#but then you have a mostly pleasant time and you're just like oh right people are generally quite good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelostconsultant · 2 months

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Invisible string

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Red Bull Racing has a new sponsor. You host a party as the head of that company to celebrate this agreement. Max has no choice but to attend, but the evening ends with a pleasant surprise after he meets you in person. Maybe he was wrong about you all along.

note: I'm everything but a scientist. If you are one, please, ignore the amount of inaccuracies. There must be a lot.

part two

“You're insane,” Robert told you for the hundredth time that day when he arrived at your place, although every time there was a little laugh accompanying the comment.

Maybe he was right. Deciding to spend over three hundred million dollars on sponsoring an F1 team did sound insane, but he did agree to do it, and you signed the contract together. Sure, sixty percent of the company was yours, it was mainly your call, but he was still your mentor.

But he didn't stand in your way, he knew how passionate you were about this sport, and your biotech company could use the PR and marketing opportunities that came with this partnership. And let's not forget about the political aspect, because there were lots of important people who loved the sport and supported a top team like Red Bull Racing.

Your assistant came up to you to ask a few questions, but once she was gone, you folded your arms and stuck out your tongue at Robert. “You’re just jealous because it was my idea. Jokes aside, it's a good thing. F1 comes to the US so many times these years, it's good to be a big sponsor of a top team. Have you seen what kind of people attend the races? Exactly who we need to charm.”

“You never had an issue with charming people without such a big investment,” he noted with a sigh.

You bit your lower lip and turned away to look out into the backyard that was by now full of party decorations. You wanted to celebrate the announcement with an elegant party at your place, and you invited board members, top employees, some important people to schmooze with, and people from the newly sponsored F1 team.

“We need some legislation changes to kickstart the new project, you know that,” you told him eventually when you turned back to him. “I wish we could afford to be patient, but we need to launch it as soon as we can.”

Robert put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. “You stress too much about that. Take it easy,” he said.

Easier said than done, but you didn't want to continue this conversation. “I need to get rid of my yoga pants and change into something red, so make yourself at home as usual,” you told him with a smile before rushing away.

“Oh, so you're still a Ferrari fan, aren't you?” he called after you, bringing up the elephant in the room.

With a laugh, you came to a halt and spinned on your heels to face him again. “Yeah, and my favorite team is a joke at the moment. This was purely a business decision.”

Max did his research. Well, it was mostly the team handing out dossiers about the host and her business partner, along with a couple of other important people who were expected to attend the party, but he did read every single page and memorized each and every one of them.

When he reached the gate of his destination, he found armed guards outside, and he let out a frustrated groan at the sight. It was ridiculous. He didn't even want to be here. But he had to be a good boy and attend to act as the poster boy of the team. Hopefully he just says hi, maybe says a few words about how great this partnership will be, exchanges a few sentences with a few people and that would be it.

“Loosen up a bit, you look terribly tense,” Adrian told him from the passenger seat.

Easy for him, at least he would have a funny story to tell at the party. The car he wanted to come with had been stolen from the hotel’s garage, and no one knew how anyone could take it. This gave him the ammunition to keep up conversations. Lucky bastard.

Meanwhile, what was he supposed to talk about? Driving? He talks about that all the time. His hobbies? These people probably weren't the target audience. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he eventually replied with a sigh.

“No one is, but sometimes we just have to play nice and schmooze with our sponsors. This is the first time they support an F1 team, I guess they're just excited.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Max replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just… I don't know, with all the things I've heard about our host, it sounds like she is some real life female Tony Stark. She already built such a huge company, she's responsible for big innovations, and she was on Forbes' 30 under 30 list… I mean, come on.”

Adrian watched him with a deep frown. “Does it have anything to do with the fact she's a woman?”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “God, no, it's because of her age. This isn't some app you can make in a college dorm, then sell for a lot of money. Building that company must have taken a lot of work, she couldn't have done it alone, yet every article the team cherry-picked for us failed to mention how she did it.”

“Well, from what I've read elsewhere, her partner really did help her with the administrative part of the project, but they talked to investors together. She's smart, and nice, and I one hundred percent believe she's capable of achieving this at her age. Might I add she's only a year younger than you? You don't seem to be in such a bad situation at your age either.”

Max took a deep breath to calm himself, but in the end he couldn’t hold back the painful grunt that's been waiting to come out. “I'm miserable,” he noted sadly as he parked the car.

But Adrian wasn't in the mood for this. “You're just whining now,” he pointed out patiently.

“Whatever.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the main entrance, passing by some people who looked like boring businessmen and their airhead partners. Maybe there was a politician among them too, at least one with a big voice sure made him believe that.

Inside the two of them separated, and Max took his time to take a look around. The house was impressive; four stories as he counted outside, modern, clean design, combined with a huge backyard that ended in a lake. It must have been peaceful when there was no crowd around.

After a while he went back inside but was soon intercepted by Christian. Crap, so much for a peaceful evening. “Oh, and here's Max,” he said happily as he put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to their little group.

“Hi,” was all Max managed to come up with.

“Welcome,” you said with a warm smile. “And good luck for this year.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to his boss with a curious look. “And where's Checo? I thought he would be coming as well.”

Christian seemed a little uneasy, but he managed to explain the absence of the team's other driver. “He has a family emergency,” he replied curtly.

Max bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep back a comment. He didn't want to attend this stupid party either, but for some reason he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

To his surprise, you began to laugh at this, then took a sip of your champagne with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Oh, the real get out of jail free card,” you noted.

Max snorted at this, and there was no way he could hide the huge grin that wanted to break out. All right, you got a brownie point for this comment, that's for sure.

“I'm sure he would love to be here,” Christian assured you.

“Sure.” You remained silent for a while, but just when Max was beginning to assume an awkward break would settle into the conversation, you spoke up again. “Well, I'm glad you're all here. Thank you for taking the time. Please, just make yourselves at home, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

At one point Adrian joined the little group and decided to become a part of the conversation with one last question. “Where's Mr. Hartford?” he asked.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you looked around. “I don't know, last time I saw him he was talking to a board member. But I'm sure he'll find and greet you too. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to a few more people. Have fun.”

The three of them watched as you walked away, and Max couldn't help but appreciate the view. That red jumpsuit you wore tonight hugged your figure so perfectly it almost made him drool. Almost. He could easily push that stupid part of his mind to the side for now. He couldn't let himself be fooled into believing you really were oh so perfect, there had to be something that was wrong with you.

“Did it kill you?” he heard Adrian's voice, and when he turned to him, he saw a knowing smile on his face.

Meanwhile Christian looked a little confused. “Did what kill him?”

“Talking to her.”

“What, you had an issue with that?”

“No,” Max protested, sending a disapproving look to the engineer who only laughed at him.

“Sure? You sounded kin–” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“You two are insufferable, you know that, right?” Max asked them with a sigh, then rolled his eyes and left without waiting for their answer. All he wanted was a quiet corner and another glass of champagne, maybe a few bites of those delicious sliders a waiter offered him not long ago.

“Are you planning to come up with something that can race against Neuralink?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. But you forced a polite smile on your face and took a deep breath. “It's easy to come up with new, flashy innovations, but let's not forget that the root of the problem is always a bioethical one. Let's take them and their animal testing procedures for example. Whether you like it or not, euthanizing so many animals does raise ethical questions.”

“But it's for a greater good,” another man noted, earning a few nods from the people around him.

“I don't know, I believe we need to find a way to test new technologies without hurting anything or anyone first. That's one of the things we're working on at the moment. Also there's another bioethical aspect, and that's the fact these things would be expensive. The general availability is highly questionable, it would only help the rich.”

That one politician you had no choice but to invite despite every cell in your body protesting against it began to laugh at this. “And what's wrong with that as long as they pay?”

Oh, you son of a bitch, how could you be so dense? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, but it was really hard at the moment. Luckily, Robert realized that this was a touchy subject, so he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“What she's trying to say is that it should be more than just a discussion about profit,” he began to explain. “Sure, that's important to finance our research, but science is supposed to help people.”

The man gave him a condescending look, as if he was disappointed that you would both choose to help people instead of earning a lot of money. What he didn't understand was the fact your company had highly profitable solutions, which gave you the opportunity to work on things that weren't as successful financially.

“For us,” you suddenly began, your finger moving in a circle as a sign that you were talking about the members of this little group, “going to a private hospital to get treatment and paying for our prescribed medication is normal. But let's not forget that almost 8 percent of the US population is uninsured. That's 26 million people. Let's say they start coughing. What do they do? They turn to home remedies because they can't afford the medical bill. Then things get worse as it turns into pneumonia and if they're lucky, they can go to a free clinic where they're prescribed meds. But can they pay for them?”

Robert nodded, then went on to add, “And it can be anything, really, even something contagious.” Clever. That guy was known for being a germaphobe, if anything, that could surely get his attention.

But he remained silent and a woman jumped in to drive the conversation instead of him. “What about different cybernetic implants? I mean, those are pretty impressive in movies, but how close are we to actually having them?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

A painful half an hour later you and Robert went outside, walking all the way out to the lake to build a little distance from the guests. “Thanks for backing me up there,” you told him before taking a sip of your cocktail.

“Anytime,” he said as he clinked his glass with yours.

Before he could say anything else, though, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. The both of you turned around and saw Max stand there with his hands in his pockets, watching you with a polite smile.

“You have a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” you replied as you took a few steps closer to him.

“I have to go, I just wanted to thank you for the invitation and say goodbye.”

You weren't used to guests you didn't really know coming over to say goodbye before they left. Most people usually just got in their cars and drove off without a word, but honestly, you were honestly grateful for that. But this goodbye was flattering, after all you could see it on his face that under the polite smile he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

With a nod, you held out your hand, and he took it without thinking. “Thanks for coming. I hope you could enjoy yourself a little bit. I know it's not a fun kind of party.”

“It was okay. Well, except for that woman who was raging about people who want to replace real meat with artificial meat,” he added with a laugh.

You froze and your eyes slowly narrowed at him. “Wait a second.”

Max looked genuinely confused, and his hand was still holding yours without either of you realizing it. “What?” he asked you.

“You're a genius! Excuse me.”

As you dropped his hand and began to walk away, he turned to Robert with a confused look on his face. “What did I say?” No response, only a shrug. “Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To the lab,” you finally told him without looking back.

Once again, Max turned back to the other man. “She's leaving her own party?”

“She has a lab in the basement,” you called back to answer his question.

Robert’s lips curled into an understanding smile. “Send me a text if it's something worth looking into,” he said, then turned back to Max and held up his hands. “Usually it's better not to ask.”

Despite Robert's warning, Max was now way too curious to simply ignore your strange behavior. He wanted to know what was going on in your head, so he followed you to the lab inside the house. He first arrived in an office, but through the huge windows he could see the actual lab.

“Is everything okay?” he asked after he softly knocked on the open door.

“Hmm?” You turned around with a questioning look, but once you realized it was him, you nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. What are you doing here?”

Max walked inside, feeling completely out of place. “You ran away so abruptly that I wanted to know what's going on.”

“You gave me an idea, that's what's going on.”

“Oookay… And what was the idea?” he asked as he watched you sit behind the desk and enter your password to unlock the laptop that was connected to several monitors.

“Using something artificial instead of the real thing. That way we can bypass a barrier that's been blocking us,” you replied without looking at him.

“You lost me.”

A sweet little laugh left your lips, a sound that drew him closer as if it was a siren’s song. “All right, can you promise to keep your mouth shut about what I'm about to tell you?” Max nodded, so you grabbed the chair next to you, then pulled it closer and pointed at it to make him sit down. “Good. So one of the issues with bioprinting is that we can't be sure whether or not the cells we're working with are damaged, meaning if there's a possibility of cancer showing up later on for example.”

You were so enthusiastic, but he was so damn lost. It was the result of an unfamiliar territory, and the fact his mind could mostly focus on the way your lips moved instead of the words that left them. “Wait, what's bioprinting exactly?” he asked, unsure if he had the right idea.

Nodding, you clicked on something and it brought up a video feed. “For example, this,” you said with a proud smile.

It looked like a 3D printer, that much he knew, but what it was printing was a mystery at the moment. “What's that?”

“A 3D printed heart that's being made from my own cells,” you replied with a wide grin. “Give it another few days and it'll be ready.”

“Is that real?”

“Yep. Although, and that's what I've just mentioned, I can't guarantee it doesn't have cancerous cells. But theoretically speaking, someone awaiting transplant could get it.”

Max let out a thoughtful hum as he looked back at you. “So what does it have to do with artificial things?”

“That's how we bypass the damaged cell issue. We just need to create artificial cells that we can then turn into whatever we want them to be.”

“You think it could work?”

After thinking about it for a short while, you eventually shrugged. “Maybe,” you said quietly as you leaned back in your swivel chair. “I need to put a team together and discuss our options, then we'll see. As of now it's just a wild idea.”

“Interesting.”

To be honest, he could spend the whole night doing nothing but listening to you talk about your work. Meeting you in person changed the way he had thought about you before arriving here, and now he wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He did a quick search after first talking to you, and he read an article from the end of the last year that stated you were single. That was two months ago, maybe that hadn't changed since then. But something told him you were way too in love with your career to worry about romantic relationships, so if he wanted to get your attention, he probably had to work hard for it.

Your phone's screen lit up on the desk and he didn't miss the wallpaper. It was one of those prayer circle memes with Charles’ photo on it, which made him realize something. “You're a Ferrari and Charles fan?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep, already getting ready for prayer circles as you can see,” you replied with a laugh as you showed him the screen. “That's their only hope, I swear.”

“Then why are you sponsoring us?” he asked.

“A business decision in its purest form.”

Was he disappointed? Maybe a little bit. In his head he was already making up scenarios, like the first time you went to a race to support him–yes, he was getting ahead of himself, so what–and now it felt like a bomb had been dropped on his plans. Sure, as a sponsor or his girlfriend you'd physically be in their garage, but your heart would be with the Italians.

Max let out a sigh as he nodded. “And here I was, thinking you just wanted to see your company's logo on a fast car. Didn't know you were actually watching the races.” He tried to keep a casual tone to make it sound like it didn't hurt him, but he had a feeling his disappointment was seeping through the cracks.

Because you remained silent for a while, and when you finally spoke up, your voice was soft and quiet. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he responded as he rolled closer to you.

The sadness he felt slipped away as soon as it came, because it was like he got under your spell the moment he got close enough to you. Your pretty eyes were following his every move, carefully watching him as you waited for whatever was to come.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind, to take a risk and see if you were willing to play this little game with him. So he raised his hand and curled his index finger to signal you to move over to him with a playful smile on his lips. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

To his surprise, you didn't hesitate to do as you were told, you stood up and sat in his lap with your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway for a kiss. The need for something more grew inside him as the kiss deepened, and a small part of his mind shifted its focus to your jumpsuit, trying to figure out the fastest way to get you out of it.

“I'm going home on Sunday. Come with me,” he suddenly spoke up, pulling away a little to look you in the eye. “Stay for a few days. Or a week or two,” he tried with a cheeky grin.

You leaned back to reach for your phone that you left on the desk, but he had his hands firmly on your bottom to keep you in place. “I can't reach my phone,” you said with a pout. “I can't tell you if I can go without it.”

With a sigh, he rolled the two of you closer to the desk so you could get it, but he didn't take his hands off of you. As you checked your calendar, humming every now and then, he couldn't help but start and place kisses in the crook of your neck.

“How about the week after that?” you asked him as you lowered your phone. “We have meetings with the CFO, an important meeting with a certain someone that I can't delay or skip, and I want to put together the team to test my new idea. Next week's pretty crowded.”

Max cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “If there's one thing we learned from Covid is that you can do these things online. Come on, I have fast and stable connection back home,” he tried with a smile.

“But you'll let me work,” you told him sternly, to which he only responded with a laugh before kissing you again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you know it.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #invisible string

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crimsonblackrose · 2 years

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Sometimes I forget why I like the city because I spend so much time hurrying to where I need to go with my head down and trying to cram too much in. It’s not just because my friends live there, or because I have good memories from school. It’s that I can meet a friend I haven’t seen in ages there and take her to get her first local pizza and the staff will be ecstatic that she’d never had one, it’s that we can go into little shops and they’ll and chat about their products because they’re passionate about whatever niche shop we found and I’ll learn something, like what exactly sulfur looks like, that a little shop that’s trying to get cats adopted unexpectedly was nearly always sold out because they were next to a tattoo parlor and people coming and going from that shop would see them and go oh hey, let me go play with some cats. That we can go to a bar and the bartender will look at me and go “You look nice, don’t be nice.” and I realize that I’d been understood so suddenly and in such a specific way and setting that aside because the bartender didn’t mind making me a different drink if I didn’t like one was such a pleasant experience. That I can pop into an indie bookstore right at the same time that all these parents are taking their kids to reading time and then turning around to go to the cafe and get their drinks, preparing to settle in. Or that I can go to a museum and the kids in a family ahead of us could see that we couldn’t quite figure out the thing we were supposed to do and looped back to say “Do you mind if I show you?” and then were pretty happy to help. Let alone just how nice people in general are when you all come together in the middle of an awful snowstorm to make art. Or if you ask the old guy sitting at the visitor kiosk looking bored what historical things there are to see in the building he’ll be like “Oh boy are there a lot of things to see” and rattle off a happy list of things to see.

#mumblings #I think I try to remind myself of stuff like this but it's usually memories and not current so I get a little discouraged sometimes #but then you have a mostly pleasant time and you're just like oh right people are generally quite good #one of my friends once told me that there's an amount of stuff you have to do at an amusement park to feel like it was worthwhile #and I wonder if I get cranky sometimes when I go to the city and don't get everything I wanted to get done done #and I think it's a similar idea #that if I slow down and don't put as much pressure on myself to do all the things I want to do I can just enjoy the company of others #I think it's a taste of community #this idea of oh this place is nice and the people here are nice and maybe it would be nice to be here #even if it's not there exactly but somewhere like that #like despite the terrible airbnb it was fun to just wander #like am I a little nauseous because I ate too much stuff I don't normally and didn't get much sleep because of the upstairs neighbors? Yes #am I daydreaming about a shower in our own shower that's not the terrible airbnb one and sleeping in my own bed? Yes.#but did I go into this weekend with very low expectations and then was very happily surprised? Also yes.

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jiminiecrickets · 1 year

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jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, in an alleyway, exhibitionism + getting caught, jealousy, rough sex, biting, crying

thursdays at a nightclub – most would expect a half-alive sort of creature, mostly empty and a little dull. but the nights never sleep and neither do its people, and the building is warm with electric bodies and the sweet, heady scent of spilt alcohol.

jungkook squeezes out of the crowd on the dance floor, releasing a lungful of thick air as he meanders towards the bar. he'd lost you a few minutes ago, and nothing was as fun as grinding on his boyfriend in a dark room full of strangers. he takes a seat and orders a drink.

not a second later, a presence slides up behind him. "what's a looker like you doin' all alone?"

his welcoming smile vanishes. that's not you. he glances over his shoulder at the young man, who looks so generically attractive that jungkook feels as if he's an instagram filter become reality.

he turns away, disinterested. he scans the crowds. "i'm not alone. here with my boyfriend."

"really? where?"

there's a grating smugness to his words. he's probably never had anyone say no to him before. "we got separated. this place is pretty big."

the guy hums, leaning against the bar next to jungkook. "that's true. he probably won't find you for ten minutes, maybe more. not thinking of spending all that time sittin' alone at the bar with just a whiskey to warm you, are you?"

"i am, actually."

"well, maybe i could interest you in something else," he suggests, "to pass the time."

jungkook lifts the glass to his lips, throwing it back. he hisses at the pleasant burn. "yeah, no. i'd rather watch paint dry."

"oh, i'm not that bad," he jests. his fingers slide over jungkook's bicep, gorgeously accentuated by the neckline of his black racerback tank. it's fitted and cropped – he did it himself – and shows off his tight stomach and defined apollo's belt. "you wouldn't even have to look at me, y'know. those hands of yours would make a nice necklace, don't you think?"

he glances down at his many silver rings and bracelets. "oh. oh. uh, i don't think you're reading me right. um, i don't swing that way."

the man's brows furrow. "what? you said you had a boyfriend."

"i do." jungkook clears his throat, carefully sliding off of the barstool. the other man's eyes follow him up; jungkook has a few inches over him. "i, uh..."

"there you are, baby. thought i'd never see your face again."

jungkook positively lights up at the sound of your voice, smooth and pleasant. it's the kind of voice that cuts through boardroom chatter like a hot knife through butter, carrying with it a natural, easy assertiveness that ceos wish they had.

"hyung," he coos, giggling as you drape an arm over his shoulder and tangle that hand in his long, messy curls, tugging slightly to press your lips to his cheek. he lets you move him around like a doll, grinning up at you adoringly. "hi."

"hi," you reply, amused. your eyes flicker over to the other man, whose face is slowly turning red. your eyes narrow slightly. "sorry, i don't think we've met. i'll be stealing him for a minute."

you're usually so polite – but this time, you didn't even add an 'if you don't mind' to that second sentence. jungkook nibbles on his lower lip. are you angry? are you angry at him?

"hyung?" he asks when you lead him outside into the alley, the cool breeze soothing his hot skin. "what's up?"

you turn on him. his eyes widen. "he was flirting with you, wasn't he?"

"what?" he fumbles. "w-well, i mean, yeah, but you know i wasn't gonna do anything if that's what you're worried about—"

"i don't care about that." something in the back of jungkook's mind swoons at the knowledge that you're so secure in his affections for you that it doesn't bother you in the slightest. you lean in, pressing a hand against the rough brick wall and pinning him in. his heart begins to race. "i care that he thought you were available. all this skin you're showing and not a single mark defining you as mine?" a slight growl marks that last word. jungkook gasps softly. "we'll have to fix that."

"now?" jungkook stammers, glancing around. the alley's dark, and the streets on either side are mostly quiet. a few haggard-looking youths stumble by every so often. "but what if someone sees? my dignity, hyung, you're gonna rip it to shreds."

"i'm 'gonna'?" you lift a brow, eyes glittering. "you sound as if you want this."

he swallows. "i – i do, i always do, but i don't want anyone getting an eyeful of my ass..." he hooks his fingers through your belt loops. "that's just for you, hyung-ah."

you hum, leaning in. you press your lips against his and he moans softly, tugging your hips flush against his. "that's right, baby. you're just for me. all this..." you squeeze his ass roughly over his black cargo pants and he whimpers out a moan, arching his spine into your touch. "all mine. why?"

"'cause you fuck me the best," he gasps, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your hot kisses travel down his jaw and collar. his cock stirs. "you fuck me so well, baby. i could never want anyone else when i have you. i belong to you – hey!"

you yank his teasingly tight pants down over his thighs, pinning him in place easily with your own body. he's already half-hard – has been for the last hour in the club – and you hum appreciatively, gently turning him over. he obliges, arching his spine as he gazes watchfully over his shoulder, pink lips parted and palms pressed against the wall.

your hand runs over the tight silver-ringed harness that cradles his chest and shoulders and emphasises his tiny little waist. you nearly growl at the sight, nails digging into his skin.

he presses his ass into the front of your pants, round eyes sparkling with anticipation. "you're being so rough," he breathes as you nip at his neck just below his ear, tugging the fitted neck of his top down to reveal more of him. "did that really touch something tender? ah!"

he jerks as your teeth clip his soft skin, indenting the shape of your teeth as a red bruise. his heartbeat thuds faster as your palms glide over the mounds of his chest, perfectly sculpted by his tight shirt and harness, and dance over his cock to stroke his sensitive inner thighs. they tense under your touch.

he's wearing a pair of tiny black jocks with a rainbow elastic that cups his ass. you stifle a laugh, trying not to break character.

"what?" he mumbles, blushing. "shut the fuck up. they're cute."

"oh, i agree." you give them a light smack and he moans sharply at the impact. "wonder what that guy would think if he saw you in these – if he saw how pretty you are, spreading your legs for me..." one hand strokes his taut stomach, passing below his hips to cup the cute bubble in his jocks. he whines softly as you squeeze. "be a good boy and keep quiet for me, yeah?"

he nods feebly, gnawing on his lower lip. you've barely done anything and yet he already feels ragged, his skin scorching and tight.

something hot and thick prods his asshole. he slaps a hand over his mouth as you snap your hips forward, burying yourself so deep in him that he sees stars, the burning stretch achingly good. "mmph—!"

you hush him softly, holding him steady as he trembles in your arms. the hot weight of your body pinning his into the rough, cold alley wall is almost mind-numbing. "that's my good boy... halfway there. my good boy takes cock so well, doesn't he?"

whining softly, he nods fiercely, gasping out a shaky moan as you press your hips tight against his ass. "mhm, mhm, i do – ah! you're just s-so big, 'm close, so close—"

"already?" your hips smack quick and rough against his ass, the lube making things wet and messy. he shoves his hand between his teeth and claws at the wall, the thick head of your cock grinding into his prostate and gliding against it with each thrust. "i just put it in, baby."

"s-sorry," he squeaks, his breathing haggard as his eyes dart between the ends of the alleyway. the headlights of a car rumble by and he clenches around you, eliciting a deep groan that rattles his spine and echoes in his head. "s-someone's gonna see – fuck, right there – h-hyung, they're gonna see—!"

"they will if you keep squealing your pretty head off," you grunt, gaze trained on the join between your bodies. his ass ripples, bouncing off of your hips with wet smacks, and arousal flames through your veins. you grab his wrists and pin them to the wall beside his head. "but you're so much tighter than usual – s'almost hard to fuck ya," you chuckle breathlessly. "you like this, don't you, my good boy? do you want someone to see the way you're crying on my cock?"

tears prick his eyes. you're right. his heart threatens to pound out of his ribs. he sniffles, moans high and airy. "n-no, i don't, 'm your good boy – please, sir, s-slow down—!"

his hips snap forward with a sharp cry as your cock slams into his guts. his vision whites out and his head spins, his body hot and sweaty even in the cool night, and he melts.

he arches his spine, throwing himself roughly back onto your cock and babbling for more. his hair bounces quickly, sticking to his temples, and his thighs shake violently as he comes into his jocks, sniffling and whimpering with hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

he's so messy. so embarrassed. he's acting like a slut. he squeezes his eyes shut and gulps back his loud moans, turning them into gasped whines and heavy pants as your dick scrapes his insides so wonderfully, filling him up like no one else ever could.

"sir – hyung," he babbles, melting into your hot kisses a little more with each harsh thrust, "hyung, hyung! please—!"

in the alleyway, the indent of the doorway you're hiding yourself in swings open. a familiar sleek face greets you, a cigarette between the lips.

it falls to the ground.

you yank jungkook's hips back onto your cock and he squeals, whimpering in shock and embarrassment as you fill him up right then and there. his huge, teary eyes stare back at you, his shaky hands pushing meekly at your stomach in an effort to get you to pull out, but you just step closer, forcing his body still as cum drips down his inner thigh from his jockstrap.

you tilt your head at the man who once, not too long ago, threw himself at jungkook, expecting to walk away in the morning with a satisfying ache between his legs. a tug on jungkook's long hair reveals the collar of dark, bruising hickeys littering his neck and shoulders.

jungkook moans your name, exhausted, and slumps against the wall, his hands trembling as he tries to steady himself against the cold bricks. you give one final thrust and jungkook keens, practically collapsing into your arms as his knees buckle.

you turn away from the stranger at last, dropping a chaste kiss to the nape of jungkook's neck. he shivers and whines softly, gripping your hips for dear life. you're the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the ground like a stringless marionette.

rapid footsteps. the door slams shut. you hush jungkook, nibbling another hickey into his flushed skin as you slide his pants over his ass.

"such a good boy," you whisper, wiping his tears away with the pad of your thumb. "my good boy, isn't that right?"

after a minute, he nods once, sucking in lungfuls of air as his head gradually clears of the thick fog. he leans back against you, tucking his warm face into the crook of your neck. your arms wrap securely around his waist. "yeah," he whispers vacantly, the tingle of pleasure still zinging through his nerves. "'m hyung's good boy... his..."

he's so cute like this, you think as you stroke his cheek and press a lingering kiss to his bitten lips. walking out of the alley, he grips your hand as if he'll die otherwise, but he decides that it's not close enough and hooks his arm over your shoulder, keeping yours around his bare waist. you help him keep steady on his shaking legs. his rosary of dark hickeys is a public announcement: he is yours, and you are his.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #bts x male reader #dom reader #top reader #bottom bts #bottom jungkook #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut

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acewoo · 9 months

Text

＊ Bad Decisions

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader

Summary: Both you and Geto are in the student council and have been paired together to work on an important event plan. Although things started off rocky you somehow find yourself quite literally underneath him.

Content: NSFW, fluff, AFAB, slight enemies to lovers, teasing, praising, degrading, dom Geto, unprotected sex, fingering, sexual tension, slight mentions of depression and abandonment, flirting, smut.

Word count: 7.1k

a/n: this took wayyyyyy longer than I thought it would take lol. Anyways I tried shortening this a bit so if some pieces seemed rush I apologize :v

Suguru Geto is a student council member, a star student, an amazing athlete, and your worst nightmare. Similar to Geto you were on the student council which consisted of 12 members. The student council was looked up to by the rest of the school, and heavily respected. There wasn't anyone who was a considerably bad person to be a part of it- except for Suguru Geto.

“Hey Y/N how are you doing?” your eyes dart up to see Geto’s soft pure smile. How nice of him to check up on you. He was polite and anyone else in the room wouldn't see the act as sinister. There had been a few times people had mistaken you for being close friends because of how friendly you were with each other. But, they don’t see him like you do. You respond to his gesture by giving an annoyed pout and then smiling. “I’m well Geto, just a bit annoyed.” he raises an eyebrow keeping his pleasant demeanor. “Oh? And why might that be?” you could hear the mockery in his voice. Nevertheless, you stood your ground. “Just some social issues with someone, you know how it is.” He nodded, giving a small chuckle. “Yes, I do… Well, I hope you can sort things out then Y/N since you're already going through so much.” you just nod without giving any verbal reply. He started to head out of the classroom but, before fully leaving he looked back at you. “And see you later.”

What an insufferable bastard. You pack up your belongings not wanting to even acknowledge the last comment he made. The student council meeting was later today, which you weren't exactly thrilled to attend because of a certain someone. Your dislike for him has always been this way though. Since freshman year everything about him pissed you off. Was he smart, sure but a total asshole. He’d come off so polite and kind. You could see right through it though. His politeness. Just a way to mask his mockery and selfish intent. It was obvious he thought less of most people, it was obvious he’d be kind only to further progress himself. You swore to that, but couldn’t tell anyone how you saw through because, well how could others believe you? So, you kept silent harboring your disliking to him.

Similar to yourself, Geto saw right through you. He knew you hated him. He saw the way it looked like you were holding back punching him every time he spoke. He saw the way you would so sweetly decline any event that he’d be an important piece too. Most importantly he saw the way you saw him, and it amused him. Geto indeed finds many of his peers to be lesser or monkey-like, but not you. You were interesting. Sure you might not have been the first one to see through him but, you were the first to play the same game as him, with him. Even if it wasn’t fully by choice. The fact you both were in the student council this year too was like a blessing from god himself. Giving him the perfect opportunity to mess with you as much as he wanted. And if you or anyone else questioned it. Well, he was just trying to get closer with a fellow student council member!

The meeting was nothing special, mostly. It was more or less the casual rundown and discussions. Until it wasn’t. See near the end of the meeting, the club advisor- your principal. Had asked that Geto and you stay after everyone left because she needed to discuss something with the two of you. Your immediate thought is, why him?

“Thank you, guys, for staying, I have something I’d like to have your help with.” She paused as she leaned forward in her chair. Suguru had the same demeanor as usual. You did too, well mostly, you were slightly anxious but it was manageable your knee was bobbing up and down making small tapping noises anytime your heel touched the floor. “See, our school will be hosting this event on the 31st and we need help with planning it… it’ll have many scouts here and important people attending. With this I’ve selected the two of you to plan and coordinate the event.” the smile that was painted on your face drops.

“With all due respect Ma’am I’m thankful for this opportunity but… Wouldn’t it be more beneficial if all twelve members of the student council helped with this event rather than two?” You said trying to stay polite. She nodded before responding. “Sadly not, considering the time we have it simply would be too hard to try to plan an event with that many people involved. Alongside that based on previous events hosted by the student council, it tends to be you or Mr. Geto who takes the lead on these projects, it’d be best.” You weren’t sure how to exactly argue against that. Before you could get another point in anyways Geto speaks up. “I think it’s a lovely opportunity, ma’am, Y/N and I would be honored to plan this event together.” both heads turned to you and you hesitantly nodded. “Agreed… We’ll start working right away Ma’am.” They both smile and the two of you are dismissed.

Once you guys got decently far from the meeting room you pulled Geto to the side and snapped. “Are you serious?! ‘Y/N and I would be honored’ Why the hell would I ever want to work with you!” Geto was slightly shocked by your outburst but, he chuckled, he fucking chuckled. He then shrugged and replied. “I’m sorry Y/N I don’t understand what you're trying to say. Did I do something wrong?” he didn’t even try to hide the enjoyment in his voice. He loved seeing you get so upset. It was a rare sight, like finding diamonds in the dirt. Of course, he had to appreciate this moment the most he could. Your jaw was tightened as you spat out. “Look, I don’t know what bullshit you're planning to do for this or with me but, I want none of it. If I’m working with you I am not going to deal with your-” he sighed and waved off your concerns. “Don’t worry yourself with that Princess, I'm not planning anything.” You were about to comment on his sudden use of a pet name but he beat you to it, handing you his phone. “We’re going to need to stay in touch.” You give him your number and quickly leave, not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

That evening you were in your room laying in bed petting your cat and doing basically nothing. Your parents were out on business and wouldn't be here for two weeks. so, the whole house was yours. As you were lying in bed you received a text from an unknown number.

+810203271224

Wyd?

You paused and remembered you had given Geto your number.

You

Doesn't concern you

What do you want Geto

+810203271224

Was js checking up

But by that answer, I suppose ur not busy

You don’t respond by figuring out what to type. As you started to type out a come back he sent another message.

+810203271224

Can I come over

To work on the event planning

You

I mean we don’t need to do it today

+810203271224

But ur not busy

And I'm not busy

Working now would be for both our benefit

And really you couldn't disagree with him. So you agree. Now it was just a wait-and-see game for when he would arrive. With that time you tried to tidy up a bit so your room wasn’t a complete mess.

Knock Knock Knock. You open the door not looking through it since you knew it was Geto. He shut the door behind him and slipped off his shoes. “Your place is nice” His voice was, well how would you describe it? He was Geto but something sounded softer? Just, something was different. You sit down on the couch and look over in his direction. His hair was down, and it was long. In full honesty he’d never have his hair down in school; always having it in some kind of bun. His hair down framed his face perfectly. You must have been staring because Geto spoke again. “You're acting like you’ve never seen me before Y/N” “I just never saw you with your hair down that’s all” you spoke embarrassed as he sat on the other side of the couch. “It’s nice,” you mumble, not sure if you're speaking to him or yourself. He turned to you “That gets a compliment from you? I need to start wearing my hair down more than.” you rolled your eyes before opening your laptop. “Yeah yeah, forget it, we need to start working on this, the sooner we finish the better.”

Working with Geto was weirdly pleasant. He gave good input, he was easy-going, and overall a productive person. Right now he was typing away on the laptop trying to budget. You wait by watching him type away. His hands were nice- not that it mattered. Why were you even paying attention to that, hell why were you not completely hating his presence right now? You get up to get some water. The cold water traveling down your throat helped you regain some sense of logic. Suguru Geto is not a nice guy. Remember that. He comes off nice, and just because you're not in school, it doesn’t change anything. Remember he’s just doing this to get something from you. Geto Suguru is not your friend.

It’s 11 pm now and Geto finally leaves. He’s slipping his shoes on as he’s talking to you. “Later, Y/N have a good night.” and just like that he was gone. That was good. Now you can finally go to sleep, after all you have school tomorrow so, it’s better not to waste the night.

“I just don’t get it,” Gojo groaned over the phone. Suguru and Satoru told each other everything, so of course, after Geto came back from his little session with you he told Gojo all about it. Gojo didn’t get Geto’s fascination with you “Get what?” “Your obsession with her I mean she had a nice ass but-” Suguru cut him off before he could finish. “She’s fun to mess with. Most people don’t know how to see me but, in her case, she saw right through me. On top of that, she hasn’t done anything about it other than make a few comments. I suppose I just want to see how far I could push her.” In response, Satoru rolls his eyes. “I get it you have a crush on a nerd girl good for you man.” Geto scoffs “Not a crush, and you know it Satoru.” Satoru doesn’t respond and they quickly change the topic. Both of them blabbering on till early morning.

the next day

You were in class utterly bored, who wouldn’t be? Your teacher was on some lecture about ecosystems' energy flow or something of that sort. Thankfully, this was your last class so you could finally relax a bit. You were looking forward to it. Keyword, were. Until a notification showed up on your phone.

Geto 🖕

What class u in?

You were utterly bored, so you gave in.

You

AP bio y

Geto 🖕

Wanna skip:v

You

Yeah no

Geto 🖕

It’s the last period ur gonna be fine

Besides ur such a goody two shoes no teacher will care if ur gone for a period

You contemplated. And knew you were going to regret your decision.

You

Wya?

Geto 🖕

Meet me outside

And so you did. It wasn’t hard to leave even with your stuff. Teachers don’t ask questions, especially for students like you. “You actually did it. I'm shocked, I didn't think you had it in you.” Geto was leaning up against the side of the building. Two others next to him, which you recognized instantly. To his left, a man just as tall as himself stood with white fluffy hair and circular sunglasses. Satoru Gojo, you didn’t have anything against him but he had a certain reputation… Popular varsity basketball player, of course, but that wasn’t the only thing he played, to say the least. A bit farther strayed from the group was Shoko, the most tolerable out of the three. She was one of the few openly queer people at your school and was much more laid back than most. You had talked to her a few times since she was also on the council but, outside that you didn’t talk much. “Suguru, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else,” Gojo spoke, making you completely forget about the first comment made by Geto. Shoko then interjected herself “Hey I don’t mind having another girl along.” Gojo scoffed but didn't speak further.

“So like what now Geto,” you say less than amused, already regretting your choice. “We’re just going to walk around the city, maybe do some shopping.” they were already walking off, with you and Shoko in the back. Shopping didn’t sound bad but, you didn’t have any money on you. You flushed in embarrassment and told the group. “Oh, I’ll sit this one out. I don't have any money on me so…” Gojo was about to say something but Geto spoke first. “Don’t bother I’ll pay for you Y/N”

Now most people, such as Gojo, would be confused about why Geto offered to pay, especially since you weren’t exactly close to one another. But, to Geto, it was a perfect idea. Geto knew you would protest and spout on with nonsense about how you’d never let a guy like him pay for you. He also knew you would eventually give in. That’s just how you were. As you eventually did give in, Gojo whispered to Geto. “Not a crush my ass- why else are you inviting her out with us” Geto cut Gojo off waving off his concern. “Satoru I’ve told you before why, it’s just like that, nothing more,” Gojo spoke under his breath before the group started conversing with one another. You didn’t speak much. Only speaking when spoken to. By now you guys had decided to head to the mall and it wasn’t exactly the worst scenario to be in. Were you with the man you couldn’t stand, yes, but was he also paying for whatever you wanted, and have not terrible

friends (well Shoko, maybe not Gojo) to hang out with? Also yes.

“So, Y/N you and Suguru” You and Shoko had decided to get some food while the two boys went to do something. And now Shoko was curious about you more specifically your relationship with Suguru so, of course, it was her first idea for a conversation starter. “It’s nothing, he’s just an asshole.” Shoko hums “So, why accept his invitation in the first place?” you hum leaning back in your seat. “Well, yes I don’t like him. I do have to deal with him because of his involvement in the student council. Sure I’d like to avoid him as much as possible but, hell I’m bored and he didn’t have any clear ill intent other than irritating the shit out of me.” Shoko laughs and you take a bite out of your food. “Geez you sure are like him Y/N” You point your food at her and yell at her in a lighthearted manner. “Don’t you ever compare me to that man. I don't even know where you’d get that idea from Shoko.” Your response just made Shoko laugh more. “Hey, don’t take offense to it, I don’t mean it in a bad way, it's just the way the two of you excuse things.” Shoko paused “Look just forget I said anything” and you do. You knew Shoko meant no harm and you didn’t take offense to it. (well maybe some.) It wasn’t long before Gojo and Geto came back.

“Heyyy looks like you’re having fun Shoko, talk about anything interesting?” Geto laughs putting his hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Now Satoru, it’s not very polite to ask a lady about her private affairs.” Gojo scoffs, making some comment to Geto you can’t make out. It doesn’t matter anyway you and Shoko were done eating so, it was perfect timing. Plus you didn’t want to talk with her any longer anyway (Well more that you don't want to talk about Geto any longer.) It had been a while since you’d been to this mall so a flood of memories had come back to you. It was nice. Geto interrupted your train of thought though when he tapped you on your shoulder. “Any stores you want to go to?” you thought about it. Your first thought was to go get anything you needed but, at the moment you were well off. So, you figure a clothing store wouldn’t hurt. “M’ not sure… I mean a clothing store would be nice. Nothing fancy I mean just-” Geto nods and guides you guys through the mall. Gojo was complaining to Shoko since he’s been demoted (You now walk where Gojo was previously.) Shoko got him to shut up by telling him some random gossip.

Visvim Focused was the store Geto took you to. Not by any means low-end. Did you know Geto was well off? Yeah a bit, he didn’t clearly show it off like Gojo did, wearing designer brands any day of the week. But, you’d notice the small things. Like the watch, he was wearing it back at your place. But, that’s beside the point. You began browsing through the lines of clothes trying to figure out what you’d want to try on. Having difficulty deciding Shoko chimes in. “You lost?” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just don’t think any of this will look good on me yah know.” Shoko hummed as she looked through with you, she gave you a few picks you were hesitant about but tried out of politeness. While you started to go through them together Gojo and Geto were doing their own thing. (Gojo forced Geto to watch him try on 100 different outfits.) While you were trying on a certain dress and as you were about to step out the two boys had finished up and made their way over to Shoko. You stepped out unaware they had come over and the first thing you see well hear is Gojo doing a dog whistle. Your face flushes and you mumble to Shoko. “I don’t know Sho I don’t wear stuff like this yah know…” Shoko wraps her arm around you “Awe come on Y/N you look great wouldn’t you agree Suguru.” Your eyes darted to Geto, slightly nervous mainly because you were sure that he’d make some comment to try to upset you. What he did though rather surprised you. “I think you should get it, it looks nice on you.” He had a soft smile. It felt weird. You went back into the dressing room and took a breather. “It looks nice on you.” he was always nice to you but this was different. It didn’t have anything laced in it. That’s what was probably pissing you off the most. This whole trip he’s just been nice.

You’ve been staring at the dress for an hour now with only one question in mind. Why? He spent over 137.000 yen on you and didn’t even hint at an alternative motive. It pissed you off. Like a lot. Suguru Geto the person you had labeled to be the worst fucking asshole on the planet, was being nice, to you. The person who would constantly take any chance he got to get under your skin, was just treating you like a friend. You wanted to scream, so you did. In your pillow. As you were busy doing that a text hand came through your phone.

Geto 🖕

Not today but

When would you want to meet to work on the planning again

He waited for a response tapping his finger against the armrest of the couch he sat on. “What’s got you all antsy Suguru?” Shoko asked as she took a drag from her cigar. “It’s nothing Shoko.” Shoko laughed “That’s what's got you like this, Nothing? Here I thought you were a good liar.” Leaning back she continued. “Ooo let me guess it Y/N, come on it’s gotta be. What’s up with you guys anyways?” Geto laughed and similar to you waved off her interest, the only difference was Geto found her asking much more amusing than you had. “It’s nothing that you're thinking about, it’s just fun to mess with her. She’s such an interesting girl I can’t help but poke fun. You know how I am.” Shoko and Geto stayed talking to one another for a while. In that time you finally realize you had gotten a text. After your small childish fit (thirty minutes) you rolled over to open your phone. And low and behold the first notification on your screen was none other than those texts.

You

We can do Wednesday

Tmr I'm busy working on finals

Geto 🖕

Cool

See u then

He had responded almost instantly but then had gone silent. Not feeling like thinking about him any longer, you decided to head to bed and worry about dealing with him on Wednesday. You had gotten the dress Geto got you off your bed and put it in the very back of the closet. To not be seen by anyone. You didn’t want to see it, seeing it made you more confused than you were.

The next day went by fairly fast with nothing eventful happening at school. And when you got home you made yourself some instant ramen and began to study. It wasn’t anything special just like the rest of the day, it was calm. After studying you lay in bed scrolling through your phone. A notification had rung up from Shoko whom you gave your number to the other day.

Shoko

Hey hey

You

Ello Sho

Anything u need?

Shoko

Nothing of that sort

Js wanted to see how you are 😉

You

I’m good

Hbu?

Shoko

I’m good

You guys went back and forth for around an hour before you stopped texting back because you needed to sleep. Shoko was easy to talk to, and enjoyable to talk to (unlike Geto.) And this routine had gone on for the next week. You and Shoko had grown close. As for Geto, you guys met up that one time but, since then you both have been busy. Well by busy you magically kept having things popping up for you (excuses) so you couldn’t see Geto. And for that week Geto didn’t push too much. For that week… Once the two-week mark hit he hadn’t exactly been as easygoing as the previous week.

On this particular day, Geto had pulled you aside after a student council meeting. “Look Y/N, I was fine with this little cat-and-mouse game for a bit. But, it's over, and stop with the excuses.” While Geto found it amusing that you'd tried to ignore him for a bit, he also couldn’t pinpoint why you were doing this. He’s well aware you didn’t like him but, the first few meetings the two of you had went pretty smoothly which is why he was confused about what had changed. (Not that he was worried or anything but, the game would get boring if it kept going this way.) You stood there for a minute not saying anything. You then mumble, “We can meet tonight.” Geto was sure he was seeing you wrong because you looked like you had blush on your face? No, it was probably you getting upset at him, that's all.

After he left you went straight home and slammed your door, you were pissed. Not at him, well at him, it was complicated. See you were upset because you had come to a realization that was weirdly painful to admit, Geto was just as human as you. And yeah you knew that but you didn’t know that. And the craziest part of this, you were spiraling over one comment he made. One scene. It pissed you off, he pissed you off.

Around a week ago

“Yes, I think it’d be better if we did this setup for the music rather than that…” Working with Geto was going as smoothly as the last few times. It was nice, it was nice he wasn’t giving you trouble. At this rate, you guys would only need to meet maybe one more time before you were finished planning. Which was good, you were almost done dealing with the devil. You guys continued to work. Geto asked a question that wasn’t about event planning. “Hey Y/N you know every time we’ve worked at your place, and every time your parents aren’t here, why is that?” you answered, you're not sure why you did but you did. “Oh, they just travel for work a lot. It’s been like that since I was young.” Unintentionally the last part of your statement came off conflicted. And you were about to make some comment to not open up that vulnerability but, Geto spoke before you. “That must be hard.” your head darted to his face trying to analyze for the deeper, malice reason behind his words. But, you couldn’t find anything of that sort. Geto was still typing away but, you swear you could see some kind of fragility in his eyes, something you’d never see in someone who isn’t another person. And that’s what made you choke up, Geto wasn’t the devil, he might not be the most purest of people, but fuck at the end of the day he was human, just like you.

And that’s how you're in the predicament you're in now, you're utterly conflicted. It was easy to blow off Geto and dislike him when he didn’t display his humanity. Now though you couldn’t do that all week you’ve been hung up on that fact. In no way did it mean you like Geto, you still dislike him. Just your rude thoughts about him feel slightly cruel now.

Geto 🖕

My place tn?

You

Sure just give me address

The pit in your stomach grew, god why did you care so much, it was one comment. It was funny because Geto doesn’t remember that situation at all. Or at least in the way you viewed it. He was still trying to piece together why you were acting the way you were acting. He didn’t remember making you uncomfortable in fact, he was going out of his way not to because he wanted to see what would happen. But, this reaction was not at all what he was expecting. Thinking about it just left him more confused so he focused on something else for the time being before you came over.

Ding Dong Geto opened the door with the soft smile that usually plastered his face. “Ah Y/N glad you came, wasn’t sure if you were” he joked as you walked inside. His place was nice, surprisingly clean. After a few minutes of viewing the place Geto offered some drinks for the both of you and the two of you got started. You were both a lot more quiet than usual. And you couldn’t help but keep looking over at Geto. You hadn’t even realized you were scotting closer to him until you felt your body slightly touching his. As soon as you realized you had jumped back he laughed. “Get lost in the moment princess?” your face turned red and you replied back. “Oh hush it’s warmer on your side so, I was probably moving there because of that.” he chuckled again before asking in a more playful manner. “Is that so? Are you saying you're cold?” you nod hesitantly not sure where he was going with this. Knowing that tone though definitely nothing good. He got up and went off to another room, once he came back he had a blanket in hand. He sat next to you placing the blanket over the two of you.

You tried to nudge back, but there wasn’t much room for you to go and you groaned. “Geto do you have to be so close there’s a whole couch-” “The blanket wouldn’t reach across the couch” you wanted to protest but, gave up shutting your mouth. You guys continued to work and were able to finish up the planning completely. You stretch out in joy now that you finished you could head home. “Woooo finally done!” you then yawned, as you had realized the time. “Wow we went on for a while, didn't we, already 1 am.” Geto said as he got off the couch grabbing a beer and offered you one. “Oh, I’m not a fan- thanks though” he nods and you clean up ready to go back to your place. The only problem is all the train stations were closed, and your house wasn’t exactly walking distance. You bite your lip trying to figure out what to do. You're knocked out of your thought process though, when there was a tap on your shoulder. “If you need, you can stay here since it's already late.” Fuck, why’d he have to offer that. You in no way wanted to stay with Geto, but at the same time walking home this late at night didn’t seem pleasant either. You groan, slipping your shoes off. “You know what I’ll take that beer-” and he smiles, handing you the other bottle.

So, maybe you guys got carried away (you did). After Geto offered you one you had another… And another… After that he stopped you but, it didn’t mean you didn’t feel the effects of the alcohol. You just wanted to have one to be able to loosen up a bit, but then you figured fuck it you didn’t want to remember any of this. “Thought you didn’t like beer?” he joked, his hair was pretty, it always was when it was let down. You weren’t even aware you had begun to softly stroke it till he faked coughed. “There's a spare room across from mine… You can sleep there here I’ll show you.” Your face flushed as he helped you up. His place wasn’t huge, but it was nice. When you entered the room he was about to speak but you spoke before. “What will happen after this?” he turned around giving you a confused look. You bit your tongue, “After the event is finished what will happen. Are things just… Going back to how they were me hating you and you periodically teasing me..?” Your throat was dry, you weren’t sure why you were saying this, frankly you didn’t care. Geto was confused because he didn’t expect someone like you to get this emotional out of the blue, of course being under the influence lets people speak their mind much more freely. “Is that what you want to happen?” you bit your lip sitting on the bed. Your eyes darted down to the floor shifting focus constantly. “I don’t know what I want… But, I don’t hate you, and I don’t want to act like I do. Once this ends after tonight… I don’t want to act like I hate another person…” You let out a long sigh before hesitating. “I don’t want to lose you Suguru” For the first time you had said his name, not his last name not his full name, his actual first name. In such a gloomy way, it was like his name was something special to you; maybe it was. Even though you were in no way the first person to use his name, or the first girl to stay at his place, or anything of that sort. You were the first time he felt something, he didn’t think he could. Your voice was soft and raw, the complete opposite of how you came off to you. Something about seeing you in such a weirdly vulnerable state made Suguru Geto go silent. There was no teasing comment, no malice there wasn't any of that. He shook it off ‘you’re drunk, you don’t know what you're saying’ he thought.

“Goodnight Y/N” the door shuts.

You’re awoke to soft rays of sun resting onto your face. Your eyes feel heavy as you turn off the bed. Before you fully get up, memories of last night flood your mind. You were so stupid. You didn’t even want to get out of bed, you laid back down. Maybe the mattress would let you fully sink in, be consumed by it and never have to see the light of day again. You wanted that. Sadly you couldn’t sink into the sheets and never come back, life doesn’t work like that. You get up with an army of thoughts weighing you down as you grab the door handle to leave the room. You take a deep breath swallowing the lump that had stilled in your throat and opened the door. You marched out to the living room and the smell of bacon? Your eyes darted in the kitchen and Suguru had stood there, cooking what was in fact bacon, along with eggs. “Sleeping beauty finally awakes.” he says in a playful tone, it was friendly though. You don’t move towards him but your mouth begins to slip open. “I’m sorry about last night… I- my mind gets all fucked when I drink.” you speak guilty dying on what Geto would say luckily you wouldn’t have to wait long. “It’s alright you didn’t do anything wrong.” you bite your lip “Yeah But-” he turns around placing down the spatula he was using. Walking over to you he looks down at you, his hand gently cupping your face. “Y/N it’s okay I won’t judge you or see you any different for something you said drunk.” Some alcohol must've been left in your system because you tug his head down. You fucking kiss him.

His head dipped down pushing further connecting your mouths more than before. He didn’t pull away. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip inside you, it was welcomed joyfully. Pulling back you regain your breath Suguru didn’t wait long though before pushing you against the wall. He softly let out a whimper and he kissed you again. Your lips were vibrating against one another, it felt warm, and he felt safe. While he was intense and rough there was also a gentleness to his touch; it was intimate in a way that wasn’t just lust. His knee slipped between your thighs applying an ever-so-slight amount of pressure. You craved more. Still interlinked as you try pushing more pressure onto yourself, Suguru’s leg quickly drops through ashe chuckles. “Oh come on Y/N why try to rush this?” his voice was like velvet the way he whispered in your ear sent butterflies not only to your stomach…

You whimper whining to him “Come on Sugu’ please-” Geto’s face was buried in your neck humming. “Using nicknames now princess? You must really want this then.” his hair was down which was causing strands of hair to tickle your chin. His hands traveled down your waist as he continued to speak. “Tell me… how wet are you for me?” his hand was already dipping into your pants. His middle finger hooks your underwear. He doesn't move any further though and looks at you. “Before I go any further, do you want to do this Princess? I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold myself back if you say yes though…” you whine biting on your bottom lip, fuck you were hot. “Please Suguru-” and that was all the confirmation he needed.

His fingers slip inside your underwear and start toying with your clit ever, his middle finger rubbed ever so slightly against your entrance driving you crazy. Your jaw was shaking as you tried so hard not to make a loud noise. Suguru obviously took notice, he pressed his thumb into your cunt causing you to moan out of shock. “I won't allow you to purposely stay quiet Y/N.” his thumb moved out and was replaced by his middle finger and ring finger stuffing themselves deep into your dripping sex. Once they rested deep in you he started to make a scissoring motion stretching out your walls.

He barely even started and you were a mess, heavy breathing with flushed cheeks, God you were beautiful like this. He wondered how much more pretty you get when you are ruined. A third finger entered inside you and you chocked up a moan. “Sugu- too much-“ he laughed softly. “Too much? We’ve haven’t even started yet… and if you can’t take this how are you going to handle my dick inside you?” He didn’t sound sympathetic in the slightest, he was enjoying your suffering. If it was any other situation you would’ve cursed him out but, for right now you kept your mouth shut.

His digits started thrusting in and out of you, his pace started off slow but quickly grew in pace. At the same time his free hand was slipping down your pants while firmly holding a grip on you. By now your own hands were grasping onto his shoulders, your nails crinkling his shirt. “Loosen up, you're so tight it feels like you’re going to snap my fingers.” Suguru spoke as he continued to thrust inside you. You moaned softly panting as Geto felt his pants painfully tighten. He couldn’t wait much longer but seeing you like this made him desperate to savor the moment. Usually when he fucks people he tries to get down decently fast, taking too long to get to him fucking someone’s brains out usually leads to him being ever so greatly uninterested. You though, he wanted to see how much he could push you, he wanted to break you and see how much of a mess your perfect little self could become.

It didn’t take long to make you cum over his fingers, your walls clenching and your breath shaky. “F-fuck” you moan out gripping harder on Geto’s shoulders. Your head pressed on his chest and his fingers sliding out of you. He takes fingers and presses them against your mouth. “Suck” it wasn’t a request, it was an order. And so you obliged opening your mouth and sucking his digits clean of your very own fluid. When he removes his fingers from your mouth he replaces them with his mouth and tongue. You feel him groan against you and you feel his erection grind on your unclothed pussy.

He couldn’t wait much longer, he needed to feel inside you god he had fantasied moments like this. Yet when it was so close to becoming reality he felt absolutely insane. He unbuckled his belt and you help him, pull down his pants and through his boxers your could really get an idea of his size. He was big. When it sprung free that idea was really put to light and god, it was mesmerizing. He laugh before guiding you to be perched against the counter. His fingers trace down your spine as he lifts up your shirt. Suguru admires the beauty of your bare body whispering “God you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for Princess” you didn’t have time to pick away on what he meant by that, right now you were focused on feeling him inside you. Which didn’t take long as you could feel him already pressing his tip being covered in your wet content. “G-God…” He was trying so hard to control himself and not shove his whole length in one go.

Slowly his cock entered your clit until he bottomed out. When he did you both let out a soft groan. His pace started of slow and shallow, he was trying to not completely get lost in you’d. But feeling how tight you were around him, god he couldn’t help but go faster. Maybe a bit too fast as you were letting out hiccuped moans. “Sugu- p-please slow down” god you sounded fucking ruined, he loved it. He thrusted into you one more time before he started to slow down, he was getting close. “Fuck bout’ to cum p-princess” he was about to pull out but, you stop him. “Don’t… please- need it inside.” And who was he to deny you…

“God I love you Y/N… so fucking perfect” and you couldn’t help but whimper back to him “I love you too.”

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bearlytolerant · 2 months

Text

Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Fic Rating: E

Chapter Rating: M

AO3

ONE TWO THREE

Today—

Today is the same. Morning’s light shines, spackled and fractured through the tattered, burlap curtain. There’s dust motes floating. Were they always there? You raise your hand to shield your face. You squint. You silently sit up. There’s a satisfying crackle when you roll your shoulders back and when you twist from side to side. A tilt of your head and a flicker from your dream smiles at you before it dissipates along with your sleepy, sleepless haze.

You must go to work.

You must go.

You must.

Clothes on, boots up, fingers wiggling into synth leather fingerless gloves, you leave the dust motes behind as you step outside. The town comes to life with overcast skies. Lights in fog and residents hurrying along and there’s a fight breaking out in the alley but you're a passerby.

Work is work and you grow weary. The crates are heavier today. Or maybe you’re just weaker? Who’s to say? Food is food. But wait, you forgot to eat and now your stomach chastises you. Drink is drink. You had coffee and water when you arrived on the job, right? Right?

The hours drag, just like your feet and when you finally leave your mundane job, not all inventory is accounted for but it’s tomorrow's problem now. Halfway home, the rain splatters thick and almost viscous on top of your head.

You look up and the light sputtering catches your eye. You’re at the apothecary again.

A hesitation. Then you’re stepping inside.

This will prove a reprieve from the rain.

“Oh—hello.”

The apothecary tilts his head and smiles. There is something familiar about that expression. That tilt of the head. But you can’t quite grasp why as he gestures to you with a warm welcome. He is handsome, you notice, now that he’s without his hood. His bangs still swoop down around his cheeks, moist with sweat from another hot day. The rain just makes everything sticky, not cool.

There’s a bit of herbal residue smudged on his forehead.

It’s—endearing.

The apothecary is indeed a reprieve from the rain. Man or building? You know which is the truth, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“Hello,” you reply.

“Hi.” His smile grows. “You again.”

“Me again.” You offer a half-smile. “Not completely trashed this time. Just coming in from the rain.”

“You look tired,” he says. “Come in. Sit. You hungry? I was just preparing sandwiches.”

“A sandwich sounds nice.” You find a chair situated near the grimy window. Taking a peek, there’s nothing that can be seen outside with the rain hitting the glass.

The apothecary hums to himself while he makes the sandwiches and you opt for small talk.

“You’re new here.” It’s a statement. Should have been a question.

“Am I?” He replies and he wanders over to you, offering a sandwich.

“Yes.” You remember the previous owner. They had to stand on a stool to tend to any needs, eyes hovering just above the countertop even then. “Nej wasn’t as friendly as you. Was mostly a ball of grunts.”

“You think I’m friendly?” His eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Have you met the other people here?”

“You seem friendly.” He hands you one of the sandwiches.

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Exactly that,” he says as you reach for the sandwich.

Without hesitation, you take a bite. It’s the best you’ve eaten in a long while. There’s a savory sauce slathering the bread that melds all the flavors together perfectly. “Thank you,” you murmur after swallowing. “This is delicious.”

He bows his head slightly.

After devouring your meal in record time, he offers you a cup of tea which sits in your palms, perfectly warm and properly balanced. You miss the weight of your usual preferred drink. The burn of it, as it slides down your throat, lightning liquor souring your stomach just so. It makes you forget. But this tea—this tea, it’s bitter and tangy and—

“How is it?” He asks, eyeing you with hopeful expectation, worrying at his bottom lip.

Pleasant.

“It’s tea,” you say, sipping slowly. “It’s good.”

A grand smile and again you think, he is handsome. Too handsome. His easy smile and effortless charm put you at ease. At ease. You’ve placed a small trust in his hands.

Your eyes dart around the apothecary, pulse quickening as you realize you’ve let yourself be comfortable in the presence of a stranger. A kind stranger no less, and you remember the faces of kindness. The faces of strangers who became family. They wore their kindness as masks and told you to be grateful, thankful that they wore the mask. Without their benevolence, you’d still be orphaned on the streets. Dead or starved. And you were grateful. You were. But what about all the times their masks were deliberately placed on the table? Hands on your throat, you gasp for air and a plea never escapes your lips. Why won’t your mind forget? Forget their face? Forget the mask, the words, the past? The more you ask yourself, the more their words play on repeat: “Go to your room and meditate on what you have made me do.” It wasn’t the first time they said it but after—after—it became the last.

A deep breath and you shove your own voice down into the deepest recesses as the teacup rattles in your hand.

The teacup falls.

One breath in.

Shatters.

One breath out.

Meditate on what you have made me do.

“Are you okay?” The apothecary’s hand is on your shoulder and you startle, shrugging out from under it.

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl.

As the memory fades, you regret your words.

You know it matters that he asked after you first even if it can’t quite quell the turmoil stirring within you.

You scramble to your knees, that voice that isn’t yours but could be, screaming at you to clean up your mess, and branding you with cruel words as you use your hands to gather up the broken pieces.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you say.

What you should have said all those years ago too.

“It’s alright. Let me take care of this.”

“You’ve done so much already. Please. I will clean it up. I can’t repay you with credits.”

Your debt with this man is already outstanding.

“At least let me get you a broom,” he says. His hand reaches for your shoulder but he withdraws it before it lands. Another small smile that lights up his face, shines bright in his eyes and again, you wish you wouldn’t have snapped at him.

His kindness isn’t a mask. The instincts you could once trust tell you this but you can’t dwell on it and you can’t trust that instinct after everything. After before.

He disappears and you’re left hunched over a million shards of porcelain and when you flip your hands, you see the blood prickling to the surface of the fresh cuts delivered by your own faltering. Your own dwelling on the happenings of years ago. Inability to cling to the present lays scattered at your feet. This has always been your struggle. Ruminating. If only you could translate this skill into true meditation and find peace. If only you could be something much less useless.

It’s not supposed to be like this. It wouldn’t have been like this if you hadn’t been so incredibly weak and ran into this place from the rain. You would have been wet. That’s it. The memories would not have resurfaced. The cup would not have broken. And the shame—the shame—the shame would not have sunk its fangs into your mind and begun bleeding you dry.

There’s tightness in your chest and you want to cry. It’s there, that old familiar feeling and you can picture a smaller, frailer version of yourself curled up in a ball, silently succumbing to sleep with tears streaming down your face and dribbling away onto your pillow. That feeling only winds tighter as the blood on your hands continues to pool. Maybe this is how you cry now? With another breath, the tenseness in your chest unravels and your eyes meet the apothecary’s before his eyes land on your hands.

“That looks like it hurts. I have just the thing.” He rests the broom against the wall and shuffles toward the shelves. There’s some clattering and he hums to himself again before returning with salves and gauze. “May I?” He offers his hand with brows lifted.

Does he even know how much it means to you that he asked first?

Tentatively you reach out and he grasps your wrist so gently, steadying it in his lap as he squats over the broken shards with you, brows furrowing in concentration as he first wipes away the blood. He is tender with his touch, swiping along those cuts, careful not to snag the fabric on your skin. He applies the salve the same way but even softer with how he handles you, finger pads kissing your skin as he lightly taps them against your own fingertips before grabbing the gauze. For a moment you wonder if what he said is true. Maybe you are special. Special to him? But that’s not possible. You glance up at his face as his unhurried care eases away the ache in your hands and in your head. He catches you staring and smiles, fastening the gauze tightly and squeezing your hand lightly before letting go.

“There. Better?”

“Yes. Thank you,” you manage to murmur, flipping your gauzed hand over and resting it on your knee as you slowly rise to stand.

Broom already retrieved, he holds it outstretched to you. “You know, if you’re really not happy with acts of kindness and need some sort of absolution, I am in need of an assistant.”

The broom stills in your hand as you glance up at him curiously.

“You’re wondering if I can read your mind aren’t you? I can’t. You’ve just got that worried and defeated look. I understand that look. Know it well, believe it or not.” He wanders over to the counter and hops onto it, knocking a vial over that he fumbles with before managing to catch it and puts it back properly. You almost laugh. “I was considering a droid to assist but—” He shrugs.

Relief washes over you. You are used to quid pro quo. That you can handle. Besides working for this man seems far better than your current job. Couldn’t be worse.

“I’ll do it,” you say, picking up the dustpan and sweeping the porcelain into it. “Um, but what should I call you.”

He chuckles. “Right. Right. Introductions.” He tilts his head and smiles, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Qimir.”

You utter your own name as you hold the dustpan in one hand, taking the two steps over to him to offer your empty one. Future tomorrows will not be the same and maybe—just maybe, you think with a glimmer of hope, that it’s a good thing.

#bear writes #qimir x reader #qimir #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction #star wars acolyte #star wars fanfiction #drag me under: 3 #dmu #cut for length

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heavenhealy · 1 year

Text

genre: smut, porn with a bit of plot, flatmate!matty x fem!reader, dom!matty x sub!reader

summary: after a bit too much wine at a game night, you worry matty learned things he never would have never wanted to know about his flatmate, but he assures you you aren’t as weird as you think.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: this is smut, please do not read this if you're under 18 or uncomfortable with sexual content!! specific warnings include: swearing, alcohol consumption, they're both a bit self conscious but only briefly, crying, (VERY MINOR) who hurt you troupe bc I'm a whore for it, reader is worried about being kinkshamed/implications she has been in the past, dom/sub dynamics, praise, degradation (consensual), unprotected sex (don't do this), choking, spitting, hair pulling, spanking, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), aftercare, fluff, matty being a little softie after sex

a/n: I haven't written anything in a while so I apologize if this is rusty! I also do not proof read so there may be some mistakes, and as always please let me know if I missed a warning and I will add it on. Happy reading! :)

"Never have I ever...." Your friend trails off, swirling the contents of her wine glass absently in her hand. Her living room is packed but all the attention is on her as she speaks. A sudden blast of nostalgia from college collides into you: you sitting in your much smaller common room with her and your group of classmates, drunk off cheap beer as you swap horror stories about professors and dating. She had always been the most gripping and magnetic person you knew. Someone who could pull all of your darkest, deepest secrets out of the folds of your mind before you even realized.

Or maybe it was the expensive wine that she always had stocked now that you were adults.

"Oh! Never have I ever made someone choke me during sex." A few flickers of laughter go up around the room, and you watch as some couples proudly throw back gulps of their drinks. Your mind whirrs, suddenly self conscious at the idea of someone seeing you take a drink, but you do it anyway. There's so many people here, and so many of them are drunk that it's unlikely anyone would remember anyway. You take a hearty gulp and feel the pleasant buzz settle in your veins, whether from the alcohol or the quiet liberation of admitting one of your darkest desires like this.

Her question seems to have inspired a new theme of the game, as the next person in line slurs, "never have I ever been spit on and liked it." Less people offer up their admittance than on the last round, and your face flushes as you try to subtly bring your glass to your mouth. Your eyes dart around, drunkenness making you feel sleepy. The room was mostly occupied by your coworkers and friends of friends, all people that you could elect to never see again if you had to, and a wash of relief has you taking another sip of wine- this one just for enjoyment.

"Never have I ever let someone I'm hooking up with come inside me." Even you have to laugh at the absurdly sexual way the game began to go, but you jovially drain the last of your wine, throwing your head back lavishly as a round of jeers go up in the circle around the coffee table.

Your head is back upright, warm and swimming with intoxication as you giggle in spite of yourself. Remnants of wine stick on your lips and you lick them, trying to pry off the last of the sweet taste. Your body feels so heavy and so light at the same time: flying and sinking with intoxication and the inherent comfort that comes with it. Your eyes flutter open, mostly because you're afraid you really could fall asleep right on the couch if you keep them shut. As soon as the visual world comes back to you, you see him.

Matty, your generous flatmate who always accompanies you to these parties when he has the time, standing just behind the seated circle of people in the game who you now notice are beginning to disperse. The sight of him is sobering. How long had he been standing there? The rest of these people were inconsequential to the rest of your life, but Matty? You share a home with him, cook each other dinner, and swap each others' laundry, and pick up medicine when the other is sick.

Nerves curl in your stomach. If he had seen all of that, he definitely would think you're a freak, a sexual deviant. Maybe he would want to terminate his lease and you would be forced to find a new place. You suddenly feel dizzy as he approaches.

Handsome as ever, he pushes a hand through his already wild curls and plops onto the couch beside you. He hums thoughtfully, examining your face closely; the flush of your cheeks, the unhinged look you're sure is present in your eyes. As hard as you try, your intoxicated mind can't comprehend the emotions showing on his own face.

About all you can muster to think is "handsomehandsomehandsome" as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth before prying the empty wine glass from your hand.

"We've got to get going," he says to someone as you stand with him, slightly wobbly in your platformed sneakers. You wave at your friend and manage to support yourself long enough to make it out of her front door. The night air is thick and sticky with humidity but Matty keeps an arm around your shoulders as you go down the stairs, silently ensuring you don't wipe out and skin your knee again.

"Thanks," you finally speak once you're onto the familiar even sidewalk back to your flat. He just hums, dark eyes sparkling under the street lamps dotted along the path.

"You didn't drink?" You ask, suddenly realizing that he seemed remarkably steady tonight.

"'course I did," he wiggles his flask from his jean pocket and waves it in front of you, "I'm just not a lightweight." You sigh, throwing your arms up dramatically. He's already giggling before you even begin to defend yourself.

"I didn't get drunk off of the one glass, Matthew! I actually had three tonight. And I didn't even get sleepy till the last one."

"Sleepy? Is that the word for it?" His voice is clipped as you make the final turn to your street, the looming complex you call home only yards away. Your brow furrows at his tone.

"What are you implying?" You stop, arms crossed defensively over your chest. He deflates, visibly dropping at your change in demeanor as if it wasn't him who caused it.

"Seriously, Y/N? We're almost home." You don't budge and he relents. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I know you're sleepy, let's go. Please? Forget I said anything." You sigh, appreciating the candid look of relief on his face when you start to walk again, all the way until you're into the safety of your bed.

---

"Oh, fuck," you grimace upon waking up. You have no idea what time it is, but sunlight is streaming in through the crack in your curtains, and you can faintly hear the sounds of the tv down the hallway. You know that your hair is tangled, and it's a miracle that you even bothered to change out of your clothes before bed.

You grasp for your phone and sit up, cursing the throbbing headache that always comes with getting wine drunk. You start picking up pieces of the night in your memory like loose change: a selfie here, a bump into a guy from accounting there, a handful of pretzels tossed into your mouth by your friend, the game of never have I ever-oh.

Shit. You swallow hard, listening for the noises downstairs, and the confirming shuffle of Matty's footsteps makes you freeze. Shit, how much had he heard? You meant to ask about it last night but lacked the cognitive ability for such a thing.

Your stomach bottoms out as you think, practicing different ways to approach it in your head.

Hey, did you hear about all of my weird sex stuff last night?

Hey buddy, learned anything about me recently that changed your view of me as a person and now you want to move out?

Hi Matty, thanks for coming with me to the party and getting us home, did you see me admit to liking being spit on?

Each idea was worse than the last, and a shiver of fear runs up your neck. You had always expected to have to deal with some differences in this living agreement, and had before, but never about something like this. Okay, maybe you could just avoid him until you came up with a good way to ask? Or maybe it would never come up at all? Perhaps he really hadn't been in the room the whole time. And worse case scenario, you have time to think about it. You could crawl right back into bed and pretend to sleep all day and-

"Y/N? You're up, right?" Matty's voice sounds from right outside the door, strong and clear. You consider ignoring him but he nudges on the door and it swings open just a bit, revealing him clutching onto a bakery to go box. He smiles bright when he sees you upright and takes a step into your room.

"Brought you a cinnamon roll,” he smiles the small, earnest smile that you don’t even think he realizes he does, and your heart melts. Surely this is a sign off goodwill.

You thank him and take the box, immediately flipping the lip open and staring down at the pastry. Your stomach rumbles at the scent so you dig in, flakes of dough falling off and back into the box as you eat. Matty stays silently in your doorway until you vaguely gesture at your bed, inviting him to sit as you chew.

He perched himself at the foot of your bed: hair messy under the hood of his favorite old sweatshirt and his hands tucked endearingly under his thighs, as if he’s waiting for something.

You finish your bite and raise an eyebrow at him, hoping that he voices whatever he wants or needs from you. Not that you didn’t love just spending time together or the random act of kindness, but faint alarm bells were still ringing at the possibility of what he learned last night. Neither of you were prudes: you’d had your fair amount of conversations about hook ups throughout your years as friends, but it still felt like a delicate line to cross.

“‘S good?” He asks, voice stunted as if he had to swallow down his nerves before he spoke. “Are you feeling okay? Not too hungover?” His eyebrows crinkle cutely as he asks, eyes roaming your face as if to make sure you’re telling the truth.

You nod your assurance. “Fine, I was mostly just hungry but you fixed that.” He echoes the grin you produce and your heart flutters. He looks so painfully domestic like this, in his comfy clothes and making sure you feel okay. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you recall the care he took -always takes- to get you home safely.

“Good. You were...pretty blasted." You cringe, placing your head in your hands. The heat of your cheeks is strong and burning into the palms of your hands. Fear strikes down your spine, a fuzzy feeling of panic filling your mind. The question dances on the tip of your tongue.

"Hey." His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging gently at it until you relent. The warmth of his touch lulls you a bit, but you can still feel the tears rimming your eyes. He coos, the sound a soothing balm on your heart.

"What's got you so upset? You're more than allowed to get drunk from time to time, love. I'm no saint myself." The pad of his thumb swipes gently over the vein in your arm.

"I-" one hot tear escapes you, rolling down the side of your nose. "How much did you see?" Your voice barely holds: wobbly and unsure yet you somehow find the courage to look at him: staring deep into his eyes. He looks back just as unflinchingly, studying your eyes as if he was trying to memorize their exact curvature.

His mouth opens, then closes into a frown, and a dark wave of anxiety creeps through your chest. He knows. He saw it all, and you know Matty well enough to know that he only hesitates with you when he's trying to find the right words to soften the blow. Like the time you had made horrendous tasting pasta and he pushed it around the plate until you finally asked for his honesty. He releases his hold on your wrist as you tug it away harshly, scooting further up your bed until you hit the headboard with your back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry about- if you think I'm weird and you want to leave or not live here anymore, or you don't want me to ever talk to you again-" your voice wavers and a rush of tears spill forth despite how hard you will them to stop. The idea of him never speaking to you again you makes you choke on a sob, but you can't dull the voices in your mind.

"Now why the fuck would you think that?" His voice snaps you out of your blubbering. His pretty features are marred into a scowl so deep that you gasp.

"Tell me, Y/N, why would you think that? I would never, ever-" his features shift, eyes softening. "Who made you think that way about yourself?" You try to ignore the undercurrent of anger in the question but it oddly sets you alight to hear how much he cares about this. That maybe even if he doesn't agree with your desires, he's not going to alienate you because of them.

Your tears have dried onto your cheeks, and you can feel the uneven breaths of anxiety begin to wash away as he shuffles closer until your knees touch. It still feels as if your brain is full of cotton, unable to process or produce anything meaningful to the conversation.

"I don't mind if you don't tell me who made you feel that way, but I'll be damned if I let you go on feeling' weird about it. Or alone about it. Cause you're not." You nod along listlessly as you often do when he rambles on, and with the mix of emotions rushing through you it takes you a moment to understand him. Matty traces a lazy pattern over your knee cap, eyes glued to your face as you catch up.

"Oh," it stumbles out of you before you can check yourself. "So you, like," your brain short circuits as he flashes you a dazzling smile.

"I do."

"You don't think I'm gross?" A spark of hope settles in your stomach, whether from the knowledge, or Matty's proximity, or both you aren't sure.

He licks his lips, runs his tongue over his teeth in a way that makes your heart lurch. His curls shimmy around his face as he shakes his head no, hand stilling on your knee.

"Actually quite the opposite." His lopsided grin makes you gasp, and his hand slides up the length of your leg until it's resting on the top of your thigh. He sits up onto his knees, imposing over you even on with his pajamas still on. "More surprised..." his eyes search your face, finding only awe, "happy, thrilled, elated...who would have thought my sweet little angel would be so..." he clicks his tongue, mocking as he pretends to think. Your heart rate quickens as arousal shoots through you. "Fucking dirty." He tilts his head as if speaking to a child, eyes sparkling with what you can only assume is lust.

Your mouth feels dry as your entire face and neck flush red.

"I-I, well, uhm." You gulp and he places a hand delicately on your face. You lean into the touch, no longer finding it in you to be ashamed in front of him.

"You what? Are a dirty little thing who gets off on being choked and spit on?" You nod fervently and he chuckles, winding his fingers into the hair at the base of your neck. "Gonna need some words from this pretty mouth or we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, yes! I am, Matty. C-can you please?" He tugs at your hair, sending your line of sight upwards until all you can see are his eyes and mop of curls.

"Please ruin you? Make you forget about whatever fucker shamed you for what gets you off?" All thoughts outside of Matty leave you as you whine your affirmation. The anticipation is enough to make you squirm against his hold, hot pin pricks of pleasure sparking as he pulls against your hair.

"No running now that I've got you." He smiles sinfully before pushing forward for a kiss, molding his lips against your own with ferocity that you had only imagined he would use. No matter how many times you had fantasized about kissing him you never would have expected it to feel this perfect.

He tastes like coffee and the faint staleness of his last cigarette; something so iconically Matty that it makes you want to cry. He devours you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and holding steady on your hair to keep you exactly in place for him. Arousal roars inside of you, underwear already slicking at the show of dominance just the kiss has given you.

"Need you." You mumble it into the kiss, unable to push down your thoughts any longer. Matty relents, chest heaving just as much as your own.

"Need you," you try again, clearer this time, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. It's gone in an instant, his lean tattooed torso exposed for your viewing pleasure. Matty's hands are instantly fisting into the fabric of your old sleep shirt, stripping it as soon as you gasp out a yes. He eyeballs your tits and immediately groans, deep and guttural in a way you've never heard before. "Prettiest fuckin' girl. Look at you." The tenderness makes your heart swell as he tenderly cups your breasts in both hands, pinching at your nipples just enough to make you breathless. He places a line of kisses down your sternum and then follows the same path with a swipe of his tongue.

Shuddering, you latch onto his back and dig in with your nails, hoping to leave him with a little gift of his own. The movement presses him against you, his face buried in your stomach as he continues the sinful path of his tongue down to the elastic band of your shorts. He licks under it, being careful not to actually touch you anywhere you truly wanted him.

"Mmph, Matty, please-please please!" You moan and shiver, wriggling under his weight as he keeps you pinned down with one arm over your mid section.

He nips playfully at the skin of your stomach, "Impatient little slut, huh? Just got started on you and you're already lookin' for more." He abandons your skin completely, taking his warmth with you. A whine grumbles in your chest at the loss, but it dies in the air as you watch him shuck off his sweatpants and underwear in one go.

You can't tear your eyes away from the sight of his cock: something you'd imagined but never figured you would be lucky enough to see in person. Desire strikes through you as he settles against the bed, his lean thighs on display as he kneels on the bed.

"Can I suck your cock?" The question jumps out of you and Matty stills, seemingly shocked at your boldness. He cocks his head, biceps flexing when he wraps a hand around himself. Your mouth practically waters as he pumps himself slowly.

"Of course you can," he licks his lips as he settles into your crumpled bedsheets, spreading his legs to give you ample room to work. You spring into action, eager to repay all of the attention he's given you.

There's no time to waste once his cock is in your mouth. Your eyes water at the intrusion but you can't deny the way it makes your pussy flutter to feel so full of him. Matty gasps, lacing his fingers back through your sweaty hair and leading you further down, pressing your face into the skin of his pelvis.

A gag ripples through you and Matty groans, loosening his grip just enough that it's clear you could escape if you wished. But you don't, and you won't, as you work through the reflex with hot tears streaking down your face. Matty's breathy gasps only encourage you as you wiggle your tongue along the bottom of his cock as you suck: saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth and dripping into a sticky mess at the base of him.

"So fuckin' messy and hot, spitting all over me cause you're so desperate, is that it? Can't do anything but be stupid and drool all over my cock?" You moan at his words, bobbing your head vigorously both to show you agree with him and encourage him to say more, the nasty words flipping all the right switches in your brain.

His hips stutter up into your mouth and he huffs, pulling you off of him in painfully slow increments. You whine at the loss: throat raw and scratchy as you watch his cock shine under the light.

"Lay down," his voice is clipped and you're silently thrilled to note the shake as evidence that he was feeling just as fucked out as you.

You follow his instruction, flipping easily onto your back. He stills at the foot of your bed as you sprawl in front of him, legs parted in invitation. His chest heaves as he crowds overtop of you, heated skin against skin as he presses the length of his body onto your own. The fullness of his weight against you makes you feel fuzzy and you go lax under him, bucking your hips upwards in seek of friction over your clit.

Matty hums, his reddened lips forming into a mocking pout. "Prettiest baby ever but just so desperate," he places a kiss on your forehead and your heart flutters: eyes watering at the sweet gesture.

He catches your gaze, carefully inspecting the shine in your eyes.

"I'm okay," you voice before he can even ask, running your fingers over his jaw as you grin up at him. "Just happy." A little sly grin spreads on his lips and you can't help but return one, a giddy feeling of happiness spreading through your bones. It only makes you more ravenous for him and you whine, pushing your hips up against his own again as you attach yourself to his neck, biting a hickey into the skin just under his ear. A long moan falls from him as you work your mouth against him and your mind short circuits, in disbelief that you finally had him like this.

"Fucking quit with the hips before I explode," Matty growls, pulling away from the stimulation of your movement. You still immediately, the steel in his voice making you pliant. Apparently pleased with your behavior, Matty simply sits back, trailing his sinfully long fingers between your legs. You gasp at finally being touched, head pushing back into your pillows as Matty circles a finger around your hole, pushing in slowly as you widen your legs to allow him more access.

"Pretty little pussy, think you can handle another one?" You know he's teasing you, as he was already working another finger in alongside the first, stretching you open. The burn is deeply satisfying, liquid pleasure seeping through you as he works you open, thrumming his thumb against your clit.

"Matty, please?" You tug at the hand unoccupied with fingering you. His eyes squint in confusion at your request and you sigh, pulling his hand toward the base of your neck. His hand on your pussy stills as his mind finally catches up.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're fuckin' perfect, want me to choke you? Wanna have my hand around your neck while I fuck you stupid?." You nod dumbly, already feeling like you're on cloud nine. He moves the fastest you'd ever seen him, abandoning his work on your pussy for a threatening grip on one hip. You watch hungrily as he lines himself up with your pussy, eyes locked onto the image of his intrusion. The fullness of his cock inside of you made you keen, chest heaving as he pushes fully inside of you.

It had been a very long time since you'd been this full, and the fact that Matty was the one filling you made it even more addicting. The sheer size of his cock was enough to make you dizzy, and even more so once he finally began to move. A stream of obscenities spill out of you and Matty tsks, falling back into this dominant persona as he narrows his eyes at you, fingers dancing at the base of your neck. You swallow with harsh anticipation.

"Do I need to shut you up?" You nod eagerly, desperate to feel the strength of his hand closing around your neck. "What a dirty little girl, wantin' me to choke you when I'm already buried inside of you." His voice deepens with a groan while you plead him with your eyes, pussy throbbing around his cock at his words. His thrusts falter for just a moment as he finally relents, tightening his hold on your neck until you feel the perfect level of pressure that makes you feel perfectly floaty, nodding at him to continue his thrusts against you.

Emblazoned by the sight of his hand around your neck, Matty's hips snap into you with renewed vigor that has you rocking against the pillow, legs locked around his back. The slick sound of your pussy around him fills the room, mingling with the strangled moans that slip from both of you.

Matty pants above you, the punishing pace making your eyes roll to the back of your head. It's almost embarrassing how easily he works you up, and almost even more embarrassing how quick you are to hang your mouth open, mind blanked by the pleasure as you take everything he has to give you. He loosens his grip on your neck slightly and you whine petulantly.

"Relax, pretty. Not done with ya, hold on." Thankfully the movement of his hips doesn't even stutter as he moves his hand upwards, over the cleft of your chin before tracing the pads of his first two fingers over your bottom lip, pulling on the flesh until you open your mouth again. He smiles and lust clouds your senses as you watch his eyes crinkle.

"There's something else you want, isn't there? Something else that makes this pretty pussy all wet?" Your eyes widen, heart jumping into your throat as one of your most common wet dreams comes to life right in front of you. You try to swallow but his fingers in your mouth impede you, the tip of your tongue running over the digits.

"Wan' you to spit in my mouth," you make the sentence out with impressive clarity, especially as Matty's thrusts speed up at the confession, a deep, sustained moan rumbling out of his chest.

He slips his fingers from your mouth and immediately puts them between your bodies to thrum over your clit, slick with your own spit as they make contact. A shock runs through you, exciting every vein in your body with the whisper of your oncoming release. Despite his renewed vigor, Matty's eyes remain glued to your own as you hang your mouth open. From this angle you can see all of his pretty curls framing his face and every eyelash around his deep brown eyes. Before you even have a moment to anticipate it, a thick translucent glob of spit descends from his perfect lips and onto your waiting tongue. You swallow it eagerly as his cock twitches inside of your walls, and before you can even thank him, his hand unoccupied hand latches back onto your neck.

"I'm going to fuckin' come, shit. You're so hot." Matty's praises send you to another plane of existence as he holds you by the neck, deft fingers curling around your clit in time with his thrusts. You're sure that the sounds you're making are pathetic and embarrassing but pleasure courses through you so quickly that you can barely make out your warning that you were going to come.

Matty growls as you finally let yourself go, giving up to the monsoon of pleasure that wipes through your entire body. Your toes curl, muscles strained with the force of your orgasm as you hold him as close as possible with your legs. Matty curses, plowing into as he nears his own end. Even though you feel out of this world, you are acutely aware of everything about him; the way he pants and the rivulets of sweat that are beading down his chest, the beautiful moans that come from his bitten-red lips.

"Gonna come, can I come inside?" His desperation is making him whiny, and if you were less fucked out you would poke fun at the tone you know he would hate, but all you can think about is having his hot come fill you up.

"Yes, please! Need it Matty." A sliver of overstimulation starts to overwhelm your easy pleasure but you endure through it as you feel his cock twitch heavily inside of you before he leans into you, face buried into your shoulder as he comes. Although you mourn the loss of the face he makes, you get a beautiful sample of the moans that overtake him when he comes. The sound takes your breath away alongside the feeling of him filling you to the brim, so forcefully that you feel yourself shudder with another small orgasm as he finishes with a few more tiny thrusts of his hips. You gasp for air, immediately grappling for him to wrap your arms fully around his back.

He falls into you easily, his own chest heaving as his cock softens inside of you. You hear rather than feel him kissing over the plane of your shoulder as you float in and out of focus, exhausted and most likely dehydrated from this and the night before. Unintelligible speech rumbles against your skin, and Matty must realize that your lack of response means you aren't quite there, as he leans up onto his elbows.

You smile when you see him, face flushed and eyes heavy with fatigue.

"Handsome," you finally speak the word you held back last night and he laughs heartily as he cups your jaw as if examining you to look for damages before placing a kiss onto your lips; short and sweet and grounding.

"Glad you finally caught up, love. It was getting exhausting being the only one in the house who thought so."

You roll your eyes, finally coming back to yourself and reality.

"Last time I'll ever compliment you." Giggles continue to wrack his body as he slowly pulls out of you. The gush of your mixed arousal coming out of you makes you whine, sure that you had just ruined your sheets.

Matty looks guilty as you finally make eye contact again and you just wave him off, sitting up slowly as he flops onto the bed beside you. He looks up at you, reverently, and you blush.

"Stop that, please. Stop." Your voice is still scratchy but you can't fight the smile on your face, the undeniable hope that this wasn't just a one time freak accident.

"Stop looking at how pretty you are? Especially with that just got choked and fucked within an inch of my life glow? Nah." He casually pushes his hair off of his forehead and your body betrays your rolling eyes with a new stir of arousal.

"Seriously, though. You're hot. And pretty, and gorgeous and so fucking dirty in all the best ways."

"Stop before I barf, Matthew." You try to be petulant but can't resist his cute grabby hands as he settles you down next to him, petting gently at your temple.

"But thanks," you finally squeak out, feeling tremendously tired and satisfied as you yawn. "For being cool and doing all that and, like, not running away from me after." You feel him stiffen slightly before he goes lax again.

"Love, if I'm running anywhere, it's over to my room for us to have a clean bed to do this again."

#Matty Healy #Matty Healy x reader #Matty Healy smut #matty healy oneshot #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #matty x reader #the 1975 x reader #flatmate!matty

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year

Text

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter four

well it’s love, make it hurt series

four: some place we can be ourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian buys you a present.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, Dom!Din and sub!reader, soft Dom!Din, pain play, nipple play, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), collaring (collar in the moodboard is not completely what I wanted. tell me not to have it commissioned just for the purpose of a photo lol), some feelings

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 6: Collar, inspired by @absurdthirst's wonderful prompt list, without which I probably would not have written anything.

also on ao3

3 ABY - Fall

Neither of you were squeamish; you couldn’t be. Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. You had seen Mando burn his skin back together. He had seen you stitch up a gash on your leg.

So why was the slowly fading ring of bruises around your neck so hard for him to look at? Was he still mad about the botched job and your behavior that night? Or did it simply disgust him to see marks on you made by any other hand?

Whatever it was, he needed to get over it. The worst damage had been healed by the bacta spray on the first night, and you refused to waste more over bruising.

You were starting to get mad, now that you thought about it. You had just been examining the wounds in the mirror of the fresher. You had just gotten out, dried off, and dressed when you caught sight of your reflection.

You were up on your toes, neck craned to see around the sides. It was healing up nicely. You ran your fingers over the delicate skin, and it was far less tender. It was almost pleasant, the dull ache when you pressed on them.

Mando chose that moment to walk past. He stopped, staring at you for a half second, and hit the button to close the fresher door on you.

“Hey!” you smacked the door with your hand. “What was that for?”

But when it slid back open, the hull was empty.

You were heading out in the morning for a hunt, one that promised a challenge. As glad as you were for an interesting job, it also meant you and Mando were essentially hands-off until there was a new carbonite slab on the ship.

So really, he was going to have to get over it or live without getting his dick wet for another week. Given the voracity of his libido so far, the latter seemed unlikely.

While Mando putters around in the hull eating his dinner, you curl up in your seat in the cockpit with a book on the datapad. Your routine had settled quietly into this rhythm—he could eat without rushing, you could read without him groping at you, and you both got time alone. For two people who had been mostly solitary before, it was invaluable.

“I’m running into town,” he calls up the ladder.

“What? What for?” you yell back, but it's drowned by the pneumatics of the ramp. “What the fuck?” you say to the empty ship.

By the time he returned, the suns had set, and the moss-dripping trees outside were thick and dark. You had dozed off in your seat, feet tucked under you and head resting on your folded arms. The datapad had slipped down between your knee and the seat.

He shook your shoulder, and you stirred. Not for the first time, you marveled at how deep you could sleep here. How you had stopped flinching for your blaster. You blink up at him, a smile breaking out, until you remember why you had fallen asleep there.

“Hey, what the kriff was that? You just took off, like—” You helpfully demonstrate with a little wave of your hand and a whoosh.

He stares down at you, head cocked, hand still on your shoulder. “What’s with the outfit?” He waves a hand at you in what you're sure is a rude mockery of your previous gesture.

Oh, right. The outfit. It didn’t seem so clever now. You had wrapped yourself in an elaborate headscarf that hung over you like a hood with a tasseled cowl. And, well, nothing else. Your blanket had slipped when you sat up.

You were supposed to be waiting for him bare. Accessible. Ready. And to the little bratty voice in the back of your head that was so mad at him earlier, this was compliant. He didn’t say you couldn’t accessorize. It wasn’t denying him access to your body.

Right now, though, as he put a hand on one hip and glared down at you, it felt like maybe you were in trouble.

“I, um.” Stars, why did you think this was a good idea? You thought you could confront him about the bruises and maybe get a little roughed up in the process. And you would have enjoyed it earlier, but now, suddenly, it feels like you might cry if he yells at you.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. You know when you’re being given a second chance, so you swallow hard and look back up at him.

“I’m sorry. I was kind of trying to push you, it seemed like a good idea, but I don’t want to anymore, I promise.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why did I want to, or why do I not want to?”

He sighs heavily. “Why did you want to?”

You look down at where the datapad is lodged, picking at the edge of the cushion with your nail. “I was trying to make you mad,” you mumble.

He tilts your chin up with a bare hand. You hadn’t even noticed him take the gloves off, but it feels so nice that you almost forget you're trying to talk your way out of trouble.

“Sweetheart. Why would you want me to be mad at you? If you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask nicely.”

At the low rumble of his wicked words, you no longer feel the cold of the cockpit. Your mouth waters, and you’re hyper-aware of how hard your nipples are, how exposed.

“I—kind of? No, I mean—” You can’t concentrate anymore. His finger that was stroking your cheek brushes across your bottom lip, and you open automatically, waiting. Begging. He pulls it away, and you whine.

“Hmm. Not yet. I want you to finish explaining yourself.”

“I had hurt feelings.” It punches out of you, and you’re mortified to realize it's the truth. You had been telling yourself you were mad, and maybe you were, but you had been lashing out like a hurt massiff.

Mando squats down beside the chair, and you turn, crossing your legs so you can face him. “What did I do that hurt your feelings, pretty girl?”

“It’s stupid, I’m being stupid. I’m—”

His hand snaps out, and unlike the gentle touch earlier, he grips your jaw tight before slapping you sharply across the face with his other hand. You yelp, more from surprise than pain.

“What have I said about that? Are you allowed to talk about yourself that way?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“And why not?”

“Because I’m yours, and if I’m disrespecting myself, it means I’m disrespecting you.” It was a lesson you had learned over his knee on more than one occasion.

“Good girl. Now tell me why you’re upset.”

“It’s like you can’t even look at me anymore, when you can see my neck. I’m sorry I fucked up; I’m sorry it’s ugly. I thought if I covered it up, maybe, maybe…”

Your words die in your throat as he stands up off the floor, rubbing a tired hand over his helmet. He snaps his fingers, jerking a thumb toward the pilot seat. “Get up, c’mon, I’m not doing this here.”

You scramble to your feet, confused and a little scared. Doing what? Oh, kriff, what had you gotten yourself into?

“Grab your pillow, baby,” he called from across the room without looking.

You double back for it. He was settled in his chair when you reached him, so you let it fall with a soft thwomp before lowering yourself to your knees.

“Look at me,” he orders. “And take that off.”

Fuck. Someday you’d get it through your head and stop giving in to the urge to hide. He hated it, but it was one of the few holdups you still had.

When you obey, tossing the scarf out of sight, he reaches down and wraps his hand around the side of your neck, avoiding most of the bruising. “I didn’t look because I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

You furrow your brow, opening your mouth to speak, but thinking better of it.

“You were so upset about what happened on that hunt. And I hate that it was someone else who put those there. But stars, baby, do you look beautiful all marked up. I want to sink my hands in until you’re wearing my fingerprints all the time.”

Your mouth falls open, throat dry, and you shift around on your knees. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What, no. Just. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

He leans back, studying you. “You know, I never want you to try something you’re not comfortable with just because it’ll please me.”

“I’m not, I swear. I couldn’t stop looking at them in the mirror and wishing it had been you.”

He swears darkly, leaning forward so suddenly you flinch back a little. His hand cups your cunt between your spread legs, and he swipes a finger through your folds and holds it up. It’s soaked. He chuckles. “Good girl,” and shoves the finger between your lips with no pretense.

You close your lips around the digit, sucking and watching him through wide eyes. You whine when he pulls it out.

“As much as I would like to mark you up, cyar’ika, it’s not safe. But I did have an idea for something almost as good.” He reaches into a pouch on his belt and holds up a strip of leather.

It doesn’t register right away. You stare at it and then at him. He holds it out to you flat on both hands, and you gasp. You've never seen one outside of the holos he's shown you, but you recognize it all the same.

The leather is soft and supple in the same brown as his bandolier. It has a simple double-loop closure. You run your fingers over it for a moment before he snatches it back to dangle it just out of your reach.

“I take it you like it.”

You hold your hands in your lap, biting your bottom lip and whining. He laughs and runs a hand through your hair.

“You want it, sweetheart? Want to wear my collar so everyone knows you’re mine?”

“Please,” you beg over and over.

“You are mine, right? My sweet, obedient girl.”

“Yes, sir, please. I’ll be so good for you.”

He laughs. “Of course you will, needy thing. You’re already all mine. Look at you, trying so hard to please me.”

Your face goes hot. After the last few months of him talking to you like this, you thought you’d stop being embarrassed, but it only seems to get worse.

“C’mere,” he says, voice softer as he leans back. “Want you up here so I can see.”

You scramble onto his lap, straddling him. He pulls you closer so your wet cunt smears where he strains against the flight suit, and you moan.

“Can I put it on you?”

You’re already whispering a litany of pleas before he finishes the sentence.

You stop breathing when he reaches around you, holding as still as you can. You want to feel every second of it. He gently lifts your hair out of the way to settle the strap behind your neck before pulling the ends to meet in the front. He slides it into place, tucking two fingers between the collar and your neck.

“How’s it feel, ner cyare?”

You don’t ask about the new Mando’a. He’s never told you what cyar’ika means, either. Not that you’ve asked. He says it with enough fondness that you trust it’s not mean, and this sounds the same. Not that you aren’t curious. But the only things you know about Mandalorians are things he’s told you of his own volition, and you’re afraid to push.

Your eyes are watering. You trace your fingers over the collar with shaky hands. You’re terrified, actually, because this feels like something heavier than the other ways you play. “I love it,” you whisper.

He tugs on it, yanking you closer to him, before pulling it back, grinning at the way you let your body be moved at his will. “I think I like this a lot.” He holds you in place with it, pinching and tugging on your nipples. He gives your tits a few sharp smacks to feel the way you jerk in his lap.

“Ready for me, baby?” he teases.

You know it’s rhetorical, especially given that he’s already pulled his cock out, but you moan a “yes, please, sir,” just to see the way it makes him twitch. He smacks your clit twice with the head of his cock and then just shoves it all the way in.

He tugs the collar, pulling you to bend forward at an awkward angle.

“Watch, pretty girl. Look how greedy your little pussy is. Look how well you take me.”

You can’t look away. He’s splitting you in half, the pressure sharp and incredible, but you’d never know it from the way your walls and lips are hugging his shaft, beckoning him in. He flicks your clit while you’re watching, but you still jerk back at the sting. You’re stopped short by the collar, and he laughs and does it again.

He pinches and twists at it while you make broken little sounds, moans and cries, and you squirm to get out of range of his cruel fingers. But you can’t. He’s got you pinned so well between the cage of his thighs, bent up behind you, and the grip on your collar.

He only takes pity on you when he moves his attention back to your swollen nipples.

“S’it hurt?” he pants.

You whimper.

“Really? 'Cause you’re fucking soaked, cyar’ika, and your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight. I think you like it.” He flicks your nipple to punctuate his words.

“I do, I do like it, please. Like anything you do to me.”

“Those are dangerous words, sweetheart.”

“Nuh-uh,” you grunt, face twisting as he tugs hard before switching back to your clit. “Nnn. Trust you.”

He pinches a little harder than he means to, struck by the sweet way you bare yourself to him. His fingers dip down to gather some of the slick you’re leaking around his cock, and he brings them back up to your clit, rubbing firm, tight circles.

He drops your collar and grabs your jaw, pistoning his hips up harder so the wet slap of your bodies echoes in the cockpit. “Whose cunt is this?”

“Yours, sir,” you gasp.

“Yeah? Whose beautiful, perfect slut is this?”

“Yours, sir.”

“Cum for me, cyar’ika.” He presses down hard on your clit, and his hips stutter when you immediately clench down, body jerking. He grabs you by the collar and holds you upright so you don’t fall as you twitch and scream.

He doesn’t ease up, rubbing hard at your clit. “Another one. Now.”

You don’t know how he does it. You never have to force it. He knows your body like his armory, knows how much pressure it takes to pull the trigger, knows right when to fire. You’ve never not cum when he commanded.

“Down,” he snaps after you’ve come apart on him a few more times over.

You slide off immediately, sinking down onto the pillow, mouth open and tongue out. Your hands lay in your lap, palms up, and you even remember to keep your eyes open.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he groans, stroking himself furiously before shoving into your throat as he spills. You take it all, eyes on him as you watch him fall apart for once. His shaky hand strokes through your hair as he comes down before settling around your neck just below the collar.

He pulls you back up into his lap, askew so your legs dangle over one side of the chair, and he can tuck your head against his chest. You’re shaking and softly crying as he wraps you up in your forgotten blanket.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And cyar'ika?”

You look up at him, sniffling and trying to blink back the last of your tears.

“You did so good telling me when you were upset.”

You bury your face in his unforgiving chest plate, and he allows you the moment to hide. Someday, he thinks, maybe you’ll believe him.

*Title from "Beat Up Car" by Taking Back Sunday. (what is the Razor Crest if not a beat up car persevering?)

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #kinktober 2023 #corazondebeskar-reads and writes #mistakes have been made #i love them your honor #make it hurt verse

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utilitycaster · 6 days

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(you don't need to publish this because a) it's not a question and b) I don't want that maybe you're getting attacked/vagueblogged over it) I just wanted to say, that I originally came to your blog because of your nuanced, deep and really really good Caleb meta and that Imogenfans are missing out big time. I think, if Im/odna fans wouldn't have acted the way they did and talented people hadn't stopped writing meta about them, at least I would have warmed up to the characters way more....

Hi anon,

I hope you don't mind me publishing it anyway just because it's a good opportunity to elaborate on a few rather fanwanky feelings in one brief-ish statement.

I don't really care if people vague me and I think people who don't like being vagued are valid, but people who don't like being vagued, whine about it, and then continue to vague others are, understandably, idiots making the situation worse. Most people who had issues with being vagued re: the above simply stopped writing meta, which is why there's not much of it. Also a lot of what people call vaguing is just meta that disagrees with theirs, to be honest. I mean I do vague, a lot, and I'm very good at it, but I've also written 100% good faith meta about things I was thinking about the narrative without consideration of other peoples' opinions and it was called vaguing because I used aggressive tactics like citing my sources.

I've covered the fact that Imogen was actually treated very similarly to Caleb with the key difference that people who wrote meta about Caleb were treated badly by his haters, whereas people who wrote meta about Imogen were treated badly by her then-supporters who are now mostly defending Ashton and Dorian because Imogen started saying things they don't like and don't want to address. I just want to reiterate that if someone ever says that The Male Characters Played By White Actors Never Receive Hate you should just block them and stop taking them seriously. The hate is obviously not motivated by bigotry against real people, typically (though some criticism of Veth was certainly misogynistic even though Sam is a man, for example) but they still did receive pretty intense hate. It is kind of telling, personally, re a certain lack of backbone that people will bring up the horrible things people said about Liam or Travis or Taliesin in their own defense and then turn around and willingly engage with the people making these accusations they clearly know to be false, but you know. Unsurprising.

I tried to write something longer that really dug into the outline of events but it really comes down to this: a lot of the direct harassment (not vagueing) of meta writers, especially with regards to Imogen or Laudna, occurred during episodes like...20-50 of this campaign, and I think those doing the harassment either thought this would somehow make meta writers go "oh my god you're so right about the thing that you said I should die for not agreeing with, I'm going to write meta for you now" or that this would shut them down but wouldn't make other meta writers say "oh this environment has become hostile", which obviously it would. Coupled with the fact that this is when a lot of meta writers realized the campaign pacing was fucked and the party wasn't clicking in the same way past ones had and it really turned into a case of high risk of unpleasantness for a not really worth it reward for many of the meta writers who were around in earlier campaigns, and that in TURN meant that it's harder to have a good conversation without having existing chats so it's a less pleasant place for new fans. Anyway uh. I think the lesson here is that those C2 meta writers ARE around for Midst and Candela Obscura so it's also kind of a waiting game in the event that there is a future campaign (and if not, they will still be here for Midst/Candela/Possibly Daggerheart or future EXUs); they're just not here to write about Imogen or Laudna because it's not worth the trouble.

#answered #Anonymous #people who are throwing fits about 2 year old meta they don't like w/a smoking gun at the fandom like Why Would The Meta Writers Do This

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emmtropywrites · 3 months

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"Flowers", a Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction. Chapter 1: Seeds

Part 2

Also on AO3

Summary: You're working as a florist in Baldur's Gate when you meet one of the heroes who saved the city. After the first conversation with her, you can't get her off your mind.

Tags: Selunite Shadowheart x Reader, fluff, cottagecore, wholesome, post-game, gender neutral reader, flowers, florists, reader is not Tav!

The bell on the door jingles as another customer enters your shop. Wiping the plant matter from your hands, you set down your knife on your worktable and turn to greet the lovely woman. Taking in her long, silver hair, her short, pointed ears, and her sweet face that is marked with freckles and one, long scar across her nose, you feel a flush come to your cheeks.

“Hi there, welcome to Feisty’s Flowers,” you say, hoping your smile doesn’t come off as too intense. You always tend to overthink your interactions with pretty people.

She tilts her head slightly, her lips smirking playfully. “I don’t suppose you would be Feisty?”

You laugh and shake your head. “Feisty is unfortunately no longer with us. He’s not dead, mind you, just retired in the countryside somewhere.”

“Lucky him,” says the woman. “One day, I hope to do something similar. City life is nice enough, but I need some peace and quiet.” You can’t help but think of how silvery her voice is, how pleasant she is to listen to.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” you say jokingly, but, realizing how that might come off, add, “in leaving the city, I mean. There’s no room for proper gardens here.”

“Oh, and that brings me to my visit here,” she responds. “See, my favorite flowers are night orchids, but I live in a flat and so I can’t grow them. I was wondering if you could make me a bouquet with similar flowers? It’s a rather specific request, I know.”

You nod, having seen a few paintings of night orchids. “If I remember correctly, they’re a darker purple color? Almost blue? Or were you wanting a variety of ordinary orchids? In which case I have a few types you can choose from…”

You set to work, showing the woman the different buckets of flowers you have available, and as you do, you see a cautious smile grow over her face. She asks occasional questions about lifespan and proper cut flower care, but mostly listens intently as you explain what you can do.

“How long have you been a florist?” She asks after you explain the differences between dendrobiums (a genus) and mokaras (a hybrid).

“For a few years now. My dad was an artificer, so I grew up tinkering and using my hands to make things, but I always had an eye for more colorful pursuits.” Memories of your time putting scraps of metal together to make artistic collages make you smile fondly.

“Well, you’re definitely well-versed,” she praises. “Do you have a favorite flower to use? Or does it change day by day?”

“More like mood by mood,” you say with a hint of cynicism. “For instance, if I were to deal with a particularly rude customer, my go-to would be limonium, as it smells like feet when it gets old.”

She laughs lightly, hiding her mouth behind her hand. You notice a small, dark spot on the back, and wonder if it’s a birthmark. However, you’re more taken with the sound of her giggle- airy, but with a sharpness behind it.

“For average customers, I’ll try to use carnations,” you continue, enjoying the conversation.

“That’s… interesting,” she remarks. “I thought carnations were associated with funerals?”

“They can definitely be useful for funerals, but that’s due to their longevity and resilience,” you explain. “Carnations come in a wide variety of colors, and they’re very sturdy and long-lasting. They’re…” You pause, searching for the right word. “Reliable.”

The woman is quiet for a moment, and you hurriedly ask, “Why are night orchids your favorite?”

A look of quiet sadness passes across her face for a moment- a look that you are very familiar with, as customers often come in for flowers to place on graves. “They remind me that beauty can exist in even the darkest of places.”

Now it’s you who is quiet, and she shakes her head. “My apologies, that got a little morose there.”

You shrug. “I’ve dealt with all sorts of things in the flower business. People think it’s all bright and cheerful, but there’s a grounding factor of sorrow, of reality.”

“And of rude customers?” She teases, quirking an eyebrow.

You laugh. “Yes, exactly. So, back to your arrangement.”

The woman finishes choosing her flowers- purple lisianthus, dark blue delphinium, green cymbidium orchids, and various greens- and you arrange them in a clear glass vase for her. When it comes time to pay, she hands over the few silver pieces, and says, “Thank you for your help and expertise. And for the conversation. It’s hard to connect with people in a city where everyone is going about their business so quickly.”

“I agree, it was lovely to meet you, um…” You trail off, realizing you never got her name.

“Shadowheart,” she introduces herself.

You give her your name, and she says it once, before saying, “May Selune light your evening,” and leaving with her flowers.

Once she’s gone, you begin cleaning up the loose stems and petals left behind from the arrangement. But you can’t help but feel like you’ve heard the name Shadowheart before. Eventually, it dawns on you: she was one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, who fought and defeated the illithid attack. You shudder as you remember how you and as many people as could fit inside your store had barricaded your doors and hoped for help to arrive. You had never been sure how much time had passed before the streets had been declared safe again, but your anxiety had made it feel like ages.

Regretting that you hadn’t had a proper chance to thank Shadowheart for everything she’d done, you decide to pay a visit to Stormshore Tabernacle tomorrow, to leave an offering for Selune.

#shadowheart bg3 #shadowheart fanfic #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my stuff

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redd956 · 2 months

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Sleep Disorders & Dreams References I Refer To

@mmaurysiek was curios about some of the refences I have on nightmares, dreams, and lucid dreaming. I decided to make a post including some of my favorite here.

Nightmare Disorder

Nightmare Disorder is a parasomnia, which is a type of sleeping disorder that disrupts your sleep or make your sleep restless through unconscious activity.

The interesting thing about parasomnias is you have one at a severe rate, it's only a matter of time before you end up developing more via sleep deprivation. This is what makes major parasomnias like Nightmare Disorder and Sleep Terrors so painful. It just becomes a cycle.

Some important factors about Nightmare Disorder the needs to be known is-

There are variants

There are many origins, but the full idea of how Nightmare Disorder happens is unknown

Not everyone has Nightmare Disorder forever, but some do

Now to my links

This is a really good link that goes in to the variety of Nightmare Disorder and more modern up to date information we have about the disorder.

This next link goes specifically into how PTSD induced nightmares work. It's important to understand that the categorization of dreams themselves is complex. Someone can have nightmare disorder, and not always have PTSD nightmares.

A final link on Nightmare Disorder that I'll give is a scholarly article, which is of course tedious to read through, but if anyone is into that stuff here it is...

Lucid Dreaming

When it comes to lucid dreaming I remember one of my favorite Youtubers has an amazing video on it

youtube

What is lucid dreaming? It's a type of dreaming where the dreamer is somewhat self aware they're sleeping, and gain control of the dream.

Lucid dreaming is both a little more complicated and a little more simple than we can understand. The science of dreams is still mostly unknown. We have a plethora of theories about how they work, spirituality behind them, and especially why the hell we dream in the first place.

The existence of lucid dreams makes things a little bit more complicated.

Lucid Dreams come in many variations. By what we understand right now, not everyone is even capable of achieving the most stereotypical lucid dream, like me. The weirdest part about lucid dreams, it's trainable, like learning how to whistle.

Health benefits and cautions comes with lucid dreams.

Vivid Dreams

Oh vivid dreams, often times interesting and bizarre, and upsetting when dressed up as nightmares. It isn't actually regular to have frequent vivid dreams, but it is normal to see them occasionally. Don't worry if you do get them very often, they're only a worry if they're interrupting your sleep or daytime mood.

I would include more parasomnias and sleep disorders in this post, but I'll probs do them in a future posts

#references #writing references #nightmare disorder #sleep #sleep disorders #lucid dreaming #lucid dreams #vivid dreaming #vivid dreams #links #writing ref

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jerzwriter · 5 months

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Mostly Pleasant Surprises 2 of 4 Discovery

This is the final installment of "how they finally got together." I promise. 😊

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick & Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 2,000

Series Summary: It's been months since the chemical attack, and "kind of" exes-turned-friends Tobias & Casey have been stubbornly denying their growing feelings for each other. But when a series of events threatens to come between them, will they find their way back together?

Part 2 Summary: A startling discovery fills Casey with doubt, just as Tobias comes to an important conclusion.

A/N: OK, again, there are like 2 people alive who may care about this, but I'm filled with so much joy as I'm finally writing this pivotal part of their tale. Let me tell you, there is something so freeing about writing solely for me and my blorbos. It's hard to describe! :)

I expect this to be told in four parts, though it may be three. I guess we'll find out with the next installment. :)

Series Masterlist || Tobias x Casey Masterlist Full Masterlist

Catch up here

Her.

The too-pretty-to-be-human creature Casey nearly collided with earlier that day. The one that made an old pair of scrubs look good and, holy hell, the way she looked when all dressed up. She was exquisite. Breathtaking. So much so that it took Casey a moment to notice the man sitting at her side...closely at her side... and that's when her heart began to race.

It... it can't be...

Her phone felt like a leaden weight in her trembling hand, but it flew like a feather when she pelted it across the couch as if its very touch scorched her.

Is he... are they...

She was furious... furious at the situation, at him, but mostly with herself. She cursed herself for beginning to tremble, as if she had a right to, and tried to steady herself as a million questions raced through her mind.

How did I not see this? How could I have been this stupid? Oh my God! Has he been seeing her this whole time? Did she know he's been spending so much time with me? Is that why she gave me that look today?

She jumped to her feet, mindlessly pacing the length of the living room.

Of course, she knew! I'm that pathetic woman from the chemical attack. So fucked up she could barely leave the house. Tobias felt guilty... he told me he felt guilty! No wonder he 'had' to help me. UGH. And I let myself fall for him—I let myself believe he was falling for me. Casey, you idiot!

She tried to convince herself that none of this mattered. She couldn't be heartbroken over something that never happened. We can't grieve for something we never had... can we? But when hot tears sprung to her eyes, and one had the audacity to roll down her cheek, Casey grabbed her phone and retreated to her room. Right now, crying herself to sleep felt like the only logical thing to do.

Did you really think he wasn't seeing anyone since the attack? Seriously? He's Tobias Carrick, for fucks sake! But did I imagine it all? How close I thought we had become? We talk all the time... so why... why wouldn't he just tell me if he were seeing someone?

But as she flung herself onto her bed, the answer became vividly clear.

Because you're not dating. He's not your boyfriend, he's just your friend... and he doesn’t have to tell you a damn thing.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. She tried repeating those words over and over, hoping they might usher in an acceptance that would ease the tightness in her chest. But as she tripped over the conclusions she came to in her mind, it was apparent that pain would be her companion for some time. Her eyes closed tight in the darkness, and she hoped sleep would provide some respite, but then her door burst open.

“This doesn’t necessarily mean anything….” Sienna blurted, her own phone screen turning her face blue as she spoke. “I don't think this picture was taken tonight... it looks old to me."

Casey listened in dejected silence as her friend's voice grew more frantic with each word.

“He hasn’t commented on it... but I don’t think he’s been online. I looked at her account, though, and he hasn't interacted with her in ages. Like... not at all. But you... he interacts with you all the time... I think this is just a...”

“Si,” Casey interrupted. “When I left his Kenmore today, she went into his office after I left.”

“So? She works at Kenmore, too. That doesn’t mean….”

“It doesn't matter what it means," Casey gulped. "It's like I've been saying all along... we're just... we're just friends. And I'm an absolute idiot for letting myself think we could be anything more."

"Oh, Casey!" Sienna frowned. "That's not true! I know how much he cares for you, and before you jump to any conclusions, please, just talk to him."

“To say what? What can I say without sounding pathetic? No, I've been a fool too many times before. I'm not doing it again."

“Case... but...”

“No!” Casey snapped. “No. I’m not asking him. I’m not going to make myself look as ridiculous as I feel right now. I just... I just want to go to sleep.”

“All right,” Sienna replied sadly. “Can I at least get you ice cream? Or perhaps give you a hug?”

“A hug,” Casey sniffled. “A hug would be really nice.”

And a hug is what she received. Sienna slid onto Casey's bed, holding her friend close and refusing to leave until she was fast asleep.

~~~~~

It hadn't exactly been the birthday he would have ordered, but he had seen Casey, so Tobias was content enough. Still, it was time for the long day to end. He shut his laptop and placed it in his briefcase, but as he went to turn off his desk light, he caught a glimpse of the time. It was only nine o’clock... not too late. Maybe they could get a quick drink at Donahue’s? It wasn’t out of the question, and then he could end his birthday the only way he really wanted to... with her. Taking a chance, he dialed her number, but let out a sigh when his call went right to voicemail. She must have gone to bed early, so he let the idea go and hung up without leaving a message.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket just a moment later, a big smile spread on his face, but it wasn't Casey. It was Sasha, one of his closest friends, telling him to check Instagram at once. Given that she wasn't known for hyperbole, Tobias took heed, quickly scrolling through his feed until he saw it.

“Son of a bitch….” he spat as he rushed to the nurses' station.

“Where's Kenner?” he blurted upon approach.

“Audrey?” The night nurse asked.

“Do we have another Kenner?”

“I think she’s in the break room. I saw her going....”

The sentence remained suspended in the air as Tobias rushed off to confront Audrey. When he stepped into the lounge, she was sitting alone, picking at her half-eaten salad with little enthusiasm. But that changed the moment she saw him, her face lighting up in an instant.

“What the hell is this?” He asked, holding his phone inches from her face.

“It’s me wishing you a happy birthday," she replied with as much confidence as she could muster, though the slight quiver in her voice belied the act.

“That's not all this is, Audrey. Why are you going out of your way to make it look like we’re together? You didn't do things like this when we were together. It makes no sense."

"I never posted pictures of us?" she challenged. "You know that's not true."

"And you know what I mean..." he countered, growing less amused by the second.

Knowing she could make it fairly believable, she considered spinning a tale. Some ridiculous reason why she thought it would be a good idea, but when her eyes met his, she couldn't bring herself to lie.

“T, I… I don’t know why I did it. But if we're being honest, there was a time you wouldn’t have minded. So why is it such a big deal now?"

“Audrey,” his voice was full of sincerity as he pulled a chair up to the table. “I know our... thing... was on and off for years. But we've been off for a while. Have I given you any indication that I wanted to start up again?”

“No,” she chuckled sadly. “But maybe that was my way of letting you know that... perhaps I did.”

“Well... I’m flattered, but I don't want to reopen that door. So this post is a step too far, and I'd really like you to take it down."

“Fine,” she snapped, pulling her phone out of her pocket, but she stopped just before hitting delete. "But why does it matter so much? It's not like you're with anyone, so what’s the harm of...” She let out a sigh and placed her phone on the table. “It’s the blonde... Casey. Isn't it?"

“What?”

“Don’t deny it. You like to play down what we meant to each other, but I did come to know you pretty well over the past six years, and... I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Seen me like what?” He defended nervously.

“Tobias, you've been... different. The gossip mill hasn't linked you to anyone in ages; you're hardly ever at the Puddingstone anymore...."

“Well, I just turned thirty-seven. Maybe the gossip mill finally grew bored with me, and I'm trying to grow up a little?"

“Pfft,” she chortled. “As if! I know you two dated, and then she dumped you before the attack at Edenbrook."

"Did you get that from the rumor mill?" he asked.

"Yep, and a pretty reliable source! They also told me you've been spending a lot of time with her since the attack. Are you... together?"

"Together?" He sputtered far too quickly. “No, we're not together. We're friends, that's all."

"I saw the look in your eyes when she came to visit today. That's not a look you give friends. Everyone's been saying you've been different lately... I can't help but think she's the reason why."

"Audrey, Casey means a lot to me, but we're not together, OK?"

"But you want to be. I can tell by looking at you. I've always known you to go after what you want, even when you know it’s a dumb idea. So... what makes this different?"

“What makes this different?” he droned, his head turning out the window to gaze over the city lights. "What makes this different... I guess I’m a little frightened because this might be real, and I've never done real before. I almost don't know what to do with it."

Audrey smiled, surprised that this hurt a little less than she anticipated. Lifting her phone from the table, she deleted the post.

“There. It's down. I did my part, now why don't you do yours? Go talk to her, Tobias. I don't know if she saw it, but if she did, just tell her I’m some asshole, and she has nothing to worry about because... obviously, she doesn’t."

Audrey reached over and gently squeezed his hand with a smile. "Now, if you’ll excuse me... I have a shift to get back to.”

Tobias listened to Audrey's footsteps as they left the room and drifted down the hall. When they were gone, there was nothing but silence—silence and his thoughts—and he was blown away by how loud the latter could be.

He wasn’t stupid... he loved Casey. He’d known that for some time, but he always had a reason to keep the truth from her. After the attack, he promised her... and everyone who knew her... that they'd just be friends. He had no ulterior motives, and he cared too much to overstep. But that was months ago now. Time, thoughts, hell, even kisses had been shared between them, and so much had changed. Still, for a hundred different reasons and in a hundred different ways, he was terrified to come clean.

But today was a special day. After all, it isn't every day a man turns thirty-seven, and as he sat alone in the desolate break room, it became abundantly clear. The only reason he hadn’t made plans to celebrate his birthday this year was that there was no way for him to celebrate the way he wanted to—with Casey by his side - and not as his friend.

He glanced at his phone. He knew she had an early shift tomorrow and needed to rest, so waking her up was not an option. But remaining silent about his feelings was no longer an option. He didn't know what would happen when he told her, but he knew one thing for sure: He loved her, and that was something he could no longer keep to himself. He took out his phone to send her a quick text...

He took a deep breath before rising to his feet, knowing this was a birthday he'd never forget. He had just taken the first step toward the future he desperately craved, and to his great surprise, he only felt relief. A tiny smile crossed his lips. The next time he saw Casey, he'd be telling her how he felt, and now, that moment couldn't come quickly enough.

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #choices fanfic #playchoices #choices the stories you play #playchoices fanfic

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mysteryshoptls · 2 years

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SSR Leona Kingscholar Beastly Garb Personal Story: Part 2

"Whatever I feel like doing."

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[Sunset Savanna]

Vil: The charter bus got a flat tire as soon as we entered the savannah, so I was preparing myself for a bumpy ride, but…

Vil: This is actually rather pleasant. Perhaps the roads aren't as bad as they look?

Kalim: Yeah. Leona said, "The roads are terrible, so hold on," earlier, but…

Kalim: It's not bumpy at all. I'm not even getting carsick.

Lilia: The last time I rode a passenger bus in Sunset Savanna it was insane.

Lilia: My body was bouncing up and down non-stop. I was bumping into the seats in front and behind me, as well as the other passengers.

Lilia: I bet the reason why this trip is so smooth is due to the driver's skill.

Lilia: Right, Leona?

Leona: Who knows. You probably just got a bad luck of the draw with that driver back then.

1. When did you get your driver's license?

Leona: Before I came to Night Raven College. Leona: Don't know how it is elsewhere, but in this country, it's not that unusual to start driving cars around that age.

2. How long have you been driving?

Leona: Guess it's been about 4 years. Leona: …What's with that anxious look? Sure, that's not that long, but I'm not a completely incompetent imbecile.

Kalim: Wow, that's amazing. You gotta study real hard to get a license, right?

Kalim: That's kinda cool… I never even though about driving myself or anything.

Kalim: I always had my own driver, so I always thought that driving was for adults!

Vil: For me, whenever I'm traveling for work, my manager would drive me around.

Vil: Right now I'm busy, so it would be difficult, but… One day when I have a bit more spare time, I plan on getting my license.

Vil: It would be lovely to find a stylish car that suits me perfectly so I can drive so gallantly.

Lilia: Mhm. It's just a different feeling to be traveling this way via car, instead of flying.

Vil: That's true. Do you not have any desire to get a driver's license, Lilia?

Lilia: Welllll… So, I feel like I had already gotten one a while back, but maybe I didn't…

Lilia: And even if I had gotten a license, I wouldn't even be sure when or where I would have gotten it.

Kalim: Ahaha! Is it that hard to remember? Man, Lilia, you're so forgetful sometimes～

Lilia: Well, I'm sure it'd be way past expiration anyway!

Kalim: Hey. Leona, where do you like to take your car?

Kalim: Sunset Savanna's such an awesome place. If you got a favorite spot to hang out, I wanna know.

Lilia: Oho, I'd be interested too. Are there any hideaways that only someone who lives here would know?

Leona: Aren't we heading to the best little hideaway right now?

Leona: We're on our way to the special section of the Elephant Legacy that only the royal family can enter.

Lilia: Hm… Well, okay. You definitely didn't answer either Kalim's or my questions, though.

Lilia: It's not like you go to the Elephant Legacy often, right?

Leona: Unfortunately for you, I don't really have an answer that'll satisfy anyone.

Leona: I don't get in a car to go anywhere in particular, I just drive to drive.

Vil: Hmm, so you just like the drive itself.

Leona: Eh, it helps clear my mood sometimes.

Leona: There's not much land that the people inhabit on this country.

Leona: Once you leave the capital, it's mostly grassland as far as the eye can see.

Leona: There's no annoying traffic signals or signs, let alone any decent roads.

Leona: So I don't need to pick a destination, just head in a direction and drive forever, whatever I feel like doing.

Leona: On that one point, this place is actually a pretty good fit. I also don't need to be thinking of any unnecessary things while driving, so.

Leona: …But today, I got all this extra baggage with me, so that's a mood killer.

Kalim: Baggage? Oh, did you bring some stuff along with us?

Lilia: Oooh, Kalim. I see a herd of animals over there.

Kalim: You're right! They got their kids too. Sooo cute. Hey, did I just see the bush over there move…?

Lilia: Looks like a carnivore is preying on those herbivores. If we keep watching, we might be able to see it hunt.

[Kalim and Lilia start chattering away]

Vil: It seems Kalim and Lilia's attention have been drawn away by the savannah animals.

Leona: Good for them.

Leona: …Anyway, [Yuu], that furball's been real quiet.

Leona: He's always so annoying, what's gotten into him?

1. Looks like he fell asleep without me realizing… 2. He's sleeping belly-up.

Leona: Is that so. Let him keep sleeping, then. It's be a pain if it got even rowdier here.

Leona: Geez… I like driving alone.

Leona: Who woulda thought there'd come a time I'd be driving this many people in my car.

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #kalim al-asim #lilia vanrouge #vil schoenheit #twst leona #twst kalim #twst lilia #twst vil #twst yuu #twst translation #twst tamashina mina #mention: grim

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nine-of-words · 7 months

Text

Something Borrowed (Part Ten)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 5127

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup

The horrors have been numerous and persistent for me lately, so this part took its sweet time getting written. Not much else to say about this chapter, other than I’m very excited to write the next one!!

It seems that things are determined to go sideways today.

“Sorry to drop all of this on ya so early, but I knew you’d be awake.” Your sister’s voice comes through the speaker of your device.

You are indeed awake. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, despite it feeling like what you do the most these days- no idea why that would be- so you were already up and slowly trudging through your morning routine. But now you’re distracted with the call, going through making yourself a desperately needed cup of coffee mostly by feel in your dimly lit apartment kitchen.

“It’s okay- So, how exactly did this happen?”

“She took a wee tumble down the stairs. Got up in the middle of the night to get water, fell ass over kettle.”

“Oh, spirits. But you said it wasn’t serious, right?”

“Eh. Fractured her wrist, or so the doctor says. Right, Ma?” You hear a bit of noise in the background that sounds remarkably like your mother being quietly muttering in a displeased manner. “She’ll be right as rain soon enough. But she’s going to be in the cast for a tick.”

“Do I need to book a flight?”

“Hmm. You know we love to see ya- but nah. It's really not all that dire. Think she's tired of all the fuss by now, really.” She explains, before immediately switching into compulsory older sibling teasing. “Plus won't your new fella miss you? Unless you want to bring him along to meet what he's got to look forward to joining up with.”

“Haha… Yeah, you’re right. I suppose you’ll just have to wait…” You haven’t told them he’s not exactly your fella at the moment. What would you even say?

After a bit more conversation, Emer puts your mother on, and you speak to her for a short while. It assuages your worry a little, but not nearly enough to take the edge off. Though she's adamant you don't let her little mishap scare you into making sudden travel plans, you can't help but let it add to your ratings worries.

Maybe… you should go home?

You hang up your voci and look down at the brewed coffee that’s just started to drip through the filter. In your absent minded state, you’ve managed to put the exact mug you’ve been avoiding into the machine.

But there it is, the pink and white curves of ceramic reminding you of everything you're trying to push out of your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, pausing to stare vacantly at the mug.

Maybe putting an ocean between you and here will help you forget what you could have right now instead, if you weren't cursed.

You have all day to sit on it, you suppose, and can make a decision later. But you do have a business to run in the meantime, so you return to the process of adding your usual milk and sugar.

It doesn’t help the bitter taste at all today.

Things don’t really go much better for you the longer the day progresses.

“This is too sweet,” The older woman across the counter says, brandishing the mostly eaten cupcake in its paper lining. “I want a refund.”

“Well, it's a cupcake, m’am. It is mostly sugar…” You don’t even have the energy to muster your usual level of pleasantness. You barely keep from grimacing as you ring up the refund, just to get this person out of your hair.

Your customers are usually not this problematic, but you’re beginning to think that no one is having a good day today. You can deal with grumpy or picky people, but usually they’re not quite so many of them in a concentrated blast. Every little interaction is finding its way under your skin, and that’s not even taking into account how hard it is to concentrate and get any meaningful progress done.

Though, this is a task you’ve been pointedly avoiding that you’ll have to start sooner or later, today.

You’ve got to finish putting together Devin and Trevor’s cake- if you want it to be solid enough to put flowers in before delivery tomorrow night, which is rapidly approaching the longer you dawdle.

As in, nearly can be measured in hours instead of days soon.

It was different when it was just… anonymous cake layers you were cutting out and leveling. That could’ve been for anyone’s cake! But the more personality that goes into it, the more the subtle, nagging grief makes it difficult to work on.

You sigh and glob a stabilizing dollop of the vanilla buttercream- Trevor's choice- onto the base with your offset spatula.

It’s not as if you’re jealous that your ex is getting married at this point. You’re far past the stage of wanting him back by now. It just… all seems so unfair. Hopeless. He was able to wound you so deeply when he left- and just when you thought you had healed and moved on, carved out some new happiness for yourself- that got taken away, too.

Why should he get to be happy when you’re on the short end of the stick again?

You center a cake layer, then slather some more buttercream, spreading it out to make a glue for the next layer to adhere onto.

You’ll just have to think about it as Devin’s cake. It’s for your friend. That’s how you’ll get through this. You’ll do a good job, for your friend. Even if she’s marrying your ex, she should still get the best cake you can make for her, like you’d do for any other client.

Another layer of cake. A layer of elven berry compote that you made fresh yesterday- also Trevor’s choice, naturally. Another layer of cake. Then, repeat it all again.

As much as you try to rationalize that to yourself as you work through applying the crumb coat, you can’t help but realize you’ve been white-knuckling the spatula handle by time you’ve finished applying the buttercream.

Eventually, you have all of the crumb coated tiers ready on cake boards, to be given another coat and assembled after they’ve firmed up for a bit.

You mercifully shut the disassembled cake in the cooler, relieved that you don’t have to look at it for another few hours. Though, you have to hand it to yourself, even when your life is falling apart, you can make a bang-up gorgeous cake.

The demands of your business don’t stop just because you’re having a bad day and have other things to do, unfortunately. You’re not sure what portal to Hell has opened nearby, but it seems like all of the most awful customers have all decided to come to your shop today to take out their anger on you.

“No, we don’t do tiered pies here. I don’t even know if you’d be able to do that without making a mes- Well, okay. Have a nice day-” You say, though the person on the other end of the line has already hung up on you.

You turn to face the customer waiting at the counter, but before you can even greet them, they interrupt you with a snapping of their fingers.

“Where’s our waiter? I put our order into the kiosk twenty minutes ago and no one has even been by to so much as pour our water!”

“Oh, well, you can eat-in here, that’s what the seating is for, but we’re not a full service-”

“Ugh, fine! Just get me my order already, then.” The customer barks and you have to bite your tongue to restrain yourself from snapping back.

By time you reach another lull in activity and get back to work on Devin’s cake, your jaw and shoulders are fully tensed.

Since it’s slow, you take out the gumpaste. You have another tray of roses to sculpt so they can dry on time to place them tomorrow, so you might as well knock it out sooner than later.

Maybe none of this would be getting to you so much, but the full weight of the wedding being tomorrow is bearing down on you. The one saving grace is that Kirby will be there to distract you- at least you won’t be alone. You’ll deliver the cake, you’ll get through the ceremony, you’ll stay for a brief yet socially acceptable amount of time at the reception, and then you’ll go home and this whole excruciating ordeal will be over.

You just have to finish this cake and get through tonight first.

Only a few more hours until close.

You can do this.

You make it another hour, rolling thinned pieces of sugary paste into delicate petals, before the bell door rings, and the person you see walk through the door gives you pause.

It’s not Carlyle, as you’ve been hoping it was every single time you hear the shop bell jingle since the last time you saw him. But it certainly looks like him, in everything but personal styling, and of course, the shape of the quartzose horns protruding from his brow.

Today it seems he’s left his body glitter at home, however. He’s dressed in relatively casual clothing; a hoodie (midriff still intact), untied slim joggers, immaculately clean sneakers. The difference is so staggering you might not have even recognized him as the same person, compared to his last visit, if he didn’t have Carlyle’s face; which you can now see clearly underneath his loose brown curls, this time not covered by the shadow of his hood.

“Hey.”

He gives you a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement and smiles an uncannily similar, fanged smile to the one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It’s a stab of pain, how sorely you miss it right now, and seeing it again, but just different enough to not be it.

“Uh. Hi, Marcus?” You say in a stilted manner, not really sure how to proceed. “You are… looking less gilded today than last time.”

“Hahahah, yeah. I didn’t have work last night, dude. No hangover!”

“Hah. Right…”

“But good to see you again, man! …I was wonderin-”

“Listen, if you’re here to deliver a message or something, I really can’t do this right now.” You cut him off, begging more than anything at this point to not have another thing go wrong or a twist of the knife today. You scrub at your face with your forearm to keep your hands sanitary, the deep pit of frustration starting to bubble out of you unintentionally. “And he knows to not-”

“Hey, no man, listen! It’s nothing like that.” He pats his curls down, the same way that his brother occasionally does with his dreadlocks when he’s smoothing out a misunderstanding. “He’d be PISSED if I knew he was here, hahah. He told me never to come here on my own after last time!”

“Well, maybe you should follow his instruction on that matter.” You say dryly and continue to roll the soft substance in silent judgement. “He usually knows what he’s talking about.”

Marcus seems to take this as a bad sign, his face twisting into a look of exasperation.

“Fine! Gimme a dozen cupcakes then. Fuck, make it any flavor, dude, I don’t even care.” He starts rifling through his pants pockets, finally pulling out his wallet, and then a card that he puts on the counter. It’s got his name printed on it, rather than Carlyle’s, so you suppose he’s gotten it replaced since the last time. “You’ve gotta talk to me if I’m a customer ‘n shit, right?”

“You know I do have the right to refuse service to you…?”

“Yeah man, but I don’t think you’re gonna! You’re too nice, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus says with the sort of shit-eating grin on his face that absolutely makes you want to refuse service to him, but with a vengeance.

“Well if you’re not here on your brother’s behalf…” You sigh in your own matching exasperated look and set down your gumpaste project to start boxing a dozen cupcakes. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest with you, dude. He didn’t send me, but it is about him. I’m like, super worried about him.”

“Oh…” You can’t help yourself, you have to ask. “Is he alright…?”

“Hell no! He’s all fucked up, man! The other night, I left at 8pm and he was still in the same spot at 11am when I got back in. Same book, same fit, same stale cup of coffee. He had sat still in the same place reading whatever nerd shit he was reading for so long that he deadass went half solid.”

You can’t find the words to respond to that. The guilt gnaws at you like you gnaw at your bottom lip, but in a strange way, you feel validated that he’s still as messed up about things as you are.

“Look, whatever he did, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s Lyle!! He like, never fucks up like that.” He leans over the counter, talking with his hands in another show of familiar, yet foreign-in-this-context expression. He taps his chest with the fingertips of a spread hand for emphasis. “And I would know, ‘cuz I’M the family fuck up here. So, maybe you could like, just forgive him and junk? Make up or whatever?”

“It’s not…” You take a second to steady your breath. You’ve been trying to suppress these feelings for weeks, and now they’re getting dragged up so suddenly. “It’s not something he did. It’s… outside circumstances…”

You hesitate for a brief moment before you pick out the last of the random assortment; an orange and mixed spice flavor you found yourself trying out.

“That’s it? There’s no gettin’ around it, huh?”

“No. I'm sorry. It's complicated. I just can't.” You say with weakened conviction as you tape the box up, and then hoping to persuade yourself once again, add; “It’s better this way.”

“Right-” Marcus straightens up and rocks back and forth on his feet, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the tile with the motion. “Sorry if pushing was out of line, dude.”

“Don't worry about it- honestly, I'm sort of glad you showed up.” You smile, bittersweet. “It’s good that he has someone looking out for him.”

“Yeah.” Marcus smiles a conflicted smile back, then takes his cupcakes to go. “See you ‘round, dude.”

You find yourself having a silent argument with yourself as you finish the rest of the roses.

There’s the guilt, of course. Are you a bad person if you know that this separation is hurting you both, and yet you’re continuing to enforce it? Maybe you should have just let Marcus convince you to reach out?

Seeing someone with such familiar features has only made your heart ache that much more for what you’re missing.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t have any customers in the shop at the moment, because they’d be able to clearly see you sneering at empty air and grumbling to yourself.

By the time you finish the last petal on the last rose of the tray, you’re no closer to having resolved your internal disagreement.

You put the roses away, and pull out your fully set, crumb-coated cake. Now just to put the final layer of frosting on, and then you’ll be done for the night.

As you set the tray down on the counter, your voci starts ringing in your pocket. You remove your gloves and answer the call, seeing that it’s Kirby. They’ve been checking in on you a lot more often lately, like you’re a sickly pet needing constant supervision. They're not entirely wrong.

You greet them as you put them on speaker. Then you wash up, and reglove as their voice comes through on the other end.

“So! How is your day going so far?”

“Oh, you know. Typical weekend customers. Ma broke her wrist.” You say flatly, smoothing out the buttercream on the top of the lowest cake tier with a spin of the stand with well-practiced motions.

“Oh no! That’s terrible! Is she okay??”

“She’s fine, but it’s still stressful that I can’t be there to help out.”

Once you’re finished getting a perfectly even, level surface on the lowest tier, you begin the process again on a slightly smaller scale on the next largest cake tier.

“Mmm. Yeah, it must be, being so far away.”

“And Carlyle’s brother came into the shop earlier.” You continue, now lathing more buttercream onto the sides.

“Whaaaat??? No!! Glitter Boy?! Oh my SPIRITS you’ve gotta tell me all the details right now!”

“There’s not a lot to say, really. Told me Carlyle’s not taking it well either, and now I feel like a villain.”

“You’re not a villain,” Kirby sighs. “Sometimes things are just. Y’know. Messy.”

You continue to make your way through doing the final coat on the cake tiers, each one going progressively faster as they diminish in size.

“Oh, and how could I forget- I’m making a cake for my ex’s wedding that social pressure is forcing me to attend. So you know. The usual.”

“Hahah- Ooh, bummer. Well, when you put it like that, it does sound like, toooootally miserable! You’re having a pretty horrible day, and I’m… definitely not about to make it worse, hahah!!”

“Oh no.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “Something’s wrong, then?”

They laugh nervously, a little giggle-whimper that you can’t possibly be irritated with.

You’re silent as you begin to fill a piping bag with buttercream, waiting for Kirby to divulge their information.

“I MAY have some bad news.”

“Oh. Lovely. Just grand! More bad news is exactly what I need at this current moment.” You say, dripping with sarcasm.

“I know!!! Believe me, I know! But I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.” Kirby sighs. “I just got out of a meeting with my boss and they’re sending me out of town on a case. I have to get on a red eye in a few hours.”

“But… the wedding is tomorrow…”

“Yeah, that would be the problem! But I can’t exactly tell my boss to fuck off and still have a job, y’know??? Soooooo. We are in. damage. control. mode!”

“It’s okay.” You say, it not really being okay at all, but not wanting to lash out at your friend who’s only ever tried to help you in any given situation. You’re simply too stunned to even start to panic.

“Nope! It’s ABSOLUTELY not! But I’ll be there in like, an hour!! I’ll bring dinner and we can totally figure out a plan B, okay? Or I guess plan C or D by now- But bestie, I don’t care if I have to HIRE an escort to take you to that wedding, you’re not going alone! Especially not because of stupid work interference!!”

“Hah- A-Alright.” You laugh weakly and speak through a sharp intake of air, but manage to not sound like you’re about to burst into tears, even though you desperately want to. “See you soon.”

The call ends, but you continue working, despite the rapidly expanding pit of terror in your gut and the sting at the back of your eyes.

This news, surprisingly, does not help your ability to finish this cake.

You keep going, but not without roadblocks. Your eyes screw closed in frustration and pain. Your teeth grit. Your hand clenches around the bag, nearly squeezing the frosting out of the back end of it.

As a small mercy, closing time finally comes and you turn off the light, though you leave the door unlocked, given you’re expecting Kirby sometime in the next hour or so.

You need to move on to piping some of the finer details- But you can't even think about piping an even line right now, not with the way your hand is trembling.

Still, you persist, pushing the bag back taut and re-twisting the open end.

“Stop. Shaking.” You hiss out loud at yourself, your body refusing to obey even your own verbal instructions.

You just need to get this cake done. Is that so much to ask?

Kirby is coming over and you’ll find a solution for the wedding. You won’t have to go to your ex's wedding alone. It will be fine.

The tremor in your hand nearly causes you to stab through the layer you’re working on with the piping tip, so you take a moment to straighten up your posture and try to loosen your locking muscles. You take a few calming breaths, then go back in and manage to finish the last few filigree details on the tier you're working on.

Your hand is already shaking again. You ignore it. You’ll get through this. You have to.

But every time you regain focus, the thought of Carlyle as a miserable and inert statue keeps creeping back unbidden into your mind.

It’s all too much. Too much. Too much.

The lights above you flicker. A buzz of energy ripples through the room.

The pressure on your chest is unbearable now. Blood rushes in your ears.

You can’t deal with this anymore.

You can’t even think-!

POP-

In an instant, something cold and cloying splatters across the side of your face and the bridge of your nose, the front of your shirt, your clenched hands and outstretched forearms.

You bring a hand to your face in shock, blindly testing the sudden change in texture.

Your fingertips come away coated in sticky, sugary goop, and bits of shredded vanilla sponge cake.

And where the cake tiers were sitting on the counter, there’s a conspicuous absence of a cake, only the sparse large chunk of shrapnel- a bloodless crime scene, the mostly empty, frosting smeared cakeboards evoking the essence of a chalk body outline.

Well. You’ll be damned.

The cake exploded.

Hoarse, incredulous laughter escapes your throat- first in disbelief, then in bitter resignation. No other reaction really seems to suit this situation more.

Because your life is a joke. A bad joke.

Your laughs thin out, turning into choked sobs. You sink down until you’re sitting on your cold shop floor with your back against a cabinet, and bring the lower clean edge of the apron up to cry into.

Eventually, the unrestrained weeping quiets into silent tears Time has passed, as evidenced by the sky beginning to darken outside.

“Heeeeellooooo~! I’m heee-” You hear a familiar voice call out and then equally familiar hoof falls on the tile. There’s a rapid change in their tone, making a 180° turn into hushed concern. “Oh. Well fuck, that doesn’t look good-”

After a few moments, Kirby rounds the counter, an inquisitive look on their face.

You can’t even muster the embarrassment to be seen like this, too tired and emotionally drained and just simply done with it all.

You expect a look of pity or maybe some awkward fussing, but instead, Kirby simply gives you a knowing smile.

“What a mess!!” Kirby shakes their head, curls tumbling as they assess the damage. “You’re not hurt, are you, honey?”

You shake your head weakly, rubbing at your eye with your inner wrist.

“Good! Well then, let’s get this all cleaned up!” They chirp and reach out their hand, palm up.

After the moment it takes to recognize the gesture, you take their hand. Kirby’s grip is surprisingly strong for being such a petite faun, and they easily manage to help you to your feet.

“You don’t have to-”

“Well I’m NOT going to let you sit here and cry covered in frosting all night.” Kirby laughs, beginning to roll up the sleeves of their work shirt. “So. Yes I do~”

“...Thank you.” You sniffle.

“Don’t mention it!!” They laugh. “You go get cleaned up and I’ll start tackling this absolute disaster zone!”

You trudge upstairs and debate on the benefits of a full shower before deciding that it’s worth it, even if ten more cakes explode. You’re uncomfortably sticky down your neck and arms.

Maybe you can wash this day away, while you’re at it…

Before long you’re redressed and coming back downstairs- if not feeling completely refreshed, you at least now have it in you to face the (suddenly much longer) list of tasks ahead. Kirby has gotten most of the cake into a trash bag, and is wiping down the counter.

“There, you look much better! Now, come tell me what was happening when this happened, will you?”

You join them, grabbing a sanitizer rag and beginning to help wipe down the closest surface. You describe as best you can exactly what you were doing, feeling, and thinking about when the cake exploded, just as you’ve explained to them about the previous incidents that you weren’t physically present for.

“Hmm.” Kirby hums quizzically. “Well, the good news is I’ve got a potential solution for the wedding dilemma.”

“Oh?” You’d be lying if you said that the promise of a stressor being removed didn’t sound divine.

“Actually, I’ve already convinced Rosario to go with you, if you want, while I was on the way over. Did you know that she’s surprisingly easy to bribe?!” Kirby giggles. “But to be honest- I didn’t even need to bribe her!! She agreed before I offered anything in return. Apparently wedding cake and an open bar is enough reason for her to turn up, or so she said. But I think it’s because she likes you.”

“That’s… very kind of her.” She wouldn’t be the worst companion for the event- you’ve grown quite fond of her presence in your shop, prickly attitude and all.

“Yeah! She’ll easily make your ex just as uncomfortable as I was planning to, all on her own merit, hehe!! BUUUUUT, I think you know what I’m about to say-”

“Don’t…”

“You should call him!” Kirby says in the most obnoxiously sing-song sweet tone they can, and you wince hard.

“I can’t-”

“But you can~!!”

“But I don’t think I should-”

“Well, maybe you should think again, sweetie!! You absoluuuuutely should! Because if this-” Kirby motions to the partially cleaned up buttercream splatter still coating the vicinity. “Isn’t proof enough that it’s not a him problem, I don’t know what would be!!”

You drag a palm across your face, overwhelmed, and heave a sigh.

“At the end of the day it’s your choice! I can’t make you call him. But you miss him, and he misses you! I know this for a fact! And SPIRITS is he being SO insufferable about it!! And so are you!!!! And it’s just a BIT silly to keep drawing this out like this.”

“But… I don’t want him to get hurt…”

“Listen. We know there’s something attached to you- Rosario’s exorcism attempt confirmed that much. But there’s no like, actual indication that any of that is related to what’s happening with the curse. It’s just not how this kind of magic works. We’re almost certain we’re dealing with two unconnected, non-standard issues complicating each other at this point- some sort of spirit attached to you, and some sort of ley-based magical compulsion in play- but we don’t know the source of where either of those things are coming from. Yet.”

“Right.” You say, pausing your cleaning work to take in the new information.

“Though, someone has some very promising ideas about the later being some sort of messed up geas, and Rosario seems like she has a hunch on what is in the shop.”

“But… it just feels like it’s getting worse. Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, of course…”

“I know it feels that way. But I am good at my job! And I’ve been keeping track of the numbers this whole time, y’know?? I’ve got the DATA. Do you know what I’ve noticed the most as a trend over the time I've been working your case?”

You simply shake your head to give them time to build dramatic tension before they continue.

“The cakes explode more when you’re upset!! Like, a whole, whole lot more! And quite frankly at this point, in my professional opinion, you being separated from him is making it WORSE!!”

“...You really think it’d be okay to ask him-” To go back to how it was before, to be with me again; you want to say, but end up continuing instead; “to come with me to the wedding?”

You have the feeling Kirby understands what you wanted to say, anyway, based on their pleased expression, like they’re finally getting the message through to you.

“You’re my friend!! And as your friend, I am HEREBY giving you the permission that you’re not giving yourself! I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you if I didn’t think it was safe.” Kirby squarely lays their hands on you on the shoulders, though they need to reach up slightly to do it. “If anything, having him there might keep you from getting bent out of shape at your ex and blowing up the second cake, like, at the actual wedding.”

“That would be horrible.” You rasp and find yourself genuinely smiling for the first time all day, trying to blink back the sting of more tears threatening to spill, though this time more out of a sense of appreciation than despair.

“It. Would. Be. HILARIOUS.” Kirby says with a mischievous grin, patting your shoulders with each word for emphasis. “And if it were to happen, I would hope you were recording it. Y’know, for data collection purposes, hehehe!! But it would also be, let’s say: bad for business.”

You manage to finish getting things looking clean, as if nothing bad had happened at all, Kirby has called their ride to the airport.

“Now, I have to go or I’m going to miss my flight and my boss will probably-actually-literally murder me.”

“And I have a cake to remake.” You quietly lament. “If you want, I can get on the plane and you can make the cake…”

Kirby lets out a string of giggles, picking their carry-on bag off the seat at the counter they stashed it on..

“Hahah- No thanks!! But- Call him.” Kirby repeats as they give you a squeezing hug goodbye. “Or Rosario, if you must. But don’t make yourself go alone. And keep me updated!! All of the juicy wedding gossip, please. I’m definitely going to be bored out of my mind otherwise, hehe!!”

Then they release you from their grip to head out the door with one last wave and a jingle of the shop bell.

You, on the other hand, let out a long, withering sigh and pull out another set of white cake layers from the cooler.

…It’s going to be a long night.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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halothenthehorns · 5 months

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Chapter 1: I GO CRUISING WITH EXPLOSIVES

And so it begins, the book you've all been waiting for...mostly (Looking at you HoH, we'll get there when we get there.)

PJOPJOPJOPJO

Jason didn't mean to overhear, but he was walking past an open door tossing cornnuts into his mouth so he got a shoddy reception of an answer to a question he hadn't thought to ask.

"- so the counters keep track of health, for both monsters and gods characters. And a second set tracks attack points-"

Something about that excited voice nagged in Jason's mind. It was more of a feeling than a memory, something that glitched in and out of his mind to fast to understand the impression of someone once saying this to him, but he turned about and poked his head into the door on instinct to hear more.

"-and the counters have two sides, different colours. You can choose a colour for the game, so everyone knows whose pieces belong to who. There are tons of options, because people like to buy them to match their deck's theme-"

"Do they have them in tie-dye?" Jason found his mouth moving on autopilot, an old joke he was suddenly sure he'd made once before. "Just in case you can't pick a color?"

Nico startled, his deck fleeing from his hand in a cascade, a wolf card landing near Jason's shoe. Will looked up, completely unabashed, and smiled. "I bet we can make our own. I'm all for getting creative with it."

"How about we actually get through a full game before you start trying to invent your own rules," Nico told him in exasperation as he shuffled around, rotating his hips and his bum to try and snatch them back. Then he turned to Jason, an obvious flush to his cheeks as he glanced around at their set up, then a stubborn set to his jaw as he met his eyes like he was waiting for something.

"Can I play?" Jason asked.

That clearly was not what Nico had been expecting, and his jaw went slack, along with his hands were his cards scattered again.

Will pursed his lips, his eyes darting between them, but Jason didn't have time to worry what that hesitation could be about as Nico gave a weary, but pleasant smile. "Yeah."

...

Magnus and Alex's dinner lay in a chair forgotten as they sat laughing and practicing with each other.

"No, you're using your fingers to much," Magnus gently corrected, showing her again slower. "It's just your palm, angle lower."

She tried again with a look of curious concentration.

"Perfect!" Magnus signed and said. "Now you're embarrassed!"

"Sweet," she signed as well, her mismatched eyes gleaming with pride. "Okay, let me try freestyle, and correct me if I'm wrong as brutally as you need to."

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary," Magnus grinned as he watched her attentively sign she loved pottery, art, and painting.

"You got all the signs right," Magnus promised before she could even ask, "but you look angry. I know you're just concentrating, but try to relax. Facial features matter, it's a very expressive language. Take a breath, you know those, try again."

She took a deep breath, shook out her hands, and then looked him in the eyes and smiled, her face alighting with excitement like she was telling him all over again her favorite hobbies were pottery, art, painting, and reading.

"That was, perfect. No notes, I promise!" He insisted before the words were even out of Alex's mouth, or hands, to protest.

Alex laughed with pleasure, and Magnus was guilty for a beat he wasn't actually deaf while he got the joy of hearing such a thing.

"Hearth is going to be astounded when we get back," Magnus grinned in that dopey way he didn't even seem to realize made him look so open and happy. "Just meeting someone else who can sign even a little, it'll make his day."

"Then show me another," Alex said, shaking out her hands eagerly.

His mind went blank, and not in the usual 'Alex just blew my mind by existing' kind of way. "I, um, don't think I know anymore," he confessed, feeling like he should use the sign for embarrassment himself now. "I haven't been doing this all that long myself. I'm sure I'll sporadically remember more, but um, without him around to practice with," he trailed off sheepishly.

"That's cool, maybe we can get that fridge to cough up an ASL book or something so we can keep practicing," she tried to sign fridge, cough, and practice while she was speaking, and while she still occasionally got a look of consternation in place while she kept everything in mind, she really was a natural. She was obviously great with her hands, and multitasking.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea," he agreed after only a beat of hesitation, but his smile was oddly longing like she was teasing him.

"You know, you haven't shown me a rather important one," she offered. Magnus hadn't brought it up himself since she'd announced it. "Do you know what genderfluid is?"

Magnus's smile looked a little sad now, giving her the answer before he shook his head. "No, and um, I'll be honest, I don't think there is one."

Alex raised a brow in surprise, more confused than offended, for now.

"Not everything in ASL has a sign," Magnus tried to explain. "It's not exactly a universal language, and, some of it is just used in local communities." He probably wasn't doing that good a job. "Like, like slang, but, more specific to signing cultures."

"Like my name," Alex repeated.

"Right, a deaf person has to actually give you your sign name. Hearth's not genderfluid, that I know of anyways, but, we were hanging at a community center once and I saw a flag and tried to ask him about it and he wasn't sure of some signs himself for the whole LGBT plus of it all as we tried to communicate," Magnus nodded.

"Hmm, guess that'll just be something else to work on," Alex said, the interest in her tone unfakeable.

Magnus's heart skipped a beat as he realized what they'd been doing. Talking about the future, like hanging out at that community center one day. She hadn't batted an eye to hear him say that either. "Hey, can I ask-" then Percy and Thalia entered, eating and laughing, and he lost his nerve.

He'd swear he saw her at a soup kitchen once. Maybe. Out of the corner of his eye. Alex wasn't a face easily forgotten. Yet to say that exposed him for what he was, unless it was even worse and she had been there volunteering or something.

Jason came in with Will and Nico, all three of them shuffling cards and muttering together with smirks on their faces like they were doing something they weren't supposed to be and knew they were about to get caught. Probably by Percy biting his tongue against calling them nerds.

Who wasn't paying them much mind for now. Once he registered everyone was in here he went over to the blood red book that had an orange five on the spine. The color disturbed Percy as he picked it up. He'd had many an injury over time, and a part of him wondered if he'd had his life drained out of him and put into these creepy things.

Heaving a sigh as he went to flop into his beanbag beside Thalia, he watched her for a few moments, who was watching the trio over there nerd out about stats and critical chances and defenses.

She had that look on her face again. Indulgent, excited. The feeling nagged in the back of Percy's mind why it reminded him of Chiron watching over practices when they weren't exactly over there doing anything spectacular.

"Hey guys," Percy finally interrupted. "I'm exhausted, and now I want my food coma, but Thalia insisted we should at least start the next one."

She shrugged without remorse. An innate sense in her told the moon wasn't very high in the sky yet, and more than that, she couldn't imagine what horrors to expect even before the battle began which would be awful enough to get through. Best to at least split up some of this chaos.

They broke off, some more eager than others. Will looked like he was dragging himself to his seat by force, Nico muttering something to him with a look of concern.

Jason flopped into his cushion beside Thalia and began showing her some of his new cards. She smiled and nodded politely with completely forced enthusiasm, but she obviously wasn't going to be the one to shove him off so Percy began with a feeling of unease that holographic tentacle monster was going to appear any second down here.

I GO CRUISING WITH EXPLOSIVES

He stopped at once with a groan.

"Well, Percy's to young to join the navy, so that's out," Alex chuckled.

"I'm hoping he finally found a way to blow up Luke's ship!" Jason said excitedly, it was the only cruise ship that needed blowing up.

Will winced so visibly Jason startled in concern what he could have said. Was it possible the Camp somehow hijacked a Caribbean cruise and it got sabotaged?

Percy tried to keep going without his voice shaking, but it was hard. He wished he wasn't the reason Thalia, Will, and Nico couldn't just tell them all what happened in the least awful way possible, but the fact was the details, the slow trickle of information was the only way he could filter in everything without his head exploding in pain. This wasn't Jason's fault for his ignorance, it was his, whatever he'd caused to make Will wince like that, of that he was instinctively positive about.

The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.

"I knew the others had to be jealous of Blackjack," Will chuckled like nothing had happened, "they're over there trying to enforce your attention now."

Nico knew better. He'd been watching the way Will studied the cards and building ideas in his head. He had a pretty good poker face when he needed it, probably from to much time in the infirmary keeping the panic off his face not to scare the kids.

He was doing that now, hiding well from Percy how badly this was going to go. Nico had tried to ask him what happened, but he'd only shook his head with a look of nausea. Whatever this was, it was bad enough Will didn't want to lightly share it and have Percy, or anyone, suffer the answer to early. He spent so much of his time carrying and worrying about everyone else, Nico was beginning to suspect if he needed his own advice thrown back at him about repressing all of this alone. Will was the only one here who really knew every awful thing that had gone on at camp because he'd been there for it all. He and Thalia had only heard of tidbits in their comings and goings.

Percy had kept reading after a mild laugh, but Nico kept watching Will for a few paragraphs more.

Up until then, I was having a great afternoon.

"Well now we know the end of the world is on nigh!" Magnus grinned.

"I've had a few pleasant weeks at camp," Percy tried to protest, but he felt how untrue that was. Every good memory he'd slowly gained back had a hollow feel to it, a sense of finality. He knew he'd better savor those while they lasted, because he never knew if he'd get another.

Technically ...didn't turn sixteen for another week... let Rachel an I borrow his Prius.

"Woah, woah, woah, what was this?" Alex twirled her hand and cuffed it to her ear like a trumpet.

"Yeah, Paul's a cool guy like that," Percy tried to say nonchalantly around a blush.

But Percy didn't have an ounce of chalance in his body, and Thalia's laughter ruined it anyways. "You and Rachel were driving around the beach in your step-dad's car? Oh Zeus, where was the Beach Boy's soundtrack?"

"It wasn't a T-Bird Thalia," Percy groaned.

"Because that was the important detail to focus on," Jason gave Percy a pitying shake of his head he wasn't going to get out of this.

Not for lack of trying, as Percy loudly attempted to keep going a few more words like this was nothing out of the ordinary. The briny salt in the air that made his skin tingle with power, the feel of the engine under his feet like he'd only dreamed of being in control of, Rachel's hair getting everywhere as they laughed about last week and the art museum she'd taken him to. She'd been trying to tell him about The Persistence of Memory, but all he'd seen were a bunch of melting clocks and told her they needed some ice cream. Rachel had tried not to laugh, he'd leaned forward and threatened to lick the painting to see which would go best, and they were chased off by security.

A normal, mortal security guard who just shouted about rambunctious kids. No monsters. A perfect day. Like the many before.

The vivid memory drowned out the rest of their snickering so he could keep going in almost peace for another second.

... I know you're thinking, that was really irresponsible of him, blah, blah,

"Literally nobody thought that," Nico snorted.

"Which clearly means we need some adult supervision in here," Thalia rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt.

...My dad, by the way, is Poseidon.

"Shocker! Percy, why didn't you ever tell us!" Will snorted.

"You know me, I'd forget the difference between Chiron and Charon again if I didn't live with one of them half the year," Percy shrugged.

He can do stuff like that.

"But would he?" Alex asked in concern. "I'd hope he'd have better things to do than worry about your date."

"It's not a date!" Percy spluttered at once...yet to his own ears that sounded like a lie. Even in his own memory he'd felt the unspoken that had nothing to do with his other half of being a half-blood, which had not happened since he'd lived with Smelly Gabe. Things with Rachel were just, normal. Uncomplicated. Rachel's favorite person in the world hadn't sold his soul to an evil Titan and was threatening to eviscerate him or anything. Little things like that.

...so why did he feel so guilty for remembering all of this with such deep longing?

... Rachel's folks were willing to let me tag along to the Caribbean.

'One man's frozen pizza is another man's Caribbean,' Magnus shook his head. The fact that Percy had a loving family to fight for made his life seem as fantastical to Magnus as Rachel's did to him. Rachel Dare was in a different stratosphere of his understanding altogether.

... I seriously needed a vacation. This summer had been the hardest of my life.

Percy shivered as memories crept into him.

...I was "on call" for a mission... when I turned sixteen, bad things would happen.

"And where better for them to happen than far away from everyone you know and care about?" Alex offered.

"Tempting," Percy admitted. He just knew he'd never go through with it, no more than he'd be able to stay on Ogyigya.

... "I know the timing is bad, isn't it always bad for you?" She had a point.

"Which I'm sure Rachel knows full well," Will chuckled, even if he did wish she were here to laugh about Percy having to admit it.

...she'd earned my respect by nailing him in the eye with a blue hairbrush.

"Only because it's blue," Nico rolled his eyes. "I bet if it was red you'd call it a lucky shot."

"You wound me Nico, I have plenty of admiration for the throw no matter my team colors," Percy grinned.

Thalia finally managed to give a half-hearted chuckle when the others did too. She still pictured Luke first, and she hated that about herself, but it was clearly the same thing her little sister had been going through back then and she wanted to be stronger for it in case Annabeth didn't take well to the news of what they'd been revisiting once they got out of this.

... He wants me to go to Clarion Ladies Academy in the fall."

"Is their uniform better or worse than Goode's?" Alex asked in disgust.

"Really shouldn't be basing school choices on that Alex," Magnus sighed.

"Well obviously her opinion matters most," she sniffed, "I'm just saying, there's obviously a lesser of two evils here."

...Can you see me in finishing school?"

"Learning which direction to cross your legs and which fork to use?" If Thalia crinkled her nose up any more she'd look like a pug. "I'd fail etiquette class on purpose by stabbing the first person who tried to teach me a new name for spoon."

"They wouldn't even have to be a monster," Percy agreed.

...It was hard to imagine her learning to be a socialite.

"I mean, has she tried both?" Will asked in sympathy. He knew she was currently at that school and had made some friends, even if it wasn't her favorite place. "Being a socialite would be a better guarantee to make changes for those Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers."

"She shouldn't have to have money to make a difference," Alex grumbled, even though she knew that was how it worked.

... "He thinks if he does a bunch of nice stuff for me, I'll feel guilty and give in."

Alex felt like her stomach was going to rebel in disgust at hearing of this manipulation. She might have been thrown out of her home, but she'd never looked back for reasons exactly like this. She couldn't take fake niceties anymore, pretending and pandering and worse.

...so serious we'd have to go to St. Thomas to talk about it?"

Percy felt instant guilt for understanding why that would be as his mind hovered on the absurdly awkward conversation she wanted to have out of their home state. He'd found it easier over those past weeks to talk to Rachel about camp than he ever had with somebody in camp.

...something was bothering her, but she put on a brave smile...sunlight made her hair look like fire.

Percy had never before felt such a painful combination of embarrassment and longing. How was it possible his memories with her were easier to come back than anything involving Annabeth?

The time she convinced him to paint his nails blue, and he left it like that until it chipped off. The first time he'd been over to her place and she actually swung from a chandelier in one of the seven dining rooms they had and Percy had felt like he was in a drunken dream doing this for fun instead of in Antaeus's tournament. Just walking around New York, eating every kind of pretzel man could make and laughing about a movie they'd seen. Being able to teach someone else something for a change, as she'd managed to go a whole block without falling off his skateboard.

He wanted to slam this book shut and tell all of them to butt out, but thankfully there wasn't a judgemental face in sight. Thalia just looked very, very awkward, he couldn't imagine what she'd want to say to him, or Annabeth, or Rachel right now, but it seemed she'd be staying out of it, mercifully.

... remind myself that the mortal world was still out there... monsters using me as a punching bag.

Nico winced like he'd been called out. Being in here really made that seem obvious, especially the way Percy read it with that longing in his voice for something normal he'd been lacking in here, when this was the closest thing to normal Nico had ever really experienced.

... what would it take to get the stupid guy to kiss the girl, huh?"

"A song number by a Jamaican crab, a boat ride, and even then I don't think he'll take a hint," Jason snorted.

"You can't remember your own last name but you're over here making Little Mermaid references at me?" Percy asked in betrayal. He couldn't be the only clueless guy who didn't know how to act on these things?!

"You make it to easy Perce," Jason snorted.

"Oh-" I felt like one of Apollo's sacred cows; slow, dumb, and bright red. "Um-"

That at least earned a snicker of delight from the assembled group. Percy sighed but let them laugh as long as they liked. He had a horrible feeling lurking in him the idea of humor was living on borrowed time. A feeling strong enough that he was already having to concentrate against bending the water to his will, throwing it around with all his might to get out of here and escape something that had nothing to do with Rachel wanting him to kiss her, though that seemed like reason enough to him.

... Rachel didn't hide much. She let you know how she felt.

Thalia clenched her jaw tight to stop herself reminding Percy it wasn't Annabeth's fault she was so protective of her feelings, after all the times she'd been hurt. She could understand Percy's ease with Rachel, but she still wanted to defend her sister shouldn't be dismissed so quick either.

It wasn't her place...but she worried what would happen if this kept progressing. She didn't want Percy's mind to come out of this, still vulnerable and confused and to break Annabeth's heart again. It would be her place to kick his ass if he did that, but she couldn't sit here and tell him not to fall in love with someone from his past if he felt like he'd made the wrong decision of this-

She was snapped out of her reverie by Jason whispering gently, "stop freaking out Thals, you're not in this alone."

She nodded with slight embarrassment. She did keep thinking about this in her own scope. She'd been taking care of her for so long, it was an instinct that was hard to let go that other people could look out for her best interests too. She kept trying to hold that idea in mind that's why Jason was even alive when he should have been dead all this time, somebody out there had been taking care of him.

...Hey, boss, a voice said in my head. Nice car!

"I think Blackjack has successfully saved your hide more than you have his," Magnus said. "Maybe you should start calling him boss."

"Pass," Percy frowned, his mind still stuck on a loop of Rachel smiling at him like that.

... I didn't think my stepdad would be real stoked.

"I bet he takes it to use as a learning opportunity with you," Will offered almost sincerely. "Don't change lanes in intersections, hit the breaks if you can't see their tires, don't let horses land here, all those important lessons."

"I'm just glad that car wasn't a stick, I had enough stress adjusting those mirrors," Percy gave an exaggerated shiver.

...who was riding on his back, and I knew my day was about to get a lot more complicated.

"Annabeth?" Alex asked with only the kind of amusement she could, the chaotic I want to see the world burn kind.

"No," Percy sighed in relief. Gods, for the first time he was grateful she wasn't here. He felt like he was stuck in a twister of every emotion at once.

Charles Beckendorf,

"Oh yeah, the guy that jumped on a dragon's back," Magnus said with all the confidence of one who should have a therapist on speed dial.

"How's that dragon doing?" Jason asked excitedly, only making Magnus's fingers twitch more. He didn't even own a cellphone.

"Doing pretty good actually," Percy said in his own surprise. "He hasn't eaten one camper, he's great border patrol and likes to bring Peleus monster scraps."

"Because that's a normal standard," Magnus sighed. It hurt all the more because he wouldn't believe even Mr. D had met that standard if every camper tried to convince him so.

...would make most monsters cry for their mommies.

"I bet Echidna actually appreciates it when they come over to visit and vent, she should send him a gift basket," Nico chuckled. He felt Will flinch and looked around in surprise, but it still took a few moments to click why. He didn't know the names of the kids around camp very well, but he did remember the sparse few that lingered when they died. Beckendorf had been one of them, seen by him alone. His essence just needed a little guidance to move on, he'd had a lot of unfinished business there.

Oh. Now he finally managed to link together the spiral Will wouldn't shake out of. This very well might finally be the mission Beckendorf didn't come back from.

...took out a whole legion of Kronos's evil meanies as soon as the first harpy went flush.

"Monsters use the bathroom?" Magnus really, really kept expecting for these things to sound normal eventually, but here was yet another brick to his shattered reality.

"Sure, all those demigods they eat have to come out somewhere," Percy shrugged. "They were all in this Thai buffet restaurant when we snuck in to put the bomb in place, and ooh boy, you do not want to know what in the sweet and sour beef they smelled like coming out. We did a public service that day."

Magnus absolutely had not wanted a single one of those extra details.

...His explosives bag was slung over his shoulder.

"He has a whole bag for explosives?" Alex grinned.

Percy couldn't answer. The words lodged in his throat. He couldn't laugh along and promise to keep that way from Alex, he couldn't even breathe for a moment as his skin flushed as if with a spontaneous sunburn. Wrong, wrong, wrong, something was very wrong...

Thalia finally got his attention by shocking him a little harder than she should have, but he barely felt it and didn't even notice his hair standing on end. He looked at her and then back at the book with a deep pit of dread that kept growing wider the longer he forced himself to read, like Kronos was manifesting Tartarus inside him.

...We'd been planning for weeks, but I'd half hoped it would never happen.

"I'm starting to suspect Saturn messes with your time stream or something," Jason admitted. "Just yours, making your hours and weeks skip."

Percy frowned how that might be possible and he'd never know it. Just because Ares was the only god who had cursed him to his face didn't mean the others wouldn't trickle some in.

... Percy's told me- uh, he mentioned you." Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Good."

"Is it though?" Magnus asked in concern. He liked Rachel, the more he got to know about her the more he liked her, but all he could picture was Annabeth shoving her straw up Rachel's nose and worse if this kept escalating with Percy never taking a hint.

"I thought so," Percy sounded defensive. Beckendorf and Silena had been going strong through the summer, their dates escalating past where Percy wanted to hear, but Beckendorf had been worried about her pulling away recently. She vanished for hours and got really quiet when she came back and then would go days back to her normal, happy, bubbly self.

Percy had made himself an easy ear. He felt the exact same way about Annabeth, it had been easy to commiserate together while staking out locations. Rachel had come up sporadically, what they'd been up to, what plans they had made next, how he wished it was this easy with Annabeth and all the mixed, beaten, whirlwind emotions he constantly had.

He glanced miserably at all the books they had to go. He hoped nothing happened to Beckendorf while he wasn't there to watch his back, he felt like he had just as much to unload while it all simmered in his mind fresh as ever.

... I figured this might be the last time Paul loaned me his car.

"I wouldn't bet on that," Thalia chuckled. He and Sally were so generous it was unreal, he'd offered Thalia his car to take her fellow Hunter to the hospital when they'd shown up until she explained they just needed a safe space for a few moments.

... Rachel kissed me before I could even react. "Go kill some monsters for me."

Percy tried to read past that as fast as he could, but he knew his stuttering, blushing, tongue-tied words only caused them to laugh harder rather than their blank faces would have lasted. He was half surprised nobody made a crack about him having to blow up a volcano to get there with her, but Posideon himself must have stepped in to stop that happening.

...what Rachel wanted to talk to me about, and whether I'd live long enough to find out.

Percy was quickly losing faith in his mortality as he tried to garble through that with as much confidence as he could. For all he knew he'd been chucked into this room and Rachel had been looking forward to having that conversation at the bottom of the ocean and he'd somehow botched that too!

..."Oh, gods," I muttered. "Don't even think about it."

"Tell Annabeth what?" Annabeth said from the doorway.

PJOPJOPJO

Or, I guess I shoud have said, the scene you've all been waiting for. Yeah, that sounds better.

See you all on Monday!

#pjo #hoo #Percy Jackson #Jason Grace #Thalia Grace #nico di angelo #will solace #alex fierro #magnus chase #percabeth #solangelo #fierrochase

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