “speak of the devil.” You smirked flashing the older boy your signature grin.

It was a look that Sidney would have thought that he would have gotten used to by now, but even after knowing you for two years it still made him weak in the knees.

Evgeni seemed totally unaware of what went on between you two as he smiled “surprised you didn’t bring that girl cap.” His voice was teasing as he watched the older boy nod bringing his drink to his lips “not really her scene.” Sidney’s comment was only met with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

It irritated him how you could get under his skin so much easier when he was sexually frustrated “you got something to say?” The Canadian sent you a glare not realising that it only made you more amused.

You placed your now empty champagne flute on the table next to you “just think you’d need a bit of help to keep a girl satisfied.” Your comment made Evgeni snort before he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

This little spat had been going on between you and Sidney for weeks now so he wasn’t surprised when he carried on into tonight “you’re old Sid, most men your age start needing help from some little blue pills.” You shrugged twisting the metaphorical knife in deeper before the older man wrapped his hand around your arm pulling you to the exit.

Anyone who had seen it thought Sidney just didn’t want to argue with you in front of everyone else but of course he had other plans “don’t remember you telling me I needed any type of pill to satisfy you.” Sidney’s voice was harsh as he pushed you into the elevator.

Your lips turned upright “didn’t think I’d have to explain faking to you.” Sidney always made sure you finished in bed but you were continuing on in your act to piss him off.

His eyes stared at yours as your back hit the wall of the elevator “you think you were faking it?” The hockey player let out a laugh as he hit the number for his floor.

When you remained silent his fingers dug into your waist “all the dang time,” you spat only getting cut off as his lips were forced onto yours.

The kiss reminded you of why you enjoyed being with him but as you remained strong not letting his tongue into your mouth it got him frustrated “it’s cute, you thinking you’re all strong today.” Sidney mumbled placing a slap to your ass cheek and as you opened your mouth to argue it gave him the chance to slide his tongue in between your lips.

You two went like this for another minute or two until the elevator doors opened on the captains floor “c’mon.” Sidney locked his hand with yours as he pulled you out of the elevator making sure you followed him to his hotel room.

As he fished for his keycard you decided that you wanted to push his buttons so as innocently as you could you let your hand reach over to the front of his pants where you began to palm his cock through the suit fabric “you are playing with fire baby.” The captain warned sending you a glare.

You leaned onto your tippy toes as you didn’t let your hand drop from his pants “ever thought that it was what I wanted to do?” You asked pressing a kiss just below where his earlobe was.

Luckily for Sidney he was able to open the door before you could do anything else to piss him off “been wanting to get you out of this since I saw you.” Sidney confessed letting his fingers run over the straps of your dress.

His hands cupped your breasts in their journey to your ass “Sid,” you whined as his lips nipped dangerously close to your sweet spot on your neck.

Sidney smirked as he turned to face you “only good girls get rewarded.” He shook his head “others have to work for it,” his voice was serious as an idea formed in your head.

You dropped to your knees never letting your eyes leave his “sure you don’t need some viagra first?” You kept this smirk as you undid his belt “change of plans princess.” Sidney scoffed pulling you back to your feet.

It confused you as he spun you around so that you were facing away from him “need to fuck you like the naughty girl you are.” He explained pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Your panties grew wet “what are you waiting for then?” You asked letting out a gasp as you were pushed against the comforter on the bed.

Sidney let out a grunt as your dress fell over your ass “not even wearing any panties huh?” He ran his fingers over the curve of your ass before he slapped the arena of skin causing you to moan “didn’t look good with the dress.” You explained hearing the sound of his pants hitting the ground.

Your wetness glistened as he looked at your core “you been thinking about this today?” Sidney was painfully hard as he watched you turn your head to look at him “been thinking about getting a good fuck for weeks.” You confessed running your tongue over your lip “but then you found a new friend-“ the reminder of why you ended was sour on your tongue as you sent him a glare.

It made Sidney laugh “you think she mattered like you did?” The boy reached for your hands as he held them on your back “you are my fucking world.” He added using his belt to tie your hands together.

You grew alarmed as you felt his tie go over your eyes “I’m going to fuck you just the way I want to tonight.” Sidney leaned over to whisper that in your ear.

For the most part you two were fairly vanilla, besides for the fact that you enjoyed the occasional fuck in your office where he’d awkwardly sit under your table eating you out as you’d edit the pictures you worked on.

A whimper fell from your lips “please Sid,” you begged feeling his cock brush over your slit. He smiled hearing how needy you were “don’t think I need some pill for this?” Sidney asked dragging his cock over your clit teasing you “if you don’t hurry up then maybe?” Your giggle was short lived as he drove his cock into your core.

It was hot as you were practically trapped beneath him blind as your sense heightened “god you’re so tight.” Sidney grunted thrusting into you.

Your pussy wrapped around his cock giving him an extra sense of pleasure “don’t stop Sid.” You begged bringing your hips back to meet his.

Sidney snaked his hand down your stomach to rub your clit “don’t plan on it,” the sound of skin slapping echoed off of the walls making your skin sweaty.

His lips nipped at your neck finally reaching your sweet spot “god,” you cried as you tried to force your hands out of the belt constraint.

It only made the boys smirk increase “it’s just me princess.” He cooed locking his free hand in your hair as your moans were muffled by the comforter when your head drove deeper into it.

You honestly forgot about how irritated you were at him as his cock drove deeper into your pussy “oh shit!” You gasped trying to squeezed your thighs shut “not tonight princess.” Sidney shook his head as he moved his knee between your legs.

The headboard continued to hit the wall with each thrust the boy gave “you still think I should have had those pills tonight?” He asked clearly wanting that question to be rhetorical.

Moans were the only real coherent thing that came from your lips “no Sid,” you shook your head feeling it build up in your stomach “making me feel so full.” You cooed clenching your pussy around his throbbing cock.

Sidney grunted at the feeling “so why’d you say it to him huh?” He questioned you bringing his hand from your hair to your neck as he brought your torso up to his.

When you remained silent his hand squeezed around your neck “asked you a question princess.” He grumbled urging you to answer him “wanted to piss you off,” you whispered only knowing the side he was on by the sound of his breathing.

He smiled letting out a gasp as he was getting close to his high “and now you want to come don’t you?” Sidney pressed a kiss to your temple as your head dropped against his shoulder “please Sid.” You begged letting out a gasp as the tie dropped below your eyes “going to have to do better than that.” The hockey player grunted as your eyes locked with his.

You shook your head “please let me come.” You repeated your beg as your body began to shake. It was like you weren’t allowing yourself to come until he said so.

Sidney pressed a kiss on your shoulder letting his teeth sink into the soft skin “promise to behave?” He asked feeing light headed as his eyes fluttered.

He watched as you nodded “be your good little girl forever.” Sidney smirked hearing you say that “you can let it go baby.” His words caused your orgasm to hit you like a truck.

Eyes screwing shut as white specks lit up the backs of your eyelids “shit shit shit!” You cried out as the boy fucked you through your high.

If Sidney’s had wasn’t still around your throat you would have fallen flat onto the mattress “good girl,” his words rang through your ear as he shot his warm load into your pussy as he came shortly after you.

Once you two came back down to earth and the boy let his cock fall out of you your body shuddered “was I too rough tonight?” Sidney asked moving his hand down to undo the belt around your hands.

He massaged the area of skin as he realised that a bruise was going to form there tomorrow “it was hot,” your confession made him laugh.

The boy lay next to you as you looked up at him with a smile “I meant what I said,” Sidney ran his fingers through your hair “really?” Your furrowed your eyebrows watching as he kissed down your arm.

You were never going to get over how he made you feel so giddy inside “wanna to give you the world.” At this point it began to sound like he was talking to himself as he got up to readjust himself between your thighs.

A giggle left your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows “what are you doing?” You grinned watching him stare up at you from between your legs “showing you just how much I want you.” Sidney’s words were playful as his breath fanned at your core.

It didn’t take him long before he wrapped his lips around your clit “fuck Sid!” You groaned instantly wrapping your fingers in his curly locks of hair.

You were in for a long night of pleasure.

[mendeshoney]

apple of my eye, take a bite

A/N: surprise surprise! this is a part two to "a taste of the devine," with a special little halloween twist! to my lovelies, @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech happy halloween babes! the title is inspired by lyrics from the song “eve” by precious pepala

Summary: You and Andrei go to the team Halloween party at a club, and it takes Andrei down memory lane.

Pairing: andrei svechnikov x f!reader

Word Count: 5,120

Warnings: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics), smut, semi-public sex (in a club), hints of biting/hickies, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.

~

“I feel like this won’t make much sense,” Andrei quietly mumbles to himself, adjusting the ‘hat’ of his costume, his eyes casting to the side once he sees movement from inside the closet.

The sliding frosted glass door is closed, so he can only see your shadow as you move around, and he can feel himself start to get antsy.

You’d kept your part of the couples costume a shrouded secret from him, claiming you wanted to surprise him. 

As far as surprises go, he typically liked yours a lot, but given his current predicament, he found himself a little more anxious than normal.

He glances at himself in the vanity mirror in your shared bedroom, running a cursory hand over the fuzzy material of his Halloween costume, and frowning a little at his reflection.

“Kroshka, I don’t-” He starts, cutting himself off and turning back toward the closet when he hears the sliding door open. 

You finally emerge, body in an emerald green mini dress that you’d sewed fake vines onto so that they curled and twisted around your figure, enhancing your silhouette, vines trailing down your shoulder and around your arms until they rested delicately on your wrists. Those beautiful legs of yours donned a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly. 

You looked a lot more like that character that Evgeny used to tease him for having a crush on when they were kids, Poison Ivy, than you did the biblical Eve.

Sukin syn.

Andrei’s hard in seconds, heart pounding furiously as his stomach flutters.

Babochki, he thinks. Butterflies.

He laughs suddenly, feeling nervous out of the blue. 

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body a little so he can get a better view.

“I think there’s butterflies in my stomach,” he says honestly, the words coming out faster than he can process, but when you flush deeply, he feels a twinge of satisfaction. 

“You still have a way with words, don’t you?” You tease, trying to look anywhere else but him, and he knows that strategy.

Sometimes, when you’re not sure how to receive his compliments, you try to brush them off, but tonight’s not a night Andrei can let that fly.

He can feel his hands twitching at his sides, and his feet are moving towards you before he even realizes, that familiar gravitational pull too strong to resist.

“Ty vyglyadish' krasivo, lyubov' moya.” He murmurs. You look beautiful, my love.

You smile at his words, his hands coming to rest on your waist and pull you closer. “Spasibo, malysh.” You finally seem to take in his costume, and you giggle lightly. “You look so cute!”

He frowns, brows pinched together. “I’m glad you think so.”

You smile, giggling a little more. “Of course I think so.”

“Remind me again why I couldn’t just be ‘Adam’ for Halloween?” He asks, fingers playing with a fake vine on your shoulder.

“Because no one cares about Adam,” you remind him gently. “The story’s about Eve and the Apple. Adam’s just there.”

Andrei pouts a little, turning back toward the mirror and staring at the apple suit that covers his upper half, the red hat on his head with the apple’s stem and a little leaf, and the dark brown pants on his legs. “I guess so,” he laments, then turns his gaze back to you.

You know him so well at this point that when the corner of your mouth quirks up in a small smile, he isn’t even surprised, and just smiles right back at you. “Don’t worry, shchenok, everyone still thinks you’re sexy.”

“I don’t care about everyone,” he says without a second’s hesitation. “Just you.”

A small flush works its way up your neck and cheeks. “I still think you’re sexy, too.”

Andrei’s heart pounds then, that familiar disbelief that he was able to call someone like you the love of his life surfacing in his chest. He bends his head, pride surging through his veins when you accept his kiss. 

“We should probably go soon,” you murmur against his mouth.

Andrei hums, shrugging. “Or we could stay home. Have our own little Halloween party.”

“Not an option, I’m afraid.” You say, and pull yourself out of his arms to head back into the closet. He watches, completely entranced, as you pull on a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly, and he can feel himself start to tent in his pants. 

“Kroshka,” he tries again, the word nearly getting caught in his throat, “Are you sure we can’t just-”

You cut him off by standing, grabbing your small clutch and his car keys, tossing a curt “Let’s go, moye yabloko” over your shoulder as you head to the garage.

Andrei glances at himself in the mirror one last time, offering his reflection a long-suffering sigh, before grabbing his wallet and trailing after you.

~

His teammates don’t laugh as much as he expected, which he supposes is because out of all the costumes tonight, he looks the least ridiculous.

Jesperi, Teuvo, and Sebastian are dressed as Alvin and the Chipmunks - Jesperi was elected to be Theo against his will, Teuvo gladly accepted the role of Simon because it meant he was the smartest, which left Sebastian as Alvin, who claimed it was only fair since his last name began with an ‘A’ - Freddie, Anti, Jacob, and Brett dressed up as Michaelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, and Rafael from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Brent was dressed as Sully from Monsters Inc, and those were just the costumes he managed to figure out on his own.

There were far too many others for him to keep track of or understand and some were just a headache to look at, so he ended up focusing on the one thing he knew would keep his attention - the way your ass moved in your dress as you walked through club toward the VIP section they’d reserved for the team party.

The girls complimented you on your outfit and assured Andrei that he looked cute instead of silly, and it only made him feel marginally better.

He was still dressed as a giant apple for the night, after all, while his bombshell of a girlfriend looked like a walking fantasy.

After you’d said hello to everyone, the two of you ended up separated, the girls heading out to the dancefloor, some of the guys heading to the bar to grab drinks and snacks, and the rest settling into the VIP section.

Andrei plopped down between Jesperi and Freddie, removing his costume’s hat and putting it on the little table in their section, tuning out most of the conversation happening within the first ten minutes and instead finding himself focused on you and that beautiful dress out on the dance floor.

His eyes were glued to you as you danced, lost in the familiar way your hips moved and how carefree you were. Other people may have needed a little bit of alcohol in them to be so uninhibited, but you didn’t. You never had.

Watching you now, it reminds him of the first night he met you.

It had been earlier this year, when the guys had been having a particularly rough week of games, and they’d gone out to a club to relieve some stress.

You’d been there with some of your friends, and Andrei had been feeling a little bit too confident after a few drinks. He’d locked eyes with you barely ten minutes after he’d arrived and couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night, couldn’t seem to find the need to wander more than ten feet out of your orbit.

He finally found the courage to approach you after Martinook had all but threatened to send Freddie after you first, pushing off the bar and heading over to you. 

He tried the gentlemanly approach, introduced himself properly by taking your hand, and from that first touch there was this crazy electric wildfire of sexual tension that neither of you seemed to be able to deny. You didn’t seem disturbed by him being five years younger than you, and he couldn’t have cared any fucking less about you being twenty eight. 

He worried for maybe half a second about you not being able to understand him through his accent, but you had no problems with it, even beyond the blaring music of the club. Then, he offered to get you a drink or a bottle of water - whatever you wanted really, he didn’t care - before asking if you minded if he joined you for a dance.

One dance became two, then four, then six, and then the next thing he knew, you both had locked yourselves in a storage closet down the back hall of the club and he had you pinned against the wall, his jeans and boxer briefs around his thighs, your dress hiked up to your waist, thong pulled to the side, and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you had to bite down on the meaty flesh of his shoulder to keep from crying out too loudly. 

You’d fucked twice in that closet before you took him back to your place and fucked another two times. In the morning, you’d managed to contain yourselves in the shower, but Andrei lost all restraint and licked your pussy on your kitchen table until your throat grew hoarse and your legs shook so much your table started to squeak.

He managed to rein it in and take you on a date two days later, and then you invited him out for dinner another three days after that. After about ten dates without any sexual interactions at all, and about a month in total of you actually knowing each other, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, and you both celebrated when you said ‘yes’ to him by locking yourselves in at his place and fucking like bunnies for about two days.

Andrei had learned everything about what you liked in bed in that first month, and you’d learned everything about what he liked. 

You’d also learned enough about one another that Andrei was pretty sure he’d end up marrying you and having about five or seven kids within the next seven years, because there was no possible way he’d ever manage to find someone as brilliant as you ever again.

And at this point, you’d barely been dating a year. 

He’d say he was probably moving too fast in any other circumstance, but he was pretty sure you were on the same page.

He feels a nudge in his side, and Andrei glances over, momentarily shocked because he’d completely forgotten his friends were dressed in costumes, and the orange fabric around Freddie’s eyes nearly scared him shitless for a second. 

“You want another drink? The chipmunks lost a bet so they’re buying for the night.” Freddie says, gesturing to where Jesperi had gotten up and was now writing down orders on his phone. 

“Sure,” Andrei says. “I’ll take one.”

Jesperi points to where you are on the dance floor and asks Andrei “One for her too, right?”, and when Andrei nods, Jesperi gives him a thumbs up before stalking over to the bar.

He has a feeling it’s going to take Jesperi awhile to put in the drink orders for the whole section, so Andrei resumes watching you, reminiscing on the day you first met and chiming in on the conversations around him every now and again.

You finally wander over with the girls once the drinks arrive, and Andrei immediately opens his arms, feeling content when you settle into his embrace and onto his lap. He hands you your drink, careful to keep your hair out of your face when you take a sip.

There’s a sound of fake retching, and you and Andrei cut your eyes to where Jesperi’s making faces at the two of you. You roll your eyes, settling into Andrei a little more, and he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you to him.

“Jealous, KK?” One of the other girls asks, and Jesperi’s nose scrunches.

“Hardly.” He scoffs. “I’m basically watching my older sister make out with one of my best friends. It’s disturbing.”

Andrei feels you stiffen in his arms, but Jesperi’s already turning away, and Andrei squeezes you gently. “Zajka?”

You turn to Andrei, a slightly stunned expression on your face. “I…does he really think of me that way?” 

“What way?” Andrei asks, bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek. 

He can see the shock starting to settle in a little more. “Like an older sister?”

And though Andrei knows they’ve never really talked about it, because it’s not really a topic that would come up, he knows for certain the answer is yes. 

Especially after the way you looked after everyone during the beach trip this past summer, all Andrei heard for weeks during training camp and preseason was how much everyone missed your cooking, people asking how you were doing, and demands for him to bring you around more.

Since you’d barely been together for six months at that point, he didn’t push you about it at all because he didn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, even though he knew you liked everyone just fine. It was another thing he felt like would make it feel like this was going too fast, even though you’d probably be on the same page about this, too.

“I think a lot of them think that way.” He admits. “Pretty sure Freddie thinks of you as a younger sister. Burnsy too, to be honest.”

There’s a thoughtful look in your eyes now, and after a beat, you nod. “I didn’t know that.”

“Is that…is that okay?” He asks, slightly unsure. He doesn’t know that he’s seen you this…contemplative before.

You turn to Andrei, and give him that dazzling smile of yours he loves so much. “Of course it’s okay. Just took me by surprise a little.”

He nods, sitting up a little more so he can press a kiss to the base of your neck. “They love you as much as I do.”

Andrei’s surprised when his kiss makes you shiver a little, and he pulls back a bit, raising a brow at you.

You flush, suddenly bashful. “I just…” He raises a brow when you seem to be trying to find the words to say, and you gesture with your head towards the dancefloor. “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

Realization hits Andrei and he smiles, nodding. “It does, zajka.” 

A sly, cheshire smile works its way onto your lips, and Andrei feels his heart begin to pound in anticipation. “Let’s see just how well you can tempt me a second time, moye yabloko.” 

You’re downing the rest of your drink and getting up from his lap faster than he can blink, and then you’re heading back out to the dancefloor with the girls. 

As Andrei watches you walk away, he catches the wink you send him over your shoulder before you disappear into the crowd, and he smirks to himself. 

Da nachnetsya igra.

Let the games begin.

~ 

Drink in hand, Andrei makes his way through the crowd, his puffy apple costume coming in hand by parting the crowd a little as he moves - he even has the ridiculous hat on again - until he finally reaches where you are in the middle of the dance floor. 

He taps gently on your shoulder, and when you turn around, your eyes look up at him curiously, a small smile on your face.

Andrei leans down so you can hear him better, saying “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, and I thought I’d introduce myself and bring you a drink.”

It’s not exactly what he said that first night, but it’s close enough. So what if he skipped a few cheesy lines?

You lean back a little, staring at the drink in his hand before taking it with a small amount of hesitation. “Thank you,” you say back, leaning in like he had. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“I’m Andrei,” he says, holding his hand out.

You take it, shaking it once when you tell him your name in return.

The nostalgia has those butterflies resurfacing in his stomach, and he tries his best not to smile like a total idiot. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” You say, then smirk a little at his costume. “You know, I’m pretty sure I was warned to stay away from you.”

He laughs a little, stepping closer into your space. Bending down so he’s right next to your ear, he rests a hand on your waist and says “One bite won’t hurt.”

At your responding chuckle, Andrei feels goosebumps ignite on his arms. “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s different this time,” he promises. “It’s just us. And there’s no punishment.”

“Sounds a little too good to be true,” you say, pulling away a little and taking a sip of your drink, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

Andrei rights himself, shrugging. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He gestures with his head towards a hallway that he’d confirmed about ten minutes ago had both a storage closet as well as what looked like an unused office full of boxes, but still came equipped with a couch and a perfectly solid desk.

He makes his way toward the hall, waiting for all of five minutes before you appear in front of him, the glass your drink was in now empty save for the cherry stem he already knew had a knot in it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, taking careful steps toward him. 

He holds a hand out, pleased when you take it, and he leads you toward the end of the hall. The door to the storage closet is on the left, and the door to the empty office is on the right. He places you in front of him, his hands resting on your waist from behind.

“Pick a door, zajka.” He says softly. 

You hum a little, taking a step forward. You open the door on the right first, but there’s a small noise that leaves you, and Andrei’s confused when you don’t take a step inside. You open the door to the left, and the second you see the closet, you spin around, smiling wickedly at him before pulling him inside.

He flips you the second he crosses the threshold, shutting the door and locking it before pinning you against the wood, placing his arms on either side of your head. “Didn’t like the office?”

You shake your head, tilting your chin up, waiting. “Not the same.”

“I would’ve liked fucking you on the desk.” He admits, the image of it still fresh in his brain.

“You didn’t fuck me on a desk till I moved in with you.” You remind him.

He smirks. “Oh I remember,” he promises. “Hard to forget the time you made me come so hard I almost passed out.”

You shrug. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

He drops one of his hands from the door only to bring it up between you, running a finger down the side of your neck, to your collarbone, your chest, before teasing at the neckline of your dress. 

“If you rip this dress before you get me in your bed, moye yabloko, you’ll be sorry.” You warn, but even so, your back arches off the wall, pushing your chest into his touch.

Andrei smirks. He’s never been one to shy away from his punishments.

Instead, he trails his hand down your dress and to the hem, pushing it up your thighs until he can reach under it to bring his fingers to your core, pleased when he finds the fabric of your thong already soaked. 

“May I, moya koroleva?” He asks sweetly, eyes focused on where his hand lingers. 

You nod, breath hitching a little when he pulls your thong to the side and runs his finger between your folds. “I want it like the first time.”

Andrei blinks, eyes darting back up to your face. 

That first night was intense - and beautiful - but also not the kind of sex the two of you have most often. He likes to please you, likes taking his time warming you up or worshiping you the way he’s learned that you like best. Other than the occasional quickie, you two rarely ever just get straight to it.

“Can you take me like this? Right now?” He checks.

“I can,” you say. You reach forward, fingers finding one of the belt loops of his pants and pulling him forward. “Please, malysh. I don’t want to wait.”

His heart beats hard against his ribcage. 

It’s rare that you’re the one pleading for him, that you’re the one asking for it this way, and he can feel the way his breath starts to stutter as he tries to maintain his composure.

The second he nods in agreement, it’s a race to get inside of you.

In a hurry, the two of you work to unbutton and unzip his pants, shuffling them down his thighs along with his boxer briefs. His aching cock springs free, and before you can reach for him, he’s bending down to lift you up and pin you against the wall, helping to wrap your legs around his waist. 

He balances you in one arm as you press your weight into the wall, reaching down to line his cock up to your entrance. The second he can feel it catch, he presses in at the same time that you angle your hips downward, and he pushes until he’s seated all the way inside and his hips press yours against the wall.

You take a gasping breath, head lolling back as your eyes squeeze shut, arms flying to his shoulders and nails digging into the skin as your pussy grips him tightly. 

“Zajka?” He asks, worried. “Are you okay?” 

You nod, breathing harshly through your nose. “Move, malysh, spasibo. I need you.”

Andrei has a sudden feeling he’s going to have a hard time trying to remember to breathe if you keep talking.

Carefully, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock rests inside, and then he pushes back inside in one brutal stroke that seizes the breath from your lungs once more.

“Just like the first time,” he reminds you, before setting a rough and steady pace. 

Your moans fill the room in seconds, and Andrei doesn’t care anymore about who can hear you or who can’t. 

Especially when he knows you couldn’t care less about it either.

This time, you’re not at Freddie’s house and worried about making a good impression. 

You’re here, with him, pretending like it’s the first night you met all over again, except this time there’s less to be cautious of for both of you.

Although…

If you do want it like it’s the first time again…

“You can’t moan too loud, kroshka.” He says, pressing in closer to you as his strokes slow a little, dragging himself in and out of you with precision. “Don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you are when you’re dripping on my cock, do you?”

Recognition flashes in your eyes like a bright flame, and you capture your lip between your teeth, nodding obediently. 

“Need something to bite down on, my beautiful Eve?” He murmurs, gathering you up in his arms and pushing until he’s flush against you, tilting his head to expose his neck. “Do it, it’s okay.”

You wind your arms around his shoulder and lean forward, and when Andrei feels your lips on his neck, his whole body shivers, groaning at the way he can feel your teeth bite down before licking over the wound, then sucking a bruise into the skin.

That’s another thing the two of you don’t give a shit about anymore. 

Andrei’s all too proud to wear your marks like a badge of honor, so as you suck on his skin, feeling his pulse beneath your tongue, he knows you take notice of the way his cock drives deeper into you.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to manage a second round in this closet, too desperate to fill you up and then drag you home so he can do it over and over again.

When his hips stutter a little, you finally pull away from his neck, leaning back to examine your work, smiling proudly. “Such a pretty little thing, moye yabloko.”

Fuck.

It is just like the first night all over again.

Andrei remembers the dirty things you whispered to him then, too. He remembers how he’d never heard something so sultry, so sexy in his entire life. It somehow made him hornier, made him feel like he could go insane with how much it made him need you even more in that moment. 

It was like you knew exactly what to say and what to do to drive him insane, to make him feel like he would do anything to prove to you just how good he could be. 

“You’re the same good boy you were that first night, too,” You taunt again when he doesn’t respond, and a sharp hiss falls from his lips when you tug his hair harshly, prompting him to tilt his head up so he can look at you.

His knees nearly buckle, and he thrusts hard into you once in warning. 

“You can’t say things like that,” he breathes out, focusing on fucking into you in deep, hard strokes. 

“Why?” You breathe out, bringing your hands from his shoulders and tossing the hat of his costume off of his head before sinking your fingers into his hair. 

He shakes his head. Any other man might be embarrassed, but that’s never been a thing between the two of you, and especially not when you’re being intimate. 

“It makes me…u menya babochki.” Andrei admits, trying his best to stay focused. I get butterflies.

“Babochki?” You ask, tone just shy of a whine, slightly mocking him. “Do I give my pretty shchenok butterflies?”

He looks up when he feels your hand on his cheek, staring into your eyes, and he can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm just looking at you. You run your thumb over his lips as they part, resting the pad of it on his tongue before his cheeks hollow, sucking gently on the digit. 

You smirk, eyes rolling back in your head when Andrei gives a particularly hard thrust, causing your back to arch a little more and your body to press further against his. He can tell you’re getting closer, can read all your little tells. 

The way your chest starts to heave, how he can see your nipples starting to poke through the fabric of your dress, the way your body starts to go lax, thumb slipping from his mouth and hand moving to rest on his chest instead. 

“You gonna come for me?” You ask, tone somewhere between taunting and begging. 

Andrei nods furiously, welcoming the molten lava spreading across his spine as he finds solace inside of you. “Da, moya koroleva.”

“Gonna come inside of me?” This question is definitely a taunt. “Gonna fill up the pretty stranger the very first night?”

“I did it once,” he reminds you. “I’d do it again, but only for you.”

Your blinding, satisfied smile takes over your face and Andrei feels his heart fall to your feet in adoration. “Come with me,” he begs.

You nod, tilting your hips a little until he’s hitting that beautiful spot inside, and your eyes flutter shut, pussy squeezing tighter around him.

He loses all control after that, cock pounding into you in a frenzied, nearly manic pace, trying so hard to keep going for you while also chasing his own orgasm. 

When he feels you lock him in that familiar death grip, your come drenching his cock and making the slide oh so right, his eyes squeeze shut, and a loud, satisfied groan leaves his mouth as he throbs, spilling inside of you until he feels like he can’t breathe right.

For a moment, the two of you can only remain like that - you slumped and sated in Andrei’s arms and his hips pinning you to the wall. 

When he feels you begin to squirm, he carefully pulls out of you, then sets you back on your own two feet as gently as he can. He’s quick to locate a stack of paper towels behind him and grabs a few to help you clean up before pulling your thong back into place and tossing the paper towels into a trash can near the door.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, fussing with your dress.

Andrei nods, letting out a content sigh. “Beautiful as always. What about me?”

When you glance up at him, Andrei’s expecting the same, but then you blink, and a surprised laugh practically barks out of you. It startles him a little, and your hand is flying to cover your mouth, eyes glistening with delight.

“What?” He presses, starting to fuss with his own costume. “What is it?”

“Drei, how hard did you come?” You ask through fits of giggles.

“You said like the first night, so pretty hard.” He admits, unashamed. “Why?”

“You’re…you’re…” You can barely say it through your laughter. After a second, you take a deep breath, calming yourself, and then smile at him happily. “You’re as red as an apple.”

If he - apparently - wasn’t already red, he definitely would be by now. 

“How bad is it?” Andrei asks, rubbing at his face absently. 

You shrug. “No better and no worse than after a shift on the ice.”

He pouts, brows furrowing. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s normal,” you explain. “It might be tough to explain away when we say goodbye to everyone in a minute, but it’ll be alright.”

“We’re going home?” He asks, already excited. 

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a little. “Pretty sure that’s what we did the first night, too.”

He smirks, stepping closer to you and pulling you to him by your waist. “We did a lot of things that first night. And the next morning.”

Your own cheeks flush now, and you nod. “That we did.”

“Feel like a trip down memory lane, kroshka?” He murmurs, already leaning down.

You rise up on your tiptoes, lips brushing against his when you say “I think that sounds lovely, malysh,” before kissing him softly.

[strljaem]

“because it's fun watching you get flustered.”

adapted by ; “my demon” kdrama.

💿 : drunk in love, beyoncé ft. jay-z.

The fight between Jaemin and me had been brewing for days. Tension simmered beneath the surface, waiting to explode at the smallest provocation. It finally did, with a remark from him that was more biting than usual, igniting a storm of angry words between us. His usual cocky smirk faded as I shot back with just as much venom. But then I crossed a line—mentioning something that hit too close to home. Jaemin's eyes turned cold, his jaw clenched, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the apartment without another word.

The silence that followed was unbearable. The once lively and cozy apartment felt cavernous without him. The cluttered kitchen with his unfinished coffee cups and the living room where he liked to watch late-night dramas with me felt eerily empty. I tried to focus on work, meeting deadlines and attending meetings, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. His absence was a heavy weight on my chest.

Days passed without a single message or call. It was as if Jaemin had disappeared from my life. I knew he was likely at his company, but I had too much pride to reach out first. I kept telling myself that if he wanted to come back, he would. Yet, every evening, I found myself pacing the living room, glancing at my phone, hoping for a notification that never came.

After a particularly restless night, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to see him, even if it meant confronting him at his company. I spent extra time getting ready, picking out a tailored black blazer over a crisp white blouse. My skinny jeans hugged my legs, and I wore my favorite black stilettos to add a touch of authority. I was determined to maintain my composure and not let him see how much I was affected by his absence.

The drive to Jaemin's company felt longer than usual. I parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to the main lobby. The building was a towering structure of glass and steel, its modern design gleaming in the evening light. As I stepped out of the elevator, the sheer grandeur of the lobby struck me—white marble floors, high ceilings, and intricate light fixtures that cast a warm glow. A massive chandelier hung in the center, casting patterns of light across the room.

The receptionist recognized me and gave me a polite nod as I walked toward the private elevators leading to the executive offices. The hallway was dimly lit, with black walls contrasting sharply with the brightness of the lobby. It was almost eerie, and my heels echoed loudly as I made my way to Jaemin's office.

His office was behind a large glass door, and as I pushed it open, I was greeted by a room that was both grand and imposing. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a huge leather sofa sat beneath it. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with dark-colored volumes, and a grand piano sat in one corner. The atmosphere was heavy, almost oppressive, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Jaemin's CEO desk stood at the far end, a large nameplate reading "Na Jaemin" carved into a metal plaque. Despite the familiar setting, the room felt different—like something had changed. I walked slowly, taking in the scene. The silence was overwhelming, and I could almost hear my own heartbeat. As I approached the bookshelves, my fingers grazed along the spines of the books. Everything was meticulously arranged, each book perfectly aligned.

One book, in particular, caught my eye—a dark green volume that seemed slightly out of place. I reached to pull it from the shelf, but as I did, a hand pushed it back forcefully, making my heart jump. I turned, startled, and there was Jaemin, standing just inches away.

He looked different from the last time I'd seen him. His jet-black hair was wet, falling across his forehead, and he wore a blue cardigan with gray sweatpants. His chest was exposed, revealing his chiseled abs. His eyes had a dangerous glint, and he crossed his arms as he stared at me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and edged with annoyance.

I swallowed, trying to regain my composure. "I came to see why you haven't been home," I replied, attempting to sound confident despite the racing of my heart.

Jaemin's lips curled into a smirk. "I figured you needed some space to cool off," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You seemed pretty angry last time we talked."

"That's because you were being impossible," I shot back, my irritation rising. "You just left without a word!"

He shrugged, still maintaining that infuriating smirk. "Maybe I needed a break from the constant nagging," he retorted.

I felt my temper flare, but I kept it in check. "So, is this what you do when you need a break? Lock yourself in your office?" I gestured around the room, emphasizing the emptiness.

Jaemin's smirk widened. "It's quiet here. No one to bother me," he said, his tone teasing.

I crossed my arms, not willing to back down. "Well, it's time to stop hiding and come back home," I said firmly. "Or do you plan on staying here forever?"

Jaemin's eyes flickered with amusement. "Maybe I will," he said with a playful shrug. "I kind of like it here."

I was about to retort when I noticed the golden necklace around his neck—a demon face pendant that seemed almost out of place given his casual attire. It was a stark contrast to his otherwise relaxed look. Jaemin followed my gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Pervert," he said with a smirk, noticing I had been staring at his abs.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, but I quickly regained my composure. "Why do you have to make everything into a joke?" I shot back, my irritation showing.

Jaemin chuckled softly. "Because it's fun watching you get flustered," he replied, his voice smooth and teasing.

I took a step back, crossing my arms in defiance. "Fine, then stay here if you want," I said, turning to leave. "But don't expect me to come running after you again."

I reached for the door, but it was locked. I frowned and tried to turn the doorknob again, but it wouldn't budge. Jaemin leaned against the bookshelves, watching me with amusement.

"Why'd you lock the door?" I demanded, my frustration growing.

"Because I knew you'd try to leave without a proper conversation," he said, his tone almost playful.

I felt my anger boiling over. "Unlock it now," I insisted, my voice sharp. "Or I'll scream."

Jaemin laughed softly. "Scream all you want," he said, his eyes gleaming. "No one's here except us."

I was about to yell when Jaemin teleported in front of me, his hand wrapping around my waist and his other hand covering my mouth. The sudden closeness made my heart race, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. His eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the hint of golden light in them—a sign of his demon nature.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. "I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to hurt you."

His hand slid from my mouth to my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel his heart beating against my chest, and the intensity of his gaze was overwhelming. I stuttered, trying to keep my cool. "It's fine," I said softly. "Just... let me go. I'll wait for you at home."

Jaemin hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching mine. But then he released me, stepping back with a slight smile. "We'll see if I come back," he said, teasingly. "Don't get your hopes up."

I rolled my eyes and turned to unlock the door, feeling my cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. "Whatever," I muttered, opening the door and storming out. As I walked down the hallway, I could still feel his touch on my waist, and my heart was racing from the encounter.

The drive back home was filled with a mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite place. The way Jaemin had held me, the intensity of his gaze—it was different from the way he had been during our arguments. It was almost tender, yet still teasing in his own infuriating way.

When I arrived back at the apartment, I felt a surge of frustration. I had expected him to be contrite, to apologize and agree to come home, but he was as infuriatingly confident as ever. I wasn't sure if he was coming back, and that uncertainty gnawed at me. Despite my anger, I knew that if he showed up at the door, I wouldn't be able to turn him away.

But Jaemin was unpredictable, and I wasn't sure what he would do next. Would he stay at his company, enjoying the solitude and quiet, or would he come back to our shared home, ready to make amends? As I sat in the empty apartment, waiting, I knew one thing for sure—Jaemin had a way of keeping me on edge, and I hated that I couldn't seem to stay angry at him for long.

[writingwithina]

I Miss You I'm Sorry

Pairing- Charles leclerc x reader

Content- Angst

Word Count- 1462 words

Author's Note: Hello lovely people! This is the first ever fan fiction that I've written. I would love it if you could give it a read and let me know what you thought of it.

Read part two here

It had been fate that they had actually met. Lewis had begged her to come clubbing with him and his colleagues before they had to leave for the Australian Grand Prix. Y/n had no interest in going to a club and sitting amongst a pool of sweaty bodies and the stench of alcohol. But she could not resist Lewis' manipulative attempts at trying to get her out of finishing her marketing assignment. That was the thing about someone who knew you ever since you were a baby. They knew exactly which strings to pull to get you to give into their demands. So there Y/n was in a black dress and black stilettos, sipping on a margarita and chatting with Lewis.

"I want you to meet someone", Lewis said with a bright glint in his eyes. Y/n knew this meant only one thing- trouble.

" The last time you asked me to meet someone, it ended with me in bed with a guy who loved to recite the American Constitution while having sex. "

" Oh, yeah that was a mistake on my part. But I promise I know this person personally. And I've a feeling you guys are gonna get along really well. Just give him a chance. "

Y/n was sceptical but decided to give it a chance. What's the worst that could happen?

Lewis beckoned someone over his shoulder. Y/n couldn't make out the silhouette of the person who had come over.

" Hi! I'm Charles", the person said. As he came closer Y/n could make out the outline of his blush pink lips and his dimpled cheeks. A faint pink crept up on his cheeks as they held eye contact. As cliche and cheesy as it sounds, Y/n felt the world around her stop. It was as if they were the only two people there.

Their relationship just blossomed from there on. It didn't feel real , how easy their relationship was and how much they enjoyed each other's presence. It was as if they both had found the piece in their lives they didn't even know was missing. They were each other's haven.

"Do you think we will ever get married? ", Charles had asked Y/n out of the blue one day. They were on a vacation to Ibiza. It was late in the evening and they were cuddling on the balcony of their hotel room.

" Do you want to get married? " Y/n questioned nervously. They hadn't talked about marriage before but a blissful feeling washed over her at the thought of them being married.

" Yeah… I want to marry you but in a year maybe. We are both busy with our careers right now. I want to give you your dream wedding and it wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to marry me when I know I won't be fully there for you."

Y/n couldn't believe that Charles really wanted to marry her. They had been together for a year at this point so talking about marriage was a logical step in the relationship. Still it was surprising that Charles loved her enough to want to marry her and spend the rest of their lives together.

Everyone talks about the beautiful parts of a relationship but nobody teaches you about the ugly ones. No one prepares you for the screaming matches in the middle of the night. No one prepares you for the distance that arises suddenly. It is funny how one moment Y/n and Charles were so in love and the other, they were fighting because Charles loaded the dishwasher wrong.

Neither of them knew how to deal with this, how to deal with the fights, the distance, the separation. It became exhausting for them to love one another. The love which once felt like freedom, like waking up on a Sunday morning and realising you have no school now felt like a cage, a restriction. Neither Charles nor Y/n knew how their relationship took a turn for the worse and they didn't understand how to tackle the problems. The dreams of marriage and kids and a white picket fence house seemed so far away now.

It was Charles' idea to take a break. " We are draining each other. Maybe a break would do us good " were his words. Y/n didn't question it because she knew a break would be beneficial for them. She thought that they would get back together after two-three months. Little did she know just how wrong she was.

Charles took the "break" better than Y/n. Where Y/n's days were wrapped with grief and pain of losing her partner, Charles was seen out partying and going on vacations with his friends. Y/n wondered whether Charles had felt any sadness after the break. She wondered if he too found himself reaching for her every morning or calling her name as soon as he came home only to realise she wasn't there. Because she did. She found Charles in everything she did. She missed him dearly. She missed how she forgot everything as soon as Charles had his arms around her. She missed the feeling of his kisses. She missed seeing him the first thing in the morning and the last one before she slept. She hadn't realised just how much their lives had been entwined until Charles left. But she told herself that it won't be long before they resolve their issues and get back together. Everyday she would tell herself, just a few more days and then everything will be fine.

They didn't see each other until November. The racing season was over and Lewis decided to throw a party to celebrate a great season. Y/n hadn't planned on coming but Lewis begged her and she couldn't resist him. She didn't know how she would face Charles. What would she say? It had been 6 months since they decided to take a break and he hadn't reached out to her even once. While a part of her was angry and bitter, another part of her was excited to see her love again. Maybe today they will talk at length and rekindle their relationship. Y/n arrived at the party with a racing heart and hopeful mind. She greeted the other drivers and looked for Charles. Everyone around her was apprehensive about talking about Charles to her. She felt they were hiding something from her.

Charles arrived a while later. He was talking to Pierre at the bar when Y/n spotted him. She approached him with a soft smile. She felt uneasy by the way Charles' smile dropped and instead a look of trepidation fell over his face as he saw her. As soon as she opened her mouth to say something, a brunette approached Charles.

" Mon amour where did you disappear? I have been searching for you", the brunette said to him as she softly kissed him.

Y/n left without saying anything. She felt embarrassed and stupid and angry. She sat on the swing in Lewis' garden with tears streaming down her face. It became clear to her why Charles hadn't tried to contact her.

Charles came running outside. He didn't say anything as he sat on the swing beside her.

"How long? " Y/n questioned him.

" Three months. "

" Does she make you happy? "

" Y/n, I - I was going to tell you, I just didn't know how, I-I never intended for you to find out this way. I'm so-"

"Just answer the question Charles. "

Charles took a deep breath and then whispered a quiet "yes".

Y/n wiped her tears and nodded her head. She knew she had to leave. She couldn't be near him. She stood up, wiped her hands on her dress and said, " I really loved you, you know? Even during the fights, on the days where we wouldn't speak to each other, I loved you. I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy Charles. I really am. I hope you find happiness and love in her that you couldn't in me. "

Y/n didn't wait to hear what Charles had to say. She just left. She knew it would take some time to get over him, to get over the love she once had. But she will learn to live her life without him. She will try her best to forget the eyes that became her home. She will discard the memories they shared and she will try to forget the way his voice felt when it said her name. She will grow and she will hope to find someone who loves her unconditionally. But most importantly she hopes that Charles will realise what he lost before it's too late.

[bardic-tales]

OC-tober: Day Five: Re-Designed OC

Bianca Moore is a character that had the most change in terms of character development and character design. As she is the oldest OC I have, she changed as I matured in both age and talent. It's interesting to see how I changed as an author, too.

When she was originally created, Bianca was a human who was born on Gaia, the world of Final Fantasy 7. She was the daughter of a Shinra scientist, so she was born into the company and naturally followed in her mother's footsteps; her father, absent from her life. She would see the corruption, try to support Sephiroth through his experiments, and mourn for Gaia after the events of the Nibelheim Incident. Her design was blonde hair, blue eyes, and a white lab coat.

Now, Bianca is a fallen angel and the daughter of Asmodeus and Seraphine. She was born to be a living weapon: to end the Omniverse and rebuild it back into something better. This is a destiny her father often exploits, as he sees the End of the World prophecy, and one where Bianca ultimately rejects. Her mother would sacrifice herself to send Bianca into the future and womb of Seraphine's most faithful, Sarah. She spent her entire life thinking she was human until her father brutally attacks her to awaken both her demonic and celestial blood. She was on the run from a cult devoted to her father, has been sent to feudal Japan by her first husband to protect her from Asmodeus, and arrived on Gaia wounded via a cosmic portal when Sephiroth learned his origins.

After she is brutally experimented on, her dna altered with Jenova and S-cells which slumbered her angelic blood, and made an arduous trip from Nibelheim to North Crater with the help of Sephiroth through an Sephiroth clone called SC X, she appointed herself as a 'High Priestess of Jenova' in the crater and devotes herself to the downfall of the species who has always tortured her (humans) and helping Sephiroth realize his goal as being a god. She is bonded with him through a string that always connected them.

As for character design changes, she has blonde hair, blonde hair, and gold eyes in her angelic form. She has stiletto nails, fangs for her canines and molars, and a prehensile tongue. She will often wear white kimonos with black embroidery in Feudal Japan.

Once she falls from Grace, her appearance shifts once again. Her hair turns brown with purple highlights to it, indigo eyes, and black wings infused with indigo, to symbolize her infusion with Jenova cells. She wears smoky eyeshadow and black eyeliner with shimmery pink lip gloss.

She has a battle and every day attire. For her battle attire, she wears a shiny black trench coat, biker's vest, finger-less gloves, leather trousers, lace-up knee-high combat boots. Because she cannot use her angelic greatsword anymore due to falling from Grace, she will use a demonic tachi called Noctemaris. This is her father's sword that caused her injury before she came to Gaia. She pulls the blade part of the tachi from the dimension between space and time. Her color scheme is dark: blacks and dark grays.

For her every day attire, she typically wears a trench coat, soft sweaters, slacks, and fur-lined boots. She likes to pair this with mirrored sunglasses and gloves and mittens. Her color palette is white to light beige here. For both attires, she always wears a white ribbon. This ribbon is a gift that her love interest gave her right before the madness took him.

[danika-redgrave124]

Umbra Witch Yuu Umbran Elegance (Staff)

Dire Crowley

Fragrance: Nocturnal Flight

Assigned Weapon: Raven's Requiem

Scent Profile: A mysterious and alluring blend of night-blooming jasmine, dark musk, and a hint of earthy patchouli, capturing the enigmatic and shadowy nature of the raven.

Bottle Design: The bottle is shaped like a raven in mid-flight, with the glass tinted in a gradient of deep black to smoky gray. The raven’s wings form the elegant curves of the bottle, with the cap resembling a raven’s head.

Costume: Shadowfeather Ensemble

Overall Look: A sleek and enigmatic outfit inspired by the mystique of ravens. The ensemble features a form-fitting, black suit with feather-like patterns that shimmer in the light, creating an otherworldly effect. The suit is adorned with subtle raven motifs, and the cape flows like a cascade of dark feathers.

Accessories: A raven-feathered collar that rises around Yuu's neck, talon-like gloves with intricate feather details, and a feathered headpiece that adds to her mysterious presence.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a sleek, high ponytail with black feathers woven throughout, giving it a sharp, avian edge.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, wisps of shadowy feathers trail behind her, and when they attacks, the pistols release dark, feathered projectiles that dissolve into flocks of spectral crows. The crows’ cries echo faintly, enhancing the eerie atmosphere.

Divus Crewel (Cruella De Vil)

Fragrance: Fierce Glamour

Assigned Weapon: Couture Chic

Scent Profile: A bold and luxurious fragrance that blends rich leather, smoky vetiver, and a hint of spicy pepper, embodying the audacious and fashionable spirit of Cruella De Vil.

Bottle Design: The bottle is sleek and elongated, resembling a designer perfume bottle with black and white stripes. The cap is adorned with a faux fur detail, giving it an extravagant, high-fashion feel.

Costume: Dalmatian Diva Ensemble

Overall Look: A striking and avant-garde outfit inspired by Cruella De Vil’s iconic black-and-white aesthetic. The ensemble features a form-fitting black dress with white, fur-trimmed accents and Dalmatian spots integrated into the design. The look is completed with a dramatic, asymmetrical coat that flows behind Bayonetta as she moves.

Accessories: Elegant black gloves with faux fur cuffs, a statement choker with a large gemstone, and thigh-high boots with Dalmatian spot patterns.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a bold, half-black, half-white look, with an exaggerated, voluminous wave that adds to the outfit’s dramatic flair.

Special Effects: Each time Yuu attacks, the whips emit stylish, shimmering energy slashes that leave behind trails of sparkling light, adding a touch of high-fashion elegance to every strike.

Fragrance: Midnight Schemes

Assigned Weapon: Wicked Stilettoos

Scent Profile: A sophisticated and intoxicating blend of black rose, smoky sandalwood, and a hint of bitter almond, embodying the elegant yet sinister aura of Lady Tremaine.

Bottle Design: The bottle is a sleek, dark glass with intricate silver filigree and a stiletto heel-shaped cap, exuding a sense of refined malevolence.

Costume: Shadowed Aristocrat Ensemble

Overall Look: A regal yet ominous outfit inspired by Lady Tremaine’s aristocratic style. The ensemble features a high-collared, floor-length gown in deep shades of black and midnight blue, with sharp, angular lines that emphasize Bayonetta’s silhouette. The gown is adorned with subtle, shimmering details that resemble dark magic weaving through the fabric.

Accessories: Black, lace gloves, a jeweled brooch shaped like a stiletto heel, and a delicate, veiled headpiece that adds an air of mystery and authority.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a sleek, elegant updo, with strands of hair woven into intricate patterns that mimic the gown’s dark enchantments.

Special Effects: With each strike, the Wicked Stilettoos leave behind a trail of dark energy that lingers in the air, adding an ominous glow to the battlefield. The enemies caught in this energy are more susceptible to the enchantments, ensuring they turn on each other.

Fragrance: Wild Valor

Assigned Weapon: Hunting Crossbow

Scent Profile: A bold and invigorating blend of forest pine, smoky cedarwood, and a hint of spicy clove, capturing the essence of the wild and untamed spirit of a hunter.

Bottle Design: The bottle is designed to resemble a rugged, outdoor flask, with a wooden texture and antler-shaped stopper, giving it a rugged, adventurous feel.

Costume: Grand Huntsman Ensemble

Overall Look: A striking outfit inspired by Gaston’s grandiose style, featuring a muscular, armored look combined with rugged, hunting gear. The ensemble includes a fitted vest with elaborate leather detailing, reinforced with metal plating for a tough appearance. The design incorporates elements such as fur accents and hunting trophies, creating a bold and imposing silhouette.

Accessories: A broad, leather belt with utility pouches, fingerless gloves, and sturdy, high-top boots with reinforced soles.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in a strong, confident manner, a high ponytail, emphasizing her readiness for action and adventure.

Special Effects: Each time Yuu fires the crossbow, the explosive bolts create a dramatic visual effect of blazing trails and impact bursts, highlighting the power of the weapon. The shockwaves from the explosions ripple across the battlefield, adding to the sense of overwhelming force.

Fragrance: Voodoo Enigma

Assigned Weapon: Shadowed Voodoo

Scent Profile: A mysterious blend of dark musk, smoky incense, and a hint of exotic spices, capturing the essence of voodoo magic and dark rituals.

Bottle Design: The bottle is shaped like a mystical totem, adorned with voodoo symbols and dark crystal accents. Its surface has a shimmering, shadowy appearance that reflects the dark magic of the weapon.

Costume: Arcane Sorcerer Ensemble

Overall Look: A captivating outfit inspired by Dr. Facilier’s theatrical and mystical style. The ensemble features a long, flowing coat with intricate voodoo patterns and a dramatic high collar. The coat is complemented by dark, elegant trousers and a waistcoat adorned with occult symbols.

Accessories: A wide-brimmed hat with a voodoo mask motif, a pair of dark gloves with magical sigils, and a cane with a glowing, enchanted orb.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in an elegant, sweeping manner, possibly with dark, mystical accents or accessories that enhance the magical theme.

Special Effects: As Yuu wields the Shadowed Voodoo, shadowy tendrils of dark energy swirl around them, and mystical hexes appear in the air. Enemies affected by the shadowy spirits have a visible curse mark, emphasizing the power of the weapon.

[metamorphosisff]

|Chapter 13| Goodnight Gotham

(Authors Note: For an amplified reading experience, listen to the songs mentioned here. Enjoy 🧡)

“Oh we about to turn it.”

Standing in front of me is Jazz alongside another one of her other honorary daughters who went by Chanel. Together these two had made Mari and I seem like we had always been a part of the House of Illusion. There were seven of us in total dressed impeccably waiting for our turn to enter the raucous ballroom down the hallway, live with colorful commentary, and beat pumping music. Tonight the theme the houses were competing over was intergalactic odyssey. We had been made up to look like sirens from outer space, with our glittery makeup, and tight aquamarine spandex outfits that left very little to the imagination.The reflective sequins sewed on gave off the effects of us having gills. On our skin were tribal markings similar to those from the movie Avatar. Chanel was a trained makeup artist who worked on movie sets all over the city. It took her less than an hour to get us ready. The look while far fetched and last minute were stunning on us both. Though I promised Mari a spectators view, I can tell she was excited to be pulled into the chaos of Jazz’s world, and so was I even though I was scared shitless. 

This was not what Jazz had initially told me to expect. I should have known something was up when Jazz told me to leave my hair in braids because she had an idea. Currently my braids were intertwined with a mix of blue and green tinsel, styled in a crown that glimmered underneath the lights from every angle, adorned with gold cuffs and pearls. Mari’s curly mane had been wrangled into a fishtail braid using the same materials. The style showcased her cat like eyes and siren lips in a way normally hidden by her hair. 

“Wow,” I breathed out, not believing the reflection I was looking at was my own. “You made me look so beautiful, thank you Chanel.”

“No honey, that was God. All I did was embellish here and there,” Chanel said with a wink. 

“I’d pay you to embellish me everyday if I could. I look good enough to eat,” Mari cracked, phone already in hand, snapping a million pictures. 

Neither of us got to have much fun, Mari even less than me, and watching her get excited helped my nerves some. 

“I know that’s right. Keep that attitude when we hit that floor. Ma’ I’ma go check on the boys,” Chanel said, grabbing her kit to go to the room next door.

“Thank you boo, We’re meeting in that hall in five minutes. Don’t want to hear nothing from Lionell about us being late,” Jazz said, as she brushed at imaginary flyaways with her hands. 

Jazz looked otherworldly in the silver sequined bodysuit that had flounce sleeves that were cut in the style the seventies were known for. A forty inch platinum blonde wig waved down her back, the tips dyed in the same sea green color as the tinsel weaved in our hair. Her makeup was flawless, eyes bejeweled by hundreds of rhinestones while her cheeks were carved out of metallic silver. Pointy stiletto nails dipped in the same metallic shade could poke an eye out but she wielded them carefully and strategically as she delegated tasks to get us floor ready.There were also the pair of jewel encrusted six inch heel less platform boots that went mid thigh she had to put on. She was a vision, an all knowing force, and carried herself as such. 

“How do you do this all of the time?” I asked in awe.

“When I was younger, the answer to that question would have been drugs,” Jazz cracked, as she turned away from the vanity mirror to look at me. “But now, it’s love. I love ballroom, the culture, the people, and my family. These kids come from all walks of life abandoned and found fellowship under my roof. It keeps me going.”

That’s exactly who we were. Abandoned kids forced into adulthood before we were ready. Being around Jazz’s house felt like what a home should be: warm and inviting. 

Leaning forward, I grab her hand, and give it a squeeze. “Thank you for being you to me even when I didn’t deserve it. You mean the world to me and I’m honored to be considered one of your daughters. I’ve missed having a mom.”

Jazz lips tremble as she tries to offer a watery smile. “Chile, don’t get me to crying this close to showtime. Damn you Birdie.”

I chuckle softly before saying, “I love you too Jazz.”

“Aww, now I’m crying. Que linda,” Mari sniffles, snapping pictures of Jazz and I.

Jazz gives my hand one last squeeze before slipping her hand away in order to clap two times. “There will be none of that. Chanel will kick all of our asses if these beats get undone by water works and if you think I’m scary, you have seen nothing yet.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mari says, quickly reaching for a napkin to pat against her face.

“Now, we only have a few minutes. Let’s practice your walks.”

And like that, we are back into the whirlwind of the ball. In literally three minutes, Jazz choreographs a walk for each of us respectively. Whispering in both of our ears what our motivations should be and loudly declaring to keep it to ourselves until after we handle business lest we get confused. 

Worthy. You are worthy, Birdie. To be in this building, to be in that room, to be in this world. Show them bitches the respect you demand with that crown. 

I let Jazz’s voice play in my head on a loop as we lined up in the hallway. As we pumped our way through the crowd that parted like the red sea at the sight of Jazz leading us. A mix of Beyoncé’s Alien Superstar played at deafening levels as we reached the center of the room. As soon as the first verse dropped we each hit our individual marks. The boys: Danté and Kevion began tumbling, landing into dips before launching into new school voguing choreography in tandem with Chanel and Ruby. Jazz was serving face in the center of the floor, commanding attention while Mari and I weaved through what Jazz had called an alien invasion. The lyrics pulsed through me as I swayed my hips, letting my hands rove over my body making sure to highlight my waist like Jazz said I should. We met on either side of Jazz right on time for the last dips of the piece. While the dancers hit the ground, Mari and I dropped low, holding onto Jazz’s legs dramatically, an act of deference to the house mother.

When I came back to myself it was to see that we have garnered three 10’s  and one 9 as scores from the judges. I am so amazed that Mari has to tug me back into action as we walk off of the floor so the remaining houses could walk. I remain in this daze when we go up for second prize, collecting a trophy that would be added to the House of Illusions trove for the night. Chanel wins first place in Femme Queen, Jazz wins first in Femme Queen Face ,Ruby wins first in Female Figure, Kevion wins second in Old Way versus New Way, and Danté wins second in Male Sex Siren. There is cause to celebrate which we do as the ball turns into a full fledged party once the categories wrap up.

I’ve never felt as free as I do amongst my friends, old and new. I am happy I get to call them family and hope that with time I earn the right to do so without Jazz’s influence. In the interim, I imbibe drinks, and dance with them like it’s something we have all done hundreds of times before. The magic of ballroom is the community because it builds you up in a way where you can stand alone but you don’t have to. The House of Illusion has instilled in me the confidence to go after everything I want. To reach out and grab anything I claim as mine because the world is for the taking.  A power that might slip away with the first highlights of dawn. I have to capitalize on it while it lingers in my bones. Pulling out my phone I sent a quick text: I want to see you.

It vibrates with a response instantaneously. 

I want to see you more. Your place or mine?

From the moment I walked through the door, Xavier encircled his arms around me, bringing me close. He smells like a hint of smoke, alcohol, and cologne as he’s just come in not too long before me after hanging with his friends. I want to nuzzle my face into his neck but refrain due to my makeup and all of the glitter I am doused in. Instead, I place my hands on top of his and sink further into his embrace. 

“Think I need you to save this lil outfit for when I take you and Papi to Comic Con,” he said, pressing a kiss onto my neck.

I giggled as I turned in his arms to face him. “I’m not even a real character. This is Jazz’s creation.”

“Don’t matter,” he said, pressing another kiss to my lips. “Remind me to thank her, you look good as hell.”

“Thank you. Help me get out of it?” I ask, smiling up at him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, before hoisting me into his arms. I squeal as he playfully tosses me over his shoulder and leads the way to the bathroom. He hits the lights and turns on the shower before setting me on the counter. “You are shining.”

“I know,” I groan. “They covered me from head to toe with something called Diamond Bomb by Rihanna.”

“Nah, I’m not talking about that. Your eyes, your smile, hell your energy is transcendent,” he says, causing my cheeks to heat up.

“You're always saying things to me that I have no idea how to respond to,” I say softly, meeting his gaze.

Always affirming.

Always recognizing.

Always present.

Stepping closer, he invades the space between my legs as leans down so that his nose can tease mine. “Is that a bad thing?” he asks.

“No,” I answer quickly, leaning forward when he places his hands on my hips. The warmth from his palms radiating outward. 

“Sometimes it’s okay to just say thank you babe,” he says, lips hovering over mine. “Or smile at me the way you do that makes your eyes disappear.”

I laugh and he absorbs the sound with a kiss. My hands fly to his torso as our kiss goes from innocent to urgent. In a flash my fingers are under his shirt and helping to lift it from his shoulders. Next to go is the bralette I’m wearing. We undress each other with a franticness that can only belong to new lovers. His touch is gentle and appreciative when I’m fully bare before him. 

“Look at me,” he says, pulling back from our kiss. 

My eyes flutter open at the command and meet his heady stare. Gone is the Xavier who bides his time. This version of him knows the best use of the seconds that drag by. In his eyes I see his desire for me unravel and marvel in it. All the while he trails his thumb over my bottom lip, swiping side to side, until he slips it into my mouth. Instinctively I suckled it causing him to groan before pulling me into another searing kiss. 

I widen my legs further as I scoot to the edge of the counter. “I need you,” I breathe against his lips. My hands are roving against the sides of his torso, ghosting over hard, well defined planes of muscles.

“Okay,” he says, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on. “Okay.”

Reaching down, I watch as he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and grabs a condom. He smirks as he catches my eye. I motion for him to come fill the space between my thighs once more which he doesn’t hesitate to do. He licks into a kiss the same time his fingers push inside of me. My lips tear away but that doesn’t stop him from covering me in equally as hungry kisses starting down the column of my throat as my head tilts back. He kisses me on the hum of my pulse, biting down gently as his thumb finds my clit.

My nails are digging into his biceps but he doesn’t let that deter him from working me into a fast orgasm. One that preps me for him pushing himself in so deeply that my breath is caught in my chest. Instinctively, my hips roll forward meeting his thrust. 

“Shit,” I curse, releasing his biceps so that I can slam my hands against the counter. 

“Talk to me, this shit feeling good to you? Huh?” he questions, yanking on braids so that my eyes pop open. 

“So good Xay, please, just like this,” I moan, as he steadily strokes me to what I’m sure will be the best orgasm of my life. 

He dips his head so that he can capture a nipple in his mouth. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh and I arch into it and the oncoming stroke in a way that makes us both groan out. A hand holds the back of his head close, lovingly, as he laps at my other nipple. All while feeding me steady strokes that don’t ease up in pressure or frequency. Thanks to the gym Xavier’s stamina is out of this world. Our bodies move in a tandem dance, working with each other to bring us both pleasure. Regardless of the steam filling the air, I’m warm all over because of him.

It’s the way he folds against me, whispering things that would make a nun blush in my ear while holding my legs straight up. The position leaves me unable to do anything but moan and succumb to the promise of his desire. With both of my ankles in one hand, he uses the fingers on the other to rub figure eights onto my clit.

“Xayyy please,” I said, hands reaching to grab onto something because the counter no longer feels like enough. I settle onto the forearm of his left hand, the one that’s supplying sweet torture.

My gaze lifts to meet his, which is unsurprisingly locked onto my face. His bottom lip is wedged under his top row of teeth, arms bulging from how tightly he holds onto me, and the view makes squeeze onto him.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips slowing momentarily. “Do it again.”

And because I’m such a great listener I do. 

I do it again and again as he places sloppy kisses behind my knees that are my undoing. If I were to pass away in this very moment then it would be worth it having been experienced by this man. The reverent cry that escapes my lips is proof of that sentiment. There is banging on the opposite side of the wall but we don’t care. Nothing matters in this moment but he and I, the shared breaths we take, the trembles we place in one another’s spines. We don’t stop until we’re both utterly spent.

Somehow we end up in the living room, sprawled out on top of one another while Sade’s Stronger Than Pride vinyl spins on the record player. It took another round in the shower and then a thirty minute joint effort of trying to rid my skin of makeup before we left the bathroom. I’m dressed in a Thor t-shirt that barely grazes my thighs as they drape over his legs. My phone is in his hands as he goes through all of the pictures I managed to take tonight as well as the ones that have been sent to me sporadically from my new friends. I watch as he stops on one of Mari and me, mid laughter, drinks in hand. For once we actually look our age.

“Y’all look so much alike that you could be sisters. How did y’all meet? I want to know the origin story,” he says.

“We have lived next door to each other our whole lives. I don’t know a day where she’s not in it in some kind of way,” I said, strumming my fingers on top of his chest to the beat of the current song.

“Our brothers were super close too before Lonso moved away. After he left, Mari’s brothers got pulled toward the streets. The summer of our junior year they robbed this drug dealer in our neighborhood. That man was known for being vicious and as soon as word got back that it was them it was all downhill. Her second oldest brother Ramon was killed outside of his highschool and a few weeks later Martin, the eldest got locked up for killing that same drug dealer in retaliation. He’s serving life upstate and her parents went back to DR right after we graduated. During this time I was almost evicted three times and was struggling to survive.”

Xavier’s hold on my waist tightens as I go through memories in my mind. They play vividly as I try to sum up the hardest time in my life. “And through it all, we looked out for one another. I did her homework on the days she spent at court translating for her parents and she always made sure I had something warm to eat. We have gone through so much in that building. More than we should have had to honestly but we remained constant. We’re sisters in all of the ways it counts.”

“I’m glad that you two have each other. That y’all were never alone even when it felt like you were,” he said. 

“So am I,” I said, watching as he locks my phone and sets it aside. “How did you and your friends meet?”

At that he smiles as he shakes his head. “Aiden and I met in first grade. He asked me to be his lookout on a cookie caper. Rah we met in middle school during 7th grade gym class and once the three of us got together, we’ve been at the hip ever since.”

“Cookie caper is hilarious. I like Aiden, he seems like a good time and Rah seems like the opposite of both of you,” I said.

I had gotten the chance to speak to both of them via Facetime not too long ago. Aiden ended up stealing the phone from Xavier and locking himself in the bathroom. For twenty minutes we talked about why rap girls are dominating and the best place for wings in the city. It was Rah who jimmied the bathroom door open with a belt buckle and proceeded to put Aiden in a headlock all while apologizing for his friends foolishness as Xavier retook possession of the phone. I laughed so hard that my stomach ached afterwards.

“That’s a pretty accurate observation except Rah is like the balance of us both. He just talks way less,” he replied, playing with the fingers I had laid on my chest.

“When I was…doing the most our senior year they never gave up on me. They would call me out for being on bullshit and even tried to help me find other ways to get out from underneath my father’s thumb. I had been so adamant about having to be loud with my actions so I wasn’t listening for real. I was desperately trying to be heard.”

I watched as his face lost some of the playfulness that had been there only moments before. His expression grew more grave as thoughts from the past came flooding forward.

“Is that how…,” I trailed off, knowing he would fill in the blank.

“Yeah. I was hanging out with the wrong crowd. Guys I knew would help me on the mission to piss my father off. One night, they decided that we should steal cars and we did. I got caught because I crashed into a pole. It was a stick shift and I never drove one of those before. Due to my father’s connections those three months were the only ones I served  but I was on probation for five years. When I got out, they helped me enroll in school and find a job because at that point my parents were done with me. I was living with my grandparents which is why I feel like I owe them so much. They took a chance on me when no one else would,” he said.

It angers me that Xavier has often felt like there wasn’t anyone in his corner. Coming from a family of his size I assumed the opposite would be the case. I’m grateful he had his grandparents and friends to lean back on when his parents gave up. For some reason I wish that he didn’t have the uglier experiences of life. He is too much like light to hold onto such darkness.  

“I love them for that. Your friends too. Parents…they forget what it’s like to be young. To be scared. To be discounted. Or hell, sometimes they remember and they hold on too tight instead of pushing away,” I say.

“In either scenario they only see themselves and that is the problem but it’s their problem. Not mine, not yours,” he said, using the arm wrapped around my waist to hoist me on top of him fully. I caress his face in my hand, tracing over the slopes of his high cheekbones with the pads of my fingers, willing the tension to ease from them.

We both carry the weight of burdens that don’t belong to us. They merely have been passed on from generation to generation with the expectancy that there will always be someone to shoulder the load. We are tired from problems that aren’t our own. In our respective ways, we have been trying to unload the weight, and find ourselves in the freedom that is being able to move freely. 

“I agree,” I said, settling my legs around his waist. He reaches up to play with the ends of my braids. The cloudiness is clearing from his expression and I use the opportunity to pivot. “It’s crazy that it’s almost four in the morning but I could stay up and talk to you for hours.”

A smitten grin spreads across his lips as he says, “I know what you mean. I talk to scores of people every day but no conversation holds a candle to yours.”

“Xay,” I say softly.

“I’m for real. You’re the best part of my day. Even when we don’t have time to talk for real just knowing you’ll answer the phone whenever I call is enough to temper the worst of days and highlight the best of them,” he said, adoration in the forefront of his gaze.

 I don’t have to second guess any of his words. It’s more than evident that he means each one with the way my heart wants to escape my chest. His vulnerability inspires my own.

“You brought the sun back into my world Xay. The least I can do is answer the phone,” I said, fingers settling on the sides of his neck. His hands move to cover mine, fingers threading between. He brings our joined hands up to his lips and kisses the back of my hand repeatedly. 

“You are my world Mila.”

I almost tuck my chin as the blush takes over my face but I’m reminded of words from earlier when he squeezes my fingers. Worthy. This is another sign from the universe that anything I want is at my fingertips and I want Xavier more than I thought I had the capability to. Between him and Jazz, I am an unstoppable force. This in mind, I meet his eyes as a smile takes over my face which he returns with his own. We stare at each other until the space between us closes. Until his lips are on mine. Until I’m sinking on him. Until the sun rises over our shoulders.

[amaskofmanyshades-archive]

~The Descent Down Below~

(A/N - Hopefully, this attempt sticks. This is actually attempt number 2 of writing this original fic, and we can actually see this one to the end. This was actually based upon a concept i had when i was younger to give another OC an attempt at a relationship; i decided that, "Yes. But it will not be easy for her. She shall go through Hell and back to get it"--and thus this was birthed.

Fair warning to you as well, the following fic will be containing a LOT of themes unsuitable for the faint of heart, varying from violence of varying kinds to gore and much, much worse. Trigger warnings will be placed in the beginning after the Author's Note.)

-Really, Cel? A ouija board? We’re not kids anymore; why’d you pull this old thing out?-

“Humor me, Josie. It was one’a th’ first things i played, growing as a witch in trainin’...an’ one of the first magically inclined tools i really ever played with as a fledgling. A ouija board can be quite fun an’ thrillin’ IF ye know all th’ stops.”, Celeste responded, straightening the cloth atop the dining room table.

The Valentina residence’s dining room was lit by only the light of candles, giving way to an almost romantic, comforting ambience. While Celeste set up for the ritual, with Josephine burning off white sage and rosemary, Lucinda watched skeptically as all of this took place. It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’d ever taken part in a ouija board ritual. It wasn’t so much that she minded being there…but something about the entire act felt so…tasteless. Tasteless, yet also so simple and quite honestly, a bore. It felt like something a teenager would do at a sleepover out of boredom and for a quick, cheap thrill. Still, she wasn’t about to question it, since—as much as she hated to admit it—Celeste was definitely right about one thing: with the correct experience and technique, a ouija board could actually quite interesting. 

Bringing the glass of wine to her dark red lips, blue eyes watched carefully as the middle oldest of the three brought out the board she was talking about. Something about the damn thing shot chills down her spine, which...said quite a lot, but also, raised questions.

“You...played with this thing...? I hope you know NOW that this thing is no toy, Celeste. The board has been the subject to those who fiddle with becoming a demon’s plaything for centuries. It is why whole slumber parties end up dead by daylight.”

“Well, of course. It took...one good time o’ summoning somethin’ i shouldn’t have t’ fully grasp the concept. I wouldn’t be havin’ Jo burn all this sage an’ rosemary IF i didn’t know, Lucy. Have faith.”

The woman scoffed, “Here is where the misunderstanding lies, dear. I have plenty of faith in you; after all, had I not, I would have been the one to lead and not you. I just don’t think this is a safe idea. Even with all the precautions you’re taking...don’t you see that even with all this, there’s a chance that something could still go wrong?”

“Maybe so...but give it a chance. If something goes wrong...all of us are capable of protecting ourselves.”

With that, they placed the last incense in its holder and Josephine took her seat at the table, along with the other two. Celeste sat at the center, between Lucinda and Josephine, staring down at the swarthy mahogany board. Despite how glossy and well-kept it looked, it was ancient, having been in Celeste’s possession for centuries.

A stiletto-tipped hand rested gently on the planchette, and all three pairs of hands were sitting there with hers. All was silent, waiting for Celeste’s lead. With a clarifying breath, she then spoke the following phrase in Latin —

“Intrate hoc sanctum, omnes spiritus de ultra. Rogamus loqui tecum.”

(Enter this sanctum, all ye spirits from beyond. We ask to speak with you.)

With that, the room shuddered and grew darker, leaving only but the lone gentle light of the candles as a guide for them to see. It was then it felt as if they were being watched by eyes they could not see, although from what direction, none were sure of. Once she was certain of the surrounding atmosphere, Celeste spoke once more.

“...Is anyone here? Speak now, or leave us in the dark forever more.”

As if responding, a fourth pair of hands joined theirs. While Celeste didn’t flinch, Josephine hissed in surprise while Lucinda gasped, growling curses in a demonic tongue. Then, with a light force, it moved their hands over to its response.

>YES.<

They were no longer alone, and so Celeste’s gaze remained straight ahead, focused on the empty seat where the force seemed to stem from. “Might i know your name, strange one? We mean you no harm. We only wish to talk. Nothing more than such.”, she replied politely, a smile curling at deep terracotta red lips.

A pause before the entity gave its answer. >ICARUS.<

-Oh, like the kid in Greek mythos...probably died because of his own damn hubris. Seen it before. I mean…man is known for the primary trait that caused the fall of The Morningstar straight to Hell. What else is new?-

Lucinda shot a scathing glance. If her eyes could kill, Josephine would’ve been dead 10 times over. “Josie--! That was quite rude!”

-Luce, you an’ i both know humans are some arrogant bastards. You’re surprised at this because...?-

“Both of you, HUSH. Now...Icarus, was it? Beautiful name, by th’ way...may i, if it isn’t too much...may i…inquire of when it was that ye passed...?”

A few more moments passed by, and then, slowly…the phrase was spelled out in front of them.

>1896. DIED BY BOARD.<

Board...

Did he mean...a ouija board? It would’ve been made since the invention of the board was about 5, maybe even 6 years prior to the death of this poor man. Maybe he was trying to contact someone, and it went wrong? That was the only thing that Celeste could properly come up with that may have been the cause of death for the soul she was speaking to. It saddened her; just what made him consider using such a thing was a good idea?

...Should she even ask that?

“1896, hm...? And you say you died from the...board, was it? Do you mean...a ouija board, love? Can...can you be a bit more precise? How? I c’n think o’ quite a few ways one’s end might come wi’ ouija boards.”

>TRICKED. THEY LIED. POSSESSED.<

-GREAT! A demon-possessed man! Already off to a wonderful start, Cellie!-, Josephine sent sarcastically.

“Well...this is jus’ from what we’re able t’ get from th’ board. It’s like clipped textin’; y’ know how when an older person’s learnin’ t’ text an’ they can jus’ get a few words down at a time? ‘S like that for older spirits. I actually know a way t’ make speakin’ t’ Icarus easier...but ‘s a bit more complicated than some sage an’ incantation. This is where y’ gotta get a bit more...personal.”

With that, she reached from her left pocket a small athame: something she always used for when she needed blood for a ritual, should it call for it. And this night, it did...

“For this t’ work, i need th’ blood o’ the one who wants t’ see ‘im. Not much. Jus’ a pinch...there’s a reason they made this board of th’ material it’s made of. For purposes such as this...”, and with that explanation, Celeste stuck the tip of the blade into the tip of her right pointer finger and pressed until blood rushed from the small nick.

She then passed the blade to Josephine, who seemed more than eager to be doing something regarding the use of blood. She gladly took the knife and slid the blade across her own fingers to draw a fair bit of blood, before handing the somewhat dirty knife to Lucinda with a wide grin. Out of the two, Lucinda looked the slightest bit disturbed by the act. However, she didn’t want to be the only one to not be able to see the spirit they were speaking to, and so she followed.

Shakily, she took the knife and pressed the tip into her palm, letting the crimson red liquid trail down her fingers until it reached the very tips. There, she touched the board with the others, completing the circle of blood that pooled about the planchette glass. The piece glinted and emanated a soft light at first, and Celeste allowed her eyes to flutter shut as her entire body tingled. The feeling of static electricity filled the room, descending upon the other two who had resigned themselves to the act.

A drowsiness filled the both of them, until suddenly, there was a small lapse of consciousness.

Once it all came flooding back to them, it was then they could hear a voice. A man’s...it was soft-spoken and mild, but sweet and one neither woman expected to hear fill their ears. When Celeste’s eyes then opened again, she was greeted to the sight of a well-dressed man from what she assumed was the late Victorian era. With mousy brown hair and wide-open, unseeing white eyes that had the lightest tint of a powder blue, it was jarring to behold.

He definitely appeared the part of an undead ghost, with eyes that looked as if he’d seen things no man should have ever had to lay witness to, and a general look as if he’d not been sleeping well. He also looked fairly young, and if one had to guess, he appeared to be roughly younger than Celeste but also older than Josephine.

Something about this brought about the Mother Hen in both Celeste and Lucinda, but neither woman dared to show this. Instead, it manifested in sheer curiosity. Josephine only stared back, with only the opposite. Disinterest and even slight amusement in the other’s reactions...a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth.

He was cute, yes...but to her, ‘cute’ meant something she could tease with ease.

The man who called himself Icarus looked ahead, but something about those eyes held a key indicator that perhaps his sight was not the best. He knew there were three women sitting in front of him, which meant with this inference alone, he could look between the three individually. Nervousness and distrust were blatant in those large, doll-like eyes.

He finally, after the longest time, mustered up the courage to speak. His voice was tiny and shaky, but audible to the three. “You...you can...?”

“Yes, love. We c’n see you...perfectly, in fact. It’s...quite odd, really.”, Celeste laughed. “I’ve had that spell in th’ back o’ my mind for ages...but never ‘ad th’ right application for it. A ouija board is...a limited method of communication, but this...we c’n see you jus’ as if there was someone there before us...”

“And, by the Gods...it works. I truly forget that there’s a method to your madness, Cel...”

“Mmm...so you’re th’ one this board summoned, ah? I actually expected an older gentleman with that name...but i guess tis th’ con of assumin’, right? You...may i ask you another sensitive question, carino...?”

“You may. I assure you whatever it may be...i probably have heard it before. I don’t believe there is much that can truly frighten me...i lost all fear of the unknown long ago, my dear lady...”, he responded gently, a small smile curling at his mouth.

“Right...when you mentioned the ‘board’, which i guess was t’ mean th’ Ouija board...what did’ja mean by that? How was it tha’ this board ended your life?”

The smile on his lips then died to a spacy stare. He looked away, unsure of how to answer that question honestly without having the horrific memory tied to that response replay in his head. On one end, she was being so sincere and kind about her questioning that he felt compelled to continue answering, but on the other, how was he to answer something like that?

Icarus was torn between two evils: being dishonest with the woman or his own horrific trauma and death being relived again.

Fiddling with his hands, the act of toying with his fingers was enough to comfort him enough into not outright panicking before them. “I’d...i’d sooner not...answer that, ma’am. I...I can’t...not like...l-like...oh...”, he trailed off, mumbling into deafening silence.

It was then Celeste felt absolutely horrible for even asking him, if his shift in demeanor wasn’t much to go by. She felt as if she’d just kicked a puppy, and it took everything in her to not sever the circuit, keeping him visible and audible to all of them and embrace him. She looked over to Lucinda, who seemed to share in this grievance while Josephine’s impish expression softened.

-I mean...i s’ppose i would too if somethin’ came out from th’ board an’ used me as their personal lil joy-ride before killin’ my ass deader than a doornail—HEY!-, Josephine’s response was briefly cut short by a sharp punt to the ankle under the table. A low, agitated grunt left Lucinda at this.

“That’s ENOUGH! Haven’t you anything else better to say, or are you actively trying to start something with this poor man?! If you don’t want to be here, Josephine, simply say so!”

-...Ok, i could’ve phrased that better...but in my defense, you DID tell me t’ be honest. That’s all i was doing...an’ besides...yer acting as if that’s not pretty much what just happened. For God’s sake, LOOK. He even said it. The board killed him; what do you think that means? It means somethin’ looking t’ take advantage gave him th’ smoke an’ here he is!-

Both women glared her down , but it was Celeste who kept her eye on Icarus the entire time out of the corner of her peripherals, waiting for the phantom of the young man to go completely undone from grief and panic from the flooding memories of how his death came to be. 

But, no. Instead, he slumped over until his head was practically down on the table, shielding his face from view.

Her heart ached, and with her untethered hand, she reached out—stopping for a moment mid-way, as if reconsidering it—before finally then deciding to console him. Her fingertips barely grazed the back of his arm, ghosting over his sleeve. Even if he was dead, she could feel a warmth radiating from his skin.

Was it just an illusion...or was it a result of her magic trying to compensate and make him seem as real as possible?

She wasn’t sure...but she knew he was reactive to her consoling touch. He didn’t touch her back, but didn’t push her hand away.

“Pardon her...sometimes, i forget she’s overly mouthy, so feel free to ignore that...if you are uncomfortable by the questions, then by all means: you are not obligated to answer them.”

“I...I’m aware of this, but...she also speaks the truth. In my darkest hour, something…i couldn’t quite tell you nor explain…but something, with no intention of playing nice sought to take my life. I thought it was them—the one i lost...but t’was a horrible lie. My death was nothing more than a fluke, and so shall it be—”

“Maybe so...but it is the way of fate. Sometimes, she can be cruel...and other times, she can play cruel games...none of it is fair, nor was how you passed...and for that, i truly am sorry...”

A mournful hum, before he looked up at her once more with solemn, clouded over eyes. “...My time in your hold wanes, sadly...i must go...but if you ever wish to speak with me again. All you need to do is call my name...i assure you, miss...i will come. As one who is as well-versed in the art of specters as you, i can confirm it...to call the full name of the deceased soul will make them come to you, as you would if someone called for you.”, he spoke, his voice as quiet and reverent as a prayer.

Celeste blinked, but an understanding gleam filled those dark emerald eyes. He was right—while the spell was effective in keeping spirits visible and audible to those contacting them; it was never for too long. She could’ve begged him to stay, but alas, that was outside of his own control as a phantom. So, with a nod, she returned the same tone of voice.

“Alright...until next time, Mr. Icarus...goodbye.”

As soon as all three women’s hands let go of the planchette, the spell was broken and the world around them regained its natural lighting. Icarus was now no longer able to be seen or heard from, which only further confirmed the spell had dissipated to nothing, leaving the trio in both wonder and slight sadness for the man.

The one who seemed the most affected by this was, of course, the leader of the seance herself.

Her questions only left her with more questions, but mostly about the man she’d just spoken to; not only did his appearance leave her wanting to talk to him more, but what he had told her also struck her as fascinating. By how he talked about the dead and spirits, he was possibly a medium of some type, which only drew her into him more just by default.

Be that because of her own fascination with spirits and the afterlife (Hell, her closest companion and guardian was this!), or because of the longing of her own Elias...

Elias...

She remembered the night she learned about his demise by the man who had wanted her as his own bride and as a trophy. It made her glad that he’d taken her sight from her when he’d first had her locked within the dungeons of his manor; a world without Elias was a world she no longer wished to see. Even after she could restore her sight after finally being free of El Antiguo Mal, it made her wish after then that she hadn’t.

So...maybe he could tell her something about him?

Was that even possible?

...Would Icarus even want to do that...?

It sounded quite selfish for her to make him use a gift that he’d been given, likely to bring closure to the bereaved and the dead. It was a gift meant for everyone, not just her. She then felt ashamed for even considering that as a possibility, but...it was a possibility.

A small one, but not an asinine one.

She had to see him again...

She HAD to see Icarus again...

-...I know that look in yer eyes, Cel...what is it?-

“...Nothin’. It’s...it’s nothin’. Really, Josie. Come on, let’s...let’s get this mess cleaned up, yes? Who’s on for a movie and a bottle o’ Sauvignon? After that, i’m sure you both ‘ave ‘ad enough o’ th’ smoke an’ mirrors routine...”

Both Lucinda and Josephine looked at one another. Something didn’t feel right about this; the dazed expression and current countenance didn’t suit Celeste, and they knew it. Something about the experience had set something off for the woman, and being ever the brave soul, she was trying to repress it.

Be that with other activities or alcohol, as if the act of offering a bottle of wine didn’t say it all.

Still...was it wise to make her talk about it? Both knew that once Celeste was dead-set on something, there was no stopping the draconian woman...so what made it any different here...?

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: onelastedit

Prompts: Stroking hair to soothe. “Take me with you.” Baking.

Group: B

-

On the Other Side of the Door

Was it too much to ask for a simple, relaxing holiday? Thanksgiving wasn’t a tradition Belle participated in - being Australian it hadn’t ever appealed to her - so she took the opportunity to use her vacation days from her job at the Library to rent a room at a new boutique hotel just outside of Storybrooke. The Autumn weather had already succumbed to the Winter and she wanted to indulge in a long weekend with wine, books, and a crackling fireplace. 

Instead, she got a room with a broken fireplace, and a furnace stuck at a temperature that would make the Devil sweat. She’d only packed her warm clothes so she could either slowly get heat stroke wearing her flannel pajamas or walk around in only her knickers. The latter option, while it sounded sexy, was in reality disgusting when your room is trying to bake you like a pumpkin pie. The resulting smell was NOT of cinnamon and nutmeg. 

Grudgingly, she put on the hotel’s complimentary robe and decided there was nothing for it but to trudge down to the front desk. She’d been assured the heat would be fixed within the hour -  two hours ago. Gathering as much dignity as she could wearing nothing but a bathrobe with sweat actively dripping down her body, she made to open her door but the handle was…stuck. She jiggled it furiously but it was like the handle was actively working against her pushing against her grip on it. Belle released the handle and watched as it moved of its own accord rapidly rattling up and down. Her stomach dropped as she realized someone was trying to get into her room. Thoughts raced through her mind — she should back away and call the front desk, hide in her bathroom until someone comes for help. Did she still have pepper spray in her purse? She hadn’t ever used it. Does pepper spray expire? The lamp on her bedside table looks potentially lethal, but she has terrible coordination.  

As Belle’s mind began to meltdown from the stress and heat, a voice on the other side of the door caught her attention. Muffled words made their way to her ears, “damned room keys… absolute shite…” She knew that voice! It was the voice of the man who played the starring role in her daydreams. That voice was deep and a little rough, and it’s Scottish accent made her toes curl in her stilettos.  Belle watched for him every day, peering out the window from her perch at the Library’s circulation desk, hoping for just a glimpse of him as he opened his antique shop across the street. 

Mr. Gold. 

But wait, this was absurd. There was no way Mr. Gold just happened to be on the other side of her hotel room door, apparently trying to break in. It must be heat stroke mixed with insanity - she’d finally taken her pathetic crush too far. Then she heard the voice again, “never should’ve invested in this place. Where is the blasted bell boy?” 

Tip toeing to the door, Belle peaked into the viewer and gasped as she saw a the top portion of a man’s head - a man with shoulder length brown hair, a few streaks of grey running through it, and it looked like it was silky soft. It’s Mr. Gold!, her mind screamed. Suddenly she had way more problems than a malicious intruder. The man of her dreams was inches away from her, and he didn’t even know it. She pushed her hands through her hair, trying to tame the frizzy, sweaty curls gently massaging her scalp to calm herself down, and pulled the mass back into what she hoped looked like an attractive ‘I don’t care what I look like, but I still look great’ kind of way. When she saw a pause in Mr. Gold’s attempts to open the door she quickly turned the handle and flung the door open with much more strength than she realized. 

As the door banged back into the wall, Belle’s bright blue eyes stared into very startled brown ones. She hoped she didn’t look like a maniac. She could feel the huge smile on her face as she said, “Mr. Gold! What a surprise!” For several long seconds Gold didn’t respond, just stood there staring at her and then looking around himself like he was a little kid lost in a department store. 

“…..I…Miss French. I’m so sorry. I must have the wrong room.”

“Yes, I thought so. What a coincidence that we’re both in the same hotel for the holiday.”

“….Yes….I am a silent investor and sometimes come to check in on it.”

This wasn’t quite the romantic meet-cute Belle had been hoping for. He looked completely uncomfortable. She was sure he would run away if he could. She didn’t blame him. She looked terrible and it’s not as if he ever gave her the time of day when she wasn’t a sweaty mess. At that moment a bell boy came along with Mr. Gold’s bags and informed them - what they already knew - he had the wrong room. 

The boy turned to Belle, “Miss is the room’s heat still an issue?” In her assenting nod, he replied, “I’m so sorry. If you go to the front desk they can book you for another weekend. Unfortunately there aren’t any other rooms available.”

Upon seeing her look of disappointment, Gold said, “The heat isn’t working?”

“No,” said Belle, “that’s why I look like a horrid sweaty mess. It’s stuck at a thousand degrees.”

“You look beautiful as always” he blurted out. Her wide eyes met his equally wide eyes, “I’m so sorry Miss French that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No. No you didn’t” she grinned like a fool at him.

“As an investor I wish there was a way I could make it up to you but it seems there aren’t any other solutions.”

Feeling very bold, Belle said, “You could take me with you.” Her sly smile hoped it undercut her forwardness.

“I beg your pardon?” He spluttered.

“You could share your room with me….if that’s not too much to ask.”

He cut in, “No. No it’s not.”

“Well then it seems you have provided a solution Mr. Gold.”

“Alexander. My name is Alexander.” His smile beamed back at her and when he offered her his hand she didn’t even care that her palms were sweaty.    

-

[forbiddenfrvt]

D E C A Y

de·cay [verb] : fall into disrepair; deteriorate.

re4r!leon kennedy x former umbrella assassin!reader, enemies-rivals x lovers?

warnings: sparring violence, usage of blades, | mentions of getting cut | blood | suggestive jokes | m x afab reader | explicit language | word count: 3259 words. ps: This is part one of this specific project/series. Decay will be uploaded into three to maybe four? parts as this goes on? NOT YET PROOFREAD author's notes: Basically a fuzzbrain moment, I was like- I feel like the workplace romance trope for leon is going on around, why not write one that jiggles my brain further, this is practically word vomit atp so sorry for errors. i imagined how conflicted leon would be to have a partner who used to be the top mercenary for umbrella corp n needing to trust her; esp after what transpired at raccoon city. poor bby will always be haunted by umbrella, one way or another. THERE will be smut at some point obvi heh. but id like to build up their relationship first before so nothing dirty for chapter one here.

Life has consistently made itself clear about not wanting to be fair; regardless if you're a saint, or a sinner. And funnily enough, life had placed you in the depths of hell, eager to see you crawl out of it like the devil aching to wear its' wings once more. Needless to say, you weren't God's favorite, not that you still thought there was one. Constantly being denied the privileges of believing. Especially now after the affairs with Raccoon City; affairs that never really ended.

Affairs that had just begun.

It had been six years since your arrival within the USSTRATCOM force, six whole years of rigorous training along half-assed assessments, and none of those days had passed by smoothly.

Six years of pure torture under the guise of justice.

You made your way inside the DSO training grounds, the click-clacking of your stilettoes echoed throughout the hall, announcing your arrival. It had been noted to you by others how 'impractical' your heels were during training and missions yet all you could ever say in response was a flat; "So?" proceeding to head onto fights victorious and fashionably. But in all honesty, you just preferred how you can use the tip of your heels like a knife.

Oceanic blue orbs observed your entrance, standing in the middle of the ring, just how he did the day you've first met, his rigid posture evident. Glaring at you was none other than your assigned partner—; Leon Scott Kennedy.

“You.” He jeers, as if your presence alone was an insult to him. And no matter how long it had been, no matter what you did to appease your colleague, Leon never bothered to, at the very least, be decent with you.

Of course you weren't no martyr, his habitual hatred for you eventually rubbed off on yourself— reciprocating his negative disposition. “Awe, I take it you don't miss me, Kennedy?” You spoke with a copy smile etched in your lips; eager to annoy him further than your presence alone did.

Tch. Leon clicks on his tongue, focusing his eyes over his bandaged hands, tightening it as you hopped over the ring— tiresome eyes never abandoned yours.

"Just so you know," He paused, taking a step forward. "I won't go easy on you."

Hah, how cocky. His words rang in your mind, a mixture of excitement and irritation conjoining. You were practically rivals within the field at this point, with everyone letting out a harsh breath whenever the two of you would bicker or spar, feeling the tension for themselves. Eyes squinting in annoyance upon hearing his remark, “You'd be forced not to, Kennedy.” You turn to the side, fixing your bandaged hands, making sure the fabric were tight enough not to fall apart mid-spar.

"Forced?" Leon asks with a grin, raising a brow. He cracks his neck, loosening muscles before taking a defensive stance with a relaxed demeanor. "I don't know how you'd manage that." This by far had been the longest you two conversed since you've met. Further proving just how estranged the both of you are despite being partners. “Oh, trust me Ken Doll.” You flash a sly smirk, a single strand of your hair framing the left side of your face. “I know my way around you.” You add with a wink. After all these years together, how could you not? Leon raised an eyebrow at your cockiness. “How so?” he asked, giving you an amused smile.

You shook your head, placing one foot behind her and the other to the front for support; already gauging his moves for the spar. He took a forward stance, one foot forward and one foot back, raising his fists in a ready position. He had a smile on his face, but a competitive gleam in his eyes. “Show me what you can do.”

Without a word of warning, you pushed yourself forward, kicking the foot you placed to your back upward— aiming towards Leon's head. Fist at the ready for his defense.

Leon ducked to the side almost instantly, leaning back to avoid the unexpected attack. His face showed a look of surprise at your speed, but he quickly regained his composure. “Not bad,” he said with an impressed look on his face. “I thought you would have taken it easy on the first shot.” He readied himself for your retaliation, getting ready to dodge.

Your voice was laced with amusement and mockery at the same time. “Aw, you know I love you too much to do that.” Dropping the same foot to the ground, you wasted no time to spin yourself around and throw another roundhouse kick at Leon starting with the other leg, one arm supporting your leap. While yes, they both already acknowledge the fact that they were rivals, and maybe even the others had to— you did hold respect to his prowess in that regard. It simply was his attitude towards you that pushed you away from actually befriending the guy. That and, you simply couldn't bring yourself to lower your pride. 'Just for Leon Kennedy? Nah, you wouldn't. Not in a million years. Right?'

He subconsciously allows her to be herself during fights. He excites her, more than she wants him to. More than he'll ever know.

Leon jumps to the side, narrowly avoiding the vicious attack yet again. His eyes were wide with surprise at the speed and power contained within your attack. “You’re certainly packing quite the punch,” he said, getting ready to respond with his own attack. “You must be more determined than I anticipated.”

You could only chuckle— “C'mon Kennedy, it's me.” enjoying this spar session. You caved to relax your stance, preparing to avoid his attacks. Your eyes intent on not leaving his body. "You know I'm capable of anything."

“We’ll see if you can keep up with my pace,” he says with a smirk as he begins to rush in. He swings a wild left punch to catch you off guard, and then sends a hard right kick towards your head. “Let’s see what you got, dollface!” he taunts. It seems Leon wasn’t holding back anymore, but that was a given with the two of them.

Your eyes slants in focus, ducking down to avoid the kick while simultaneously dodging his punch, your leg swiftly sliding down across his legs in an attempt to trip him down. Adamant to avoid his hits. You were indeed faster than Leon, but he obviously packs more force in his punches than you could. Duh, he's a muscle man.

You manage to avoid both of his strikes, moving much faster than he anticipated. Still, he catches himself, recovering from the attack with surprising skill. He seems even more impressed and cautious than before, but ever more determined to land a hit. “Very impressive,” he says, taking a second to catch his breath. “Maybe I underestimated you a lil’ bit.”

He sounds genuinely impressed this time. And you hadn’t expected him to actually compliment you, especially since you’ve been rivals for as long as you can remember. “You're just rusty now, Kennedy.” You grin— cartwheeling away from him, before crouching down preparing your body for his next blows. “Fun. But rusty for me.”

“Rusty or not, you sure are something else, [Y/L/N],” he says with a small, almost amused smile. He starts circling you, readying himself to continue the fight. It seems he’s determined to land one of his attacks. “What’s your next move, huh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, I don’t have all day!”

Her legs swiftly launched towards him, landing behind him before kicking his knees to push him on the ground— giggling mockingly as she does so. “Awe?" a fake hurt, "You can't even spend an entire day playing with me now, Ken Doll?”

Leon stumbles, clearly surprised from your sneak attack. He recovers quickly, standing back up, but not before letting out a small grunt of pain. “Alright, now you’re asking for it,” he says, with a playful grin. He lunges forward in an attempt to land a punch but quickly backs up. “I hope you’re ready.” He seems more determined than ever, throwing his jabs and kicks with an increased level of power. It seems you’d really made him angry with your previous kick.

You eventually got hit with his punches on your cheek along with both of your forearms from blocking them, yet your smile never faltered, nor the glint in your eyes as you stared directly at his blue orbs. “Am I? Maybe I am demanding more from you.” You threw your arms sideways blocking his while simultaneously hitting his side with your elbow, using your agility to land blows back in retaliation for his harsh punches. Laughing as his brows furrow in agitation, “Don't stress about me, Handsome.”

“I’ll admit, you’re better than I expected,” Leon says as he lands several solid blows on your arms, his punches growing stronger and stronger as the fight continued.

Suddenly, he lunges forward, trying to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you into a tight head lock. He squeezes his arm in an attempt to knock you down. If he can pull off his attack, he’ll gain the upper hand in this fight. You had better come up with a plan, and fast.

With a quick turn, you did let him feel up your waist; but only before sliding down to escape his grasp, crouching and gliding in and back out between his legs to avoid his lock, coming up from behind. “Never did I think a day would come where I'm in between your lap, Kennedy.” You whispered teasingly on one side of his ear, before going over on the other, blowing cold air on his earlobes— “But here we are.”

His face reddens at your teasingly mocking words, but all you get from him is an irritated frown. He’s not going to let that get to him, no matter how much you tease him during this spar. Seizing the opportunity to, you hit his sides from the back to push him aside.

Leon jumps back, narrowly avoiding your blow to his ribs. He glares at you over his shoulder. “You’ll regret that, [Y/N],” he growls., spinning his heel around and points an accusing finger towards you. “You better watch yourself with that kind of talk, princess.”

“Hmm? What kinda talk?” You inquired, voice— vixen-like.

Leon scowls, annoyed at your words, but you certainly caught him off guard. "You know what I meant," he says through gritted teeth. “And don’t get any ideas.”

Obviously, his reactions piqued your interests further more, taking slow strides circling him as he did to you earlier. Your hips sway from left to right as if you couldn't be bothered to be on guard. “I wish you were half this funny all the time, Mr. Policeman.” You looked at him, a blank face with a seemingly disappointed tone, “Maybe I would've liked you better.”

Even so, a small smirk finds its way onto his face. “Oh yeah? Is that so?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His tone is a little bit teasing with a hint of arrogance. "Having you like me sounds disgusting, [Y/N]." He seems a bit more relaxed than before, but you can tell he’s still determined to win this sparring session. "I don't blame you though."

“What makes you think I even see you as a member of the opposite sex?” You snarked, "Much less a member of the same species..." cocking your head to the side, before ushering him to come at you. “If I had a knife I would've already had it sitting on your throat— Kennedy.” You add menacingly, yet— it was obvious in your tone that it was more so you simply expressing your blatant annoyance. You rarely could ever feel the urge to actually hurt such Leon, but man would it feel so good to.

“Oh, you think that’ll save you?” Leon asks, raising an eyebrow. He seems confident, but he’s hiding a flicker of uncertainty. He’s never fought against a knife before, and he’s not sure if he’d be able to avoid serious damage if you attacked him. But he can’t back down now, he’s come too far.

“Let’s see it, dollface,” he taunts. “Let’s see how you do against a real weapon.”

The officials probably wouldn't care as long as they didn't actively go and try to kill one another so you smiled in agreement. Clearly reminding yourself why you liked his spontaneity; he mirrored you, in ways you both liked and disliked.

“You're asking a fish to breathe underwater at this point Leon.” Your smug smile matches his, taunting him back with confidence. You swiftly grab one of your daggers stashed on the table, letting Leon pick his weapon of choice out, fairly showing what you picked off.

Leon looks surprised for a second, then takes out a combat knife from his pocket. He seems eager to finally bring a real weapon into the fight. “What do ya say, doll face?” he asks with a wink. “You ready to get serious?” He smiles and stands in a defensive stance, gripping his blade tightly. Even if it was just a training exercise, he didn’t seem to be taking any chances, as if he was actually fighting for his life. That’s just the type of person he is.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that sort of commitment with you yet, Kennedy.” You remarked, jokingly.

With each swish of the daggers around your fingers— you lowers your stance, making it easy for you to jab the weapon around.

You were a weapons expert like Carlos is, that's for sure. A friend whom she might never disclose around the space. “A criminal versus a cop.” She mumbles to herself, laughing inwardly.

“Try and catch me, Officer~.”

Your playful words only make him smirk again as he advances on you with a determined look in his eye. “I’d rather take you by force,” he says, his voice filled with confidence and authority. He doesn’t waste any time before lunging forward with his knife, swinging it in a wide arc to test your reflexes and ability to dodge. His eyes are cold and focused, as if he’d been fighting real killers his whole life. “Let’s see how you handle this, doll face,” he says, with a faint smile. “I can’t wait.”

The girl ducks down in opposite directions that Leon swung at, letting him be at the offensive this time around. You linked your arm around his before kicking him from the back, still not actively swinging your daggers. , You were used to this, of course, in every sparring session they had together; it became clear to you what Leon is good at, and where his blind spots were.

Hell, one would think this is how their usual dates would go; if they actually were a couple. But no, course not. “Best you could do? I'm falling sleepy here, Kenny.”

Leon stumbles back from your kick to his back, barely managing to keep his balance. He’s surprised to see how well you’re dodging his attacks, but he’s not about to back down yet. He growls as he charges forward, sending a wide slash towards the center of your body. This time he’s putting all of his strength behind his attack, taking no chances. “You won’t be sleepy for long, dollface,” he says with an amused grin. “I’m going all out this time.”

The former rookie cop manages to graze your stomach, a medium length gash forming at your skin, contrasting beautifully against your [Y/S/C] complexion. With so much as a hiss of pain, the girl sprang forth like a snake.

Hence her nickname at the battlefront.

In retaliation to his slice, you grab hold of him from the side, wrapping your legs around his hips before stabbing the tips of your daggers in his arm, creating two holes on his bicep.

Leon looks surprised by how quickly you react to his attack as he grunts in pain. In the blink of an eye, you plunge your daggers into his arm, leaving him bleeding.

“Damn! Fine, fine, ya got me,” he says, smiling in spite of his wounded arm. He grits his teeth, clearly in pain, but he does have to admire your skills. You really are impressive to be able to take him down so quickly.

“Alright yeah, I’d say you won,” he admits with a chuckle. “Really? When we're both injured in the same capacity?”

You could only roll your eyes in disbelief, lifting your shirt up to showcase the long wound Leon carved onto you. “Did you want to be a surgeon or something?” Your eyes darting to your stomach and back at his arm. “Be glad I cleaned my knives earlier, I almost panicked that I left paralyzers on the blades.” “You got me there,” he admits with a laugh. “Your skills are certainly something else.”

With so, your arms clearly bruised, you turned around. “Can you untie my hair for me? It's pulling too roughly now— you messed it up after all.” Your voice sounding a lot more meek now than earlier, clearly a different person outside of combat.

Leon raises an eyebrow at your request, but he nods nonetheless. He seems surprised to see you ask something like that of him. It’s a gentle gesture, but it clearly catches him off guard. “Sure, no problem.” He reaches around and unties your hair, doing his best to be gentle.

Once your hair is untied, he steps back. “Anything else you have in mind, dollface?” he asks with a teasing wink. To which you could only stare at him blankly, throwing a cloth and gauze pad at his face, harshly, before walking away to leave. Silently urging him to get his wound patched up already.

“Alright, alright!” Leon calls after you, laughing slightly as he holds the cloth up to his arm. He looks annoyed, but deep down he’s happy that you care. He takes a quick look at his wounded arm in the mirror, then heads toward the medical bay to get himself patched up.

Despite the competition and rivalry, there is a mutual respect between the two of you. And deep down, he knows he can’t help but care about you, even if he doesn’t admit it out loud. Nor does he want to admit it to himself.

You couldn't help but glare at the staff surrounding the area who clearly thought something was between you two. You long knew how much you used to idolize Leon, but now that everything was said and done, it dawned on you that you both simply respect one another, but didn't think too fondly of the other.

It was hard for you to explain it, even to yourself, but all you know is that they're colleagues who dislike both, yet still cared. Maybe just professionally. A secret loyalty, if you may. “Bye, Kennedy.” You waved off to leave the training grounds— walking a bit slowly as you approached the door. Leaving it to close on its own as you left. Leon could only roll his shoulders once you disappeared eyeing her trail in conflicted interest, caressing the skin of his arm that met yours as if to recall the sensation. Shutting his eyes with his head hung back as a guttural groan escapes his lips, displeased by his thoughts that began to shroud with images of you.

"Till next time, Dollface."

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Thursday, January 18

Faith: Oh, man! Guys should break up with you more often. Buffy: Gee, thank you. Faith: No, I mean it. You really got some quality rage going. Really gives you an edge. Buffy: Edge Girl. Just what I always wanted to be.

~~Homecoming~~

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Willow Rosenberg - The real story (A Quibbler World Exclusive) (Crossover with Harry Potter, G) by FPBarbieri

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[firstprince-ao3feed]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

by tastethewaste Alex has dressed Henry up in any number of ridiculous outfits, but Henry always plays it safe when it's his turn to dress Alex. Until he comes home with a little black dress. And red stilettos. And a pearl necklace. He knows what it'll do to Alex, and what Alex will do to him. At least, it's maybe what he's hoping for. Words: 3828, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Let's play dress up Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Persian rug Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Feminization, feminization kink, Alex in a little black dress, Dom/sub Play, Dom!Alex, sub!henry, Painplay, Red Stilettos, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Degradation, Aftercare, All kinks are prenegotiated and consensual, Pearl Necklace (literal), Pearl necklace (figurative), top!stiletto, bottom!henry, Say Yes To The Dress - Freeform, no Persian rugs were harmed in the making of this fic, but the Persian rug is a main character, it is not the author's fault that alex is a kinky dom he came out of the box like that, this is my sluttiest fic ever my beta says so, DLS (tm), the laws of physics hold no power here, if I sit on this rug will I can pagnate? could I be pregernt?, Alexa how do you get semen out of a Persian rug via https://ift.tt/Nz2Hr8y

[initiala]

There’s a LOT of stuff you have to do before you’re allowed to visit the DMZ. The JSA is one of the highest tension points in the entire world and they absolutely do not want anyone fucking up the extremely tentative armistice that’s been going for 70 years.

I toured the DMZ in 2014, when I lived in South Korea. Immediately upon leaving Seoul on the USO bus, you’re reminded of how these two countries are still technically at war. The river has military watchposts along it, barbed wire, and cameras facing every possible direction on lightpoles. You have to dress a certain way, because you’re going into a military zone -- neat and modest, though as long as your shoes are close-toed you can wear heels, and I saw a lot of Korean women in their stilettos down in the tunnel tour.

There is SO. MUCH. PAPERWORK. You have to sign several papers that boil down to “I promise not to defect to North Korea. I promise not to start an international incident. I promise to control my facial expressions. I promise not to be a fucking idiot while surrounded by highly trained men who are on a hairline trigger.”

This is just part of one of the documents I had to sign, during a giant presentation from the US Army that included things that will happen: if you are wearing a hat and the hat blows over the designated border line, your hat is gone and you will not get it back; if you approach the designated border line, there is a reasonable assumption that you will be yelled at in at least three languages and then possibly shot -- by either side; even tempting the line could lead to NK soldiers taking it as a defection and you get pulled over, and the ROK soldiers can do absolutely nothing to get you back; you try to jump between the designated border line and you will not be able to jump back from the NK side or risk being shot; you approach the line just as a joke and then you accidentally trip and fall over it, you’re now a detainee of the PRNK and the ROK soldiers cannot help you.

There’s a lot of risk being shot.

There is only one way to be on the NK side of the border and that is inside the blue JSA buildings. This is a photo I took of the designated border line -- the smooth concrete is the NK side and the gravel is the SK side.

The meeting tables are also precisely placed and the microphones for recording purposes lay along the border

You are under constant surveillance by both sides, but it’s a fair assumption that tourists on the south side are being immediately photographed and turned into anti-West propaganda 

ANYWAY. All of this to say, you’re basically told in no uncertain terms not to fuck around in the JSA or you will find out. So me reading this morning about this American tourist who “crossed without authorization” on the tour KIND of has me beating my head against the wall because THIS PERSON FUCKED AROUND AND FOUND OUT AND I’M NOT SUPER INCLINED TO FEEL SORRY FOR THEM