#but my sexuality is a whole conversation not just a quick answer

[passionfruitmango]

Who the fuck puts their own curiosity over someone's comfort?

Some rando in my reddit inbox apparently

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

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It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

[thatsdemko]

room 305 - l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairing: Lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: build up + childhood friends trope + not intended for minors + long(omg I’m so sorry) + mentions of oral (f + m receiving)

a/n: I want to thank @oconso, @monzabee, and @holllandtrash for being the people who inspired me to keep writing this fic 😅your reactions were my motivation to keep going! so sorry for the two posts in two days, just felt the need to get this out there xx feedback is appreciated 🫶

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

how you got to this point in the conversation is beyond you.

you can feel the saliva thicken in your throat. sweat begins to break out across your forehead that you wipe with the back of your hand nervously. he seems so calm, so collected. like he didn’t just learn his best friend, of childhood, was a virgin.

it wasn’t a problem you had. you didn’t mind walking around sexually frustrated that not a single man was ready to take you to the next base, but the way lances skin quickly dropped pale, eyes nearly jumping out of their sockets, you knew it wasn’t okay.

“so like,” he pauses, you can see he’s trying to digest the news. you watch him swallow before continuing, “you’ve just never had sex before?”

he realized how stupid he sounds. just repeating your words back to you, and he watches red spread further across your cheeks. he cannot imagine how embarrassing this conversation had to be, but he can thank the wine for finally pushing you open to him.

you nod, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table, your hands are too shaky from the embarrassment. the bottle dips, about to hit the wood table, but Lance is quick enough to catch it and takes a knowing look at you, “you don’t have to be afraid. it’s me.”

he says it in a matter of fact tone, because it is him. the guy who wasn’t shy to be your first kiss, or the guy who wasn’t shy to risk his life and teach you how to drive. he would be more than honored to teach you what good sex is, and he knows by the look in your eyes, you’re thinking about it.

“if not tonight,” he pauses, watching you adjust in the uncomfortable hard wood chair, hoping and praying this conversation would be over, “some other time. I’m always down.”

—

it’d been a week since your confession, and the idea always stayed lurking in the back of your mind.

even when he introduces you to his team, when his back muscles flexed in the skin tight fireproof, you were thinking about him on top of you, how his skin would feel against yours.

you’re lost in your thoughts, thinking about how warm his body would be against yours, his cold palm against your throat, when he interrupts your thoughts.

“so you’re thinking about it too?” he shifts in front of you. you watch the smirk turn against his lips as his hand slips down your arm, finger tips ever so gently brushing your skin.

he watches your lips slightly gap, eyes becoming doe-like. “the offer still stands.” he says.

the way he’s acting is killing you. he’s so nonchalant, like it’s not a big deal to him, but your mind races with the boundaries you were crossing. this was no longer going to be an easy childhood friendship, it’d much more complicated for crying out loud. he’d see your most vulnerable places, and you cannot believe he’s acting with not a care in the world.

“I want it to be with the right person,” you say, your voice sounds shaky like you weren’t sure of yourself, but deep down you were. “It’s important to me you understand that.” you add.

he shifts from one hip to the other, giving you a tiny nod in understanding, “do you think I’m not the right person for you?” he asks. he picks up on your hesitation, air caught in your lungs because you weren’t expecting that response. you had a whole planned out response, and instead you’re looking for words to answer.

that same smirk toys his lips again as he slips into his teal green racing suit, “you know where to find me.” he sends you a wink, but doesn’t leave without a final word, “I’ve got a condom with your name on it, you just say when.”

—

your fingernail is gushing with blood. you’ve been chewing it nonstop since the race started.

the gnawing at your skin might’ve started with the race, it wasn’t an easy start and finish, with yellow flags, safety cards, and animals at risk; the race was anything but calm. now that the race was over, and you were watching Lance climb out of the car, the nervous tick now wasn’t because of the race anymore. it was because of the butterflies in your stomach and the throbbing from your pussy.

you’ve never felt this hungry for someone before. you watch his hair fall out of the helmet, the dark brown locks were flattened due to the balaclava, but the hairs find their way back to their natural shape as he shakes them off his sweaty forehead.

you feel like a little girl at school again. getting all excited when your crushed looked your way, or how nervous you got around him, it all felt too familiar. it was how you used to feel about Lance when you were in middle school. always looking at him when no one was watching, and being anxious when you were left alone with him. some feelings never do go away.

“I heard p9 is the newest p1.” you say when he’s finally made his way over to you. you watch him as he steps up to your body, arms wrapping around you. there was nothing that could of prepared you for this moment, there was no better feeling than Lance against your own body.

his arms are loose around you, his hand rests in the middle of your back, thumb lightly stroking your back. you inhale his sweaty scent, the mixture of his cologne lingers the odor, it’s oddly enough to send a pulse back down between your inner thighs.

“p1, huh?” he asks pulling away from your body, fingers running through his hair, he gently pulls on the strands before running his fingers down his face.

“that’s what they’re saying.” you reply, stumbling backwards, knees a bit too weak to stand you need something to grab onto. you never expected a man to ever do this to you. at least not Lance.

he licks his lips, “what does p1 get?”

“me.” you say.

every vessel in your body is sure of this. you might not of been hours ago, when he was playing his asshole cards, but now? you’re sure he’s the one. in fact, you’re sure he’s the only one.

you watch him swallow the lump in his throat. he’s never seen you be so bold. he watches your face to see if any signs of bluffing, but you’re not folding, you’re sure of this.

“meet me back at the hotel, room 305.”

—

you sit on the edge of his hotel bed, once again gnawing at the skin of your fingertips. you weren’t sure what to expect, should you dress up for the occasion? maybe sport a g-string? you couldn’t even focus on trying to eat dinner, there was too much on your mind.

“would you stop eating your skin?” he asks emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. he’d been in the shower when you arrived. he heard the door click open, and listened to you carefully place it behind you to not make too much noise. of course, you failed by running into bathroom door that was wide open allowing the steam from the shower out the room.

��I’m sorry,” you mutter putting your hand underneath your thighs, “I’m just nervous.” you admit, as if it wasn’t obvious. he’s known you your whole life, that tick was a dead giveaway of your anxiety.

you watch him bend down to pick up one of his shirts out of his suitcase. you’re a little unsure why he’s getting dressed if in the next ten minutes you’ll be throwing the shirt off of him, and you can tell he’s reading your confusion just by the way he laughs.

“we are doing this my way, dinner first then sex. I gotta get to know you before I fuck you.”

you scoff. like he hasn’t spent over a decade or two learning the in’s and outs of you. you find it ridiculous, but he’s truly the only man that’s ever agreed to second base. he’s your only safe option to show you what a first time should be like.

“fine, should I change?” you gesture to the outfit you’re wearing. a midi white skirt, pair of sandals, and a black tank top.

he shakes his head, “no it’s fine, skirts are easy to take off anyway.”

you laugh, and decide to wait for him to change. of course, he changes with the bathroom door cracked open. it’s not enough for you to see anything, but you can hear the zip of jeans, the sound of his socks against the cold tile, all the things to let you know he was naked.

“ready?” he asks while grabbing his keys and wallet off the nightstand.

you stand up and watch him, you see the gold packaging that was hidden beneath the wallet, and you know exactly what it is. he wasn’t hiding it.

“where to?”

he gives you a knowing look like you shouldn’t of asked, and you know exactly what he’s about to say, “Lester’s deli.”

—

the sandwich in front of you is just as good as you remember it being. Lance sits across from you, halfway finished with his when he looks up at you, “so tell me, what do you like in a guy?” he asks.

you nearly drop the sandwich just to swallow before replying. it took all of the strength in you to not look down at his growing hard cock in his jeans.

it was evident the whole drive. his hand resting on your bare thigh, fingertips dangerously move up your skirt. he was such a tease, it was killing you how he was acting.

you shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know, just as long as he’s nice.” you reply to his question taking another bite out of your sandwich.

he nods taking a sip of his drink before asking another question, “I want the specifics. what did and didn’t work. do you like it when I touch you? do you hate hair pulling?”

the questions roll off his tongue, it’s hard to keep track. you can tell he’s been around the block, whereas you’ve barely been in the house let alone allowed to park your car in a man’s garage.

“Lance,” you say, finally stopping him from getting into orgys and sex toys, “I’ve never had sex. I don’t know what I like, but I know I like you.”

he finds himself blushing. he owes Chloe at least twenty bucks for predicting the expectable outcome: that you would fall for each other.

“well then what are we waiting for?” he asks, standing up from his chair. the few customers turn around hearing the legs of the chair scrape against the floor.

you watch him like you used to. with those silly little doe-eyes and follow his lead because even if you wanted to say no, you couldn’t. you dreamt of a moment like this at some point in your life, and you cannot believe it was Lance stroll who’d fuck you in his hotel room.

—

you lay against the mattress, his lips press against yours every so often while he takes off his shirt. you study the way his body looks as the black t-shirt comes off his back. you take your index finger and trace the outlines of his abs, the tattoo on his rib cage. there’s so much to see.

“I’ll help you.” he guides your hands to the zipper of his jeans. his hands steadies your shaking ones as you pull on the tiny metal that’s holding all of him together.

the jeans come off, they are in a ball on the floor along side his t-shirt he was once sporting. he’s hesitant to take off your tank top for you, his cold hands are on top of yours while you lift your shirt up over your head.

he licks his bottom lip before pressing them against yours for a brief second, “so beautiful.”

during the kiss he took the chance to unhook your bra, and when he pulls away, the material that was holding your breasts up is ripped off of you exposing your nipples to the cool air of the hotel room.

“lay back, for me.” he says, and you obey. it wasn’t much of a demand, rather than a statement for comfort. he takes the opportunity to spread your legs far apart, feet pressed into the mattress.

the white skirt you’re wearing rides up your thighs, he can see the lacy panties as clear as day, a smirk lifts his lips, “for me? you didn’t have to.” he jokes, but its sincere. he finds it charming you put in the effort to look presentable.

“whatever.” you grumble.

he smiles, hands running up your legs to your thighs. he stops at your hips that currently hold the floral lacy material in place. he’s careful to not tear the material as it trails down your legs before being tossed aside.

he gets off the bed for the gold wrapper on the nightstand. while he’s tugging off his boxers, the realization hits you. you’re about to have sex with the Lance stroll. the man who you once took showers with when you were babies, held you while your parents bickered and fought. this man was more than the perfect guy for the job to take your virginity.

“you just tell me when to stop, okay?”

his thumb grazes your cheek for a brief second before his hand slides down your throat. he’s gentle over your voice box, “I need to hear you, you’ll tell me to stop.”

his chain dangles off his of chest, the dim lights of the room reflect off it, nearly blinding you while he speaks. you feel that pulse once again as you nod, “I’ll tell you.” you try to vocalize your needs, but it’s caught in your throat making you sound raspy and hoarse.

he lets go. allowing that hand to caress your body while the other balances him in between you. his chain hovers over your eyelids, shoulder blades lining up with yours you can feel the heat radiating off of him. your breath is caught in your lungs by the sight of his beauty.

you feel his skin against yours before his tip inside of you. your hips grind together, chests nearly colliding with one another. your back arches into him, a gasp rolls off your tongue, nails digging deep into his skin. he hisses.

the strokes weren’t deep and long at first, rather quick and sporadic to get a feel. you’re tight, and he expected this, but he didn’t expect the challenge to open you up to feel so good.

his head tilts back a bit, a little grunt escaping his lips as he goes deeper into your core. you’re whining under him, absolutely soaking wet under him already.

he’s big, god he’s incredibly big. you’re not why he doesn’t walk around flaunting it, because you’re sure it’s the biggest dick you’ve ever seen and you weren’t even sure he’d fit in you.

you squirm when he goes long, the pain is met with pleasure shortly, a whimper escapes your lips, nails still digging into his back.

his strokes start to pick up again, you can feel the mattress beneath you two begin to shake, the headboard lightly tapping the wall behind you. you’re about a second away from coming when he hits the bundle of nerves that send a rush through your body. a whine slips off your tongue, and suddenly he’s slowing down— pulling out to be exact.

“yeah?” he asks. trying to catch his breath, he takes a long look into your angelic eyes, “let me taste you.” his voice is quiet. picking your legs up over his shoulders, his eyes dazzle with excitement at the thick moisture against your folds.

you shutter, when you feel his wet warm tongue against your skin, it’s a sensation that itches your brain, makes you dizzy, and gets your legs to twitch.

he takes his time wiping up your moisture in every fold before he re-enters your center— this time with his tongue. his name rolls off your lips, he stops for a brief moment before you guide him to continue. your fingers are tugging hard on the strands of his brown hair.

“you taste amazing.” he lifts up sitting on his knees wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a question in his mind sparks his interest.

“you want to try something?” he asks. curiosity flows through you. what more could he have up his sleeve?

you nod, allowing him to take your hands and lift you off the bed. you’re struggling to stand on your two feet, he helps you onto your knees, eye to eye with his hard cock.

“open your mouth, relax your jaw.” he instructs. you follow his commands, doing as so before taking his cock into your hands, fingers carefully stroke the shaft before your mouth closes around his tip.

the rest of his words get caught in his throat when your tongue swipes his tip. your fingers are beginning to wrap tight around his hard cock. how the hell were you so good at this? he thought to himself.

you may not be experienced enough, but you know just what you’re doing. you’ve read enough smut in your life to know where your hand should be, how your tongue should flick him. you know this will get him to come.

“g-good girl.” he moans.

his head is thrown back in pleasure. he can’t get enough of the feeling of your hand move up and down him, tongue swiping every inch of his cock.

he’s got one hand in your hair, the other is gripping the edge of the nightstand for balance. his knees are weak, he can’t stand it. he gives into the pleasure that he’s holding onto and let’s go. he’s enjoyed every second, every gasp that exits his mouth is a reward to your ego.

your mouth is met with his cum, a soft whimper escapes his lips that ends with a sigh in a relief. you pull away from his body, and when you look up from his cock, your eyes being greeted to his cocky smirk.

“not bad for a first timer.” he says, a light chuckle escapes his lips as he collapses against the mattress. it was finally over.

his arms are extended upward, fingers motioning for you to join him. you get up off the floor, and climb into his arms.

“now what?” you ask, resting your head against his chest. you can hear his heart still rapidly pounding.

it was a question you didn’t want to ask. once this was over, now that you no longer were a virgin, you figured there was no challenge left for him.

“now? we cuddle. next time? I get to teach you how to ride.”

“sounds like a plan.”

[salva70re]

“I DON'T UNDERSTAND” Jang Wooyoung x reader.

Summary: Sunghoon is a cheater and Wooyoung takes revenge on him with the girl he cheated on her.

W: Mention of Sunghoon from Enhypen (sorry), infidelity,Wooyoung is confused about her sexuality, Suggestive, Reader is described as feminine and short while Wooyoung as a little masculine and tall just for the plot, slightly homophobia, not readproof.

You were at what you thought was the most boring party, your best friend Yujin invited you to the celebration of her group comeback, and even if you were happy for her you couldn't help but feel out of place.

The place was full of idols, dancers including some actors, which you in fact are not and your best friend have the best idea than to leave you alone, so you shifted uncomfortably in your place, fixing your outfit or taking short sips of the drink in your hand, trying to calm your nervousness.

Not only the fact that it was a place where you clearly didn't belong, but the famous Jang Wooyoung, would be there, with whom you interacted enough times to know that you had a huge crush on her.

Although you knew very well that she had a boyfriend and she was straight, everyone knew it, but that didn't stop you from feeling incredibly attracted to her and little did you know that was the reason why you weren't leaving that party yet.

You were so lost in your thoughts and trying to calm yourself that you didn't feel a presence next to you until you heard his masculine voice finding you with nothing but Wooyoung's boyfriend, Sunghoon.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" His voice was calm and friendly, but even so he managed to make you annoyed so you just looked at him in silence "well... I would surely remember a pretty girl like you"

You wanted to laugh in his face, what kind of pickup line was that? you didn't know how he could have conquered a woman like Wooyoung, especially if he used those flirting tactics.

"I'm a friend of Yujin" Was the only thing you answered, taking a long sip from your glass. "And no, we don't know each other."

"And I have no intention of doing so" you thought to yourself, feeling that his mere presence bothered you at incredible levels.

What you thought was going to end there ended up in a conversation (if you can call that a conversation) where he probably told you his whole life story and tried to shamelessly flirt with you that you avoided at all costs with the rudest comments you could think of.

Something you had to thank him for was that he had made you no longer nervous but incredibly bored, a question was on your mind from the moment he decided to open his mouth.

"You don't have a girlfriend?" The question came out sharp and quick from your mouth, almost without letting you process it, you saw how his face changed into a nervous one.

"No I don't" Sunghoon spoke hesitantly while his gaze scanned the place almost looking for someone "I mean yes I have, but we are about to break up, she and I don't match, she seems more like my best friend than my girlfriend have you see her?"

His words came out like poison, as if the mere thought of his girlfriend repulsed him, making your blood boil, how could someone talk like that about their partner? and especially if your partner is the Jang Wooyoung herself.

Without being able to stand it one more second, you excused to him while walking to the bathroom or looking for Yujin, whichever you found first.

Oh the small and naive you, It wasn't that complicated to find the bathroom because a hand in your arm dragged you to it, Wooyoung had listened to the last part of the conversation making her believe something that wasn't and she was about to confront you about it.

Because let's see, she knew that you were the best friend of one of her members, she had small talks with you every time you met at the company or Yujin's birthday and you obviously knew she had a boyfriend then why were you flirting with him now? (oh lord)

That'swhen you were able to react you were leaning against the sink and Wooyoung towering you with her brow visibly furrowed.

"You now? Since the day I met you, something about you feel off to me" Wooyoung spoke, trying to remain calm. "I wanted to believe it was because you were simply shyer and had no interest in idols but now I understand."

Now it was your time to frown, feeling confused by her words you tried to speak but your words stuck in your throat when she spoke again.

"I understand that technically we are not friends and that he can be attractive to you." Now you were the one who was beginning to understand. "and that he wants someone like you, I understand you are way too pretty, shorter than him and much more feminine than I will ever be."

"I wasn't..." Wooyoung put her hand on your mouth stopping you from continuing speaking as her face moved closer to yours.

"Shut up, I'm not done yet." Her voice was sharp and her closeness was making you probably more nervous than before. "Believe me i get that but what I don't understand It's why I'm not angry or jealous for him."

"What I don't understand." Wooyoung changed her expression for a softer one, removing her hand from your mouth, resting both on the sink behind you. "It's why i want you too, why I was jealous that he was flirting with you when I should be the one doing that"

And again you were confused again, you thought she would be yelling at you and blaming you for flirting with her ugly boyfriend but on the contrary she was saying that she wanted you.

Wooyoung was looking at you expectantly for an answer or something but your mind was blank so your only response was to grab her face and kiss her something that surprised her, her mind was running a marathon it was her first time kissing a girl in her short 20 years and she didn't know how to act.

And you, probably understanding what was happening, grabbed her hands guiding them on your waist and whispering on her lips to relax and let herself flow and that was exactly what she did her right hand went to your neck bringing your faces together even more making the kiss even deeper.

Words were no longer necessary, both being too busy with your mouths on each other in a mutual understanding of what was happening there, they both felt like they were going to get lost in each other especially when her hand wandered to your bare leg where your skirt began and your fingers closed in her hair.

Although your little bubble of desire and love burst when a loud knock on the bathroom door echoed off the walls, at this you hadn't realized when the door had been locked but what you did notice was that your red lipstick was now smeared on Wooyoung's face making you laugh.

"What's funny?" Wooyoung asked confused so you just moved your body giving her space to look at herself in the mirror making her end up laughing too. "Well I'm full of you now"

"Oh no, you still have a lot to try" You spoke before approaching to kiss her but again the knocking on the door sounded and this time even louder so you two have no choice but to leave the bathroom.

Wooyoung took the initiative to open the door even with her face full of your lipstick, coming face to face with Sunghoon, her now ex-boyfriend so she couldn't help but smile sarcastically and grab your hand dragging you away from him, leaving an angry Sunghoon, and you could have sworn you heard him curse you for being sick lesbians.

"Where are we going?" You asked curious, watching how you two crossed the street door heading towards a black car, her car.

"To my house" Sunghoon spoke calmly as she took out her car key, opening the passenger door for you. "You said I still had a lot to try."

N: I posted this story on another account with another artist but I decided to adapt it to Wooyoung and publish it hereI hope you like it (I'll edit the mistakes later)<3v

[tilebytiles]

infallible beliefs - a.t. (part 2)

summary: as it turns out, professors are actually capable of feeling things, and alex feels more things for you than he'd like to. word count: 5.2k warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and alex is 30), mentions of violence, physical abuse, sexual assault - implied and written a/n: this is LONG awaited and for that i sincerely apologize. i'm testing out writing in all lowercase to see if i prefer it ... it is easier than manually capitalizing everything but we'll see part 1

you silently wished there was some great instruction manual for how to navigate conversations with your professor after having him discover the nature of your abusive relationship. you wished an angel could descend from the heavens, give you a good slap for how you'd let things play out in that stupid dingy bar, then fill you in on mr. turner's exact schedule so you could avoid him at all costs and never speak to him one-on-one again. you even stared down at the beige coffee that filled the plastic cup in your hands, a personal heater for your dreadfully chilly palms, waiting for the streaks of frothed milk to form the answer. but, of course, nothing came — and maybe you were actually insane for expecting anything at all. you were beginning to think god only kept you around because you amused him.

your ecclesiastical theory was only compounded by you nearly running into the wall — a door, actually. you quickly steadied your coffee cup in your hands and looked up, peering at the small name plaque attached to the door. alexander turner, ph— oh, of fucking course. you wondered how much time you had before he would notice your presence, and your left foot was already turning away, your brain drafting up yet another panicked signal to get you the fuck out of there, but it was too late. you locked eyes with him through the tall glass window on the right side of the door, and you watched as he took a whole of 1.5 seconds to register who you were before setting his pen down and standing up from his chair. goddamn it.

the door creaked open, and you were quick to slap on what was, at best, an only semi-falsified smile. it wasn't like you had anything against him, you just ... really didn't wanna see him. "mr. turner!" you said a little too loudly, a nervous laugh serving as punctuation. "fancy seeing you here!"

"this is my office." he rose an eyebrow at your abnormally skittish behaviour. "you were standing outside the door."

"oh. was i?" you laughed again, silently begging someone to run down the hall and shoot you already.

to your relief, mr. turner didn't say anything else on how strange you were acting. he leaned against the doorway, eyeing you for a moment, then asked, "did you need something?"

advice. your schedule so i can never see you again. a gun, maybe? "nothing ... in particular. just, um ..." you glanced to your left, then to your right. the hall was empty both ways, but paranoia still curled up in the recesses of your mind, a slumbering serpent waiting for the right time to strike. "could i come in?"

"of course." he pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped back, giving you enough space to slip past him into his office.

now that you thought about it, you weren't sure if you'd ever been in here. the door gently clicked shut behind you, and mr. turner stepped around you and back to his desk, sinking back down into his chair. all things considered, it was a nice office, at least to you; it wasn't cramped, like you'd always seen in movies, and there were a number of personal touches scattered about the place. the bookshelf against the back wall was full, although the books all seemed to pertain to literature ... or teaching ... teaching about literature ...

a picture on one of the shelves caught your eye, and without giving it much thought, you walked over and reached up, picking up the frame. you held it between both hands as you examined the photo, eyes narrowing. there were two people pictured, a man and a woman, and they had their arms around each other, smiling brightly for the camera. it was a sweet scene, but neither of the people looked particularly familiar, and honestly, you wouldn't put it past your professor to not be arsed with taking the stock image out of the frame. you stared a little longer, pondering where on earth you'd seen those big brown eyes before, when it suddenly clicked — the puzzle came together, and your brain cells rejoiced at their first victory of the day (one that was sorely needed, as far as they were concerned). "is this ... you?"

you looked over at mr. turner for confirmation, and it took him a second to look up from the paper on his desk. you turned the frame in your hands and held it out so he could see what picture you were talking about. he leaned forward, squinted a little, and then nodded. "yeah, that's me."

"you had long hair?"

he smiled sheepishly. "it wasn't that long."

you held the photo up beside his face for comparison. maybe compared to other hair lengths — yours, for example — it wasn't that long, but compared to the length his hair was at now, it was a noticeable difference. "why'd you cut it?"

"did you only come here to judge my past decisions?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice. "i cut it because it didn't suit me anymore. plus, it seemed a bit dated. i was about to start teaching, and i didn't need my students making fun of me on my first day, now, did i?"

you mulled it over and shrugged, then set the frame back up on its rightful shelf. "when'd you start, anyway?"

"oh, about ... seven or eight years ago? it's all kind of blurred together at this point, honestly. i went for my doctorate a couple of years in." his eyes followed you as his spoke, watching as you settled into the chair on the other side of his desk. your bag hit the floor beside you with a muted thump.

you wondered if he was just exceedingly disinterested in talking about his own hair, or if he'd been able to see through you before he'd even opened the door. as soon as you appeared to be settled in, he asked, in a lower tone, "how have you been recently?"

you immediately stiffened in your seat. foolishly, you had hoped he would've been able to just forget everything that'd happened — or, better yet, he would pretend he'd never seen anything, pretend he hadn't brought you down from tears in that stupid fucking bar, pretend he hadn't driven you home and given you his phone number as goddamn insurance. you could pretend, too; you'd taken a drama class in high school once with a friend. sure, it'd been for fun, but you had learned a few things, and how hard was it to act, really? on top of that, you were a literature student, and writers were destined to be pathological liars with all the shite they made up for a good story. you could both pretend and have no trouble at all, and each glance thrown at one another, each conversation shared, each accidental touch, wouldn't weigh half as much as they all did now. if you would both just pretend, then maybe you would know peace.

but it was never that easy, was it?

"i've ..." you looked down at your coffee, still in your hand, and wondered if it would unveil its great secrets now. the frothed milk still did not move. his office, spacious as it'd seemed just a few minutes ago, now felt increasingly small, like its walls were closing in on you, threatening to crush you and compact you down into one of those trash cubes from wall-e. "i've been alright," you finally replied, your voice dropping down to a pitiful mumble. conviction had packed its bags and declared an indefinite vacation, and you weren't allowed to come with. "just been ... busy, you know. school and work and all."

"busy," he echoed, as if that was the one, the word that would allow him to sink down into the depths of your psyche and sort through what was really going on. "and how's your boyfriend?"

"he's alright, too."

"just alright?"

"yeah."

"you know you can tell me anything, y/n." you knew — how could you not? how could you forget the day he'd first seen that bruise on your wrist and everything started to crumble? he'd told you his door was always open if you needed to chat, and although your short-term memory had quickly discarded the dialogue, your long-term memory swept it up out of the garbage, dusted it off, and stored it on a shelf way near the back of your mental archives, hellbent on never truly letting you forget it. maybe that was how you'd ended up at his office to begin with; your subconscious had taken the reins and decided you were long overdue for that little chat.

you sighed and took a long sip of your coffee. perhaps the froth would only tell you its secrets if you consumed it. "he's ... mostly forgotten what happened at the bar, i think. he — he acts like there's something wrong, like there's something he's supposed to be mad at me for, but he can't remember exactly what. i think maybe, deep down, he knows? it's little things he does, like ... whenever i mention your class, his mood sours, and he immediately changes the subject." i think he's jealous of you, you thought, but you kept it to yourself. that idea — the possibility of your boyfriend seeing your professor as a competitor for your heart — was one dreadful enough to give you a migraine. imagine how the professor in question would feel!

mr. turner nodded slowly, seeming to mull over your words. eventually, he asked, "has he ... put his hands on you again?"

"once. i'd accidentally smashed his fingers in the door, and he got pissed and said he needed to make it even."

"jesus christ. did he break anything?"

"no, no, he was fine. there was some bruising, but his fingers were all intact. i came out of it with a couple of bruises, too, but ..." you shrugged. "what can you do?"

he let out a long sigh and ran a hand over his face, glancing up at the ceiling as if to plead with god for answers the same way you'd done. you wondered if he was already sick of being a part of your secret. you couldn't blame him, honestly. "are you going to break up with him at any point?"

your gaze wandered off to the photo on the shelf again. now that you thought about it, you were pretty sure that was ms. chung next to him. "i don't know."

"i'm not saying you have to do it today —"

"i know."

"— or even tomorrow, for that matter —"

"i know."

"— but at some point. this relationship is killing you, y/n."

"i know, mr. turner."

you knew, better than anyone.

•••••

you felt it before it came. it was in the loose thread that'd cropped up in your favourite jumper that morning; the defiance of your bedsheets as you changed them, refusing to be perfectly flat against your mattress; the forecast in the weather app on your phone, predicting heavy rain starting at 8pm that night; the lead in your mechanical pencil that kept breaking, taunting you, like you weren't applying the same amount of pressure you always used when you wrote. it was the beginning of the end, a maelstrom of disaster with each incident piling onto one another, one after the other, until the stack went so high it hurt to crane your neck that far back. you tried to go about your day as normal — you brushed them all off as coincidences. you turned a blind eye to it all, walking away from the wreckage, because as far as you were concerned, it couldn't be anything real if you didn't pay any mind to it.

but you felt it. long before it forced you to look.

a thunderclap served as the dramatic entry music that accompanied john's arrival back to your flat. you had been curled up in bed, reading a book you really should've finished ages ago — your "to be read" list was so long, it was embarrassing. as soon as you heard the door shut, you were quick to mark your place, scramble out of bed, and slip out of your bedroom and into the living room. john had always hated it if you didn't greet him; you never really understood why. maybe because it made you feel like a housewife?

"welcome back," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek that made your soul wither. "how'd it go?"

his answer came first in the form of a burp, one he did a half-assed job of covering with his hand. he didn't even bother excusing himself. "went fine," he muttered, shrugging his coat off. rain droplets clung to it, desperate to get an insider look into your flat. how disappointed they must have been. "it was good seeing 'em all again. 's been too long, you know?"

"yeah." you didn't know — you had no friends anymore. there was a slur tugging on his words, making each syllable a little longer than it needed to be, but he was a grown man and he could drink if he wanted to and you didn't feel like saying anything about it and starting a fight. "did you have dinner yet?"

"no, i'm starving. we still got some of that pasta?"

"we do."

"could you make me a bowl, please?"

"of course." as you stepped away from him to retreat into the kitchen, a firm hand landed on the curve of your ass, making you stiffen. a deep chuckle followed. it would be one of those nights, then.

just a few minutes later, his bowl of pasta was reheating in the microwave, and as you waited and watched the timer slowly tick down, green numbers morphing into each other in the blink of an eye, you leaned against the counter. you'd already eaten at least an hour ago, so he would have to eat alone. eventually, you felt his presence behind you, strong arms looping around your waist as he pressed himself against you. when he wasn't being the violent, angry, possessive kind of drunk, he was the clingy kind of drunk. although maybe the possessiveness explained the clinginess. "i missed you today," he mumbled, his nose brushing your hair out of the way so he could kiss your shoulder.

you almost snorted, but you quickly reeled it in. "you did?"

"i always miss you, babe." he shifted, and his growing erection pressed up against your ass, eliciting a soft groan from him. one of his hands slipped underneath your jumper and travelled up to your left breast, giving it a soft squeeze through your bra. "missed these, too."

normally, you would have just gone along with it; you two had done this rodeo several times before, and you had always been the one to topple off the bull. john was the one that had taken your virginity, and since he was your only point of reference for what sex was supposed to be like, you had just come to the conclusion that sex was fucking terrible and no one should ever do it. it was not fun, it was not enjoyable for both parties, and it was rarely ever consensual. john had quickly given up on trying to seek out your consent early on in your relationship. it was never about your pleasure, only his. and you, in all your stupidity — because you firmly believed you were just a giant idiot — had believed that this was how things were supposed to be. it was never meant to be about you.

you didn't know what possessed you to wriggle out of his grasp, to lightly push him away from you and force his hand out from underneath your top. conviction had just come back from its vacation, and with a renewed vigor you were entirely unfamiliar with, it spoke for you. "i don't feel like it tonight, john."

he froze, staring at you for a few moments, unblinking in a way that greatly unsettled you. "you don't feel like it?"

you shook your head. "i-i'm sorry."

he sighed and shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "no, no, don't be sorry, y/n."

was it really that easy? you felt like a fool for not standing your ground sooner, and you could practically hear your brain cells cheering, preparing the festivities for what they considered to be the greatest accomplishment of the modern age. maybe john wasn't the worst person ever — maybe he could listen to reason, and it was just your fault for not trying to find a compromise, some middle ground you could both stand on without resorting to a shouting match. not even he was susceptible to good communication!

his hand descended upon you, faster than you could predict, and you had no time to move out of the way before you were slapped across the face with a force that sent you straight to the floor.

he scoffed. "when have i ever cared if you don't feel like it? did you really think i'd just let you go like that?"

the microwave began beeping. his pasta was ready. "john, i —"

"shut up!" he roared, grabbing you by the hair and slamming your head against one of the cabinets beneath the sink. for a moment, you were sure your ears were ringing. your scalp burned as his fingers tightened around the strands. the world became a blur of colour as he pulled you up onto your knees, then sank down with you as your face was slammed down into the floor. "fucking bitch — can't do fuck all —"

"stop!" you screamed, the word contorting into a wail as you reached up blindly and clawed at his hand, trying desperately to get his grip to loosen. nails dug into flesh, tearing through layers of skin, and he finally eased up with a howl, letting go just long enough for you to scramble up off the floor and dart out of the room. your head was already pounding, and you felt disoriented, but you didn't give a damn — you needed to leave.

you slammed the door to your bedroom shut and locked it, then began rummaging through the closet for an old suitcase. when was the last time you'd gone travelling? a pink one was the one you found first, and you sized it up for a moment before deciding it'd have to do. you could always get new clothes later. as you stumbled around the room, grabbing whatever you deemed essential with one hand and tossing it onto your bed, your other hand made quick work of your phone, calling the only person you could think of.

riiiiing. riiiiing. riiiiing. click. "hello?"

"mr. turner?"

"y/n?" you heard the rustle of fabric on the other end of the line. "are you okay?"

you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying not to burst into tears in the middle of the call. "no." your voice wobbled a little. "do you still have my address?"

there was a beat of silence, as if he had to take a moment to process the weight of your question. finally, he said, "i'll be there as quick as i can. find something to defend yourself with."

click.

the next five minutes were spent trying to stuff as much as you could into that measly suitcase while also trying not to vomit everywhere. to your surprise, john hadn't come trying to bust the door down — you couldn't really hear him at all, actually. that terrified you.

you unlocked the door and took a deep breath before slowly pulling it open. john was standing on the other side, arms crossed and gaze unforgiving. his hand was still bleeding. "where the fuck are you going?"

"away."

he snorted. "you think i'll just let you go? huh? you'll fucking come crawling back, anyway, y/n."

"no, i won't. we're over, john."

"like hell we are."

maybe that angel had finally come to save the day. his hand shot out, reaching for you, and instead of succumbing to his grasp as you had so many times before, you lifted the suitcase up and poured all of your strength into shoving it square against his chest, knocking him back — and out of the way. you slipped past him and practically bolted through the living room, fumbling with the lock on the front door for only a second before swinging it open and running out of your flat. his flat, now, you supposed.

you had never run so fast in your life.

the lift took you down to the lobby of the block of flats you lived in, the soft music coming from the speaker jarring in nature compared to the sliver of hell you'd just experienced. with a dinging noise, the doors slid open, and you stepped out of the metal prison, suitcase in tow. at least there wasn't anyone else to see you here, not anyone except the oddly dressed fellow by the front —

wait.

"miles kane?" the sound of his name made miles turn, a smile tugging at his lips, as if he'd expected to be meeting a fan. when he was instead met with you, the girl from the bar that now had a busted lip, a bloody nose, what was sure to become a black eye, and a number of yet-to-bloom bruises that not even you were aware of, the smile dropped like a fire being extinguished.

"bloody fuckin' hell, what the fuck happened to you?" he asked, rushing over to help you; you looked like you were on the brink of collapse. an arm came around your shoulders, a tender touch you were entirely unfamiliar with, as he led you over to a nearby sofa, easing you down onto the cushions.

you sighed and tilted your head back, staring up at the lights overhead. "is it that bad?"

"can you not feel it?"

"i can't really feel anything, if i'm being honest." you watched out of the corner of your eye as he settled down next to you. "what are you doing here?"

"i live here. al told me you'd need some help. texted me a few minutes ago and said he's almost here."

you wanted to cry at how thoughtful mr. turner was being — how considerate they both were — but you were too buzzed up on adrenaline to cater to any emotion at all. "i'm ... sorry."

"what for?"

"that you have to put up with this."

he shook his head. "'s no trouble at all, love. just be safe, yeah?"

safe. what did that even mean anymore?

as the adrenaline wore off, you became increasingly tired, and you would have fallen asleep on that (rather stiff) sofa if it weren't for miles jumping up and announcing to an audience of one, "he's 'ere!"

you jolted up from your seat and turned, locking eyes with mr. turner as he stepped through the doors. the sight of you made him falter, and he opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and quickly snapped it shut. he glanced at miles, who nodded and wrapped his arm back around you, grabbing the handle of your suitcase with his free hand and leading you both towards the doors — towards salvation.

it was pouring buckets outside, and with the hurry he'd been in, mr. turner had failed to bring an umbrella. the suitcase was passed off to him as miles ushered you towards the car, popping the passenger door open and helping you inside. the door shut, and you were left alone, any conversation the pair were having being drowned out by the thunderous patter of rain against the top of the car. a part of you was still on high alert, expecting john to burst through the doors at any moment and try to reclaim you, but the rest of you wished so desperately to fall back into the pool of peace.

eventually, the driver's door opened, and mr. turner slipped into the seat, thanking miles one last time before shutting the door. miles waved at you through the window with an apologetic smile, and you waved back, watching as he retreated inside. with a sigh, mr. turner turned the keys in the ignition and let the car roar to life.

you didn't know how long it took to get to his flat; you had, more or less, lost all sense of time. you wondered if john had given you a concussion, but tried not to think on it for too long. you were barely aware of the car parking outside his block of flats; of the passenger door popping open as he offered you a hand to help you out; of the ding of the lift as it arrived on your floor, and the second ding as it deposited you onto the floor mr. turner lived on; of his keys jingling as he unlocked the front door of his flat; of him ushering you inside and muttering something about getting you into some warm clothes and putting water to boil for tea.

it was only when a hand landed on your shoulder that you snapped back to reality, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around to face him. his other hand landed on your other shoulder, steadying you, and he seemed to hesitate briefly before letting his arms slip around you, drawing you into an embrace that was equal parts warm and comforting and soothing and heartbreaking. "it's over," he murmured into your hair, lips ghosting over your ear.

you had felt it before you had seen it, and now, in the calm of mr. turner's flat, you couldn't run from it any longer. it seized you, peeling your eyelids back and forcing you to gaze upon its existence. you weren't aware you were crying, not until you finally let out a broken sob and succumbed to the emotions that had been building up inside of you like the world's most unsteady jenga tower. you sank deeper into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him, clinging to him like you were afraid he'd let go. he wouldn't — of course he wouldn't. "shh, shh, it's okay," he whispered, beginning to slowly rock you from side to side.

a part of you wished he would be repulsed by your emotions; wished he would pull away and send you back out to face john on your own. it would be easier to resign yourself to that fate than to face ... this. everything. the mess you had become, the mess john had made you, the mess mr. turner had recognised since he'd seen your bruised wrist, the mess you had chosen to remain oblivious to because admitting to it meant admitting that something was wrong, and you hated the thoughts of getting pulled down into that dark and ugly whirlpool and being left with nothing to confront but yourself — and you knew, you knew that you would wash up onto shore and the sky would be grey and there would be nothing, and your chest would be cracked open and your ribs splintered apart so everyone could see your heart, bloody and raw and ugly, as it beat the tune of your secrets to the world.

"do you want to shower?" he murmured. tendrils of vulnerability wrapped around you, tugging at your hands and ankles and forcing you down into the whirlpool against your will.

"no," you whispered.

"okay. let's get you changed, at least, and — we can try to blowdry your hair. it got a bit wet in the rain."

you didn't wear your own clothes that night; he gave you some of his, fresh from the dryer. they were warm and a bit big, but that added to the comfort, didn't it? you wondered why he even had a hairdryer, but maybe his hair was like yours and could never dry in a timely manner when he needed it to, making such a tool an essential in his bathroom.

you were sitting on his sofa now, wrapped up in a blanket he'd given you, cradling a warm cup of tea in your hands. you watched as steam wafted up into the air, dissolving as quickly as it'd come into existence. "i'm sorry, mr. turner," you said quietly."

there was a beat of silence. "alex."

you looked up at him. "what?"

"alex," he repeated, his elbow digging into the back of his sofa as he propped his head up in his hand. "i want you to call me alex."

requesting he call you by your first name was one thing — he'd only called you your last name for formalities, after all, a general air of politeness that followed him wherever he went. but this — this was its own beast, loaded with enough implications to give you several migraines. they were all implications that you, for the time being, chose not to think of.

"okay." you looked down at the mug again. "i'm sorry, alex."

he sighed softly beside you. "don't be."

"but —"

"but nothing, y/n. i was more than willing to help, and i still am." you hated how unused you were to generosity like his.

the pair of you fell into silence that stretched out for the span of a few minutes, broken only by you adjusting your position in your fabric cocoon and mumbling, "it was because of the starry night kit."

he rose an eyebrow. "what was?"

"that bruise on my wrist. we'd argued about it, and he ended up pushing me so i fell and hit the table."

"the fuck did he do that for?" now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiled a bit sheepishly when he realised what he'd done. "sorry."

"no, it — it's okay." you offered him a meager smile in response. "it's nice to hear you drop the professional tone."

"i'll keep that in mind. but — really, why'd he do that?"

"it was too expensive for him, and he called me ungrateful, among ... other things."

"how much is it, anyway?"

"a couple hundred pounds, at least."

"hm." he glanced off to the side, staring at something you couldn't exactly pinpoint. you wondered what he was thinking about.

given that you'd lost all of your fight, you didn't think twice about agreeing to his giving you his bed for the night while he slept on the sofa. the pair of you exchanged goodnights, and you slipped beneath the covers, relishing in the softness of his pillow and the warmth provided by the blanket. it didn't take you long at all to fall asleep — and it was possibly the best sleep you'd ever gotten.

you remained blissfully unaware of a wide awake alex on the sofa, sitting in the dark as he ordered the starry night set off the lego website at 12am.

tags: @saintfrancis-ofassisi / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay / @captainwans

[pureblx0d]

“I DON'T UNDERSTAND” Bada Lee x Reader.

Summary: Howl is a cheater and Bada takes revenge on him with the girl he cheated on her.

W: Mention of Howl, infidelity, Bada is confused about her sexuality, Suggestive, Reader is described as feminine and short while Bada as masculine and tall just for the plot, slightly homophobia, not readproof

You were at what you thought was the most boring party, your best friend Minah invited you to the celebration of her Team, the famous Team Bebe. and even if you were happy for her you couldn't help but feel out of place.

The place was full of professional dancers and even some idols, which you in fact are not and your best friend have the best idea than to leave you alone, so you shifted uncomfortably in your place, fixing your outfit or taking short sips of the drink in your hand, trying to calm your nervousness.

Not only the fact that it was a place where you clearly didn't belong, but the famous Bada Lee, leader of Team Bebe and choreographer, would be there, with whom you interacted enough times to know that you had a huge crush on her.

Although you knew very well that she had a boyfriend and she was straight, everyone knew it, but that didn't stop you from feeling incredibly attracted to her or her dance style, and little did you know that was the reason why you weren't leaving that party yet.

You were so lost in your thoughts and trying to calm yourself that you didn't feel a presence next to you until you heard his masculine voice finding you with nothing but Bada's boyfriend, Howl.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" His voice was calm and friendly, but even so he managed to make you distrustful so you just looked at him in silence "well, I would surely remember a pretty girl like you"

You wanted to laugh in his face, what kind of pickup line was that?, you didn't know how he could have conquered a woman like Bada, especially if he used those flirting tactics.

"I'm a friend of Minah." Was the only thing you answered, taking a long sip from your glass. "And no, we don't know each other."

"And I have no intention of doing so" you thought to yourself, feeling that his mere presence bothered you at incredible levels.

What you thought was going to end there ended up in a conversation (if you can call that a conversation) where he probably told you his whole life story and tried to shamelessly flirt with you that you avoided at all costs with the rudest comments you could think of.

Something you had to thank him for was that he had made you no longer nervous but incredibly bored, a question was on your mind from the moment he decided to open his mouth.

"You don't have a girlfriend?" The question came out sharp and quick from your mouth, almost without letting you process it, you saw how his face changed into a nervous one.

"No I don't" Howl spoke hesitantly while his gaze scanned the place almost looking for someone "I mean yes I have, but we are about to break up, she and I don't match, she seems more like my brother than my girlfriend have you see her?"

His words came out like poison, as if the mere thought of his girlfriend repulsed him, making your blood boil, how could someone talk like that about their partner?and especially if your partner is the Bada Lee herself.

Without being able to stand it one more second, you excused to him while walking to the bathroom or looking for Minah, whichever you found first.

Oh the small and naive you, it was not difficult for you to find the bathroom because a hand in your arm dragged you to it, Bada had listened to the last part of the conversation making her believe something that wasn't and she was about to confront you about it.

Because let's see, she knew that you were the best friend of one of her members, she had small talks with you every time they met at the dance studio, and you obviously knew she had a boyfriend then why were you flirting with him now? (oh lord)

That's why to your surprise, when you were able to react you were leaning against the sink and Bada towering you with her brow visibly furrowed.

"You now? Since the day I met you, something about you feel off to me" Bada spoke, trying to remain calm. "I wanted to believe it was because you were simply shyer and had no interest in dancing, but now I understand."

Now it was your time to frown, feeling confused by her words you tried to speak but your words stuck in your throat when she spoke again.

"I understand that technically we are not friends and that he can be attractive to you." Now you were the one who was beginning to understand. "and that he wants someone like you, I understand you are way too pretty, shorter than him and much more feminine than I will ever be."

"I wasn't..." Bada put her hand on your mouth stopping you from continuing speaking as her face moved closer to yours.

"Shut up, I'm not done yet." Her voice was sharp and her closeness was making you probably more nervous than before. "Believe me i get that but what I don't understand It's why I'm not angry or jealous of him."

"What I don't understand." Bada changed her expression for a softer one, removing her hand from your mouth, resting both on the sink behind you. "It's why i want you too, why I was jealous that he was flirting with you when I should be the one doing that"

And again you were confused again, you thought she would be yelling at you and blaming you for flirting with her ugly boyfriend but on the contrary she was saying that she wanted you.

Bada was looking at you expectantly for an answer or something but your mind was blank so your only response was to grab her face and kiss her something that surprised her, her mind was running a marathon, it was her first time kissing a girl in her short 28 years and she didn't know how to act.

And you, probably understanding what was happening, grabbed her hands guiding them on your waist and whispering on her lips to relax and let herself flow and that was exactly what she did her right hand went to your neck bringing your faces together even more making the kiss even deeper.

Words were no longer necessary, they were both too busy with their mouths on each other in a mutual understanding of what was happening there, they both felt like they were going to get lost in each other especially when her hand wandered to your bare leg where your skirt began and your fingers closed in her hair.

Although their little bubble of desire and love burst when a loud knock on the bathroom door they were in began to echo in this you hadn't realized when the door had been locked but what you did notice was that your red lipstick was now smeared on Bada's face making you laugh.

"What's funny?" Bada asked confused so you just moved your body giving her space to look at herself in the mirror making her end up laughing too. "Well I'm full of you now"

"Oh no, you still have a lot to try" You spoke before approaching to kiss her but again the knocking on the door sounded and this time even louder so you two have no choice but to leave the bathroom.

Bada took the initiative to open the door even with her face full of your lipstick, coming face to face with Howl, her now ex-boyfriend so he couldn't help but smile sarcastically as he grabbed your hand and dragged you away from him, leaving an angry Howl, and you could have sworn you heard him curse them for being sick lesbians but that was just his ego being hurt.

"Where are we going?" You asked, curious, watching how you two crossed the street door heading towards a black car, her car.

"To my house" Bada spoke calmly as she took out her car key, opening the passenger door for you. "You said I still had a lot to try."

-Mich <3.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Return of Sunshine

Okie dokie. Hey look it isn't several months before I am posting again. Go me! I am back with a part 2 to Mr Fancy Pants, @avengers-fixation requested some set in this imagine. So here it is. This is just after Sunshine returns from their undercover op. I hope you all enjoy.

I do recommend reading Mr Fancy Pants first to get a better feel for the reader and what happened, as it is alluded to in this piece.

Also side note, the gif will totally make sense. Hehe.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of violence. Implied sexual content.

Mr Fancy Pants

Master List

Prompt List

Rafael’s eyes kept glancing towards his phone where it sat next to the piles of paperwork he was slowly making his way through. And by slowly, he meant taking five minutes to read one paragraph, since his brain wasn’t taking in anything. The reason for his lack of distraction? Sunshine. God’s damn Sunshine. That FBI agent got under his skin, and now won’t leave. They had been messaging occasionally while Sunshine was undercover, it was only every few days, but Sunshine hadn’t responded to his last message which was sent five days ago. They had never taken that long to respond. Rafael was…worried. Worried that something had happened and it would be unlikely that Rafael would ever find out what.

Six months. It had only taken six months for Rafael to decide that he wanted Sunshine in his life. In what capacity he wasn’t sure yet. He hadn’t been able to meet up with Sunshine in person as it turns out they were correct and they had gotten the attention of their target and had quickly left.

“Shit,” he muttered picking up his phone and navigating to the conversation with Sunshine. He stared at the last message.

To Sunshine: When you get back, we should grab a drink.

And then there was nothing. Rafael half worried that he had scared you off but then he remembered the little note you had left him. Stating that the flirting was over the top but based in truth. So, he knew you were interested in him. Which meant something had happened. He was so close to talking to Liv about this, about whether she had a way to see if you were okay but that meant telling her that the two of you had been talking for the past six months. And for some reason he wasn’t quite ready to let others know. He wanted to keep this for himself, just for a little bit but…if it meant getting an answer on if you where safe maybe it would be worth it. He switched to Olivia’s contact, finger hovering over the call button.

“Hey there Mr Fancy Pants, long time no see,” Rafael felt his whole-body freeze, eyes widening at that voice as he looked over to the now open doorway of his office. He dropped his phone as he stood up from his chair so fast it hit the bookcase behind him.

“Sunshine?” he asked, voice full of disbelieve.

“Miss me?” your lips quirked up in a teasing grin as you walked into his office, closing the door behind you. The response you got from just showing up out of the blue with no warning was so definitely worth it. Even knowing he was probably going to chew you out. You hadn’t meant to ignore him for five days but your phone got destroyed and then there was paperwork and by the time you were free to go with orders for two months leave from your bosses you decided you just wanted see him.

“You…you’re okay?” well that was not what you expected him to say. You’re teasing grin softened as you walked around his desk to stand next to him, he looked so worried and so relieved that you were there.

“Yeah, I mean I’m a little banged up but I’m okay,” you smiled at him. His hands were twitching so you reached out to grab them, holding them in your own. “I’m sorry that I haven’t contacted you. My phone got destroyed, and then everything just went from 0 to 100 real quick and I only just got clearance for leave from my bosses and I just wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?” Rafael questioned. His eyes seemed to be stuck on your intertwined hands, your struggled to keep your smile from growing back to the teasing grin, as it appeared Rafael was struggling to process everything. It occurred to you that your silence might have affected him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Over the six months you had been messaging the lawyer you had grown to like him quite a lot but you hadn’t realised that maybe he had grown to like you as well.

“I did,” you nodded. “I wanted to tell you in person that I won’t be going undercover for a while, and that I would love to get a drink with you.”

Rafael’s eyes snapped up to yours at that, the shock of seeing you finally fading. He wanted to keep holding your hands, he never wanted to let you go. He squeezed your hands as his lips curled into his normal cocky smirk.

“Have I had that much of an effect on you, Sunshine?” Rafael asked raising an eyebrow. Early on in your messages back and forth he asked you if he could continue to call you Sunshine, that he kind of liked the name for you. You had agreed easily, for some reason it felt right to be called Sunshine by him.

“Don’t go getting a big head handsome,” you rolled your eyes, reluctantly pulling your hands away from his as you leant against his desk. “But yes, you have. And apparently, I had quite the effect on you as well. But well, that isn’t a surprise really. I am fabulous.”

“…So, the persona you took on for this case wasn’t really far from the truth?”

“Okay, rude, but no not really,” you shrugged casually looking at your nails. “The best kind of undercover alias is one that isn’t far from the truth, easier to remember. Of course, there have been times my personality is nothing like my actual one but well, sickos apparently like my sunny disposition.”

Rafael studied you closely, watching the way you spoke those words. You hated that fact yet the way you said it so casually showed how much you didn’t want others to know that. He wondered how often you spent being other people, and if you ever truly let others see the real you, not just pieces here and there but everything. And he found himself wishing he could be that person.

“A drink,” Rafael suggested picking his phone up before holding out his hand to you.

“What now?” you asked raising an eyebrow, your eyes flicking towards the clock on the wall. “It’s not even 5, and you looked a little busy.”

“My work can wait,” Rafael felt his face twitch at that comment, as his eyes dropping to the pile of paperwork on his desk that he hadn’t made any headway in.

“From that look I doubt it can,” you chuckled, taking his hand to press a kiss on his knuckles. Grinning when you saw his cheeks flush. “We’ll get drinks, but later, after your work for the day is done. I’ll come back at five on the dot to pick you up.”

You didn’t let him make any arguments, only squeezing his hand as you pushed away from the desk, pausing long enough to press a kiss to his cheek before leaving the office, throwing a quick wink over your shoulder as you left out the door. Rafael stood there frozen, his hand still in the air from where you let it go.

“Oh.”

--

“Come on, gorgeous,” you walked through his doors without even knocking. “It’s five and it’s time for that drink.”

You frowned briefly when the man in question was not at his desk. You tilted your head as you slowly scanned his office, pausing when you saw him sitting on the couch just inside the door. A pen paused halfway to his mouth and his wide eyes staring at you.

“Sunshine,” he said, eyes flicking to the clock. “Punctual.”

“Obviously,” you grinned. “An FBI agent is always on time.”

“I have several police detectives who might argue otherwise,” Rafael sassed throwing his pen on the table and standing up. Your eyes drifted down the line of his torso as he stretched his arms up.

“Hm-hm,” you hummed not bothering to feel offended by that. It didn’t matter that you were friends with Liv and Finn, there would always be animosity between Feds and local police. “Well, come on handsome, times awastin’.”

“In such a hurry, Sunshine?”

“Only for you Mr Fancy Pants,” you winked holding out your hand, wiggling your fingers at him and grinning. “And don’t even try to deny that you weren’t watching the clock for the past four hours.”

Rafael felt his insides warming, he couldn’t say anything because you were correct, he had absolutely been watching the clock. But that was not something he would be telling you. His eyed your wiggling hand, lips twitching up in amusement as he reached out for it. He couldn’t resist you and your ridiculous ways. This night stood be rather amusing.  

--

“Oh bullshit!” you giggled, the third whiskey making you warm. And that was the story you were sticking with. It nothing to do with how close you were sitting to Rafael body twisted to face him, one leg pulled up under you, or the fact that he had his arm resting on the back of the booth, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.

“Ask Finn,” Rafael shrugged, cheeks warm as you leaned closer to him.

“Okay first off, Finn would totally back that bullshit story, so I would not be trusting him,” waving your finger in his face. “Secondly, there is no way the judge allowed the defendant to choke you with a belt.”

“Fine, ask Liv or Amanda,” Rafael took a sip of his scotch. “Or I do believe there is a video of it up on the internet somewhere.”

“You’re shitting me?” you pulled out your phone. “I have got to find this.”

“Good luck,”

“Sweetie, you seem to be forgetting that I am Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations,” waving away his comment you quickly typed on your phone. “Got it.”

Rafael almost choked on his drink at your statement. He had clearly underestimated your ability to find things on the internet. He couldn’t help but watch your face, before watching the video it had been lit up with a triumph look that he wanted to see all the time. He was fascinated as emotions played across your face, confusion, amusement, and concern? And oh, that was something new he hadn’t seen on your face yet. It looked like, rage?

“Dude,” your eyes slowly raised up to his the look in them pinning him in place, he wondered if this is how criminals felt when locked in a room with you. “You could have been seriously hurt. What were you thinking?”

“That I had to get that arsehole to show the court who he truly is,” Rafael shrugged, eyebrows furrowed as he studied you more. Was that rage directed at him? “Are you mad at me for something I did nearly three years?”

“No, yes…maybe, I don’t know,” you huffed dropping your phone back on the table and lent against the back of the booth, which resulted in you leaning against his arm. “You put yourself in danger, which is admirable and explains so much about you.”

Rafael had to admit he was a little confused, the others had shown concern for him but not anger at his actions. It was…an odd feeling. He kind of liked it. And.

“Being angry at me for it explains a lot about you,” he said, his fingers curling to play with the hair at the nape of your neck. Your skin prickled at the touch, as you lent into it.

“I suppose it does,” you breathed, voice raspy. “I should point out, that he is lucky I wasn’t there. I would have punched him in the throat.”

“Then it definitely is a good thing you weren’t there,” he chuckled. “That would have caused some issues and I would have been furious about it. But thank you.”

“Well, gotta defend my handsome little lawyer,” you grinned moving a little closer to Rafael so your bent knee touched his thigh, you wanted more contact with him. The hand playing with the hair on your nape settled there, his thumb stroking gently. That contact made it feel like electricity was running under your skin.

“Little?”

“That’s what you focused on?”

“You’ve been calling me handsome since you met me,”

“Well, sure but…oh never mind,” you giggled reaching for your whiskey to finish it off but quickly moved back to the same position hoping that Rafael would put his hand back. You almost sighed in happiness when he did, a slight squeeze accompanying it.

Rafael couldn’t help it, the way you responded to his touch made him happy. He wondered if you knew that your eyes just lit up or that you pushed back into his hand. His hand and thigh felt like they were burning but he was definitely not removing his hand or moving away from your knee. Especially if you kept looking at him like that like he was…oh. You sent Rafael a puzzled look when his eyes seemed to heat up before he quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing as he covered his mouth with his hand, eyes shifting to you and then away very quickly.

“Sunshine,” Rafael said voice soft with affection. “Would you like come back to mine for some coffee?”

“Coffee?” you said, face soft with a fond look as you leaned close to him. “Is that all?”

“What else would my Sunshine like to do?” he gently lifted your chin before stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Hmm, maybe I wanna kiss my Fancy Pants lawyer,” you answered leaning closer, your lips stopping just before his so your next words caused your lips to brush together. “I’ve been waiting six months.”

“Well, can’t have you waiting any longer, that would be a crime.”

You finally allowed yourself to sigh happily when his lips pressed firmly against yours. His tongue teasingly swiping against your lips before withdrawing. He pulled away pressing his forehead against yours.

“My place,” he suggested eyes burning brightly. “Now.”

“Fuck yes.”

[luvo27]

If you had the Power of Editorial for one decision in the DC writers room and one decision only, what would you push?

gnome my friend i have to imagine you would not have asked if you were not prepared for the possibility of a very long answer!!

ok look look look so before i answer this you have to understand that jokes are one of the most important things to me in the world, especially jokes that are also something true and genuine and meaningful because those things are not mutually exclusive and often when put together can make something extraordinary. like the barbie movie you understand

the short answer: make Connor Hawke aromantic so a Green Arrow can be a Green Aro

the long answer!! i've talked a bit about my feelings regarding aro/ace representation in media and especially fanfiction before, so i'll try to keep this brief, but the thing i want to bring up here is that there is not a lot of aro/ace rep that can be explicitly confirmed within the media the characters are from. maybe it wouldn't be in character, or they don't have the word aromantic in the setting and let's be real a character saying they don't want to date is unfortunately still going to be regarded as being only aromantic coded, if that. Connor is already explicitly asexual, so (quick disclaimer that i haven't read a lot of his more recent stuff) it's already believable that he both 1. knows the term aromantic, and 2. would use that as a word to describe himself if he was.

moving on, Green Aro is probably one of the best missed out puns of all time i'm literally foaming at the mouth thinking about it, but it's also a pun that is genuinely meaningful. first of all, the aro/arrow wordplay isn't new, and the joke is a reference to and acknowledgement of aromantic community and history.

second, in terms of character relevance, i'll start with showing you something I found funny: last year for pride month, dc universe infinite (the terrible official dc comic reading platform) did a little pride round up. Connor was in there! i ended up taking this screenshot and sending it to my friends because the text cut off is hilarious:

like haha yeah celebrate dc pride. this guys got daddy issues. but for real, he has daddy issues!! he was getting bullied and getting into fights and the brilliant solution that he ended up going with to resolve all that was to go to a MONASTARY for the reason of HIS DAD WENT THERE. like my guy became a whole entire monk because his daddy issues were so bad. anyways, he continues to deal with his daddy issues by taking up the green arrow mantle after ollie dies the first time. and we all know about chuck dixon's habit of writing characters with such an insane agenda that he ends up unintentionally making them undeniably queer, connor is such a massive offender that he gets asked if he's gay genuinely so many times. like actually so many times. eventually i plan to make a full list of exactly how many times and also rank them because that would be funny for me, but its so many times.

anyways, he gets asked if he's gay because of his disinterest in women, which is a trait that im pretty sure multiple characters including connor himself bring up with regards to how that makes him different from his father. oliver queen is, or at least has been, canonically a womanizer. he slept around enough before he became ga that he didn't recognize connors mom when she told him he was pregnant, and he cheated on dinah which is crazy why would anyone cheat on dinah, and his relationship with dinah is such a long running and significant relationship in dc history. he is undeniably both romantic and sexual, while connor has brief relationship with a ghost which is. look that's just so aroace to me i dont know what to tell you. (im ignoring shado on purpose thats a whole other conversation)

being aromantic often means feeling pressure in some kind of way to find or want a romantic relationship. a lot of the time this pressure will come from family or friends telling you to find a relationship or being in relationships themselves. The entire world at large often puts pressure on people to have this great and grand and sweeping love story, whether people are inspired by fictional stories or real life examples. for connor, looking up to his father with his grand and sweeping love story, i mean like. to me this sounds like an amazing pressure pot for comphet.

so, to me, the green aro joke has a deeper and more specific meaning for connors character: it's about how he wants to emulate his father, and it's about how he's different from his father. It's about how there aren't a lot of examples of happy aromantic endings, and it's about the struggle to forge our own happy endings without those examples, and it's about how even though it might be difficult to find them, happy aromantic endings exist. and it's also a joke that makes me laugh.

anyways, thanks for reading all that!! and thank you for giving me the excuse to ramble about my guy!!! :DDD

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 21

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 20 🟣 Part 22

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: 18+, not technically smut but there's a BDSM training session involved, D/s dynamic, and a whole lot of feelings.

Word count: 3k

Bingo: Vulnerability (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: ALRIGHT. I owe one of you a 'congratulations' because you were right! I sincerely hope no one is disappointed (I, for one, love what happens in this chapter — or perhaps rather... what doesn't... Either way, this is how it's gonna be.) This is also my second @henrycavillbingo entry; Vulnerability!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

You carefully snuck into the bathroom when you heard the water turn on. It was pointless, of course, because he’d already heard you, but still.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted you as soon as you set foot in the room, and you muttered some form of a hello back.

“I, eh…” You what? Were you going to come up with some lame excuse? Was that necessary? He’d just shower with vampire-speed if you told him you wanted to take a shower, too… Fuck it. “Can I join you?”

Sherlock looked at you and nodded. “Of course.”

Immediately, you stripped and stepped into the shower, where he pulled you into his arms. With your head on his shoulder and his strong arms around you, everything felt so incredibly alright that you almost forgot why you were there. And that was because despite the fact you were in the shower with him, naked as can be, and despite the passionate kiss he gave you, his hands remained on your waist, or your back, or you hip, but never somewhere else…

“Sherlock, why haven’t we had sex?” you blurted out before you could convince yourself that you didn’t need to have this conversation.

“Because I have no desire to have sex with you,” he replied plainly. His answer made your jaw drop. What did he mean, ‘he didn’t want to’?

“I knew it…” Insecurities took root in your brain — or rather, dug their roots deeper into the fibers of your existence. “You’re not attracted to me.”

“Oh dear,” Sherlock said, shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh, “if ever there was a time to dust off the word ‘balderdash’, now would be it.”

“And that means…” Not everyone was well-versed in nonsensical British expressions… You rolled your eyes.

“Hogwash, poppycock, complete and utter bollocks — pardon my French.” Sherlock smiled at your increasingly confused expression. “Nonsense,” he finally clarified, stroking a bit of your hair off your cheek. “I am romantically attracted to you,” he continued, “and I find you very beautiful. I crave physical intimacy with you… I’ll even admit your body is absolutely gorgeous and I completely understand why anyone would find themselves quite distracted by it.”

“But none of that makes you want to screw me?” you said sarcastically.

“Darling, it’s not just you,” he sighed apologetically. “I am not sexually attracted to anyone.”

Oh. Wait… “So, what? You’re ace?” you asked without giving it much thought.

Sherlock shrugged. “I suppose that might be an applicable term, yes,” he said plainly. “We could, though. You know… If you really wanted to.”

“But you prefer not to?”

“I’m afraid I’m horribly indifferent,” he admitted, a slight hint of embarrassment to his voice.

“Then it’s not happening, Sherlock,” you said, taking his face in your hands and lifting it so you could meet his gaze. A sudden realization struck you. “Are you comfortable with this?” You clarified the comment with a quick gesture at your naked bodies.

“Oh, absolutely, darling,” he chuckled. “I quite enjoy how soft you are.” His hands trailed lightly over your sides, and you sighed as you leaned into him.

“Can we continue this conversation in bed?” you asked, your heart bursting with joy when he agreed.

“You do enjoy kissing me, don’t you?” you asked a while later. “Because if you don’t…”

“Darling, I’m nine centuries old. Do you really think you could make me do something I didn’t want to do?” That made sense…

“I just hate to think I ever made you feel uncomfortable,” you whispered.

“Not in the slightest, my love,” he reassured you. “I’m sorry I made you wait for something that wasn’t going to happen. The others told me repeatedly to talk to you, but I… I was scared.”

You didn’t have to ask what he was scared of; the pain in his eyes said it all.

“Nine centuries of abuse, I’m guessing?”

He let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Especially from Charles,” he sneered. “The Duke of Suffolk really couldn’t keep his hands off women. Not his own and not others’. He’s learned some manners now, but he was horrible about it. I doubt he understands, even now, but he accepts me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, morphing his expression into a painful question. “Do you?”

“I, Sherlock,” you said slowly while snuggling closer to his chest, “love you. Dearly. With all my heart, and soul, and I’d say my body, too, but as we’ve established, that won’t be necessary.”

He laughed — this time, it was a genuine laugh — and pulled you close, dragging your leg over his hips.

“Don’t we need to worry about fluids accidentally getting places?” you asked carefully. There was a reason you were strictly opposed to this position with the others while naked.

“I have no desire to sire offspring,” Sherlock chuckled. “I have been sterile since the early 1940’s.”

“Wha— if you never… then why?”

“Just because I prefer not to, doesn’t mean I have never. And the thought of getting someone pregnant — even, or rather, especially accidentally — makes me break out in hives, darling,” he laughed. That made an awful lot of sense, actually. “Now that we’re on the subject; I couldn’t help but overhear August mention to Walter that you were considering…”

Was he talking birth control with you? He was talking birth control with you! It only took you a moment to decide whether or not you were comfortable with that; you were. You very much were.

“Are you okay with having this conversation with me? I can understand if you’d rather speak to your doctor,” he noted. It wasn’t an accusation, just a professional observation. As professional as ‘naked cuddling’ would allow for, anyway.

“Oh, no. It’s fine, really!” You had just never been in a relationship before where talking so openly about these topics was an option… “I just want something I don’t have to think about once it’s in, but… I was just scared of the pain. Mike suggested that August could come with me…”

“I suggested they… we… split the costs.”

Oh. Wow. You were on the verge of saying it wouldn’t be necessary, but the reality of it was that it would be a big help. Besides; they were getting the benefits of it as well. Why shouldn’t they chip in?

“That would be wonderful,” you said after taking a few deep breaths.

“Did she just agree to that? Just… like that?” August appeared in the room, and you pulled the covers up a little higher — fully expecting a remark on how you weren’t hiding anything he hadn’t seen before. It didn’t come.

“I told you she would likely take it better coming from me,” Sherlock said with a grin on his face. Oh, so they’d been scheming behind your back? That didn’t bother you nearly as much as you knew it should, and about 90% of the reason for that was… well, they were looking at you right now, with their gorgeous blue eyes.

August cleared his throat after staring at you for what should have been an uncomfortably long time; “So, you two finally talked it over, huh? Good. Dinner is ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Why did none of you just tell me?” you yelled at Mike, Walter and August after finding out they all knew about Sherlock’s asexuality.

“Not our story to tell, princess.” August shrugged.

“Besides, wouldn’t you have at least been a little mad that he hadn’t talked to you himself?” Mike added before shoveling way too much rice into his mouth.

“We would have forced the two of you to talk eventually,” Marshall continued, not bothering to remember what he’d no doubt once been taught about speaking with a full mouth. “And sooner rather than later, too. It got really annoying after a while.”

“I’m glad that wasn’t necessary,” Sherlock chuckled. “Subtlety is not a widely available resource in this household.”

“I got into the shower with you and ambushed you with ‘hey, why aren’t you boning me?’” What point you were trying to make, you weren’t entirely sure, either, but at least you made Mike laugh so hard he spit his water across the table.

“I never said you are any better,” Sherlock reminded you. “But I’d still rather avoid the three of them plotting a sensitive conversation.”

“It was quite a nice conversation,” you said with a gentle smile.

“I take it she’s staying with you tonight?” August asked kindly, nodding understandingly when Sherlock confirmed that he would very much appreciate that. “I would very much like to borrow her after dinner, in that case.” August had a habit of talking to you like you weren’t there, and for the strangest reason, that didn’t bother you at all — not even when Sherlock nodded in response.

“As long as I get her back in one piece and… at least relatively clean, please?” Two showers a day wasn’t always an excessive luxury when you regularly got dicked down by three different men.

“There’s a surprise on my bed for you, princess,” August muttered in your ear after dinner was done and he was standing at the sink, scraping food scraps into the garbage disposal. “I’ll join you when I finish up with the dishes. Go.” A gentle pat on your ass sent you on your way.

“He’s got good taste. I took a peek,” Walter broke in when you sifted through the contents of the first of several bags, scanning the French labels and gently letting your fingers trail the delicate fabrics — most of it was lace, and all of it was see-through.

“I don’t give a fuck about good taste,” you grumbled — as far as was possible in your thoughts, “this must have cost a fortune! I can’t accept this!”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Oh, fuck him and his logic! “Do you think he’d bankrupt himself to make you look pretty?”

“That’s not the point! I—”

“Marshall, that’s enough.” August. Right behind you. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d sunk to your knees in front of the bed, and now August was standing right behind you.

He kneeled behind you and pulled you back against his chest. “Why is my pretty princess feeling so… uncomfortable and insecure?”

“This is too much, August, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered, raising a hand to your mouth to keep you from talking. “I could gag you. And I will, if necessary.” Curse him and the fact that there was no need for him to ask if you would be okay with that, because he could feel the exact way the suggestion turned your insides to mush and made your head spin.

“I decide when and how I spoil you, princess,” he said as he pulled you backwards into his lap, “not you.”

He kissed your neck just below your ear in such a way that it drew a long moan from you.

“Now, you’re going to try these on — I know they’ll fit, so I took off the tags. There’s no returning any of them, so just accept the gift already,” he said before trailing his tongue down your neck. You writhed in his lap, barely able to suppress a chuckle when you felt his erection beneath your ass.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing I get hard for you?” He rolled his hips against your backside for a moment, before disappearing from underneath you and appearing again on the edge of his bed, leaving you kneeling before him.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said with an impossible smirk that made you want to claw it off his face.

He made you show him every set he’d bought you, each one more beautiful than the last, and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself — and indirectly to him, and Marshall and Mikey — that you’d missed this.

Mike wanted titties, and therefore eliminated everything that stood between him and his goal at his earliest convenience, and it was nice to have a man lust after you in something pretty for a change. Even if that ‘something pretty’ was a few scraps of needlessly expensive lace and some underwire. Something told you Marshall would be more appreciative of these as well. He’d already let you know he thought August had good taste… that meant he’d also like these, right?

“Last one,” August said with a dirty grin when he handed you a tiny black lace contraption that took you some time to even figure out before you could begin to put it on.

“You can’t be serious,” you muttered under your breath as you wrangled straps and cups and other elements into position. And after all that effort, you were still very decidedly mostly fucking naked.

“You don’t like it?” August pouted as he got up from his bed and walked over to where you were standing, staring at yourself in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and rubbed his very obvious bulge against your ass. “It’s my personal favorite.”

“Putting this on is a nightmare, taking it off… you’ll just rip it.” It was a weak protest — you knew it, he knew it. Marshall knew it, even though maybe he wasn’t strictly supposed to. And August was about to point it out, too.

“I don’t have to take it off, princess.” No. He didn’t. The quarter cups left your nipples exposed — maybe even Mike would enjoy this particular number — and the damn thing was ehm… ouvert. Which was — as everyone knew — French for ‘oh, hello, my pussy is on full display in this thing’.

“Now,” he said in a tone that immediately turned your knees to jelly, “Mike told me that you don’t shy away from a good spanking, and I’m in no mood for an attitude — I rarely am, admittedly — so it’s your choice; mouth off tonight, or sit comfortably tomorrow.”

“Hm, I’ll need a moment to consider th—ow!” One sharp, stinging smack against your exposed behind down, undoubtedly countless more to go. Unless you…

“It truly looks very beautiful on you, princess.” And somehow, with those words, he shattered your defenses, your attitude, your will to oppose. “Now, be a good girl and put your arms behind your head for me, and spread your legs a bit.”

He gently guided you into the position he was talking about, then took a step back to look at you. No… admire you. Before correcting around seven things about your posture, of course.

“And drop your shoulders,” he instructed before he finally seemed happy with your stance. “Good girl.”

He circled you, slowly, and you responded by dropping your chin to your chest and staring at the floor while heat crept up your neck in a staggering tempo, paying for your mistake with a swift and hard smack on your ass — and then a second one to the other cheek.

“Head up, princess,” he snapped, appearing in front of you and standing so close he could rest his forehead against yours. “You stay in this position until I tell you otherwise, do you understand? Don’t nod, speak up.”

“Yes, sir.” It slipped out, promise! Nothing about you had had any kind of intention to call him that, you…

“It’s okay, princess. I like it. Are you comfortable with it?” His eyes were kind, his lips curved up slightly in a polite yet loving smile.

“Yes,” you muttered.

“Not a hard requirement, but I do like to hear you say it,” he added, softly stroking your cheek. “You can lower your arms, princess.”

You did as he told you, keeping your legs a little further than shoulder width apart.

“Why the, eh… position?” you asked carefully, afraid of what the answer could be.

“I enjoy looking at you,” he replied. “Consider it an inspection, of sorts, although I promise you I have no intent to degrade you — much.” A smile rugged at the corners of his mouth.

“What?” Your voice was little more than a whisper.

“Don’t try to tell me you’re not dying for someone to actually call you their… hm… what did I overhear back then?” Oh no… what had he overheard? “Perfect little cockslut?” Oh. Oh. August let out a harsh chuckle.

“I…” Yeah, you what? He was right, for fuck’s sake! “I suppose as long as you make it sound like a compliment, I’ll take it as one.”

He laughed, and gently pulled you into his side. “There’s one more thing I want to show you tonight, is that okay?”

You nodded and quietly followed along when he guided you towards the wall, which he had you face.

“Now, princess,” he said softly. “I want you to bend over. Hands or forearms on the wall, please. Feet a little further apart… good girl.”

The praise sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned eagerly into August’s touch as he ran a hand down your behind.

“This is the position that will be used for punishment,” he said with a hint of a smile to his voice. “Which is why I’m showing it to you now. I have a feeling we’ll need it quite a lot.”

“You’re really all chains and whips and safewords, aren’t you?” The question was out before you even realized you’d opened your mouth.

“We all have our own ways of dealing with centuries of sexual repression,” he answered. He was only half-joking.

“August…”

“It’s alright, princess,” he chuckled. “I simply enjoy inflicting pleasure. Come here…” He let himself fall on his bed, and you left your position by the wall to gladly snuggle into his side.

“August,” you whispered, this time so softly you hoped it wouldn’t leave this room. If there was anyone in the house with the knowledge and expertise…

“Yes, princess? It’s alright, at this volume he won’t hear you.”

“Is there any way to tie a vampire up without breaking furniture or…” You couldn’t look him in the eye while you said it, and you agitatedly shushed August’s uncontrolled laughter that followed your question.

“Is Mike in trouble?” he asked quietly. You noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eyes when you finally met his gaze.

“Is Mike ever not in trouble?”

[tr0p1cal]

cats got your tongue smau

eleven - always get what I want🖍️

word count: 1.2k+

➤ finding a cat in the alley beside the Star was not how you expected to end the worst day of your life, but maybe it’s just what you need to bring a little light back in on a gloomy day.

general warnings: sexual themes and language, cussing, mentions and consumption of alcohol, mentions of cheating and toxic relationships, kys/kms jokes

series master

master | prev | next

Parties were never your favorite thing. The loud music, sweaty dance floors, couples making out everywhere, drunk people doing stupid things left and right. Not your thing. While you could find ways to enjoy yourself, the whole college party atmosphere just wasn’t something you found to be fun. You preferred to find a quiet corner or be outside with the fresh air.

When you agreed to go to the party, you knew your friends would eventually ditch you to enjoy the actual party life, but it happened a lot faster than usual this time around. You couldn’t be mad at them for it, but it did make you wonder why you even agreed in the first place.

The kitchen was one of you favorite places to hang out in during parties. It was usually on the quieter side and people didn’t stay long, usually only there to grab a new drink. While some small groups might linger for a quick conversation, it wasn’t typically a hot spot for people to stay.

You weren’t the most outgoing person, but you were known for your warm personality that everyone seemed to love. Everyone knew you, but not personally. Outside of Jeongin and Seungmin, you didn’t have any genuine friends until Minho bulldozed his way into your life. Yeah, someone from a class might stop by and strike up a conversation, but nothing more than meaningless small talk or gossip.

A sigh escaped passed your lips as you grabbed a can of beer from a cooler on the kitchen counter. “Can’t believe they dragged me here just to ditch me,” you said quietly to yourself.

“Oh yeah, I know how that goes,” an unfamiliar voice startled you as you realized their presence next to you. A tall guy with adorable little dimples shined you a soft smile.

“Your friends ditched you too, huh?” You asked, returning a smile back to him.

He nodded and chuckled, presumably at the thought of the mentioned friends. “Always do.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “They party too hard for my liking, but still insist on dragging me along. I’d honestly rather be back home watching tv, but then they wouldn’t have someone to make sure they don’t die and get home safely.”

You laughed at the last comment, understanding where he’s coming from. “Thankfully only one of my friends is a big partier, but the other one is the reason behind all the dumb decisions. He wants to see the world burn, I swear.”

He laughed too. “Seems like we both have our fair share of headaches when it comes to our friends then.”

“Seems like it,” you agreed as you sipped your drink. “I’m Rain, by the way.”

He smiled, showing off his dimples once again. You couldn’t help but want to poke them. “Very nice to meet you, Rain. I’m Soobin.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus, what’s your major?” You asked curiously.

Before he got the chance to answer, a group of people came in, one going straight for Soobin.

“Yo bro, long time no see. How has everyone been? Is Yeonjun around?” You recognized him and knew you had to get out of there. Wooyoung, one of Mingi’s close friends, quickly took over the conversation with Soobin, leading him out of the kitchen.

You didn’t even have a chance to think before an arm was tossed over your shoulders. The familiar sensation throwing you back to all the times you longed for such a show of affection from the man you now despised. The only thing you could think about was a way to escape, but as you tried to pull away, his grip only tightened.

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that. I’ve missed you, pretty.” The use of your old nickname made you feel gross. Mingi had always been good with his words and knew just what to say to drag you back to him, but you finally escaped his charms. You didn’t see him with rose colored glasses anymore.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed. “I have no obligation to stay and talk to you. Let go.” You glared at him and all he did was laugh.

“You really think anyone else would want something as damaged and worthless as you?” He held your arm tightly and moved to make you look at him. “You think Minho really cares about you?” He asked with a raised brow.

You knew he was just trying to rile you up. You knew he didn’t have any real insight into your life anymore. You knew, but his words still somehow effected you. Did you even care if Minho cared about you? The thought of him not being around you made your stomach feel weird. The thought of him not wanting you around terrified you in a way you never felt before. What did that feeling mean?

“You really think he likes you?” Mingi kept nagging in your ear as a million thoughts raced through your head.

“Get the fuck off of me, Mingi,” you almost yelled, trying your best to escape his grasp.

“I don’t think so.” He clicked his tongue as he smoothed down your messy hair. “You see, I actually need you to help me out with something.”

“Why do you think I’d want to do anything to help you?” The rage you felt was slowly taking over.

“Don’t you remember who my parents are, pretty?” The mention of his parents made you freeze.

“Oh, so you’re threatening me now?” You looked at him with disgust. You knew all too well what his parents and their people were capable of.

“You know I always get what I want,” he said with a grin, gently tapping your cheek. “Let’s just say if you don’t help me out, I can’t guarantee your friends’ safety.” He pointed through a doorway leading out to the living room. Following the gesture, you see Jeongin surrounded by some of Mingi’s friends.

You knew Mingi was crazy, but never imagined he’d go to these lengths. He knew he had all the control over you as long as you thought he would hurt your loved ones. He knew all too well just how much your friends meant to you.

“What’s it going to be, pretty?” Grabbing your chin to force your attention back to him, he already knew your answer.

“Do whatever you want with me, but don’t you fucking dare lay a finger on any of them.” You glared at him with all the energy you had left.

“Unblock me and I’ll give you all the details.” He winked, finally releasing you from his hold.

He disappeared along with all of his friends. You were mad. Madder than you’d been even after finding him sleeping with your old roommate. He helped you escape that world, but now he’s dragging you back in like it was all just some sick joke. You needed to get away from that party before you lost the remaining strings of composure loosely holding you together.

a/n: sorry not sorry for what’s happening in the story, but I am sorry for the random break! It really wasn’t intentional, I was just struggling a bit mental health wise and couldn’t bring myself to work on it🤡 hopefully should be back to the regular schedule tho!

tag list🏷

@thisrandombitch @lakeeeee @hanniemylovelyquokka @minniepoo143 @puppy-minnie @jiisungllvr @samhomo @clumsy-writing-rdb @skzhoes @gaysontheprince @miniature-tragedy

[wanderingwomanwondering]

Maddie’s word choice when Buck told her about his date with Tommy in 705 was so gentle and supportive, as we’ve all discussed. But her words were also SO SLICK!!!

She was treading lightly because she of course knew that this was a sensitive time for Buck AND she also did some math in her head over the course of the conversation and realized that there’s a piece of the equation that Buck is missing. She couldn’t just give Buck the answer though. Some puzzles he’s gotta work out on his own.

So. Looking more closely at the actual dialogue…

Buck gives Maddie the rundown of the evening’s happenings. Maddie notices the date’s pronoun. Then:

Buck: Yeah, okay, I was on a date with a guy. Again, not-not really the point.

Maddie: Mmm, it could very much be the point.

Remember, Buck is upset with himself for lying to Eddie *and doesn’t understand why he did that* He thinks it’s about dating a man in general. I think Maddie suspects it’s actually about Buck’s unrealized/unexpressed feelings for Eddie. The lie Buck is reeling over probably isn’t about dating a man, but about dating the wrong man.

Back to the conversation. Buck explains his allyship, then:

Maddie: So-so now you’re more than an ally?

Buck: It was my first time, it was dinner and a movie, and I - I didn’t even make it to the movie.

Maddie is following Buck’s reasoning in the ally part of the conversation, but clearly not quite vibing with parts of it. She’s in support mode, basically honoring Buck’s process and his journey. But still trying to navigate her own in the moment reactions without freaking Buck out. Treading lightly.

After Buck’s last remark above, cue Maddie’s haunted facial expression in which she clearly reviews countless past events and conversations with Buck in light of his new discovery about himself:

Maddie: Wow.

Buck: What, ‘wow’?

Maddie: No, not ‘wow’. Like, ‘Wow. I didn’t think that’s where your interests would lie.”

From my perspective she clearly and firmly rejected the ‘wow, you’re queer, what the hell. Way to be a massive enigma little brother’ interpretation…because obviously she would reject that. But that second clarification ‘wow’ doesn’t mean what Buck thought it meant. I honestly do NOT think she was saying ‘I didn’t think/know that you might be into guys too’.

Maddie is basically Buck mom for all intents and purposes, and she knows him well. To be fair, most people close to Buck know him better than he knows himself in key ways so with Maddie’s canon comments about Buck’s sexuality over the years, there’s no way she didn’t have her hunches. Period. What I think Maddie actually meant was that she didn’t think Buck had eyes for any guy but Eddie at this point. After doing the new math in her head real quick, of course.

I think that tracks with what she said a little later and how she said it:

Maddie: Okay, I don’t think you’re a fraud, I just think that maybe you’re not sure of your own feelings yet. And if there’s something that you need to tell Eddie, you will. Just, in your own time.

Between that line and her facial expressions, Maddie was on a damn journey! Imho it took everything in her to not just say ‘Wait what?! Eddie is your person my guy let’s be so for real right now’. She was a mix of confused and exasperated in the home stretch of that conversation lol. Still she showed up, met Buck where he was at, and supported him.

Then to top off that whole ‘coming out’ and ‘feeling like a fraud’ scene, Maddie says to Buck “so tell me about the hot pilot” and the scene immediately transitions to Eddie in bed with Marisol. Yeah, Eddie is the hot pilot in question. Buck just hasn’t figured it out yet, and Maddie realizes **all of that** now!

[tehrevving]

I believe you may or may not have awnsered a similar ask, but as i read chaos theory i'm sitting here like "oh damn, y/n is really blowing this poor man's mind, heart and soul to oblivion with the knowledge that she genuinely loves him and his affections aren't unrequited or driven by guilt" like damn Rev, you and y/n are going all out on poor vincent there. I honestly can't blame you. Even though it overwhelms the sweet man, he really needs genuine love from someone who's dead set on loving him and him alone.

Anywho, question if we get more content from Square Enix (i pray we do, i really do i feel starved for vincent now) that primarily involves vincent more, are we gonna get to see our man grapple with this knowledge and come to the understanding that the love he's developed with y/n definitely isn't one-sided once you're able sink claws into the new content and flesh out your story? Are we also gonna see his demons come out and play a bit more as well when that happens? I love myself some chaos "scares" and well, i'm kinda itching to see if we get some other demon "scares" sprinkled in èwé

Good questions Anon, this is a huge one so I’ll answer it bit by bit lol.

To start with, I have absolutely left some breadcrumbs in Chaos Theory that hint at some of the other plot things that are going on. These hints are incredibly subtle, maybe too subtle honestly lmao, but I have seen them mentioned in comments so 😅. I do intend to reveal some important plot stuff in the sequel covering the Temple of the Ancients. I’m talking shocking stuff lmao, so that’s definitely coming even if SE doesn’t give us any more Vincent content until part 3.

Without knowing where SE are going to go with part 3, I have a bunch of plot ideas that are somewhat vague, so that I can fill them in with specifics eventually. Unfortunately this means that even when I reveal stuff, it’s still gonna be kind of vague 😭😭. So apologies for that.

I also want to add that while I obviously want to finish this story, I can’t exactly commit to writing another fic once part 3 comes out in 3 years time. So, I am apologising in advance that this story might never end up finished.

Specifically with regards to your question, yes Vincent would have to come to terms with allllll of that lol. I mentioned in a previous ask that as long as the timeline works out, their initial “I love you’s” would be just after visiting Lucrecia in her cave. Emotions at that point would be exceptionally high, and Vincent is forced to make a choice and confront his own feelings.

Like, just consider that conversation for a sec. Because Reader knows a lot of Vincent’s backstory by that stage, it’s not just about him having to make a choice about clinging to the past or moving forward. It’s also coming to terms about what Lu(sexually and experimentally) and Hojo(experimentally) did to him, which he only really does in Dirge in canon. Reader is also smart enough to connect the dots on her own that he might be Seph’s father too. There’s just a whole host of things there and there’s no way I’d ever let Vincent get away with not coming to terms with all of it 😂.

With regards to his monsters, of course they would be making more appearances. I love them and I’m way too much of a monster fucker to ignore them. Each of them would get their own time in the spotlight hehehe.

Honestly they’re one of the main reasons I’m reluctant to commit to a part 3 fic. As a quick example, Chaos Theory has 7 smut scenes. Any sequel would need each monster, the love confession and then an “Under the Highwind” end of the world scene. Thats 6 before we even start on them just having fun and exploring each other, and you know, the actual plot lmao.

Anywayyyy. I rambled a lot but there you go. Feel free to send in any more questions or ask for clarification if I was too vague. This fic is my baby and I love talking about it :)

[mh073099]

“I’ll Find You” - Captain Rex x Reader Fic Part 3

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Sexual Harassment- a bit. Themes of Torture, Terrorism, Murder, our girl is a separatist spy okay she's not the good guy yet. Age Gap- 18/19 to a 24/25. Don't Worry not for long, I am a fan of age gaps.

Author Note- SOOOOOoooo It has been a really Long time since I posted anything for this and almost abandoned it but I reread it earlier and got some inspiration again, to anyone that cares reading this. Also, pay attention to the time stamps.. they will be important in the future.

Gif rights to creator

Part 3

Paris, France 05/21/2067 01:45

As we sat down in the café, I suddenly felt awkward. Here I was, sitting down with the first person in ages that really noticed me, regardless of if it was real or not. I felt naked. Laid bare under his gaze. 

“Relax, princess. I’m not going to bite.” He smiles at me. Never in my life has someone smiled at me this much. 

“Not even if I ask nicely?” I snark back, leaning forward onto the table with my hands. Rex just looks at me, smirk on his face, not taking the bate. 

“You know what’s scary?” I ask him. I’m unable to help myself.

“What?”

“Knowing that you could destroy everything I’ve ever known, and yet I think I’d let you.” What the fuck am I saying? And that thought must be showing on my face because he starts to speak again.

He regards me carefully. “Maybe that’s what you need,” comes out slow and soft.

“I don’t need saving.” I look him square in the eyes.

“I’m not taking about saving you. I’m taking about freeing you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feel we are dancing around the obvious.

“Hmmm. Tell me something about yourself. Something honest, real.” He asks while sipping his hot chocolate. He looks so normal, so calm and at peace. While we sit here and dance around elephants in the room. 

“Oh, well I don’t know. Um… I speak 6 languages.” I offer up. Kinda at a loss to answer, for Am I really that much of a person? I do what I’m told. I am the makeup of ash and ember that has been molded by pain, over and over again. My whole life is a lie. A secret. Something I cannot share, for the so called greater good. Honest? Something Real? Am I even real? These thoughts aren’t ones I should be having. Conversations like this lead down a dark road.

“Wow, that is impressive.” He really does look impressed by that fact. “What Languages? Even though that’s not what I meant by my question, obviously. But I have to ask.”

“Maybe I am Deflecting.”

“You are most definitely deflecting.” Then he looks at me expectantly.

“Well, English obviously,” earns me the low chuckle that I am growing to adore. “As well as French, Spanish, Geonosian, Huttese, and Kittat.”

His head snaps up from where he was drinking his coffee. “Kittat? That’s a dead language, used by- “

“Yes, The Old Empire. My mother is a historian. Translated a few things for the republic. Taught me as she was teaching herself.” The lie falls easy and quick from my mouth. The dead language isn’t as dead as everyone thinks. It’s what the separatists use to pass information along. An Illegal language has its benefits.

Which of course he brings up. “Mhhmm. And Isn’t it an illegal language?” He cocks his head; his eyes harden the slightest bit.

"Technically yes but Historians like my mother have permits and clearances for such things. Teaching me? Now that wasn’t necessarily legal but what kind of government prohibits a whole language? Its just words.”

“Dangerous words” he counters carefully.

“As if words in any other language can’t be dangerous?” I lean back. “It was William Douglas said ‘The most important aspect of freedom of speech is freedom to learn. All education is a continuous dialogue- questions and answers that pursue every problem on the horizon.’ Without the freedom to criticize, question and challenge the dominant narrative, societies cannot make progress.” I finish with a huff.

Rex leans back, with a smile on is lips, and something bright gleaming in his eyes. “You’re very passionate about this.”

“There is only passion.”

Rex pauses, licks his lips and smiles. “Of course, you’re 100% right about freedom of speech. But progress is slow. We must learn from the past. Not repeat it.”

“And isn’t that what’s happening?”

“I don’t think so. I work for a great senator, Her efforts and even the quiet efforts of her husband have shown that they actually care for their people. And truly want to make the world a better place. The right way.”

“What’s your job title exactly?” I bait him.

“What’s yours?” 

I sigh. He had me there. “Hmm.” The right way. Is there really such a thing as right and wrong? Or did it come down to Just you and them? Two sides of the same coin? I look down at my hands, unable to look him in the eye anymore. “Still feel like you’re following me.”

“Maybe it’s not you I am following.” His response makes me freeze, and then surprisingly relax. That is a loaded response…but maybe. Just maybe.

He reaches his hand down across the table, pinky touching mine and interrupting my thoughts.

I loop my pinky with his. Looking down at our entwined fingers. His pinky finger is calloused but warm. I hope he couldn’t tell how sweaty my hand was while being hooked on my pinky.

“Where do you see yourself five years from now?” I asked, still staring at our pinkies.

His inhale makes me look up, and I can’t make the expression on his face. “You don’t ask easy questions.”

“You’re one to talk.” I fire back.

We both dissolve into giggles. I just feel giddy, and his smile in intoxicating. For the first time, I feel clean. Like I don’t have to hide. 

“In five years? A promotion, with better pay and better hours. My schedule now is nowhere near stable, but a set work schedule would be nice. And hopefully, a relationship. I’m a little young to think about starting a family, but I want that someday, and in 5 years, I hope to have that person by my side.” He answers, taking hold of my whole hand as he finishes.

“Hmm. That sounds nice.” I say absent mindedly, imaging what a family would even feel like.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” He squeezes my hand in reassurance.

Dead. For a cause that I am not even sure I believe in.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Right now, my work keeps me busy, as well as in the moment. Success is seen in immediate results. Long term is not something I am looking at yet” I try to keep it vague.

“You haven’t thought about it?” He pushes.

But pushing starts to irritate me, and I snap back with, “I’m young, what’s there to worry about? Who cares for future.” I say in a huff. A dark look overtakes my face and I pull my hand away. Hands in my lap, looking at him in all his handsome goodness. Curse life for dangling him in my face. His eyes are filled with sympathy as if he could possibly understand what it was like to not know what happens tomorrow. To have your fate completely out of your own hands.

“Princess, you asked the question.” He pauses then leans a little more forward. He looks so open. “I don’t know what you’re caught up in. But I have friends. People that could help-“

“Woah let me stop you right there. I do not need saving. I am perfectly fine thank you very much. I don’t know what you think you know, But I can tell you, You are wrong. I have a well paying job that provides for me, I get to travel, I-“ I loose track of where I was going with this. How do you try and stand up for living a life you don’t want? “Rex,” I sigh. “I’m fine. You will just come to find that I tend to be pessimistic at times.” I offer up.

He just looks at me, taking in the sight of me. I wonder what he sees?

Then he reads my mind and goes, “When I look at you, I see a strong, beautiful ruthless young woman with her whole life ahead of her. But you have this look in your eye. You’re not happy. Not even close.”

“How do you know?” I shake my head.

“I recognize that look because I used to stare at it in the mirror every day. Until I found a way to stop living like that.” He offers. Rex cocks his head at me, looking concerned and sympathetic. I hate it. I can’t understand why he cares.

“Sounds easy.”

“Hardly.”

The silence seems comforting. I don’t feel as alone as I normally do.

“I’d gladly let you ruin me if you asked.” Left my mouth unbidden.

First, I see surprise flash across his face. Determination settles in its place.

He pulls out a card, and slides it across the table. I don’t look at it, just slip it in my pocket.

Rex goes to say something, But at that moment, the door to the 24-7 café we’re in opens.

When I connect with his eyes, all I feel is dread. The anger is rolling off him in waves. The card heavy in my pocket.

Rex must notice the color drain from my face because he turns slightly and catches sight of Maul.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper to Rex, as Maul approaches with long strides. He arrives at our little table in just a few steps.

“Let’s go.” Is not question. “I’ve been requested to make sure you arrive home safe. Your mother was worried.” His deep voice oozes with thinly veiled venom and misplaced passiveness.

“Is everything all right?” I hear, Rex’s tone firm, calm and dangerous. I look over at him, and the look he is shooting at Maul rocks me off balance. He looks positively murderous. Never could I image his face set in stone like this.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Maul sneers, slowly moving his gaze to Rex. The heat in their stare was almost Nuclear. As if at any moment, they would collide and explode on each other, leaving devastation in their wake.

"Everything is fine John,” I quickly say making sure not to give his real name out, hand reaching out to his and I go to stand up.

His gaze shifts to me and his eyes soften. “It was nice talking to you princess. Stay Safe out there.”

I softly smile and look to Maul. His eyes burn me, promising trouble that he will enjoy, and that I certainly will not. “Well? Let’s go then.” I bark out bitterly.

We turn and leave.

It took everything in me not to look back.

 Paris, France 05/21/2067 02:15

The whole drive was silent on the way back to the manor, but the smugness was rolling off Maul in waves. I didn’t know what lied ahead of me. But I did know one thing. Rex knew I was trouble. This could go one of two ways. I could give rex up, milk him for what he knows and dispose of him. The thought twisted painfully in my chest, and it became hard to breath. Or I could toss Rex a bone. Slowly bring down the cause. I’d be betraying everything I had known. But what was a cause that killed and stole for their own gains? An Ideal that the Republic is the oppressor while simultaneously oppressing not only those they deem an enemy to the cause, but to their very supporters as well. That idea made the weight on my heart ease a bit.

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?

When we arrived at the manor, I was hesitant. The place held a blanket of doom that did little to keep the cold out. Maul stalked forwards while I meekly followed behind. I was scared. Maul was excited.

We entered the haunted manor and made our way to the main parlor. In the room stood the Count, my Mother, and Him. The Chancellor of the separatist movement. Everything about him was absolutely Sidious. My mother’s face was blank. Just an empty shell with her face. The Count looked bored. Maul looked like a dog, drooling for a bone.

“Hello, my darling girl.” His voice was like poison. It took everything in me not to flinch. “I have a job for you.”

Here. We. Go.

  Paris, France 05/21/2067 04:00

I lied there, in my own blood and vomit. Left alone to pick myself up.

The Humiliation of this night will forever be burned into my spine. All for what?

To test my strength, He said. To assure everyone but more importantly to assure myself, that I have the will to continue this path. To kill doubt that lingers within myself and within our circle about my abilities. After all, I was just a young girl. They needed proof of my loyalty. My undying loyalty. To remind myself that Peace is a lie. To become what I pretend to be, he said. To prove I am enough for this job, that I will see it through. No matter the pain, the costs.

“Tell me, do you have anything to say for yourself? To prove yourself worthy?” In all his Sidious might, he stood over me. Brand still glowing, the smell of burning flesh overtaken my senses. I looked over at my mother. She looked at me as if I was nothing. I didn’t recognize her anymore. 

Turn back to him, Looking him in the eye. “There is no peace, only passion.”

 His smile is wicked, and he continues.

  Paris, France 05/24/2067 13:47

I lay in bed, just staring at the wall. Ace by my side. I have to keep him from trying to lick my wounds.

I need to get up. I need a plan out of this. This…this isn’t me, right?

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion.”

I sit up, pushing myself through the pain.

“Through Passion, I gain Strength.”

Standing up was hard. My legs gave out, and I had to learn heavily on the bed until I could get my feet underneath me.

“Through Strength, I gain Power.”

I slowly make my way over the mirror.

“Through Power, I gain Victory”

The Woman looking back at me is unrecognizable.

“Through Victory, My chains are broken.”

A lie. All I see are chains.

“Through Victory, My chains are broken.” I repeat.

Tears cloud my vision, and I am filled with rage.

“Through Victory, My chains are broken.”  I whisper, before I slam My fist into the full-length mirror.

My knees hit the floor, digging into glass. I relish the pain.

“I am set Free.”

I reach for the Card.

Paris, France 05/24/2067 13:59

He picks up after the first ring. “Hello?” His voice deep, and rumbles through me. I take a deep breath.

“Did you know?” I ask, voice hoarse and sore, but full of force. No room for argument. 

“Princess, is that you?” I ignore the butterflies in my stomach at the nickname.

“Rex. Did you know when we first met? Back in D.C.?” I ask again. There’s no way he didn’t know now. Not with the way our late-night conversation went.

He sighs. “No. I didn’t know back then.” 

“You Promise?”

“I promise.”

“When did you find out?” My voice breaks.

His voice is soft when he replies, “I didn’t find out until after seeing you that afternoon at the cafe. I went back to the embassy after that and... well.”

I took a deep breath. He was honest with no hesitation. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. I believed it deep in my bones. 

“You let me walk away.” My vision starts to get blurry.

“I knew you’d make the right choice in the end. I believe in you.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” I whisper.

“Princess, are you ok? The other night you-

I choke out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m fine. Tell you’re bosses I’ll help. That’s what their expecting right?” 

I let out a sniffle. God, I’m really doing this.

“Look, Let’s talk about th-”

“No. No talking. One condition. You’re the person I talk to. No one else.”

A sigh. “I wish you would stop interrupting me.” His voice holds 1000s emotions, and I can’t place any of them. 

“Get used to it. Good-bye Rex. I’ll keep in touch.”

I hung up the phone. 

[filthyjoetini]

Love is in the Air(BnB)

a/n: Here we are guys. The epilogue. The real end. It’s done. Thank you, my loves, again for reading, I honestly never anticipated that this little story of mine would get so big. And the feedback! Ugh! Love it (keep it coming eheh) As always, the biggest thank you goes to @barfightzanddiscolightz​ she’s honestly the MVP here. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I love you very much.

warnings: mentions of sexual acts, a little bit of drama, panic attack, we are scared for someone’s life but only briefly...fluff!

wordcount: 2.9k

part 1 - Friday night - part 2 - Saturday - part 3 - Sunday - part 4 - Monday - part 5 - Tuesday - part 6 - Wednesday - part 7 - Thursday

Epilogue

As promised, you immediately let him know that you had landed when you disembarked the plane. You opted for a quick WhatsApp message since you didn’t want to call him while walking to the baggage claim area of the airport. Just as you were about to pocket your phone again, it started to ring. It was an incoming FaceTime call from Joe. You had debated to just let it ring, but you were sure this would have started a disastrous chain of events such as him calling the airport and demanding a search party be formed to come look for you. Sighing, you eventually answered the call and were greeted by his huge, infectious smile which you returned with a grin of your own and a slight blush on your cheeks. You stayed on the phone with him until you arrived at the door to your flat. Since you were too tired now and needed to lie down for a bit, you promised to call him again later to show him around your place. After a short protest from Joe, he begrudgingly let you end the call.

Over the past few months, Joe and you had been in contact daily either through WhatsApp or, as you quickly discovered, his favourite mode of digital communication — FaceTime.

At the end of each workday, like clockwork, you would let him know that you were free to talk. Whenever he had been available, he would immediately call you. Sometimes he had sent you a short message that he was in the middle of a meeting, an interview, or whatever else he had scheduled that day. You would talk for hours until one of you had fallen asleep. Usually, it had been you, and Joe would always stay on the call a bit longer to admire your sleeping face. Some evenings it would even get a little steamy and you would have non-conventional phone sex. At first you had found it to be very weird, doing it with your cameras on. The whole “What are you wearing?”- conversation had become redundant and seeing each other totally naked had left nothing to the imagination. After the second time, you had told Joe how uncomfortable you felt doing it through a video call and that you needed a better solution because “phone sex is about listening and imagining”. At first, Joe had laughed at you, but he had noticed rather quickly that you were serious about it. After some trial and error, you had both come up with a way that made you feel better about it and him still be able to see you. It had involved a blindfold on your end.

Sometimes, you had little dinner dates over the phone which consisted of you both cooking the same dish and then eating it together. On your first FaceTime-Dinner-Date, Wesley had walked in, called you both crazy, and completely took over the conversation by stealing Joe’s phone. Joe had tried to pry the phone out of his best mate’s fingers but to no avail. He had quickly given up and ate his dinner alone in the kitchen whilst Wesley chatted away, making you giggle throughout the whole conversation. Wes had even ended the call before handing the phone back to Joe, who instantly called you back again and apologised profusely. You had just kept on giggling and told him it was alright.

Other times, you had both continued watching Stranger Things together and managed to finish the whole series within three weeks of arriving back home. Sometime during the fourth season, you had changed Joe’s contact icon in your phone to a picture of Eddie, causing you to loudly giggle at the screen every time he had called you. After the third call, he had asked you what was going on, so you sent a screenshot of his contact information to him, earning you an eyeroll and groan. You still hadn’t changed it back to a normal picture of him to this day, and you didn’t plan on doing it for a long time. Eddie would stay.

As May had ended, the month of June heralded a lineup of conventions for Joe in the United States. He had almost missed his first appearance in Philadelphia because there had been an issue with his passport. He had been live-informing you through WhatsApp about what was happening and it honestly was the most nerve-wracking ordeal you passively had gone through. You were glad that he had still managed to attend even though it had only been for one out of the three days. That day, he had called you from the backstage area and showed you around, even introducing you to a couple of other guests along with one of his Stranger Things co-stars who had also been in attendance.

A week later he had attended the same convention except this time in Dallas, where he spent three wonderful but very hectic days. He hadn’t really had time to call you during the day but on his last night there, he facetimed you, sporting a happy but very exhausted face. Because of the time difference you had almost been ready to get your day started but you noticed that something had been bothering him. You had asked him if he was alright to which he just shrugged. Your elongated “Jooooooe…” had made him chuckle lightly and he eventually revealed to you that his time in the US would be cut short because he had to start filming Gladiator 2 very soon and therefore couldn’t go the convention in Denver. Joe had told you that he felt like the most horrible person on earth because he hated letting his fans down, but his main job was acting and filming was a priority. You had assured him, that his fans would understand, and he agreed, telling you he just wanted everyone to be happy.

As June had faded away, the beginning of the new month meant that Joe would be shipped off to Malta to commence filming Gladiator 2. You had mentally prepared yourself for his long workdays and sparse interactions. Your daily video calls had been reduced to quick WhatsApp voice messages or even just short text messages that read: “I hope you slept well.” – “I did, I hope you did too.” to “I miss you.” – “I miss you more.” to “Sleep well.” – “You too.”

Every now and then he had sent a picture of himself dressed in Roman Emperor attire or silly selfies with his co-stars. The latter had always brightened your days and you had decided to print them out and make a little scrapbook of his time on set. You couldn’t wait to gift it to him when you got to see him again, which you had hoped would happen sooner rather than later.

Filming had concluded in August and September already had its first foot in the door. You would have been lying if you said that those two months passed by in a flash. It had been the exact opposite. The days had seemed to never end and your work being a total pain in your arse hadn’t helped either. You had longed for the day Joe would finally call you and tell you that filming was over and that you could resume your daily FaceTime calls.

---

As the familiar ringtone pierced through the silence, you were over the moon. You instantly took the call, thrilled to see his very tired yet undeniably handsome face.

“Hey, darling.”

“Oh, finally. Hi, baby!”, you greeted him, almost over-enthusiastically. “I missed your face so much.”

He chuckled softly, scratching his jaw lightly.

“I missed yours too. Babe…listen, I’m about to board the plane. I’ll call you when I’ve landed. OK?”, he explained, and you nodded, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He giggled softly at your expression and puckered his lips, making a kissy face at you. You returned his gesture before he ended the call.

Flights from Malta to London usually took around three and a half hours, but after you hadn’t heard from Joe in four hours, you were slowly but surely starting to freak out. You checked if the flight number he had texted you had landed — It had. You tried to message him on WhatsApp, but it only showed you one tick, which meant it didn’t go through. You tried to FaceTime him but the message that it was currently unavailable popped up on your screen. Lastly, you tried to call him on the phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

Dropping your phone onto the sofa, your breathing started to become shallow, and you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. Something very bad happened to Joe, you were sure of it. He would never forget to call or even just text you. He knew how much you worried all the time. He knew how easily things like that triggered you.

Slowly, you sank down onto your sofa, preparing yourself for the panic attack that threatened its way through your body. Your mind became all foggy and your heart was racing so you had to lie down on your back because the lack of oxygen in your blood was causing spots in your vision. Swallowing hard, you tried to even out your breathing with the exercises your therapist had shown you. After about five minutes of slow, deep, and gentle breaths in through your nose and out of your mouth, your panic attack dwindled to silent tears steadily flowing down the sides of your face and onto the cushions of your sofa.

With trembling fingers, you picked up your abandoned phone to check if Joe had in some way gotten back to you. He hadn’t. Your shaky fingers scrolled through your contacts and found Wesley, quickly pressing the call button. He answered after the second ring.

“Hello, love. Long time no see...or hear...or...whatever.”, he greeted you in an overly chipper tone.

“Wes.”, you choked out, “Have you heard from Joe? He should be home by now. Please tell me you’ve seen him!”

“Whoa, what is going on?”, Wesley asked in a surprised tone. “Love, are you alright?”

“No! I’m not alright.”, you sobbed into your phone, getting it all wet with your salty tears. “Joe told me he would call me as soon as he has landed, and he hasn’t.”

“What? Joe’s flight has not landed yet. He’s still in the air. What are you talking about?”, Wesley responded, chuckling lightly.

“No, it has landed. I checked the flight number he gave me.”, you replied, slowly pushing yourself up in a sitting position, growing more irritated by the minute.

“Hold on. Let me check.”, Wesley said, and you heard him shuffling around. When he spoke again, he sounded a bit further away, indicating that he had set his phone on speaker mode. “Alright, I just checked again, and it says that the flight is still en route. That means, it’s still in the air.”

“I know what that means, Wesley.”, you replied in a rather snappy tone whilst wiping away the last of your tears with your free hand. Wesley couldn’t help but laugh at your sudden change of attitude.

“I think you got the wrong flight number there, love.”, he pointed out the obvious and you let out a deep sigh, allowing yourself to fall back onto the sofa.

“Yeah, I guess.”, you mumbled, running your hand down your face.

“Yeah. Also, we both know Joe would never not call you. He’d commit murder and other heinous crimes before deliberately hurting you like that.”

Wesley’s exaggeration elicited a low chuckle from you, and you let out another deep sigh. You were just about to ask him if he could give you the correct flight number when he suddenly spoke again.

“Listen, love. I gotta go. Don’t worry too much. He will call you. I miss you! Bye!”

“Wes! Wai–“

Before you could even form your sentence, Wesley had already ended the call. Groaning, you placed your phone back next to you on the sofa, inwardly scolding yourself for freaking out like this and making a fool of yourself. You just really hoped that Joe’s flight would land soon and that your most anticipated phone call of the day would finally be made to your phone.

You were moping around in your living room for a full five minutes when instead of your phone, your doorbell rang. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up to your feet and slowly trudged over to your flat’s entrance door, cursing out whoever had decided to disturb you in your current state of distress.

Opening the door, you muttered your well-rehearsed phrase for whatever salesperson was standing in front of it.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I’m not interes–“, you stopped short when you saw who was standing there in front of you. “JOE?!”

“Hey, babe.”, he greeted you with a huge grin on his face. You stared at him in awe. He was standing there, dressed in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and Adidas “Superstars” on his feet. His hair was in a dishevelled mess and his eyes appeared weary and tired. Behind him stood a huge suitcase and he was holding a small pot with pink peonies in his arm.

You blinked slowly before your face grew irritated. You took a step forward, lifted both of your arms and placed them on his lower arms before pushing hardly, making him lose his footing and stumble backwards a little.

“Whoa! What are you doing?”, Joe asked surprised, managing to regain his balance.

“I…”, you started, sputtering with anger. “How dare you not tell me! How dare you give me the wrong fucking flight number! Wesley knew, didn’t he?! How dare you not call me! I was worried sick, Joseph!”

Joe chuckled lightly and took a step toward you, bending down to put the potted flowers on the floor. When he stood straight again, he extended his arms and engulfed your anger-shaken form in his arms.

“Darling, if I had told you, it would’ve ruined my surprise…so… surprise!”, he explained softly, placing a tender kiss to your temple. When his lips left your skin, you leaned back a little to look up at him. That utter idiot was grinning down at you.

“You’re really here.”, you stated breathlessly, slowly wrapping your arms around his middle, and placing your head on his chest. He was here, in the flesh. You could hear his heart beating in your ear. He was here. Here in the stairwell of your residential building. Here on the doorstep of your flat. He. Was. Here. Letting out a deep breath, you hugged him closer to you.

“I am, yes. And I’m not leaving…for at least a month.”

His revelation made you slowly lean back and look up at him again. Your eyes found his dark caramel ones. His head dipped closer to yours and you slowly pushed yourself up on your toes to close the distance between the two of you. After three long months, your lips finally captured his in a tender kiss again. Both of you let out a sigh of relief and Joe deepened the kiss gradually.

Far too soon, you ran out of breath, releasing his now well kissed lips from yours.

“A month?”, you whispered against his mouth.

“At least, yes.”, he confirmed his previous statement, running his hand up and down your spine.

You nodded and suddenly, tears started to roll down your cheeks and drip off your chin onto Joe’s t-shirt.

“Noooo, baby, why are you crying?”

“I missed you so much.”, you replied, trying to suppress a hiccough. “These are happy tears.”, you clarified instantly, and Joe only nodded, placing another soft peck to your lips.

“I missed you too, so much.”, he hummed and pressed his lips from the corner of your mouth to your cheek in a series of sweet butterfly kisses.

“I’m still angry with you for not telling me that you were coming. You’re an idiot, do you know that? You’re lucky I love you.”

Joe abruptly stalled his actions. It was now his turn to lean back, his eyes searching your face in response to your seemingly casual love confession.

“You love me?”

“Duh!”

“Good, because I love you too.”, he confessed, chuckling softly before planting a big wet kiss to your lips. You rolled your eyes and giggled gently.

“Please come inside now.”, you invited him in, “I don’t want Gertrude to get a stroke from all the PDA we’re treating her to.”

You had been referring to your elderly neighbour who was well known for being the building’s resident spy and gossip spreader. Joe took a step back and bent down to retrieve the potted peonies before he made his way into your flat and spoke again.

“Can I meet Gertrude?”

“No, you can’t.”, you replied chuckling, following him inside, “Wait, babe, your suitcase!”

“Oh, right.”, he quickly turned around, grabbed its handle, and pulled it inside, “Why can’t I meet her?”

“Joe. No… if you go over there and introduce yourself, I’ll make you sleep on my sofa for the entire month.”, you threatened him idly, walking back to your flat’s entrance door just as Joe had entered your flat.

“Fine. I won’t.”, he promised you, bending down once more and placing down the potted plant in your hallway. When he stood up again, he grabbed the suitcase and walked by you - but of course, not without gently slapping your bum and giggling like a little child.

“...very thin ice, Joe.”, you chuckled as you closed the door behind you...

THE END END

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[fascinationstreetmp3]

Do you think ocelot is actually horny for torture is it more a Fandom Thing? Idr anything other the snarky kaz quote but that's standard for them.

i think that was kinda the vibe you were supposed to get from him right from his very first appearance, but because of the nature of his character it can be hard to tell when he's hamming it up and putting on a show; he's very rarely genuine.

in mgs1, he's described as a sadist by other characters. he tells snake he doesn't see what he's doing as 'torture', he sees it as sport, and describes his interrogations as 'shows'. it gives you the impression it's a skill he's spent years honing and perfecting, and he wouldn't do that if he didn't genuinely enjoy it.

in mgs3, you see where his appreciation for it all originated: after watching big boss survive brutal beatings and electrocution at the hands of volgin, he says:

"Watching this has made me realize something... it's really not that bad. It's the ultimate form of expression."

in mgsv, he relays to snake how he got his nickname of 'shalashaska', partly by being so efficient at breaking prisoners through torture. in the conversation that kaz quote comes from, ocelot tells him:

"It's not a matter of art. It's about quick, minimal strokes of psychological warfare. That's what gets the answers. And it's the best way to keep both questioner and subject safe. The risks only increase the more the interrogation drags on. At that point, it causes as much pain to the inflicter as the inflicted."

i actually made a post about this months ago (because i think about this often apparently). in my opinion he's being mostly genuine about this. volgin is another character who is described as being sadistic, and you see that he does get sexual gratification from causing and witnessing pain. however, volgin also doesn't care about how far he pushes his 'subjects', and usually kills them if he gets too into it and lets it go on for too long.

ocelot has a more deft touch i guess, and his interrogations have clear goals, rather than just opportunities for violence he can get off on. he sees them as shows or dances with two 'equal' participants, both revealing their real selves, both just as vulnerable as the other in a way.

obviously, he's enjoying himself the whole time (while the other person... probably isn't). he never denies that, either, only takes issue with the way other people describe it.

so yeah, if you want my scholarly opinion on it, even if it's not exactly 'horny' in the traditional sense he still gets a lot of pleasure from interrogation/torture that other people witnessing it pick up on. from his point of view, i think he sees interrogation as a way of letting both himself and his subject/victim express their true uninhibited selves and feelings, and that's what excites him, and makes him work to be so good at it.

[gogandmagog]

I saw you reblog some Walter posts which only affirms that we could be best friends! Walter is my favorite Blythe son by far. So now I’m curious, do you think Walter was gay?

We been knew! Of course we could be besties! Lol. And Walter is my most cherished Blythe son too, with Shirley quick on his heels, and Jem unfortunately left in the dust. (Which is not to say that I don't love him! I do!)   But I have no definitive answer for this, and I always wish I did. I tend to lean on “no,” when what I really want to say is “yeah, probably.” I waffle on Walter. The truth is that Maud was just as staunchly homophobic as her then-contemporary peers, and that she didn’t ever write a single gay character in her entire career. Mary Rubio has stated as much, when asked for her opinion about Anne’s sexuality (discourse about her relationship with Diana), backing up her own comments by essentially sharing that she personally “left a lot out” out of Maud’s journals (when quite a bit was actually already left in, suggesting that what was ‘cut’ was probably closer to hate speech), when editing them, particularly around the subject of Maud’s ‘disgust’ of a woman expressing interest in her (Rubio was so dedicated to her biography task that she went and interviewed the woman in question, who was 90 years old by then). And so, it’s abundantly clear that if Maud herself was asked, is Walter gay? The answer would be an emphatic no. And that would settle it. He is simply whatever she says he is. (Sexless overall was her intention, I believe.) And in the texts spanning three whole books (RV, RoI, tBaQ), there’s no solid evidence that Walter might be homosexual, like, you really do have to squint for any of it — I genuinely think there’s harder evidence to support Dean Priest was in love with Douglas Starr. AND YET... and yet. There’s a vibe to Walter that I can’t grasp, and even though I can’t grasp it, I also can’t let go of it. It’s indefinable... and I’m just out here waiting for the day that someone with an impeccable grasp of language can define it, so that I can repeat it. 😅

Thank you for asking, though! What are your thoughts? I’m always fully sat for this conversation.