#but whatever works for you and your bank account mate

[barmans-fault]

You made a good point of how this staged photoshoot will lead to increased exposure and ticket sales esp ahead of the US tour, because correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think all their US dates are sold out? They’re not as popular in the states and it’s been a couple months since I checked but I only saw a handful of shows that showed sold out. All this just reminds us of a curated version we have of him. Someone who likes privacy and wants to be lowkey doesn’t date attention seekers consistently and calls the paps on themselves. He just lost all credibility he had

Words of wisdom here from a lovely anon and thank you for sharing these thoughts, i agree with every word 💘

I think people generally get very caught up in the whole "alex is a romantic little prince too busy with his mind on clever lines he's innocent and private and not like other celebs and his privacy has been violated" narrative and tend to forget how much of a business this whole thing is.

The primary purpose of any business, be that show business or not, is to make money. The band is an asset that needs to generate revenue. American market has huge potential for that, alas, as the anon above correctly pointed out, very few of the US shows are sold out at this point, just a month ahead of the tour and the sales need to be boosted. The best strategy would definitely be to hype it up a little. American audience seems to be really into the whole straight dominant greaser bad boy persona (where do you think all those endless alex/your name fics with that shitty 50 shades of grey vibes come from?) and the target audience must be catered for. Both parties benefit: Alex gets the publicity of a cool rockstar kind of tired of his fame with a beautiful gf by his side on an expensive posh Italian resort. The pictures will now be all over insta/twitter/tiktok igniting interest in new fans and rekindling the old ones. The girls will fantasise about taking Louise's place in his arms (oh to be a girlfriend of this rich handsome millionaire musician who is also intelligent and talented and famous and who will fuck you like a whore then treat you like a princess!) and the boys will be jealous of him and his beautiful French girlfriend, wanting to be like him (oh to be this rich handsome millionaire and get all the girls!). Some more tickets will be sold, some more records, some more merch, and a couple of tens (or hundreds) of thousands of dollars will be made. Louise on the other hand, will get more followers and will have more ads, which will also lead to more revenue for her and hence whoever is managing her. Not bad, no?

Alex is usually perceived as a poet with his head in the clouds, an ethereal creature, a poetic and storytelling genius, vulnerable, autistic woodland creature, too exquisite for earthly problems, fragile and defenseless. He is, however, in no way disconnected from reality or too naive not to know how the business works - after all, he's been in it for almost twenty years. And I am supposed to believe his privacy has been violated when it has hardly been violated for the 5 years he was hiding from everyone and no paparazzi whatsoever gave a fuck about him? Oh give me a break. His net worth is estimated to be millions of dollars, same as the band. He is one of the richest rock stars of the generation. I am not saying it is a bad thing - well deserved, he is a genius after all, - but money, even for geniuses, has to be earned. Their music is a product that needs to be sold, and their public image is one of the means to increase those sales.

I do not think that Alex or Louise called the paps themselves last minute - I am pretty sure the whole thing has been set up by the management in advance, with Alex's explicit consent. Again, it is just a marketing strategy which the sales and marketing department decided to go with in order to maximise the revenue. Why would Alex refuse? And please spare me the argument of 'he doesn't need any more money'. Maybe he doesn't (although i am not sure), but the band and the whole machine working for them definitely does as it employs hundreds of people who need to get their paychecks from this whole thing. Mr. Schwarz is staying strong for them, remember?

Once this is all over, the tour is over, the contracts are done and he disappears without a trace, we'll remember this and count how many times paps will ever try to take pictures of him or his gf (zero, mark my words).

Thank you for coming to my ted talk (or thesis defence, more like)♥️

[charminglyantiquated]

So, I’m seriously looking into getting into tall ship sailing (waiting on follow-up from an interview rn) and I’m wondering for getting into it more long-term -

what do people do after sailing tall ships? Like, it’s a pretty physical job, and I’d assume there’s a point where your joints just can’t keep up with it.

Are there other jobs in the industry that people move to? I’m not really keen on the idea of moving up in the ship’s hierarchy- admin and being someone’s boss both aren’t really my thing. Do people retrain in completely different careers? Go back to whatever they were doing before they started sailing?

Anyway, I know your sample size might not be super large so I’d appreciate anything. Thanks a bunch!

This is hard to answer directly - on the one hand sailing tall ships is such a niche industry that there are limited pathways for straightforward advancement. But on the other hand, it overlaps with such a large number of other industries, and requires such a jack of all trades skillset - tourism, carpentry, history and preservation, hospitality, marine electronics, etc. etc. etc. - that there's a lot of ways forward for what I guess I'd call lateral advancement: moving to another job which uses most of the same skills. So there's no one answer, but if it helps, here's some things my tall ship deckhand friends have ended up doing, after no longer deckhanding tallships:

Get a captain's license and keep sailing. Captains often have it a bit easier physically (balanced out by the mental stress lol), and are paid better. Owning your own boat is optional; plenty of companies hire captains by the season to sail the boat, while the management of the company is dealt with by the actual owners. (This is what I did! I don't have the sail-hauling arms I did as a deckhand, but my knees and bank account are both in better shape).

Bosun, first mate, engineer, some other specialized non-captain crew member, usually involves licensing or other education that's useful down the road if you switch to an adjacent career

Racing yachts

Captain for hire on private vessels

Outward bound guide, other wilderness education programs

Harbor cruises, lobster tour guides, and other motor-powered tourist boats, both as captain and as crew - you have the patter and the safety skills but you don't want to deal with the hassle of sails

Water taxis, ferries and other passenger vessels

Lobstering, fishing, aquaculture, tugboats, other non-tourist waterfront industries

Marine surveyor, marine electrician, other specialized technician

Working in a shipyard - good fit for all the fit-out skills of sanding, painting, varnishing, covering and uncovering the boat

Cruise ship hostess

Train conductor (the passion for the early 1900s carried over well)

Working at a a museum focused on local maritime history

Tour guide for local buses, walking tours, etc

Boatbuilder (IYRS, Wooden Boat School)

Teaching the captain's license courses (nota bene: there were obviously some other steps between deckhand and teacher, notably ten years of being a captain in between. But this is what they settled into when they decided sailing was too physically taxing, so I want to include it).

Carpentry, house painting

Designing and selling custom made van-homes (apart from the technical skills, living on board a ship helps familiarize making use of every square inch of space)

Sailmaker

Of course there's other friends who went on to try something completely new and unrelated - I think because so many of the people who start sailing tall ships are here for something completely new in the first place, that's not an intimidating prospect so much as an exciting one. But many of them did make use of tall ship skills even when moving on from tall ships, so I hope the above list is helpful in giving a broad sense of what can follow!

[mekanikaltrifle]

👯‍♀️, 🖤, 👑, and 🌎 for Glass Man? And/Or 🎹, 💢, and ⛪ for Domino?

Oh boy a Glass man/Domino double feature. What we've got here is the NERD CORNER. Thank you!

So, for Glass Man:

👯‍♀️ Do they have any notable allies/friends?

In the sense of being 'notable' in the terms of Kindred societal power? not really. He is however allies with a number of the Boston Nosferatu Warrens, as well as being co-raised by a chunk of the New York nossie scene too. He personally acts as if he doesn't need friends, but...

He does really want his temporary coterie-mates Laszlo and Kyle to think he's cool. He's backflipping and parkouring to impress them. Is it working..?

🖤 How do they feel about being turned? (How did they adjust? Do they feel differently now than they did when they were first turned?)

Oh that's a fun one. He's still a neonate and so far he's okay with it. What he doesn't know is what would hurt him more, though. If he ever finds out directly that he was sired not as a direct choice by the Nosferatu, but as a simple political blockade to stop the Tremere getting him first? Oh boy. That'd throw his feelings about being of the clan right out the fucking window. So hopefully he never finds out and can stay relatively content with being a silly little Creature. (And never laments the fact he could have retained some of his old identity as a Tremere... he wouldn't have been so unrecogniseable he forgot his own name...)

👑 What is their opinion on the Camarilla?

He's very for it. The structure is the one thing he thinks stops vampires acting all fucking crazy, and while he's aware this has some similarities to people who claim religion is the only thing stopping them killing and maiming... vampires really do need contained for their own fucking safety. Humans don't Frenzy. Humans don't eat each other (usually. this isn't about you hannibal.)

🌎 Do they try to retain any part of their humanity? 

He does try. As a member of the Camarilla it's his duty to do so, but besides that he's very recently-embraced, and life isn't yet a distant memory. Humanity is the crux of vampiric existence and in many ways it is easier to understand the world and your own animalistic urges if you look at it through the lens you once had, at least in his opinion. Other vampires may disagree but he feels like indulging in vampirism only feeds its excesses. It's a strange world and he'll take whatever reality he thinks makes the most sense. Plus, despite being Dr Malpractice the Poison Apprentice, he did once want to heal the sick. There's still a bit of that in there where the hippocratic oath sat. Shame it doesn't help him get through the nights.

--

Hoo boy this is a chunky response so far! I am however very much enjoying it! Glass Man is a character I cover a lot more than I draw, but it is also really refreshing to get some Domino questions. I feel they get overlooked a touch... maybe people are a bit intimidated by Giovannis?

🎹 Do they have any special talents or skills?

Very much yes. Although their time in the Family often entails driving other mobsters to places, or sourcing necromancy materials, or getting into shootouts involving either of those things... Dom had a very trained skillset before becoming Kindred.

They're an adept hacker and security expert and once were employed for corporate 'benevolent' hacking work, largely penetration-testing company websites and systems to be sure no other hackers could get in and steal bank account and login data. Did they take less-scrupulous work on the side from time to time? Absolutely. And their job as a hacker actually involved a lot of physical lockpicking and security-breaking as well. This little fucker knows exactly how to set up an RFID spoofer for getting through swipe card locks, and how to get through an analogue lock with the traditional lockpicking tools.

They're also an avid tinkerer and are beginning to get a head for making stupid little gadgets. This fucker is one creative night away from inventing a grappling gun, just you wait.

Besides that, Dom was a top ranking Counter-Strike player with their best friend/roommate/only person in the world, Caiden. Unfortunately they now associate Counter-Strike with the night they were betrayed by Artemiy and mostly do not have time to play anymore. Their name Domino was once part of their online handle.

💢 What is their moral alignment?

In D&D terms, Dom is firmly on the dividing line between Good- and Neutral Chaotic. They've a tendency to do whatever they need to, to solve a problem and the law is more a suggestion than a set of rules. Fuck cops, right?

However, in their time as a member of the Family they're forced by the situation to be more of a Lawful Neutral. As much as they'd like to leap over the railings of the Cammy courts and start fucking swinging at the monsters who sign off on the deaths of innocents every night without batting an eyelid, they can't. They'd be beheaded almost immediately and their name would disappear into the dark just like their life did once upon a time.

As it stands, WoD stuff is notoriously hard to categorise morally like D&D but Dom, if they're free to do what they want, is generally a decent sort who wants people to be safe first and foremost, and doesn't mind busting a lock to do it.

⛪ Do they practice or believe in a religion? (Kindred or mortal)

Before death, Dom was a bit of an annoying Internet atheist. Since finding out that it is no longer a 'haha there's no heaven you just die, take that Christians' situation and there actually is a shroud with things behind it... but it's not a Heaven... They can actually sort of understand why people might tell themselves there's something good and kind waiting afterwards.

The whole Hell thing makes them curl their lip in distaste though. Knowing anything about the Underworld makes them wonder which cruel bastard would tell everyone to be afraid their whole lives, afraid of breaking the rules, afraid of living. Being alive is fucking wonderful. Don't waste it worrying, they think.

Makes them wonder who told humanity to be afraid, and what they know. They'd like to punch the shit out of this bastard.

[muppeteyes1001]

Are you a kleptomaniac or do you just like stealing because you can?

My Muse is Under the Effects of a Truth Serum! Ask them Anything!!!

She perks at the sudden voice in front of her. Looking up from her work, which happened to be some minor repair on a piece of her gear, Kitt spies the greyface. Her icy green eyes narrow towards them. She had grown a great distaste for these cretins over the past couple months. This one, however, just seemed more nosy then aggressive in their approach. It was their only saving grace from her now usual vicious manner towards them.

Turning her attention back to her task, she decides to answer without bothering to look at them. Though, her ears stayed alert for anything suspicious.

"Hmm .. Not gonna lie! .. Pfft, well obviously" she mildly quipped before continuing.

"But, I do admit that bein' a klepto has it's thrills ... It's no secret that I'm quite partial to whatever lovely trinket happens ta capture my eye ... But ..... Am I a kleptomaniac? .. Well, it's not as if I'd just go an' do absolutely anything for somethin shiny an' sparkly like some daft magpie .. Believe or not, I do have my boundaries .. Such as, for example, a location .. If it's gonna be anything deep sea related, that's just an all out 'no' for me ... The sight of a sunkin' ship scares the hell outta me, so lookin' for the lost treasure of Atlantis is NOT gonna happen .... Or, if I see that the prize is simply not worth the trouble, that's also a definite turn down .... Unless, I have an employer whose willin' ta pay through the nose for my valuable skills .. Then we might talk ... Might" Kitt exclaims with a minute glance over at the anon.

"However, if you're really that keen on knowin' the real reason I chose my rather dubious occupation ... I guess you can say it's a sort of .. payback, in a way" the felinoid replies as she reaches for her canteen. Taking a long drink from it, she licks her lips before continuing.

"Ya see! .. Where I come from ... As well as in many other places, I'm sure .. money talks ... The more you have in your pocket, the more power you have .. The more power you have, the more control you have over the populace ... An' the more claim you have that your voice is that of the people ... What a joke!

In saying that, those who don't have power .. Children .. especially those without families ... have no voice .. Not for their own wants .. nor for their own futures ... They tend to become pawns under the authority of those who place more value in their titles an' bank accounts than the very lives they gamble with. Workhouses, servitude, military .... These are pretty much the only options made available to them ... Each life just another banknote neatly folded away in some avaricious bloke's pocket.

When I became orphaned after my parents deaths years ago, I pleaded an' begged not to be placed under the care of someone who they claimed was to be my new 'guardian' in my parents' will ... They never cared what type of person he was .. Nor did they listen to anything I said. They simply did their 'duty' an' got paid for it.

So, to put it simply ... I steal because, yes, I can! ... I'm damn good at it ... It took me years to perfect what I can do ... An' it gives me both pleasure and business doin' it .... Especially to those who'd be absolutely distraught an' angry over their loss of coin an' whatnot ... Funny enough, it seems to be the only way for many of them to show any kind of emotion when it comes ta swipin' their goods"

She then looks back up at the grey face before giving them an almost prideful smirk.

"Oh I won't be pickin' your pockets, mate ... If those cheap shades ya wear are any sign of what you have ... You've nothin' ta worry about"

[shesgabrielle]

The Media Hypnotists

☆~• Your spells are weak and ineffective on me ☆•~

(I just read this suggested post and got a new perspective on aphantasia, it's actually a strength because it means the above) 😅

(A few days later)

I was thinking about this earlier, how some people are more viscerally affected by media and maybe that's how those phone scams work where the scammer has them on the phone for 6 hours, and gets them to empty their bank account or whatever. They genuinely hypnotise them. If their brain was plugged into reality, they would obviously realise it was sus about 15 minutes in max, and ask someone in real life about it if they were unsure, and most people would be like 'yeah that seems dodgy mate' but the fact they don't, they stay on the phone for 6 hours and do everything the scammer asks them to. They're hypnotised.

And now too, I wonder if some people experience film and game and sound more viscerally, like you can get 'into' visual media fine even if aphantasia/low visual imagination exists, but perhaps some media seems more real because your brain adds things to the experience if you already have a visual mind. It might explain why some people seem to genuinely enjoy *everything* like the stuff people watch lengthy series of is so boring to me, but perhaps it can be explained by the way they interact visually - they add things that aren't actually present in the base media, which maintains their interest. The base media, like the scammer phone call, while seeming perhaps unintriguing in itself, serves as a base start point for their own imaginations to take the lead. And perhaps this is how these scam, essentially hypnotist, phone calls work too, I've seen they generally have a script based around some really outlandish and unlikely plot - similar to a movie plot, and they immediately involve the caller in the 'story' and the person being scammed kind of falls into the fiction for those hours. Like...I suspect some of us are experiencing the world, and particularly media like movies, sound, and the internet a lot more intensely than others. And those people are the ones scams work on the best, and they don't even realise they are susceptible until it's too late, because they have what is a pretty common personality or cognition type of a very active visual imagination.

[wreywrites]

WIP Wednesday!

Sorry I missed last week, I totally spaced it. This week I'm back with a snippet from The Protecter, mostly in response to this post, which is a fair question and I don't have a canon answer, but in the universe of The Protector, It's because Jedi Master Ky has a suspiciously huge bank account and can afford to open a tab for her boys.

****

“For emergencies. I-”

My datapad pinged.

“Typical,” I scoffed, pulling it out and opening the message. “Oh kriff, it’s a holovid from Skully. This way.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into an alley out of the flow of pedestrian traffic in the plaza.

“Who’s forward now?”

“Keep your shirt on, darling.” I poked at the datapad and the video sprang to life.

Skully panned the camera around a corner booth packed with clones raising their glasses in his direction, yelling as a group, “Thanks General Ky!” then bursting into giggles and throwing back their drinks. The camera then zoomed in over Bry and Edge’s shoulders, to two people dancing on the bar while the crowd cheered them on. The shot was fuzzy for a while, but even through the grain, I had to admit, it was a nearly flawless square skip. Then the dancers slid into focus and I groaned.

Howzer laughed. “Is that Zara?”

“Yeah, not a clue who the-”

Their feet tangled together on the next pass and they both went down, crashing comically to the floor. The bar went silent for only a second, then the clone popped back to his feet with a wild laugh and reached down to pull Zara up after him. The bar erupted into cheers and roars of laughter as the two of them grinned and bowed, and the video ended.

“She’ll never live that down.” I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “Good thing the guys can keep a secret.”

“I’d be more worried about the other people there. I mean-” Howzer pulled the datapad out of my hands and zoomed in on a corner of the last frame, “-Bly’s got a girl on his lap-”

My eyes widened. “That’s not just a girl, that’s one of Zara’s creche-mates. This really is never going away.” Then I frowned. “Kriff, how many Jedi are running around with clones?”

“Apparently at least three.” Howzer glanced at me, passing the datapad back. “I could find out.”

“Should I be worried about how confidently you said that?”

“I’m Marshal Commander Howzer, remember? That comes with some pull. And we have very active group chats of various weird configurations."

****

Zara met me in the speeder garage wearing two pairs of glareshades, one over the other, carrying five loose flatcakes that she was eating one at a time like slices of toast, with a GAR-issue canteen hanging around her neck. She climbed into the speeder without a word.

“Good morning.”

She let out a wordless grumble and stuffed another huge bite of flatcake in her mouth.

“How did you get back last night?”

She took a moment to chew the flatcake, swallow, and take a long drink of whatever was in her canteen. It smelled like Talaki. Then she removed the top pair of glareshades, recoiled, and put them back on. Finally, without turning to look at me, she said, “One of Anakin’s ARCs was being all responsible and no fun at all, but he drove us back. Pretty sure Aayla carried me part of the way up to my apartment.” She frowned. “Don’t know why Aayla was there in the first place, and Anakin wasn’t really chatty at breakfast… Heyyy-” she drug out the word, turning her frown toward me. “You weren’t at breakfast either.”

“I went down to 43 and got donuts.” I reached into the back seat and produced the little box holding Zara’s. “I didn’t know you’d be trying for Obi-Wan’s record.”

Zara shrugged and went to work on the donut. “Listen,” she said through a mouthful, “if Anakin Skywalker can’t beat that record, then there’s no hope for me.”

I let her ride in silence for a while, eating her donut and then two more flatcakes, before I said, “Did you have to go see Brallo this morning? That was quite the tumble.”

“You heard?”

“Skully sent me a video.”

Zara started to laugh, then groaned, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “Of course he did.”

“You were doing so well right up until the end.”

“I know!” She grinned. “Especially when you consider how drunk we already were and that I taught him how to do it ten minutes earlier.”

“How much did you run my tab up?”

“Not that much. Brought my own money. And Fives was drunk when I got there, so…”

“Fives?”

“One of the new ARCs in the 501st. The one that fell-”

“Ah.” I nodded, merging down a few levels. “No wonder we didn’t know who it was.”

Zara’s raised eyebrows were barely visible over both pairs of glareshades. “We?”

“What I do in my spare time-”

“I know, I know. I’m teasing. As long as we’re not both falling off tables.” For the first time since getting in the speeder, Zara looked around. “Where are we going?”

“The zoo. I thought we could do something at least marginally relaxing on our first day off since the war started.”

What we did was get a box of waffle cookies and sit in the big room of the shallow tropic aquarium, watching the fish swim by and cast dappled shadows on the floor.

[itsfeckinwimdy]

FC Chapter One - An Introduction Of Broken Hearts

Eventual cc!Karlnap x fem!reader (romantic) (soulmate au)

cc!Tommyinnit x reader (platonic) (family)

Reader Pronouns: She/Her.

Summary: As the title says.

Word count: 0.7k (764) words.

Soulmate attribute: A compass points towards your soulmate.

FC Series Masterlist / Soulmate Multi-Series Masterlist / Soulmate Extra’s Masterlist / DSMPMasterlist

Published: 21/10/2021

"Yoooooo, thanks for the £50 mate!" Y/n thanked the donation that came through with the loud alert sound that was created for larger donations, bits, or amount of gifted subs.

"Y/n, tell us the middle name story," Brian read out the donation causing Y/n to pause placing blocks. She switched to the third person and zoomed in on her characters face before switching to full-screen camera and staring directly at it.

"No," she stated bluntly, "Chat, you need a level seven friendship before you get to unlock that backstory and most of you are at zero still. So no. No middle name, and no story," she then laughed out.

She continued to build the basement under her house on the server, answering questions she received in donations and reading what her twitch chat was saying.

Turning her character around, she visibly flinched and let out a sharp breath in surprise as she saw Sapnap stood behind her.

He crouched and punched the air around her before joining the vc she was in as Y/n held her head in her hands.

"Hi!" Sap spoke out letting out a small giggle of happiness. Sapnap would never admit it, but he missed being able to talk to her. The duo would talk regularly, both on stream and off-stream ever since Ellis introduced Y/n to the dream team, with the exception of George as she already knew Mr pretty privilege. However, Sapnap didn't feel as if he could spend enough time with her.

Call it a meaninglessness crush or whatever, puppy love, if you will, but Sap genuinely cared about the Simons girl and his heart swelled with joy when he got to speak with her. But a voice in the back of his mind kept causing him to doubt all of his actions towards her. That she didn't care for him in that way. That it was all pointless.

But maybe that wasn't true. Maybe he had a chance...

Nah, Y/n would never like him.

Y/n Simons. Middle name requiring a level seven friendship. A twenty-two year old twitch streamer, MCC champion, and unfortunately the older sister of Tommyinnit, was a uni-graduate and now a somehow popular gamer who played said games in front of an audience who devoted part of their bank accounts' savings to her each month in the form of twitch primes.

Whilst attending university she met fellow twitch streamer and now best friend, Ellis Featherstone who went by the online name of Feathers or FeathersIsNotAlright. The two became good friends and later decided to move in with each other after they finished their respective courses and worked out that they could financially support themselves whilst being YouTubers and Twitch streamers.

Y/n had also met George through Ellis, the two being soulmates and having a third one out there. The duo had the red string of fate soulmate attribute, where a string, invisible to those except the soulmates, connected two (or more) people at all times and apparently turned gold once they met. Or the piss string as Ellis had dubbed it.

The two never remained faceless or nameless. Y/n's surname being known because of her being Tommy's older sibling, and Ellis' being known after their sister joined the duos streams multiple times during lockdown, their sister being a 'famous' person due to the fact they were a driver in formula one, but that's a story for another time.

Y/n let out a quick laugh, dragging her hands down her face before replying to the brunette, "Hi Sap, how are you?"

"I'm good! Are you doing okay?" he replied, unbeknownst to Y/n, a blush covering his cheeks.

As the two moved past the awkward small talk, a fluttering feeling began in Y/n's chest. It was a swelling feeling, but one that wasn't entirely pleasant.

It always happened when she spoke with Sapnap, the weight becoming more prominent. She had only felt this way a few times in life and each time it was with a few specific people.

And maybe she was pushing this feeling down and trying to ignore it for a long as possible because it could only end one way. And maybe she wasn't ready for her heart to hurt again; and maybe, it was just a stupid crush that would fade over time.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that the brunette felt the same towards her, even if it was just a small amount.

But thinking about it, why would he like her.

She was just another person on the internet thousands of miles away from him.

⇥ Taglist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧ — There's nothing here yet!

[ask-redacted-actor-au]

This is for the first installation of comfort-tober considering the Imperium is back and that I don't watch the Imperium so and also for 50 likes thank you all again glad you like my stuff !

Baabe opens the door exhausted from their long day at work because they had to do with a Karen today she was yelling about some nonsense that wasn't even there at the shop " damn today was a rough day that lady was so annoying " baabe's skin almost jumped out of their bones whatever they saw a giant wolf laying on the couch until they realize that that was just David and his will form " -! Jesus davey scared the hell out of me" David in a small wolf smile and smashes you could in his will form babe rolled their eyes and sat down next to the alpha as they stroked the big wolves fur they asked "where's Ash?"

The big wolf not behind him and babe looked to see Ash peacefully curled up by his big Alpha Babe's tired face lit up "awwww my God that's adorable"

They gently pet the soft Wolf's fur this is exactly the thing they wanted to come home to after a rough day the wolf responds with a small snore in the bigger wolf responds with the role of his yellow soft eyes

Babe then remembered something

" oh! I heard there was going to be a music festival with the fireworks show at the end tonight I was thinking we can have a picnic there

The big wolf nods in agreement David's never really big on party the festivals but a nice little picnic with the two people he loves is okay for him " I was planning on making steak tonight and some vegetables and we could like cut it up and make kabobs " the bigger wolf again the respond to the nod and they let another tired breath from their body David put his muzzle on stomach

Asher wakes up and let out a large yawn and David let's add a happy growl " morning pretty boy how did you sleep?" Still petting david softly the small wolf nods and David thinks *he better have slept good my fucking hip fell asleep because of his dumbazz* Ash let's out( what my friend calls it shout out to them btw love them♡ ) puppy purrs and David looks at Ash" how to say your day went but I guess I'm looking at it" babe says with a smile and the Wolf reply with a nod

Babe look at the watched and realize that this is the perfect time to get ready for the picnic" how about you and Ash unshift ,get dressed and you going to tell Ash what we're doing later today?"

Babe said sweetie to watch the boys nodded and lazily caught up and went to the bedroom to shift to change and explain babe got up and headed to the kitchen to start cooking they put on some Lo-Fi music cuz they don't really like the quiet they ever heard David asking about I should understand and they assume that's he just nodded they start making the stake

" bABE! " they hear the smaller energetic wolf call they just haven't response not looking away from the stake the happy wolf goes up and hugs me from behind just in time before a piece of oil pops on their beautiful radiating awesome skin that was a close call David Just Smiles " hi ashy" they say in a loving tone Ash smiles and hums a response " are you excited for the picnic?" babe asks flipping over the pieces of steak two

nod and babe smiles tiredly " you tired baabe ? " Ash ask noticing the tiredness in your yawnyou're

:yeah work was kind of tiring today there's a lady that would not stop pushing if you don't give me that validation I'll call you a manager like what-? would you shut up?" Ash looked sad and David cringe to remembering of the currency to deal with last week:aww I'm sorry babe " Ash said looking like a kicked puppy which major heart really sad" it doesn't matter I'm here with my mates" they both smiled at the word mate "hey David could you do the vegetables ?"

David nodded " can I help?" Ash asked excitedly " NO- "

David asked his eyes full of fear and remembering his bank account the last time he tried to make oatmeal baabe just giggles to themselves

Ash looks at him" WHYYYYY " david answered "because I said so" babe laughs to themselves again and flips the steak onto the plate Asher pouted while David was cutting the carrots

Baaaabe so bad that I had nothing to do so they decided to ask him to help with dessert

" hey Ash want to help me with dessert?"

The response was the exact same whenever I asked to help

" YES!"

" NO-"

" it's a simple recipe David originate that long cuz he's just whisking the whipped cream and icing the cakes" David look at Ash who was basically dancing and couldn't say no to such a cute face " . . . Fine" baaabe smile sweetly at the bigger wolf and told Ash that everything was laid out for him and but he just had to separate the eggs from the yolks which was basically the whites and the yellows they finish the steak and goes to stand next to David

David looked at the small human while cutting up some celery : yes~?" He asked raising an eyebrow" how's your day how was work ?"babe asked with a smile" it was good" David replied babe smiles and then looked at Ash

Ash somehow manages to get the egg whites on his face instead of The Mixing Bowl

Baby laughs and Ash turns to them and with a what? " They're supposed to go in the bowl on your face Ash: babe says through little laughs Ash looking even more confused" what does!? Babe laughing a little more lots of Ash for the peck on his cheek and says

"the clear slime- you know what we're here let me help you"

Ash gives them an ok???? Look

Babe take an egg cracks it on the edge of the bowl and then move seal between the eggshells putting all of the whites into the bowl

Baaaabe :" there! Like that" Ash has a moment of lighting up " oh"

Baaaabe picks up an egg from the car and it hands it to Ash, Ash takes it " now you try" as successfully cracks the eggs and puts the whites in the bowls he looks at excited lets out an excited" YES!" and baby smiles with how cute he is " now put the mixer on five and the whipped cream should be ready in 10 minutes!" Astronauts and cranks the machine to go to five machine go Burrrrrrrr

Ash head: * loud *

Baaaaabe Paul's Asher in for a kiss Ash smiles into the kiss

Like for part two ♡

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 1 |  Living Well is the Best Revenge or Just Trip Her on the Red Carpet

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom is in Vegas to present at a music awards ceremony and what do you know his high profile ex girlfriend is nominated for two awards.  And the press are having a field day.  Molly Bishop is grateful for the awards show because it means extra tips and getting her closer to paying off her student debt.  An offhand comment by Luke coupled with an encounter with his old girlfriend has Tom’s mental wheels turning.  Perhaps he and Molly can solve each other’s problem.  All they have to do is get married.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom dreaded turning his phone back on when the plane landed at McCarran airport. He knew what waited for him on the other side. Tom wondered if his publicist would buy the story he left his phone back at the bar in Heathrow. Probably not, he had tried that earlier in the year and Luke went ballistic until he came clean. He did not want a repeat of the earful he got back then. With a sigh, Tom switched on his mobile and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, vibrating as messages and emails came in.

Tom never imagined the relationship would end like this. He thought he was in love. He thought she was in love. But it had all been what were the words she used “escape hatch”. Tom had been a means to an end. And the punishment for his naivete was a news cycle that would not die. And that photo.

He waited until he was in the car on his way to the Bellagio before checking his messages. There were a series of several text messages from Luke.

Call me when you get to your hotel room.

Don’t read the papers.

Don’t talk to any reporters.

Don’t do anything until you talk to me.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

This meant only one thing. Another story. Maybe more pictures. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she was attending the same awards show. It ventured to guess the papers would play that up. Tom slumped against the car seat for the rest of the ride.

Check in went fine at the VIP check in. One perk of not only being a celebrity, but a presenter at the awards show. The bellhop delivered Tom’s luggage and garment bag. He pulled the outfit for tomorrow and hung it up, just like Illaria told him to. It was only when he flopped onto the sectional couch, Tom called Luke.

“I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” Luke deadpanned. “I started to worry you would pull that ‘I left my phone at the airport bar’ story.”

“I did cross my mind.” Tom let his head hit the back of the sofa. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Luke winced. “They used the photo again.”

“Of course they fucking did!” Tom punched a nearby pillow. “I look like a twat. Luke, I need this to stop.”

Luke sighed. “Until something comes along that is better than this, expect it to hang around for a while. Unless you are planning on getting married in the next two days.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “Not bloody likely.” He sighed again. “Thanks for everything Luke.”

“It’s my job, mate. But you’re welcome.”

After Tom hung up, he stared first at the phone in his hand and then at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he got here, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to get out. Tom decided instead to wallow in self-pity and eat a ridiculously expensive room service steak.

-

Weekends were always busy when there were special events over at the MGM arena. This weekend was no exception. And while it may not be good for Molly’s back, her bank account greeted every penny with a smile. Vegas may be a cheap place to live, but it still costs money. And her college did not accept IOUs for student loans. She shoved more tips into the jar behind the bar and helped the next person.

“What’ll be?”

“Whatever you have that is strong and on tap.” Tom’s smooth voice cut over the din of slot machines and video poker machines.

“Coming right up.” Molly poured him a beer, and he signed the receipt with his room number before sliding to the end of the bar.

Three hours later, Tom still sat at the end of the bar, nursing the same beer. Most of the crowd dissipated at this point. Celebrities needed their beauty sleep. Or at least most of them.

“Would you like to switch that one out for a cold one?” She leaned over, smiling. “On the house.”

“Sorry.” Tom blinked and glanced around, looking for a clock Molly imagined.

“No clocks.” she commented. “Or windows.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“The whole point of casinos is to keep people inside. Clocks and windows help people realize how much time has passed.” Molly replaced his beer. “The whole place is set up like a maze.”

Tom took a long draw of the fresh beer. “You seem to know an awful lot about casinos for a bartender.”

“You seem awfully forward for a movie star.” she snapped back. Tom’s eyes met yours. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who works at Regal Cinema, they let me in for free.”

“I’m having a bad day.” Tom muttered back. “You still didn’t answer the question.” He took another long draw, leaving the glass half empty.

“Oh, so we are adding pushy to your resume. I thought Brits were supposed to be charming. If you must know, I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Tourism from Arizona State.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but Molly cut him off.

“Funny thing about the tourism industry. You need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience without having a job. Classic catch-22. Which does not pay my bills. So I bartend until I get hired somewhere.”

Tom felt like a prize idiot moping about his problems. He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my earlier behavior. I have been in a poor mood for the last several weeks and it has made me a terrible companion and customer.”

Molly smiled at him. The first truly friendly face in a while. “It’s fine. And you are entitled to a bad day.” She filled up his glass. “Once or twice. Share your troubles with me. Unless it is about which supermodel you should date next, then I don’t want to hear it.” she joked. Tom’s face fell. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tom held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. I take it you don’t read the magazines.”

“As a matter of course, no I don’t.” Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Oh…”

Tom twisted his face into an exaggerated expression. “‘Oh’ is right. Usually followed by the words ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’.”

“And is she…”

Tom drained the glass. “Yep. Nominated for two awards.”

“Yikes! Well, if there is anything I can do, I am here all weekend.”

Tom stood up and left several twenty-dollar bills. “I might take you up on that. Thank you again for the conversation… I didn’t catch your name.”

“Molly Bishop”. she said, clearing his glass.

Tom offered his hand, and she shook it. “Tom.”

“I know.” she leaned in, her dark brown hair falling to the sides of her face. “Remember, you’re a movie star.”

Tom laughed. A real belly laugh. So loud that it jolted the old man at the other end of the bar awake. “I needed that. Thank you again. Have a good evening, day, morning.”

“It’s evening. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.”

Tom headed back towards the bank of elevators. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Molly wipe down where he had been sitting, shove the twenties into a tip jar, while tucking her hair behind her ears and help an obviously drunk couple. Tom made a mental note to find her again before he flew back and leave an even bigger tip.

-

Tom woke up the next morning and headed down to the gym to run on the treadmill. He would have preferred running outside but wanted to avoid people. After running five miles, he switched the machine off, wiped it and him down and headed upstairs to shower and change for the day. Tom wandered back downstairs in search of Molly, but the bartender on duty, a guy named Seth, mentioned she wouldn’t be back until the evening. Tom thanked him and headed back upstairs.

He was restless until it was time to get ready. After dressing, he took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Illaria who confirmed he did it right. Now came the waiting game. Tom wanted to time it to avoid having to see her at all. Finally deciding he had wanted long enough, Tom called for the car and headed downstairs. What Tom forgot to account for was his incredible bad luck.

He arrived right after her and was forced to walk the red carpet, watching her out of the corner of his eye, with her arm linked around whatever man, boy, prey she ensnared for the evening. Tom plastered a killer smile on his face and continued to repeat the mantra in his head “Living well is the best revenge” when all he wanted to do is either trip her or return to his hotel room and eat an inordinate amount of chocolate cake.

The rest of the awards show blurred together into moments of white hot rage masked by a cool exterior and numbness. Thank god for the teleprompter or else Tom wondered if he would have made it through his presentation. But he did and thought he made it through the entire event without running into her and then…

“Tom!” her voice called out.

Tom froze and stiffened. What a difference a few weeks can make.

“Darling!” He spun on his heel to face her, smile firmly in place. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” he lied through his teeth.

“You too. I thought I might miss you. I just wanted to say—”

Tom waved her off. “Water under the bridge.” Another lie. Perhaps he missed his calling as a barrister or even a publicist. “Your date seems nice.”

She smiled. That smile that once melted his heart. “Thanks. He is. Where’s your—”

“Back at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head back. Big plans for the night.”

She blinked, and stutter stepped back. “Oh. Right.” She composed herself. “Well, it was nice to see you again. I hope we can be friends.” She held her arms open.

Fucking friends! Tom howled inside his mind. What was she playing at? More fodder for her songs? Tom seethed on the inside. He stepped forward to awkwardly hug her, praying there was no one around to snap a photo. Knowing her, though, she probably had someone in the balcony with a zoom lens.

“Of course, love.” He squeezed her a little too tight until she let loose a small yelp of pain. Tom allowed a genuine smile to come across his face. “I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the after party.” He walked away before she could continue on the conversation.

He waited until he was well out of earshot. “Bitch.”

-

The crowd started waning around 9:30 as the awards show let out. Molly figured most of the attendees would hit the after parties and things would pick up around 1 or 2 a.m. Until then, it would just be the regulars. She turned around to arrange the glasses she just cleaned when a now familiar voice rang out.

“Marry me.” Tom asked, his tie loosened.

“I don’t know you.” Molly teased back. “Now what will you have?”

“You as my wife.” Tom repeated, his palm flattened against the bar.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you drunk?”

Tom shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Hear me out.”

She glanced around, seeing no plausible escape. “I’m listening. But if another customer comes up, I’m walking away.”

“I need something to move the paparazzi off this current news cycle with me.”

Molly smirked. “You ran into the ex. Did she have a new boy toy on her arm?”

“Yes, but that is beside the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Tom slammed his hand against the bar, rattling the container of nuts nearby. “Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Molly crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I need something to move the press off this story. You need money. We are the solution to each other’s problems.”

“You may be gorgeous, but if you think I am sleeping with you for money…”

“I never said sex. I said marriage. The last I checked, they could be mutually exclusive.” Tom’s expression softened. “Listen, you are clearly unhappy here. I am unhappy too. If us being together could alleviate a bit of that unhappiness, why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity? We get married. Get the paparazzi off my back. I would pay off your student loans and credit cards. And then after a year of living together, we quietly divorce. No sex. Just a business relationship.”

Molly chewed over what Tom said, while chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong, she was unhappy. Vegas was supposed to be a brand new start, but it was more of the same. Dead end job and no career prospects on the horizon.”

“Did you say live together?”

“In London, yes. I have plenty of room. Your own space. You have a passport.”

“Yes.”

Tom’s face broke out in a wide grin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The blood pounded in his ears and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Will you marry me, Molly Bishop?”

“Yes.” she smiled back.

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get going, because the licensing bureau closes at midnight.”

Molly headed over to the manager, Nick.

“I quit.” she shoved her apron at him.

“What? You can’t quit, Molly. The big rush is coming.”

“You heard the lady.” Tom called. “She quits.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé. Come on, darling.” Tom held out his hand. She lifted up the bar at the entrance and took his hand.

-

The two of you were full of nervous energy the entire cab ride to the licensing bureau, fitting right in with the other couples waiting to get a license. While you waited in line, Tom made some calls to several chapels until he found one open and able to squeeze the two of you in.

“Now all we need is to get you a dress and some rings.”

“Oh!” Molly dug through her purse. “My friend’s kid gave these to me.” She pulled out two plastic rings. “I think these will do in a pinch.”

Tom closed his hand over hers. “I’ll buy us proper rings tomorrow. Now a dress.”

“There’s a mall on the way. I can grab something on the way.” Tom kissed Molly’s forehead.

“You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Within an hour, Molly was wearing a simple white slip dress, Tom still in his suit from the awards show, although he did straighten up the tie. She smiled like a fool, holding onto a fake bouquet and Tom’s wedding ring, complete with a plastic spider in her hand.

Tom slipped on the plastic gem ring when the minister told him to, and she did the same with the spider ring. Tom giggled and so did Molly .

“I now pronounce husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His lips were warm and soft. It was… nice. Under other circumstances, she imagined Tom would be an excellent kisser.

Tom gazed down at her. “Hello, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston.”

[strangeinternetwasteland]

Mating Season- Hawks x Fem! Reader 18+

A/n: thank you to the beautiful and talented @titanialev once again for feeding me ideas check out her art for this piece here

Warnings: Sex, biting

Word count: 2.5k

This day seemed to have dragged on forever. Work couldn’t be over soon enough. How much fun could you have working at a civilian bank. Nothing of note happened here, all you did was count money and do paperwork all day. The few times you got to text your boyfriend he didn’t respond, but that was probably because he was out patrolling, or doing something for the Commission. He was one lucky bastard.

After a few more hours of torturously boring paperwork you sluggishly waved goodbye to your coworkers and walked out of work. You check your phone one last time before walking home. You smiled as you saw the text you received from your boyfriend. Nothing in the world made you more excited.

The parking lot of your work was always empty, but today it seemed even emptier. Those who couldn’t wait to get home left quickly. Not that you could blame them.There was only one place you wanted to be anyway. “Well isn’t there a sight for sore eyes?” You heard a male voice say to you. You huffed at the attention. Any man who used a cheesy pick up line deserved to be punched. You really just wanted to punch that smug voice in the throat. You groaned internally, rolled your eyes and looked toward the voice.   

“Look, here asshole!” You started saying but when your eyes fell on the most handsome man you ever laid eyes on. His golden eyes pierced your soul. All the anger you felt melted looking at him. How could it not when you’re looking at your boyfriend. 

“I was going to punch you, you know.” You told him. As you looked at him, you saw him leaning against his car hood casually. Wearing his black leather jacket, blue jeans, and sunglasses he looked like a model.

“Yeah, I know. I had to come see my dove.�� He told you as he walked over to you.

“This is most certainly a surprise, you never pick me up on Fridays, you’re usually out patrolling until late.” You said surprised as you two embraced. The warmth of his body made you shiver, even though the evening was warm for the season. 

“There are few things in life that I like, you are probably my most favorite.” He muttered into your lips as he pressed his lips into yours. Those soft lips the way they seemed to mold with yours so perfectly. He loved making you flustered in public, and especially in front of your co-workers. You broke the kiss, and your face warmed.

“Keigo, please stop, you’re flustering me.” You whined. He laughed at your remark.

“I like you flustered. If everything goes, right you’ll be more than flustered by the end of the night.” He whispered against your ear. You felt the hair on your neck stand at his comment. He took your hand and walked to the passenger side of the car. You slid into the seat, and buckled yourself in. Keigo slid in the driver’s seat and turned the radio on. You normally wouldn’t think twice, since you both listened to the radio, but you heard Keigo belt out in a terribly strangled voice:

“This is the part when I say I don’t wanna, I’m stronger than I’ve been before. This is the part when I break free cause I can’t resist it no more.” You stared at your  boyfriend like he grew two heads. The fact that he was singing wasn’t what made you want to laugh, it was when he started dancing in the seat. When he stopped the car at a red light, and turned up the music, you weren’t even sure if he was actually you boyfriend.

The driver in the next car over just looked at him and started laughing. You were a bit embarrassed but when you realized that he was having fun, who were you to stop him? When he had continued singing, and this time surprisingly well, you couldn’t help but laugh. He was definitely in a good mood, but something seemed a bit off, and you couldn’t explain it. You thought no more of it, as Keigo turned into the parking garage that was attached to your building.

“Here, I thought we were going to take me to dinner.” You mused aloud and gave him a sweet smile.

“My little bird, I’ve decided that I’d make dinner for you tonight.” He gave you his smug smile that make you melt.

“Oh, I didn’t know you could actually cook, Kei. We’ve been together for a while and you’ve cooked only breakfast for me.” You teased him. He visibly tensed up at your comment.

“Oh, no I am sorry, babe. I didn’t mean it.” You tried to calm him down.

“It’s fine, let’s just go inside.” He told you before he got out of the car to open your door. You walked toward the penthouse you shared while Keigo followed behind you. You both stayed silent while making your way.

After unlocking the door, you sighed heavily. You made him upset, and you knew it. It was best to leave it alone for now. Keigo walked in behind you and wrapped you in his wings and placed a kiss on the nape of your neck, causing shivers to run down your body.

“Dove, you go take a bath and relax. I’ll make us some dinner.” He reassured you. You did as he suggested. The warmth of the bath made your muscles relax and you felt your eyes getting heavy. You heard a soft knock at the door just before you fell asleep.

“Hey, dinner is almost ready, but please don’t rush on my account.” Keigo told you and he left the door slightly ajar. You decided that instead of sleeping you should wash your body quickly and join him for dinner.

After stepping out from the bathroom in your bedroom, you heard the sizzling of meat, smelled garlic, and onions. Your mouth started watering and your stomach rumbled. You were hungry. You went to your top drawer where you kept your panties, and found a handwritten note, from Keigo. It was written in his undeniable scrawl, ‘Go look in the closet’. You debated on it for a moment, you really didn’t want to wear anything but pajamas, but also, Keigo didn’t go out of his way for no reason. 

When entering the walk in closet you found a garment bag hanging in the front of your side of the closet. You unzippered the bag, and found yourself staring at the most gorgeous, black silk halter dress. You’d been eyeing this one for a while now, and when you did go buy it, it was sold out. You decided that you could spend your money on something you needed instead of something you wanted. It wasn’t meant to be for you. Here it was, hanging right in front of your eyes. You quickly changed into it, foregoing any underwear, and went to do your hair and makeup quickly.

After ten more minutes, you were assaulted with whatever food was currently cooking. You saw Keigo swaying to the music he put on, his wings slowly rising and falling with the beat. This time, it wasn’t Ariana Grande, but watching him move was mesmerizing. You noticed the whole dining area was covered with candlelight. The curves and flicker of the flames drew shadows on the wall. The sizzling had died down, and plates were placed on the table. 

“Kei, this is so beautiful. What on earth is all this about?” You asked, eyeing the beautiful bouquet on the table. He turned to see you, and gave you the biggest smile.

“Can I not do something for the woman, I love?” He asked as he pulled you into a slow dance. You notice he had changed out of his jeans and tee shirt into a button down shirt and dress pants. Your heart fluttered at his words. Of course, you loved him, and he loved you. You two spent your days off entangled in one another, but this was a different side of Keigo, you’d never seen before. 

After the slow dance was over, Keigo brought you to the table to eat your food, where he was a gentleman, by pulling out your chair and pushing it for you. You smiled at him. His eyes glanced over your body, the lust very evident.

“You look so beautiful, my dove. You truly are a vision.” He spoke as he kissed your hand.

“Thank you, but where did you find this dress? It’s been sold out as long as we’ve been dating. It wasn’t necessary to buy it.” You told him with excitement.

“The thing is, I am a hero. Even in civilian form, everyone knows who I am. You know I am willing to pay for the things you want. People are willing to do things when a hero asks.” He waved his words away.

“Well, thank you, but it wasn’t necessary. This dinner looks amazing and smells just as good.” You replied. He gave you a knowing smile. 

The conversation throughout dinner was light. The two of you discussed the other heros and his agency. You discussed how boring work was, and how nothing ever happened, but you knew the reason nothing happened was because the Heroes did their patrolling properly.

Keigo took the dishes and cleared them from the table and brought out a small four layered chocolate cake topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Did you make this yourself too?” You questioned him. “It looks like something from that little bakery I like not too far from the bank.” 

“I admit. I didn’t think about dessert until right before I picked you up from work. So it is from the bakery, yes.” He admitted to you as he sat down in his chair. You didn’t wait, you took your fork and shoved it right into the cake. Not waiting for Keigo at all. You hummed happily and smiled at your boyfriend. You took your finger and swiped a bit of whipped cream from the top of the cake. Pointing the finger at Keigo’s face, he debated for a moment leaned forward and bit your finger.

“Ow! What the hell?” You jerked your hand back. “That really hurt. Why would you ever bite me?” You questioned him, giving him a bit of side eye.

“Sorry, I guess. I am feeling a little off tonight.” He told you slumping his shoulders. He took the rest of the cake, wrapped it back up in it’s packaging and placed it in the refrigerator to keep cool.

You genuinely felt bad for him. He looked so down, when not even moments ago his spirit was so high. 

“I guess, I will just call it a night. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just being playful.” He told you as he walked into the bedroom. You couldn’t be mad at him. The man you loved more than anything, had danced with you, had made you the most delicious dinner, he sang to you, he bought you the dress you wanted since before you two were dating. What more could a girl possibly want? 

“Keigo, look. I-” You started saying as you walked into the bedroom. When you entered you saw Keigo wearing nothing but a bow. He looked up at you sheepishly.

“What-” The next thing you knew his mouth was on yours as he kissed you deeply. His hands running over your curves, feeling nothing but your dress beneath his hands. You snaked one arm around him and pulled him close.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today Keigo, but you’re acting strange.” He grabbed your hips and pressed you against the wall. 

“I can only think about one thing… being inside of you.” His voice was dark with lust. He pressed his bulge against you, while undoing the ties of your dress. He didn’t care about anything other than unloading himself into you. 

“My dress!” You cried as he tore it off. 

“I will buy you 100 more, I just need you right now.” His warm breath on your neck. Without a care, he thrusted himself deep inside you. He moaned in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He thrusted into you again as he hardened even more. “Dove, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’ve been on edge all day.” 

While you normally didnt mind the sex, there was an edge of anger and desperation to it today. Thinking back on it, you two had been together for a little less than a year. It was Rumi who had told you on a drunken girls night out that once a year, when it was rutting or mating season, she’d act more aggressive than normal. She told you that normally she’d find whatever poor soul she could to take care of it. When you had asked her if Keigo went through the same things, she told you probably, but wasn’t sure how he went about it. It was after that night you’d done some research on the subject.

“God, you look so beautiful, my little bird.” His gold eyes bore into your soft (eye color) ones. His thrusting sped up faster. He nipped at the tender spots of your neck, groaning into you.

“Keigo.” His lips crashed onto yours again, tangling his tongue with yours. He was too far gone in his haze to respond to you. He spread his wings behind him as wide as he could, you remembered seeing this once before when studying biology. Keigo didn’t seem to have noticed that he was showing off his feathers. 

Suddenly, he picked you up and threw you onto the bed. His wings at thier full span.

“I am going to fuck you straight through this bed.” He hissed in your ear and he closed the gap between the two of you. He thrusted himself in you again with more force than before. Harder and faster he crashed into you again and again. His wings opening and closing with his pace. You felt him as he came closer to his limit. His breathing severely labored. His mind no longer concerned with his normal traditions with you. Mating was the only thing on his mind. Releasing this angry beast that overtook him. A final few thrusts, and he released every drop of his seed into you. 

You felt his racing heart slow a bit, and he got his breathing back to normal. You laid underneath him as he had wrapped his wings around you, as he normally did after love making. The haze of lust that filled his eyes was gone. His golden eyes looked at you with love again. He peppered your face with kisses, as you stroked his wings. As he laid his head on your chest for a brief moment, you heard the faintest whisper from him.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Be mine forever. Marry me.” Those were the last words you heard before you both fell asleep.

[imagine-loki]

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly. 

RATING: M (eventually ) 

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

“Nope, nope, fuck no.  Why do all these companies suck?” You grumbled to yourself as you scrolled through job posting after job posting on your laptop.  You were sitting on your bed absently eating a slice of pizza in your pajamas while you searched.   You were hunting through the job listings looking for a company in search of an Omega.  

That wasn’t at all atypical. Businesses that employed a lot of Alphas needed Omegas on staff to help keep the balance and the peace.  Betas could only do so much against volatile Alpha tempers.  

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your current job, but it just wasn’t the right fit.  You’d worked at a few different companies since you’d graduated from college.  The companies were all glad to have you around, but none of them had felt like the right fit.  That was also typical.  It took a few tries to find Alphas who really fit and felt like safety and home.  It took longer to find such Alphas in an environment where you could use your degree or your magic, or something that made you more than just a typical Omega.  

It could take forever or absolutely no time at all to find the Alpha.  The one who was your mate and meant to be your love.  

You hadn’t had any luck finding your Alpha yet, just as you hadn’t found the right company to work for.  You’d temped a couple places as an admin, even though it wasn’t anything to do with your degree.  You were now working again as an assistant and getting pretty tired of all omega jobs only being assistants or menial labor.  There was nothing of substance.  That made sense.  Usually, Omegas couldn’t hold higher level positions.  Alphas ruled and Omegas were cared for, by nature and by nurture.  On the other hand, Omegas were the balance for an Alpha’s temper.  They cared for the heart of the people, while the Alphas cared for the physical safety.

Any of the castes could marry any of the others and Omegas finally had some rights in the US, but the world was still highly unfair toward your caste.  Omegas couldn’t own a house, for instance, or rent an apartment in your name.  You could earn money and have a bank account of your own, thanks to the laws that had passed, but a lot of the world was still stuck in the old ways of thinking Omegas nothing more than pets.  Or glorified sex slaves.  Thankfully, things were changing slowly, but surely.

You lived in an Omega-house with other unclaimed Omega girls and walked every day to the office nearby where you worked.  There was a Beta who acted as house mother as it was determined that Omegas couldn’t be trusted to care for themselves, so you weren’t allowed to live on your own.   Despite that you were a college grad with a job. 

It was either the Omega-house or still living with your Father.  And that wasn’t an option.  Not after you’d finally escaped to go to college at one of the universities that had accepted Omega students.  

There was a knock on your door.  You weren’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean one of the other Omega girls didn’t want to come visit, or the Beta coming to check on you.  “Coming!” You called and set your piece of pizza back on the plate, wiping your hands quickly as you got to your feet.  You padded silently over to the door, your steps light, despite the interruption.  You opened the door to see the Beta on the other side.  Your new house mother.  “Hello, Beta Ann,” you greeted her politely.  She was new and stuffy and still old-school enough that she wanted to be addressed by her title every time anyone spoke to her.  

She gave you a warm matronly smile.  It was a bit condescending.  “Hello, dear,” she always spoke down to the Omegas, as if you couldn’t understand what she was saying.  “I received your message that you wish to look for a new position?” She made it a question.  It was her job to help you find something.  Sometimes she could have better connections than the websites that the Omegas could access.

You nodded eagerly.  “Yes, ma’am,” you replied politely.  She really was stuffy and old schooled, but if she could help you… you’d be polite. “It isn’t that I dislike my position.  It’s just… not the right fit,” you explained quickly, hoping she would understand.  

She nodded sympathetically and looked over the clipboard she was carrying. “You’ve been in that position six months, I see.  Yes, that’s plenty of time to realize it’s not the right fit,” she agreed.  She looked up at you again.  “I was actually going to speak with you regardless.  A position crossed my desk that I thought you would be a good fit for, given your abilities,”

You perked up at that.  A position for your abilities?  Your skills?  Not just because you were an Omega?  “Really? What position?” You asked eagerly. You tried not to appear too eager.  That would be impolite.  It was a tentative balance.  

“There is a group who is looking for an Omega.  It’s a live-in position.  All room and board is covered on top of a generous salary.  They are specifically looking for someone with medical background and your healing abilities are very appealing to them,”

Medical background and healing?  

And a proper home?

It sounded absolutely perfect.  

“I’m definitely interested, ma’am,” you told her brightly. 

She nodded her agreement.  “Very good, dear.  I’ll let them know and set up the interview for you.  I’m sure it will just be a formality,”

Most Omega interviews were.  The Alphas in charge didn’t need to interview, not really.  They just needed to catch your scent or psychic scent and determine if you would fit in with their tempers and soothe their needs.  

“Thank you, ma’am,” you told her politely.  She gave you another condescending smile before she left you to set things up.

*

A few days later, you found yourself in front of your mirror adjusting your suit’s jacket for the billionth time before your interview.  The suit looked good on you, and professional.  Though you still knew that you had that Omega air about you. An Alpha or Beta could identify you on scent, on sight, even without the collar around your neck.

All Omegas were required to wear a collar once they presented as an Omega.  Puppies (children) presented their secondary gender, their caste, officially toward the end of puberty, usually around 16 or 17 years old.  There were usually signs before that of what a puppy would be when they matured and you’d heard that there was a test that puppies could take now to determine what they would present as.  

The collar you wore was the generic collar every Omega wore until they were claimed by an Alpha.  It was silver and plain, thin, not heavy at all, but you would never forget it was there, not since the day it had been locked on.  Only an Alpha could remove it.  And only your Alpha would, when you were claimed and mated, only to put his or her own collar on in its place. It was still a holdover from the old laws.  You’d never gotten a good answer as to why.  You always got some bullshit reason about knowing who to protect.  Omegas were more rare than Alphas or Betas, so you weren’t surprised the law hadn’t changed.

There was nothing you could do about it.  And it wasn’t ugly.  But it did single you out as an unclaimed Omega.  Especially at your age.  There was no specific age to find your Alpha, but most Omegas you knew your own age were already claimed.   

You knew it made you a target.  You could be claimed against your will, mated against you will, if you didn’t already have an Alpha.  That didn’t mean you were going to settle.

That was also why the company was sending a car to pick you up for your interview.  Beta Ann had said that a Beta security guard from the company to escort you safely to and from the interview.  

You made sure you had your phone in your purse as well as your resume before you headed out of the house.  You said goodbye to Beta Ann and only left once the Beta security guard, a many named Happy of all things, rang the bell to collect you.  

Your eyes widened when you saw the limo that was waiting to take you to the interview.  What the hell kind of company was this?  The information hadn’t been passed along to you. You didn’t know of Beta Ann knew or not.  She didn’t deem it important enough information to tell you if she did know.  

Happy opened the limo’s door for you and you thanked him softly and politely as you took the seat inside.  He gave you the warm smile everyone gave Omegas.  They couldn’t help it.  Your presence was soothing to everyone.  He shut the door behind you and got in the driver’s seat.  Soon you were driving through the city, toward the city center.  You watched out the window with interest, curious as to where this company could be.  What this company could be.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.  

Whatever it was, it wasn’t your limo stopping at the VIP parking in front of the Avengers’ tower.  It wasn’t the press that were staked out to catch pictures of the superheroes and anyone who came to visit the tower.  It wasn’t Happy parking in that VIP section and coming around to open your door again for you.

The Avengers.

You were interviewing for the Avengers.

You couldn’t believe your luck.  This really was the perfect opportunity. 

You understood immediately that this was a test.  

An Omega who couldn’t handle the press, couldn’t handle the surprise of showing up at the tower, who broke down at any little uncertainty or surprise, wasn’t an Omega that would work out for the team and wouldn’t be what they needed.

Desperately in your soul, you knew that this was what you needed and you vowed to do anything in your power to make sure you got this job. 

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 2

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: None.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

June 2019

The ringing of the overhead bell captured your attention, whisking you out of your memories. With a forced smile, you looked up from where you pricing the bamboo knitting needles to greet the customers.

You recognized the two women as regulars who frequently came to your shop for supplies or to add to their yarn addiction. “Hi Carol, hey Tammy, how are you ladies today?”

“Doing fine,” Tammy answered. Carol disappeared to the back of the store where the larger displays of yarn were kept. Yup. Adding to their yarn addiction was on the menu for them today. “Is your grandmother here?”

Chuckling, you added another package of needles to the wire basket you had sitting on the stool next to you. “In the back fawning over the Mongolian Cashmere yarn.”

“Are you talking about the Jade Sapphire brand of Mongolian Cashmere?” Tammy’s eyes widened, leaning closer to you as she held onto the counter.

With a serious nod, you fought back the urge to smile. “The very one.”

“What colors?”

“Moonstone, Red Light District, Ivory, Perugia, and Umbrian Sky.”

Tammy gasped, her hand coming up to clutch her chest. “You only had three colors last time.”

It never ceased to amaze you how die hard some of the women who came into the shop were for the yarn, especially the luxury yarn that you sold. The conversation didn’t last much longer, and it was with a smile that you watched Tammy scurry her way to Carol and whisper in her ear, the two of them high tailing to go find your Grandmother.

While you had your own love and passion for the age-old hobby of knitting – so much that you went into business with your Grandmother to open your own shop, Second Gen Knitters – you weren’t about to go spending fifty dollars on a single hank of yarn. Not only would your bank account cry, but Namjoon would most likely choke on whatever you fed him in an attempt to break the news.

Sighing, you stuck a label on another pair of needles, taking a moment to look around the store. The teal carpet stood out from the hardwood floor, and the mahogany bookcases that lined the walls gleamed from being dusted earlier that morning. On a large square table in the middle of the front room were wicker baskets displaying smaller hanks of colorful sock yarn, and a decorative black wrought iron stand that stood out among the bright colors, held up a sign you had painstakingly painted to display the prices.

In the corner to the left near the windows, was a sitting area with matching teal couches and chair along with a mini coffee table. A various group of knitting, country lifestyle, and People magazines were neatly spread out, completely ignored by the group of husbands that sat there on their phones, letting their wives go about and shop.

It always amused you when a couple would enter the shop and after only a few moments the husband would hightail it to the sitting area, leaving the wife completely unsurprised.

Namjoon never outright said anything, but every time he saw that area filled and he was in the shop, he made a habit of making faces in their direction to amuse you. Whenever you went on your own knitting shopping spree, he would join you and help to make decisions if you were stuck between colors or how many you needed to complete a project. Especially when what was being made was for him, he was there to give his input on colors and textures.

The summer weather made it too warm for the scarves and sweaters that Namjoon loved to wear, but it was perfect to sit down and knit away so he’d be able to wear them in the fall.

As much as you loved him, these last few weeks had your mind spinning with his strange behavior. When Hoseok’s life had gotten turned upside down, Namjoon had become extra protective of you. While the possibility of what happened between Hoseok and his mate would happen to Namjoon and you were highly unlikely, the instinct for him to be there and watch over you was too strong for him to suppress.

You hadn’t minded it, especially when his physical affection increased greatly. But it’d be a lie to say that you weren’t affected by what happened, even if you were barely involved in the situation. It was one of those things that buried itself deep in your mind, forcing you to think about it even when you didn’t want to.

It was different for the two of you though. You weren’t just his Mate, but it was your name written on his Adoption papers.

Life had begun to go back to normal when Hoseok and Sarah were finally reunited, but then they dropped another bomb. Hoseok had signed a contract with a dance company in Seoul and at the end of the month, he was leaving for a year to tour with a professional team made up of elite dancers from all around the world. While you had been stunned by the announcement and how long he was to be gone for, you were ecstatic for your friend to pursue his dreams.

But then, Namjoon changed again.

As the days inched closer to Hoseok’s departure, Namjoon had grown quieter, and surprisingly, withdrawn. The extra affection had declined along with his usual amount. While he was naturally a quiet person, he always managed to start up a conversation and keep it going for hours, but something had flipped inside him and he was barely able to keep one going. Now it was you who was randomly hugging him while out in public or crawling between his legs when you saw him reading on the couch. He never turned your affection down, but he wasn’t seeking it out either.

The bell rang out again, but you didn’t look up as you were in the middle of counting how many needles you already had labeled. If the goal number was met, then you’d be able to put the rest back in the storage room for now.

“Hey Angel.”

The corner of your mouth curled up at the soft and familiar voice calling out his pet name for you, abruptly dropping the needles back into the basket to turn and face him.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow as he looked at the basket, a teasing grin appearing as he leaned against the counter. “Isn’t that important?”

“Not as important as you,” you sweetly answered, smiling as you watched Namjoon duck his head. It was absolutely cheesy, but it worked like magic to make him happy.

“Shut up,” he murmured, handing you a coffee before taking a sip out of his own.

Grateful for the caffeine, you tapped the white recycled cup that’s only design was the black lettering that spelt out, Kim Seokjin’s Café in cursive. “I thought you had work today?”

“Lunch break,” Namjoon answered, his ears twitching as he glanced around the shop. “I thought you might want a cup, and the bus stop just happens to be conveniently near your store.”

You hummed in agreement, leaning back to look in the direction of where your Grandmother was. Well, in the direction that you heard her voice coming from. Even from the front, you were able to hear her explaining how to do a cable stitch to someone.

“How’s your day been though?” You asked, gesturing for him to come around the counter with you. At least his little visits hadn’t stopped. They were a habit he started not long after moving in with you and when he saw how much you looked forward to them, made it a point to come by when he was able to during the day.

He held onto his cup a little tighter, not wanting to spill a single drop as he maneuvered his way around the counter. The space was small and even as you moved the wire basket and stool out of his way, he didn’t seem to relax until he set his cup on the counter. “Good. We’re working with a rapper this time. He’s really hands on with the album, which is amazing considering the last artist we--”

“Oh, Namjoon!” your Grandmother called out.

Teasingly rolling your eyes, you grinned as she came out from the back, her glasses on the bridge of her nose when she held her arms out to bring Namjoon in for a hug, despite the fact that he was easily a foot and a half taller than her.

“Hey Ma, how are you?”

“I’m good sweetheart.”

Without even looking, you were willing to bet that his dimples were showing. Grandmother just had a certain way about her that made it impossible for anyone to not be happy around her.

You leaned backwards against his Namjoon’s chest out of habit when he came back, feeling the gentle vibrations coming from him as he wrapped his arms around your waist in a loose hug. The gesture, while small, had you relaxing even more so. This was the majority of any affection the two of you had been sharing lately.

The moment would have been more enjoyable had you paid attention to the conversation that your Grandmother was having with Namjoon, but you had glanced around the store out of habit. You didn’t want anyone to feel ignored in case they had a question about a product, needed assistance with a project, or simply was ready to check out.

She was looking at the sock yarn at the table across from the counter. An older woman with a wire basket resting on her elbow. It was with experienced eyes that you noticed two of the Jade Sapphira hands sitting in there, and in her hands was some blue sock yarn, but she wasn’t looking at that. Matter of fact, her gaze was focused on you, but it was too low to be an attempt to capture your attention.

To someone who didn’t understand anything about Hybrids, the scar on your neck appeared to be the result of a painful accident. In reality, it was the exact opposite. The scar was your Mate Mark, the very one that you treasured when Namjoon had given it to you almost a year ago, sealing the bond between you as Mates for the rest of your lives.

The old woman stared at the Mate Mark, her gaze flicking towards Namjoon to see the wolf ears on top of his head, then down to his tail that was carefully wagging behind him.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Grandmother suddenly spoke, stealing your attention as she walked towards the woman who had been staring. “But I couldn’t help but notice you’d been looking at this young man, and while my son-in-law is not for sale, we do have some great patterns in the back that have almost as equally handsome young male models on them.”

Your heart nearly stopped as she led the old woman away and to the back, internally dying at her antics but grateful for them at the same time. Embarrassment had your cheeks feeling warm, and with Namjoon’s body shaking from holding back his laughter, you covered your face with your hands when the women were out of sight.

With the exception of the chuckles slipping out, he was quiet as he tightened his arms around you, leaning down to gently kiss at your Mate Mark. While you had only been able to see her stares, Namjoon had been able to sense the woman’s distaste the second she saw him hugging you.

“She’s a closed-minded old woman,” he softly murmured in your ear, hoping to ease your hands away from your face. “Who is currently having to deal with an upset Ma right now, and I think that’s punishment enough.”

Like always, your skin tingled each time he kissed the mark, the sensation coursing throughout your body even after you lowered your hands. “That doesn’t mean I like her,” you muttered.

Namjoon simply chuckled, settling for kissing your neck again. Normally, you would have let him have his fun before teasing him to stop, reasoning that you were at work and the last thing you wanted to do was make anyone uncomfortable with all the affection. But you didn’t stop him this time. This was perhaps the most affection that he had given out since Hoseok’s career announcement, and you weren’t the one having to initiate it.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, sliding your hands over his until you were hugging his arms. It had felt like forever since you last shared such a sweet moment with Namjoon. All you wanted was to make it last, because if tonight was anything like it has been for last several weeks, he wouldn’t be home before midnight again.

Despite your silent wishes, Namjoon lifted his head and kissed your cheek once before resting his chin on top of your head.

“I know,” he softly murmured back, his arms wrapping around you further in an attempt to bring you closer. “I miss you too.”

Your heart dropped however, and you stared at the packaging of the knitting needles you had been counting, wishing that it didn’t feel like there was sea separating you from Namjoon these days.

“Will you be late coming home again?”

He closed his eyes, signing as he kissed the side of your head. Able to sense you true feelings, he knew that you already had the answer. “I’m sorry Angel.”

Pressing your lips together, you gently squeezed his hand. “Will Yoongi be there?”

“Yoongi practically lives there,” he joked, kissing your mark once more before finally pulling back. “I should get going, the bus will be here soon.”

His hand slid down to your lower back before disappearing completely as he walked around the counter, leaving you feeling cold and alone.

It was reassuring to know that Yoongi was going to be with him, but with all the hours he’s been spending at work, it was becoming impossible to recall the times that he was at home. Most nights he was only getting home after you crawled into bed, and having gotten used to Namjoon hugging you to his chest while the two of you slept, sleeping without him wasn’t easy. A majority of the time you found yourself playing on your phone for an hour or so before ditching it in an attempt to get some sleep, but then you’d be woken up at the touch of his arms sliding around your body as he slipped under the covers with a kiss to your neck, coaxing you back to sleep.

Stolen moments and gentle kisses were the most romantic the two of you were getting these days.

As much as you loved them, it all reminded you of the early days of your relationship, and as he withdrew in on himself, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with you. Had the relationship become too much of a routine? Were you becoming predictable? Was he no longer attracted to you?

Like she knew that she was needed, Grandmother once again came back to the front, this time without the old woman following her. “Heading back out Namjoon?”

Namjoon nodded as he leaned down to give her a hug, his arms carefully wrapping around your Grandmother like he thought she was fragile and was afraid that he’d break her. Which wasn’t unrealistic, considering all the dishes that he’s broken in the last year.

“Yes, I need to catch the bus to get back to work.”

“You need to get yourself a driver’s license hun,” Grandma teased, rubbing Namjoon’s back before tilting her head to kiss his cheek.

As they parted from their hug, you smiled at seeing the light blush on his cheeks for a brief moment, any worries disappearing for the time being.

“I like taking the bus Ma,” Namjoon teased, pulling out of her embrace to lean against the counter for a moment. “It’s relaxing and lets me clear my thoughts.”

“You can clear your thoughts at home you know,” Grandma pointed out, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “I’m not getting any younger, and to be able to hold my great-grandbabies is a dream I want to see come true.”

Once again you felt your cheeks heating up, the sound of her laughter echoing as she left the two of you alone again. Ever since you told her that you were Namjoon’s Mate, she made sure to hint around about grandkids whenever the moment struck her.

“I love her I do…” Namjoon murmured, reaching his hand out for yours to hold.

“But she drives us nuts.” You supplied, smiling up at him.

He nodded, his own embarrassed smile appearing to be permanent while displaying his dimples for you. “Okay, I really have to get going or I’ll be late. I love you Angel.”

Your smile softened as he held your hand to his lips, his fingers squeezing your palm quickly. “I love you too Namjoon.”

He didn’t stay much longer, his tail wagging as he walked out the door and shortly out of your sight, his departure forcing you to get back to work, and allowing your worry to come back to the forefront of your mind. This time free to do so since Namjoon wasn’t around to sense your emotions.

It was proven time after time that Hybrids only had one true Mate in their lives, and once couples completed the bond, they weren’t able to have any romantic feelings towards anyone else. Which was why you were struggling to understand these changes with Namjoon.

Reaching up, you touched the Mate Mark, recalling all the moments when Namjoon had been the one to pull you back to bed, to cuddle you for five extra minutes because he had missed you. It was stupid to doubt his love for you, but you couldn’t help it.

There had to be a reason for why he was so distant again. For why he was barely being affectionate these days. Was it because these long nights that he spent at work with Yoongi, were with someone else? That he was enjoying the warm embrace of another before coming home? The idea was far-fetched, and you began doubting it a second later like always, but what were you supposed to think?

“Oh Joonie,” you sighed, seeing that he had left behind his coffee cup.

It was too late to try and rush out to bring it to him, so you tossed it into the trash with a thump, feeling like you were grasping at straws at this point. When you had done researched on what it meant to be Mates, never once did you come across a point where there was a possibility that the couples separated. It wasn’t even a consideration.

But now…you weren’t sure what to think.

[prorevenge]

Screw me? Screw you; I want my money.

This is a revenge in multiple parts and apologies up front for the length.

About 30years or so ago I was 17 and about to head to University. An acquaintance through my parents church offered me a job working with him learning to be a pizza chef. Awesome, I'd need money for Uni and I'd already had a stack of jobs, so working hard was nothing new for me, but being a cook certainly was. My experience with Italian was limited to Pizza Hut. So I accepted that at the start I was a liability, not a help.

I started work, and to start with I worked free. Cool, but when it got to the point about 3 months later that I was opening by myself & taking whole shifts by myself, well, I should be paid. I screwed up all of my 17yr old courage and confronted the owner, let's call him Nick (because that was his name). He huffed and puffed and tried to tell me how terrible I was, but I stood my ground and now I'm on minimum wage. Not bad in my eyes at the time.

I worked there for another 3years, through most of my Uni degree, often putting in 30hrs contact at Uni, 30 hours at the restaurant and 30 hours of study, it was hectic, but just became the norm.

Towards the end I became a lot more savvy, and started researching labour laws, keeping records of my pay packets and end of year tax receipts and realised Nick (& other co-owners) were screwing me. I wasn't on the correct rate, they weren't deducting tax correctly and a couple of other accounting "oversights".

By then I was working with my (at the time) mate, let's call him Girlfriend Creeping Dickhead (GCD).

It was Sunday night - the place was packed I had tickets all the way down my line and GCD and I were pumped. We had a new boss (NB) who'd just bought into the business who thought he was the King Of the World because he was now a "restauranteur", a right wanker, but after years of having to stay back to cook pizzas on world cup nights for the bosses friends, or Chirstmas, NYE, etc I was sorta used to the grandstanding chest puffing behaviour.

The night in question the new boss would *not* let me start the second pizza oven (think a two tier oven - I was only allowed the top tier on) because it "cost too much". So here I am, oven FULL, two pizza chefs running full speed and we're only falling behind, because one oven wasn't enough and it was starting to cool down from being so full and opened so frequently.

NB gets a couple of tables of mates in. Instead of just asking us to cook some comp garlic bread or whatever, he starts loading up trays himself and putting them in the oven, not the worst crime, but because he had NO idea what he was doing, every 30s he'd open the oven to check them, cooling the oven down even further, potentially ruining the food we had in there and slowing us down measurably. I had the Head Chef chewing my ass out as his food was ready to go but my food on teh same tickets wasn't. It was hectic and not fun.

This Garlic Bread Bandit shit had to stop.

me: NB - Stop fucking with my oven. If you want garlic bread - just ask - I'll get it done immediately for you. NB: What? Huh? me: You're messing with my oven - you're cooling it down and we're too busy for this shit - just tell me and I'll make it. NB: Ok.

Did he do it? Nope, he kept on. Queue the same conversation another 2 times, the last time I told him I'd blow my stack if he did it again. You see where this is going. He did it again.

Now - after being consistently ripped off and abused (so many kooky stories from that place) for 3 years, my time was up there anyway, and this was the time to do it.

I looked at GCD and said "Yo. We out of here?" he looked back and simply said "Yup". We stripped our aprons and in front of the entire restaurant (pizza kitchen was in full view of the entire restaurant) threw them on the bench and told NB "We quit - All this, all these tickets, all the food in the oven you've fucked up, and your mates shitty garlic bread - this is all yours now - good luck"

Then we walked out - got some coffees from the baristas, sat in front of the Pizza area and watched him absolutely FLOUNDER. He had *no* idea what he was doing and there was literally no one else there that could help him. We could see food coming out from the kitchen, but the pizza on the same ticket was taking 20m or more longer to come out, tables were hopping mad - we could hear the grumblings all around us. I'll admit it was dickish, but undeniably satisfying to behold.

That's not the pro revenge though. The Pro revenge was that I'd been stealing my timesheet every Sunday night, photocopying it and then replacing it Monday mornings. I'd been doing that for over a year. I'd also told GCD to do it.

Monday I walk in and Nick was there and was *FURIOUS* at me, as I walking in you could see his chubby face turn bright red as he bellowed across the restaurant floor "What the FUCK do you think you're doing here? Get the FUCK out and never come back".

me: Nick - we've gotta talk. We can do it here or we can do it in your office, but trust me, you want to have this conversation privately. Nick: Fine - You come with me then (desperately trying to gain the upper hand back) and he storms to his shitty little office out the back Nick: about how he's going to withhold pay and a whole heap of other illegal hot air. Me: You done? Good... Here - read this:

I hand him a print out of an excel spreadsheet, a stack of photocopied timesheets, a stack of photocopied payslips, printed copied of the wage awards, all of which detail the amount he's ripped me off for.

Me: You owe me 6 grand. I'll take cash or a cheque now.

Did I mention he and the other bosses had *just* been simultaneously raided by the tax office and that they and the business were all on thin fucking ice? Yeah, bad timing for Nick the Dick.

Nick: Spluttering, wringing his hands "But, but, I can't afford it! Look I'll show you my bank accounts" as he physically starts scrambling to find his bank statements. Me: Nick I literally don't give a shit about you, your bank accounts or your situation, you owe me 6 grand *TODAY* or I take all of this to the Tax office and all of the other relevant government departments that will be *very* interested in this, because Nick... I have a feeling if you're doing this to me, you're doing it to other staff here as well huh? As for not having the money, well, again, not my problem, but you just bought a new $60,000 Pajero, so if you have to run that down to the car yard and sell it, again I don't give a shit but I get 6 grand TODAY.

He literally teared up a little, I'm not sure why, maybe through frustration, rage or just being screwed by someone he though waaaaay beneath him. But seeing a grown man who's abused you for many years cry at your hands is a pretty beautiful thing to behold as a 20yr old kid.

I got a cheque that day for my whole 6 grand (and yes, it cashed), but the best was walking out of his office with GCD standing there who deadpan just looked him in the eyes and said "Nick, we need to talk..." and in they walked in to do the same thing. $10k he "lost" that day.

The best part? A few of my friends at the restaurant caught wind of the fact that I had *enraged* him and asked what it was all about - I let them know how they were being screwed, how to take copies of all of their timesheets, and where to find the relevant laws. I know of several other people who did the same thing to him.

And that was how I left the hospitality industry and started working in my field of study, never to look back.

Hope you enjoyed my cake day present to y'all!

(source) story by (/u/faidel)

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Nemesis

Part 10 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The smarmy jerk’s got style, Zuko will give him that. He still rubs Zuko the wrong way––instincts honed over years spent in the company of soldiers recognize bloodlust regardless of how well it disguises itself under smooth charm. He and Sokka exchange irritated glances, but both Aang and Katara are googly-eyed, and if half the squad is dug in, the rest aren’t going anywhere.

The hideout’s pretty cool. Zuko can appreciate the strategic genius of the location; the trees are so tall and the canopy so thick that there’s very little chance of the Freedom Fighters (oh Agni what a stupid name) being discovered––firebenders like to be rooted, and that preference informs almost all of Fire Nation military tactics, so it’ll be a rare Fire Nation soldier that would think to look up for his enemy. That speech, though... Zuko shivers and prays to Agni, Tui, La, and the Four Winds that his new squad has the sense to keep Zuko’s firebending confidential.

The next morning, Jet takes Zuko and Sokka out on a scouting mission. Sokka's trick with his knife in the tree is really clever, and Zuko would love to learn how it works. Once Sokka's more fluent in Yuyan hand-language–right now, he can barely contort his hands into the letters for finger-spelling. Sokka hisses that someone's approaching, and an elder steps shakily down the path in the trees. Sokka calls the false alarm, but Jet ignores him.

Great Agni and all the stars, the guy’s a nutcase. The elder he’s just assaulted was barely able to stand up without the cane Jet had swiped out from under him, and now he’s on the ground and Zuko has a rappel line ready but for once Sokka beats him to the punch, leaping from the perch like a diving eagle-hawk. The Water Tribe warrior catches Jet’s foot with his club as it swings towards the elder’s face, and Zuko lands behind his squad mate just as Jet snarls “remember why you fight” in Sokka’s face. When they return to the hideout and Sokka tells Katara and Aang what had happened, Jet fucking lies to their faces—if that elder had actually been an assassin, Zuko will snap his bow in half and join the Imperial Firebenders.

What really surprises Zuko is how all Katara needs to hear is "the guy was Fire Nation" and she immediately decides that regardless of whatever Jet had done to the guy, it must have been justified. She knows he's Fire Nation. She knows he's a firebender. There's a reason he's dressed in Earth Kingdom browns, and avoids looking anyone in the eye. Zuko trusted his new squad with his identity, but now, looking at the waterbender's cold blue eyes as she glares at Sokka, he wonders if that had been a mistake. Sokka finally storms out, grumbling about packing his things, and Zuko follows, feeling vaguely uneasy and wondering if he should do the same.

Zuko is awake at dawn (he is a firebender after all) so he clearly hears the whispers outside the hut. Sokka hears them as well, and without a word they both slip out and follow Jet and his cronies to a cliff overlooking a nearby village and the dam that protects it. The plan they overhear makes Zuko's blood run cold. Zuko knew Jet was bloodthirsty, but wiping out an entire village just to get rid of half a garrison’s worth of soldiers? Gaipan, Zuko remembers from reading pilfered reports back at the Stronghold, is barely worth the ink that marks it on the maps. Wiping it out wouldn’t do a single thing to uproot the Fire Nation’s foothold in the Earth Kingdom. And the guy’s bullshit excuse about the demands of war makes Zuko want to either laugh hysterically or breathe fire. This kid has no idea about the demands of war; he’s just lashing out at what he perceives as monsters.

But he’s too dangerous to be pitied, and too steeped in fear and rage to be reasoned with. When Sokka refuses to go along with their plan, and Zuko makes his opinion clear by spitting in the nutcase’s face with all of the precision trained into him by the Yuyan, Jet orders Pipsqueak and Smellerbee to take them on a “long walk”. Their hands are tied behind their backs, and Smellerbee jolts them into motion with the poke of a dagger. As they walk, Zuko is itching to fight; the odds are much better now that it’s two on two, even accounting for Pipsqueak’s size. But a single look from Sokka banks his fire. The Water Tribe warrior is subtly leading them in a specific direction, so subtly that even Zuko hadn’t noticed until just that moment.

Sokka suddenly speaks; it’s a signal, and Zuko watches carefully for signs of what to do. He knows that Sokka is going to break left the second the other boy shifts his weight, and they turn and run in unison, so suddenly that their captors are left behind to shout and give chase. Zuko immediately sees where Sokka is going with this—two of the same kinds of traps they had discovered yesterday are primed and waiting. The two Freedom Fighters bumble into the traps and get snapped up like hog-monkeys, and Zuko smirks as he easily snaps the shoddy vine-rope with a flex of his arms. Even spitting mad, a blush spreads across Smellerbee’s face, and Sokka laughs as he easily undoes his own bindings.

“While you’re up there and daydreaming about how ripped Zuko is, you might want to practice your knotwork,” he quips, and Zuko cuffs him under his stupid wolf-tail.

As they sprint back towards the hideout, Sokka breathlessly outlines his plan. There’s no time to argue, and Sokka isn’t yet advanced enough in Yuyan hand-language to understand him anyway, so Zuko agrees, and they pack up Appa’s saddle and race to the village. Zuko and Appa drop Sokka off to get the villagers evacuated, and then return to the hideout to pick up Aang and Katara.

Who aren’t in the hideout.

Shit.

It’s hard for Appa to punch his way through the forest’s dense canopy, and by the time they find a hole big enough for him to get through without scraping the saddle and half the fur off his back, they’re much farther from the reservoir than Zuko wants to be. They fly back as fast as Appa can manage, but the reservoir’s full, the blasting jelly is in place, and Zuko can hear a birdcall whistling through the air. Another call answers it.

A burning arrow arcs through the sky, too far away for Zuko to shoot it down. All he can do is watch.

The dam explodes.

The village floods.

Agni, please let Sokka have gotten them out in time. Please let Sokka have gotten out in time.

Heartsick, burning with fury, he directs Appa over the flooded remains of the village, following the flow of the water. There are no bodies, but that means nothing. Until they round a bend, and then it means everything.

Sokka is waving his arms and jumping around like a maniac, grinning from ear to ear, jubilant in his plan’s success. Behind him stand the entirety of the village’s residents, Earth Kingdom natives and Fire Nation colonists and soldiers. Zuko returns Sokka’s grin, and holds out an arm for the other boy to hoist himself up on Appa’s head. Sokka waves to the people, and everyone but a few shell-shocked soldiers cheer. Zuko spots the elder from the day before, tears in his eyes as he bows shakily to the two boys.

They find Katara, Aang, and Jet just inside the treeline atop the cliff. Jet is frozen to a tree, and Katara is shouting at him furiously, tears flowing down her cheeks. Aang is sitting on the forest floor with his big, stormy gray eyes staring at Jet like the asshole had broken his heart. Zuko’s fury reignites at Aang’s expression, and he glares at Jet and wishes that he could roast the bastard to ash with the strength of his gaze alone. The flinch Jet can’t suppress at the sight of Zuko is satisfying enough, he supposes.

Aang and Katara climb into Appa’s saddle, Momo flutters down to wrap around Aang’s shoulders, and Sokka flicks the reins. The bison roars and lifts off, drowning out the furious, insane screams of the would-be terrorist of Gaipan. Looking at the faces of his squad, Zuko knows that this was a lesson that needed to be learned, but it was a cruel one, and he’s not looking forward to the debrief. For now, though, he’s content to act as comfort for shell-shocked Aang and miserable Katara, and smirk when Aang points out to Sokka that they’re flying the wrong way.

Previous | Next

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Strangers [18+]

Toshinori x Female Reader

Did someone say “traumatize poor Toshi”? Hello, I am here to make All Might hate himself for losing control of his pent-up sexual urges. Feral sex and angst! Mmmm

Warning: Dub-con (sex pollen/”fuck-or-die” fic)

Summary: Your neighborhood gets blasted by a new quirk-based drug that makes you irresistibly, painfully, potentially lethally horny. Your libido won’t stop growing until you fuck someone - but you haven’t completely lost your mind! There’s no way you’re going to bone a friend. It has to be someone you don’t know so you never have to talk to them ever ever again. 

That blond scarecrow over there will do! 

6,264 words | NSFW

You never worried much about getting caught in a love dust attack. It wasn’t that hard to just not have sex with someone, no matter how horny you were.

It was all over the headlines for the past month. An unsolvable string of crimes with this stuff at the center. The media was calling it “love dust” because, well, it was dust, and you can’t say “orgy-riot fuck dust” on the evening news. Think of the children.

After the first attack, authorities thought they were looking for a villain with natural quirk, but a new synthetic drug soon surfaced as the culprit—a concentrated, fine-tuned derivation of a seduction quirk, sold under the street name “Hathor.” Anyone with the right underground connections could get their hands on it, and criminals were getting creative. Release it into the air at a bank, and the guards will open up the vault on the promise of a handjob. Assassinate a CEO and walk out the front door as the heroes sent to stop you turn into a quivering mess on the floor. There have already been a dozen scandals with big-name heroes caught sleeping with civilians at love dust crime scenes.

Kind of pathetic, honestly. Considering how important their reputations are, you’d think they could manage to keep their pants on. Have some self-control.

Although… The effects only last until you do the nasty, so maybe heroes should have a quickie with the nearest volunteer and get back on their feet before the criminals escape.

Or, you know, wear a damned mask.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. There were physical symptoms, too. They say those who are unable to find anyone to “satisfy their urges” with experience increasingly severe libido, elevated heart rate, capillary damage, and all sorts of hormonal spikes that sometimes last days. One guy actually died of a heart attack. But you were young and healthy. It couldn’t be that bad.

If you don’t want to fuck someone, just don’t do it.

The night the dust rains down on your neighborhood, you finally understand.

You are sitting at the outdoor café in front of your apartment complex with a few friends when there is a loud pop, like an engine backfiring. The sky fills with a pink haze that glimmers with iridescence in the street lights. It’s beautiful. A few wiser residents scream, cover their faces, and run, but you watch the glittery powder in awe, not making the connection until you’ve breathed it in.

It has a cloyingly sweet scent, like cherry blossoms and bubble gum. Your throat tightens, and your mouth begins to water. A warm tingle spreads under your skin and you start to feel the urge to go home and watch porn.

There is a change in your companions, too. The conversation abruptly stops. Someone next to you moans, and it sends shivers racing straight down between your legs. Your thighs clench together trying to satisfy the growing need as you try not to moan yourself. Hot… it is getting so hot. Your breathing is starting to come out shamefully hard as your arousal rapidly builds, and suddenly watching porn doesn’t sound like nearly enough. You want to fuck someone—anyone, honestly.

Shit.

It finally hits you what you’ve been caught up in. And now you realize why this drug is so dangerous.

It’s the feeling of being on the cusp of an orgasm, where nothing feels more important, more urgent. Rational thought gives way to the singular focus on finishing. You’re so close, oh god… Your walls clench around the nothingness inside you. So empty. Fuck… you want to come, but you need to be filled. You need it.

You could resist the physical symptoms, but the problem you never accounted for is, you don’t want to resist.

All around the street, people are falling on each other, mouths smashing together in wet, sloppy, passion. Your next-door neighbor is dry humping the waitress at the café as she works to undo her uniform. The florist is already fucking a customer’s mouth. Their wet noises and grunting rise into a sexual cacophony that has your cunt dripping, aching. You need to find someone.

Your friend Ren grabs your arm, eyes heavily lidded, a crazed look in their eyes. “Do… you wanna?” they slur, voice thick with the same lust you are drunk on. Your cunt spasms painfully at the offer, and a throaty vibration rumbles deep within your chest. A primal part of you almost starts ripping off your clothes, but the small voice in your head that is still rational forces you to pull your arm out of their grasp. This isn’t right.

Not with a friend. Things would be too weird later. It can't be someone you know.

You mumble something that was meant to be words, and run from the table. Mei grabs Ren’s shoulder and their bodies instantly intertwine in a mess of limbs and sultry moans. She was just starting to get over them. That’ll be trouble tomorrow. That’s why it can’t be a friend—no ruined relationships or awkward next days for you!

The small rational voice says you should go back and pull Mei away—stop her—but if you did that, you’d definitely end up in a threesome. It's all you can do to keep your feet moving away. 

You need a stranger.

A spontaneous orgy breaks out around you, bodies tangled and undressing right in the road, cars honking at them, people stumbling out of cars and joining the fray. You pick your way through them. No, no, your inner voice scoffs. None of this is right. As much as you’re burning to be filled, none of this was right.

The musky smell of sex is overpowering. Your walls expand wide as if expecting to be filled, yawning open until the muscles burn, then crashing shut and clenching down hard against nothing. The contractions rock your body so hard it’s difficult to walk, and it isn’t long before the muscles start cramping with overexertion. 

Why didn’t you just join one of the writhing piles on the sidewalk? Your heart is beating out of your chest, and you’re deafened by all the blood pounding in your ears. Your eyes dart between faces and exposed body parts, frantically searching, but none of them click whatever primitive part of you is hunting for a mate. With every breath, it feels like you can’t get enough oxygen. You’re drowning.

A convulsing ache rips through your body again. It hurts. It hurts being so empty. What are you waiting for?

Something slips into the front of your pants and starts rubbing your clit—you realize it’s your own hand. It feels good, but doesn’t help. Rational voice reminds you that it won’t help. Skin-to-skin contact was a necessary condition of the quirk; something about pheromones or something? You stagger on, rubbing and fingering yourself, not even caring who sees, none of it bringing you over the edge of the climax that feels like it’s almost there—just a little more! Please!

You turn into the alleyway behind the apartment building. A short passage leading nowhere with a 90-degree crook that serves to hide unsightly utility boxes and storage containers for the complex. It’s quiet here, away from the chaos in the street. Except you hear it… breathing. Deep, half-stifled grunts of a man trying to keep quiet, labored breathing, and a soft, rhythmic slapping emanate from behind the corner.

Struggling toward the source, you see a tall yellow-haired man doubled over. He braces one hand on a metal box set against the wall with wires snaking out of it, while the other hand furiously works his cock. Slap. Slap. Slap. It’s glistening with precum, but his teeth are grit in distress at an orgasm that will never come.

A scarecrow of a man, he looks to be middle-aged, and has a face like a skeleton, with sunken cheeks and eyes lost in deep shadows—all bones and sinew. Definitely a stranger. You would’ve remembered a guy like that.

Something primal thrums within you. Blood surges red-hot in your veins. 

Him. 

He is perfect.

“Help!” you call out, voice shaky and fevered. 

He startles and tries to hide what he was doing, shoving his dick back under his waistband and crossing his legs before turning to you. As if everyone else on the entire block isn't doing the same thing. 

When he sees you, desire clouds his eyes. They’re a shocking vibrant blue, though watering with frustration, and they linger on you for what would have been an uncomfortable length of time under normal circumstances, but right now his overt desire is exactly what you hoped to see. 

Encouraged, you close the space between you, but he takes a quick step back, staying just out of your reach. At this distance, you realize “tall” was an understatement. He towers above you.

At your close proximity, his hips start rocking of their own accord, his cock striving for relief against the fabric of his pants. You are too close. You smell so good, he wants to devour you. He has to squeeze his legs together and bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to regain his composure.

“I... I can help you, young lady. E-everything will be fine... Are you hurt?” With every ounce of willpower in his narrow body, he forces his voice to sound normal and helpful, and not like he wants to tear all your clothes off. No damned pink dust is going to make him—

He doubles over not in pain, but arousal—a spasm pulsing through his frame—and has to fight to shove it down again. He bites his thin lower lip, but the gesture only makes him aware of the string of saliva dripping out.

“Yes, it hurts.” You’ve still got your hand between your legs and must look as much of a mess as he does. He can’t pretend not to know what you’re asking. “Please… help me,” you ask again, this time dropping your voice into a husky whisper. You lean into him, splaying your hands out on his chest, running them down the rippled bones and muscle beneath his white t-shirt. His hands place themselves instinctively around your hips.

“Do you have a boyfriend? A partner? I’ll h-help you find them.”

Would he really take you to someone you’d be more comfortable having sex with when he could have you for himself? It’s obvious how much he wants you—how much his body is screaming for you just like yours screams for his. 

You shake your head. “There’s no one else.”

“I… I can bring you to the hospital…” 

He trembles, his breathing is hard and fast, fanning in hot bursts across your neck. You get lost in the smell of him, the salty smell of his precum driving you wild. Your core twitches painfully again, but you’re so close to relief, you let yourself moan with it, and reach for the hard erection in his pants. The outline through the fabric is massive. Beyond massive. You shudder and stroke it greedily.

He draws in a sharp breath at the contact, and the warmth of him spreads out under your palm, spreading through your whole body. His muscles tense, still trying to fight it, but his cock pulses under your touch, betraying his desire.

“Let me feel it,” you beg, slipping your hand through the fly of the pants he was too distracted to zip back up. Your fingertips find it, hot and velvety, and hard as steel.

Even though he’s just as deep under the spell of the dust as you are, he manages to pull away again, another step back, trapping his back against the alley wall.  

“N-no, you don’t have to… to do this. I’ll take you to the hospital!” 

Not, I don’t want this, you note his phrasing. You don’t have to. How can he be flustered with this need overpowering his every sense? Your entire life is narrowed into a tunnel where all there is and all that matters is being fucked.

Without warning, he doubles over, coughing. Coughing up blood. A lot of it.

He wipes his mouth, grimacing, in obvious pain. A convulsion wracks his body, and he squeezes his thighs together, moaning.

You put your arms out—an honest, compassionate instinct to help him stay upright, but then you’re touching him again, and suddenly you’re pulling at his tall, scarecrow shoulders to bring his body close again. 

He’s so strained, blood trickling through grit teeth. Maybe coughing blood is a symptom of resisting the effects for too long. Your own lungs are starting to burn with such intense continual use. Why is he trying so hard to fight it? 

“Don’t want… a hospital. Just… fuck me. Please. I want you. So empty... it hurts. I need you to fill me… please,” you pant, desperate to convince him. To talk him out of his shy, moral rigidity.

He swallows, prominent Adam's apple bobbing in his thin neck. He's cute, too, a small, still-conscious voice says, though you barely notice through the pounding, driving urge between your legs. Your clit is so hot it burns, and your pussy is dripping, soaking through your panties so much it’s made a wet spot through your pants. You grind against his leg. It doesn’t give you any relief, but makes you want to fuck him even more desperately.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you...” He looks so sad, so protective when he says those words in his soft, deep voice. Then he cringes as another convulsion hits him, and his hips drive themselves into you as if acting on their own. He’s horrified. A wave of pleasure surges through you, leaving you a babbling mess.

You whimper, desperate for more. “I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me! Help me. I want it, I swear. I want you, please… please.” You're like an animal, mindlessly humping his thigh, grasping at his shirt. “I’ll find someone else if you won’t. Please, it’s the only way to make this stop!”

It’s too much. The urge was so strong even when he was alone, and your body is all over him, awakening things in him. 

You’re drugged! 

His cock won’t stop throbbing until it finds a warm body to fuck, and your pussy is grinding his thigh, inches away. Relief is so close. It’s unbearable. You’re so cute and helpless—

He shouldn’t!

—disheveled, begging for him to take you. You’re so lewd. It has been so long since he felt desirable, and here you are, begging like the sluttiest of his fans without even knowing who he is, without his power. Driving him wild. Every second like this is torture—his heart pounding so hard, his single lung can’t take it much longer. You want him… You want him as much as he wants you. Why was he refusing, again? All the reasons seem to fall away…

A dam within him breaks.

He lets out a long, shaking breath as if he had thrown open a valve shut off half a lifetime ago, and all the pressure repressed and denied was finally being released. He crumples around you, lanky arms closing around your back, his face burying into your neck with a sob. A line of teeth bite down on you hard enough to bruise. 

Your body responds, hips bucking into his, your nails digging into his back, as you scream out in pleasure and pain, “Yes!” 

He snarls into your skin, leaving a trail of bruises claiming the length of your neck.

“Fuck, I need this,” he growls between bites, sounding like a completely different person. Sounding starved. With the last pretense of control given up, he is a beast freed from its cage.

His hands slide under your shirt to roughly palm your breasts. You unclasp your bra, and he artlessly pushes it up out of the way, too hurried to remove it. 

“I want you so bad...” He kneads your breasts, pushing them together and rolling them apart, thumbs abusing your hard tits while his teeth sink into your shoulder. He is ravenous. 

Fuck, he feels so good. You can only helplessly cry out as your body spasms with warmth, pulses of electricity running down your back, your cunt dripping and clenching, but still so empty.

Your lips clash together, wet and eager, nearly missing his mouth as you part and smash together again, but you don’t care. His tongue sloppily reaches for yours, and you open for him eagerly, saliva mingling, his taste entering your mouth—coppery and sweet. This is right, your body tells you. He is just right.

Another torturous spasm rips through your body. This isn’t the time for foreplay. You already feel like someone has been eating you out for five days straight—it’s time to fuck him. You tug your pants and underwear down and let them hang around your calves, not bothering to take them all the way off. 

Now. You need him now. 

His cock is back out of his pants, slick with precum, and rubbing your entrance. It’s so huge, you wonder how it will ever fit inside you. You would never expect something with that much girth from a guy so narrow. How does he have enough blood to support this thing? 

Normally, you wouldn’t actually want a dick that big, but your sex-crazed brain starts drooling. You want to lick it from head to balls, to worship it. The size doesn’t intimidate you. All your muscles are loose and stretched and aching for something to fill them, and only his cock could fill you enough to satisfy this artificially-heightened need.

Rubbing the blunt, throbbing head over your opening, his intense eyes study the way your folds part and twitch around him, and the adorable way you struggle to open your legs wider with your ankles still shackled in your pants. 

“Look at you... fuck, you’re perfect.”

So small and cute. So breathless and needy and whining for him.

Before he pushes inside like every muscle in his body is urging him to do, he checks in with you one last time. His sharp blue eyes meet yours, and, sweating and trembling with the effort of holding back, he asks, “You’re sure?”

“Please!” you cry, voice cracking. You jerk your hips to help push the swollen head inside, gasping as you feel the pressure of it spreading your opening. 

He needs no more encouragement. 

Releasing control over his inflamed libido that took every ounce of his willpower to wrestle down, he thrusts sharply inside you. It knocks the air out of your lungs. A scream tears from your throat at the intense pleasure and discomfort of being finally, finally filled all at once by something so large. He grunts into your shoulder, large fingers digging into your skin as his body shudders and trembles. He pulls back out a little, and thrusts in again. 

You clutch at his shirt and his yellow hair, balling them in white-knuckled fists as you sob out, “Thank you. Th-thank you.” 

It’s almost too much pressure—almost. Your walls twitch and contract happily around the thick shaft. Satisfaction. This is what your body has been demanding. The pain stops, but the need urges you on stronger than ever.

It won’t let you go until you come.

After a few rough, choppy thrusts, he can’t get enough leverage standing facing you. He pulls out, and your entire body sets off alarm bells in protest, your hands clutch at him, trying to pull him back in. Empty! So empty! It hurts. The fevered look in his eye tells you he’s still as desperate for this as you are. Strong hands flip you around and bend you over the metal utility box, your ass in the air, presented to him.

“There you are,” he purrs.

He meant to enter you again right away, but the view triggers something voyeuristic in his brain. He grabs your whole pussy possessively, rubbing circles over your bare skin with his thumb, spreading your lips apart.

“Look at you. So beautiful.” His voice is thick and husky—drunk. His whole body shudders as you moan for him, pussy twitching around his thumb, hips writhing, whining for him to enter you. “You'll look so beautiful wrapped around my cock…”

Why is he looking at it? If you had any shame right now, you’d be dying of it, but your whole face is already flushed and sweating. Just put it in already!

A low chuckle. “Be patient.” Did you say that out loud? “Fuck, I want you… I need this,” he growls.

“Need it... need you…” you echo, drooling.

His warm chest leans over your back, soft bangs hanging down next to your cheek, his hot breath in your ear. “I deserve a reward, don’t I? Something for myself for once,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, barely audible even with his lips so close. His cockhead rubs against your drenched slit without pushing inside, the pressure of it maddening, teasing.

His muscles tense suddenly, and you brace yourself against the cold steel surface, fingers curling as he penetrates you from behind and sets a relentless pace.

The aphrodisiac already had you dripping and ready, so you feel deliciously split open and stuffed, and not torn by the sudden invasion. The friction and pressure drive you insane, mewling and whimpering as you reach between your legs to stoke your clit. The heat that’s been building up and pooling between your legs without getting any closer to relief is building toward a crescendo now that he’s inside you.

“More,” you whine, even though you’re already past your limit, “Give me everything!”

He starts thrusting wildly, uncontrolled, eager to obey you. His movements are unrestrained and so fast—inhumanly fast. “So good, you feel so good,” he praises, words hitched and slurring. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” A moment of hesitation breaks through the fog, “Am I hurting you?”

“Don’t stop,” you snap, “don’t you dare slow down!”

His sharp hip bones collide with your ass, leaving bruises with every hard thrust, his balls swinging against you, slapping your fingers working your clit, as he frantically jackhammers into you. He’s completely feral, head thrown back, not holding back his strength as he hits you so deep and hard you could break, but it’s exactly what your body wants right now—to be animals.

“Harder!” you urge, trying to jerk your hips up to meet his thrusts, and spread your legs farther apart—but your efforts weren’t enough. However hard he's going, you want even more. Deeper. You want him to rip you in half. 

Obeying, his bony hands grip the soft fat of your thighs, yanking you down onto his cock as he thrusts into you. You yelp as he hits something deep and sensitive, and your muscles quiver and melt with gratitude.

It could be minutes or hours that he has been pumping into you with forceful abandon, turning you into a sweaty, quaking mess, sobbing into your arm for his frail body and powerful cock. You’ve lost all sense of time, all sense of sense—of anything besides the sinful friction and being stuffed full to bursting. You may as well be stray cats rutting in the alley. The dark echoes with the steady percussion of flesh smacking into flesh, and a harmony of your own whimpering cries melding into his hard, ragged breathing.

“Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop! It’s so good,” you sing out for him. It must be the effect of the drug, but you have never felt so complete.

He growls low in return, “Mine, you’re mine.”

His arms cross around your chest and he leans his body over you, pressing himself closer and closer to you as his thrusts hit you deeper and longer. Beads of sweat drip from his body, wetting your clothes and your neck. His strong hands serve the dual purpose of holding you firm against him and grasping your breasts, roughly pinching the hard peaks, twisting and pulling. 

The sensation is overwhelming—jolts of pleasure ripping through you, shooting through your spine, winding you tighter and driving you closer to the crest. Your fingers work your clit faster until he forces them away with his own hand, taking over, abusing your sex with long, calloused fingers with the same reckless abandon as his fucking you. His erratic breath is humid against your ear. Something breaks inside him, and he starts grunting loudly with every wild buck of his hips like an unhinged beast. Every forceful thrust throws your body forward, thighs striking the edge of the metal container.

“More,” you urge. “More!” You’re so close. 

The muscles of his lower abs twitch and contract against your ass, and he bites you hard on the shoulder, bearing down until it draws blood. He lets out a helpless, unrestrained noise that is almost a roar and almost a sob as he empties himself into you, filling you up with so much hot seed you can feel the pressure of it inside you, his release trapped tight against your cervix by the nudging head of his thick cock stuffed as deep as possible. 

His fingers circle powerfully over your clit, and it drives you over the edge after him. Your hips jerk, riding his cock as he comes down from his climax, walls clenching around him, milking every drop from his twitching, overstimulated cock.

“Thank you,” you mutter, breathless and slurring, cum dripping down your thigh. “Thank you…”

It's over.

It's over.

Like a veil being lifted, your brain function returns to normal. The fog of lust evaporates and you're back to rational, non-horny you.

What. The fuck. Are you doing?

Oh my god.

An alley. You're in some filthy alley with a total stranger and no condom. Fuck. What the fuck. You're going to have so many diseases.

Your “partner” pulls out, and a flood of semen gushes out from between your legs. Oh, god. How is there so much? Does this guy have some kind of disorder, or is it the love dust’s effect? Either way, it's gross, and starts to feel chilly as cool air hits it and it runs down your thigh.

Purse.

That's right, you have a purse. It's somehow, by pure luck, still attached to your body. You rummage through it, pushing aside keys, and—oh, look, a condom. You roll your eyes. Where—aha, there it is! You knew you had a little pack of tissues. You wad up a few sheets and catch the copious glob of cum before it can run all the way down your leg and sully your pants.

“Uhhh, here,” you offer tersely, really not looking forward to making eye contact now that you’re remembering your actions through the eyes of a sober person. So embarrassing! He probably thinks you’re a slut. Worse—what if he’s some weirdo who thinks you’re his girlfriend now?

You hold out a few tissues so he can clean his sticky red cock, still impressively large even as it softens and begins to droop downward.

Why are you looking at his dick stop looking at his dick!

He doesn’t seem to notice you peeking. 

He’s struggling to catch his breath, bangs stringy and clinging to his face and neck with sweat. More than that, he’s vacantly staring at his hands like they might not be his own. Like he hopes they’re not. His eyes snap to the source of movement, and he tentatively takes the tissues you’re holding out to him. The action brings him back to reality somewhat. He blushes and turns his back to you, and gets to work wiping himself off.

Good. He’s not trying to talk to you or anything. He’s embarrassed too. That’s good.

When you’re both dressed and as decent as you’re going to look (though it’s impossible to hide that just-been-ravished glow), you turn to him, lips pressed tightly together. 

“Well, that’s that, I guess. Um. Are there any STDs I should know about?”

He jolts out of the quiet stupor he was in, face growing redder at the implication. “Oh! N-no.”

“OK, good. Me neither. Though we should both get tested again anyway.”

It’s unclear whether he processed that, eyes unfocused, only giving a slight nod. “Oh! Oh god!” He lurches backward against the wall, remembering something even more devastating. “We didn't... I didn't use—”

“I’m on the pill. No babies.”

His shoulders relax by a few millimeters, at least that weight off of them, but he's far from relieved.

“Alright, well…” you back away, making finger guns out of nervous, idiotic reflex, eager for this embarrassing scenario to be over with and forgotten. “Thanks for helping me out with… a medical emergency, let’s call it. Hopefully we never see each other again, and never think about what happened today. Ever again!” Yup, that’s about that. “Bye.”

He nods weakly as you walk away. The adorably oversized Adam’s apple bobs in his skinny neck as if he’s trying to say something, but only a small, choked noise comes out. He’s still too dazed to give any other acknowledgment.

No contact. No reminders. You did what you had to do, and that’s it. He agrees that this is for the best, right? At least he will once he… processes what happened.

You sigh.

Pausing at the mouth of the alley, you chance a look back. He’s slowly sliding down the stained wall, and coming to rest on the ground with his head between his knees. He looks devastated.

He isn’t processing, is he?

This is your fault, you know. He was trying to avoid people until you found him in his little hiding place. How many times did he offer to take you to the hospital, to tell you that you didn’t have to have sex with him? You could have fucked anyone else tonight, but you chose a sensitive old man.

You broke him. So, go fix him.

You lean back against the concrete wall beside him and lower yourself to the ground by his side. Eyes forward. You wrap your arms around the top of your knees, mimicking his pose. Your eyes flick to the side to observe him. 

“Hey. Are you OK?”

He doesn’t look up or acknowledge that he heard you, but a low, wavering voice emerges from his hidden face: “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I lost control. I took advantage of you. Violated you. I should turn myself in to the police…”

Despite how somber he sounds, you snort a laugh. “Is that what you’re so worried about? I asked you to, remember? I literally begged you.”

His hands clamp down over the back of his head, pulling at his messy yellow hair. “No. You were being controlled by a synthesized quirk. You had no way to consent, but I did it anyway.”

You wouldn’t have guessed he was such an anxious guy when he was pounding your insides into oblivion, or from the bruises you were going to be covered in by tomorrow. He’s falling apart. Well, you’re here, and there’s no way you’re going to let him beat himself up over this.

“By that logic, I’m as guilty as you. We were both hit with the same stuff, completely out of our minds. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have been able to resist,” he says firmly, voice rising. “I’m…” he makes a noise from his throat and trails off.

“Even heroes have trouble with this stuff—that’s why it’s, like, the cover of Villain’s Digest, you know? At least you tried, which is more than I can say.”

“I have to be better than that!” he snaps. What will the world do when it comes out that Japan’s number-one hero is a rapist? That even All Might was helpless against a simple aphrodisiac? He sets his jaw. “I was the one who ultimately went through with it. It was my fault. I failed to protect you.”

You rest the back of your head against the wall, letting out a long, pitying sigh. “Do you want me to punish you? Are you just going to keep saying it’s your fault until I agree? Because that’s not going to happen.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You don’t have to better than everyone else in the world, you know. I thought I’d be able to resist, too, but there’s a reason nobody ever does. That stuff rewires your priorities so you don’t want to resist. It… all felt really good in the moment…” You blush and suddenly look anywhere else. Why’d you say that last thing? “The point is… it was stupid to think I was somehow above the hundreds of people who’ve been victims before. So, stop holding yourself to some higher standard. If you want to blame someone, blame me. You… you should blame me.”

His head shoots up from his lap to lock eyes with you, his gaze protective and firm, horrified that you would feel at all culpable. “I don’t blame you.” Just as quickly, he looks away—down, to the side, anywhere else—hand gripping the back of his neck.

“Then why do think it’s your fau—oh my god, you’re married aren’t you?!”

Blood sprays from his mouth as he coughs and sputters denials. “I wasn’t cheating on anyone! I just… shouldn’t have.”

At this point, you’re more interested in the coughing-blood thing. Since the dust wore off, your breathing has gone back to normal, so it seems it wasn’t a side effect after all. Does he have Ebola? Can you catch Ebola from sex?

“Is that… something I should be worried about?”

He gapes in confusion before following your gestures to a blood stain on his shirt. “Ah! No, it isn’t contagious. It’s from an old injury…” 

He pulls up his shirt to show you a scar disfiguring the entire left side of his body. It’s not just marring the surface of his skin—it looks like a whole chunk of his chest was removed, with pink arms of surgically reconstructed flesh spiraling over his torso, as if the center of it were a black hole slowly pulling the rest of his body inside.

You forget to not stare.

He shakes his head and chuckles darkly, misinterpreting your stunned silence. “Of all the people you could have come to your senses with… must be disappointing to find yourself with a sickly old man.” He stops laughing. In a quiet but biting tone, he adds, “You must be disgusted.”

Maybe it’s a bad idea, considering how much trauma you’ve already caused him today, but you can’t help it. You lean against him and let your head rest on his shoulder. “I’m not. I’m glad it was someone sweet, and not some gross perv.”

A touch of warmth comes to your cheeks, feeling the pressure of his body against yours again. It’s comforting. You can only hope it’s comforting to him, too.

He doesn’t push you away, at least. 

“You shouldn’t have to try to cheer me up,” he sighs after a long pause. “It must be hard to be near me, after what I did.”

“It isn’t, really.” 

Strangely, that's true. You had wanted to get as far from him as possible and avoid any reminders of the humiliating act, but oddly, being close to him is nice.

“As far as I’m concerned, I was suffering, and you helped me. Have you read the articles about this stuff? Those symptoms only get worse the longer you don’t… you know.” Why are you blushing like a virgin to the guy whose dick you came on five minutes ago? His cum is still leaking out onto your panties. “I was in agony, so I’m glad we got it over with instead of spending days in the hospital. ‘Met the conditions of the quirk,’ as they say. It was the best possible option.”

“That’s a very practical way of looking at it.”

“What can I say, I’m a pragmatist!” you grin.

He nearly returns your smile out of reflex, but his face falls again. “But I wasn’t thinking about helping you… I was being completely selfish.” I enjoyed it. How could he tell you he enjoyed it?

“I don’t care.” You give a pointed look at his bony frame and flecks of blood clinging to his lips, and raise an eyebrow. “No offense, but I don't think you’d have lasted 48 hours under that kind of stress.”

He grumbles and lets out a sigh, but he doesn’t have any argument. You were probably right. There was no antidote but to wait, usually sedated. That would have been a long time to not be able to do any hero work. This was the best way… But not at your expense.

“I’m sorry, you were trying to leave earlier. You don’t have to stay any longer because you’re worried about me. I’ll be fine.” He smiles like the wounded soldier in a movie telling his brother-in-arms to leave him behind and finish the mission, while the violin soundtrack hits a dramatic crescendo in a minor key.

Should you take the opportunity to escape? 

Your plan was to get the drug out of your system with a stranger. Getting to know him any better will throw a wrench in that plan, but the thought of leaving his side makes your throat tighten. 

This guy… he’s sweet. He carries so much sorrow inside of him, you want to stay and help him with his burden. A primal instinct urges you to throw a blanket around him and feed him soup. He’s handsome, too. He doesn’t seem to think so, but you understand why your drug-soaked brain latched onto him over anyone else. Excessively tall, with sharp features, and electric eyes. If it had to be anyone, you made the right choice picking him.

You want to get to know him better. You want to learn everything about him.

“It’s OK,” you coo softly, like you were approaching an abused dog. “If you want me to go, I will. If it’s hard for you to be around me. But I’d rather stay with you for awhile.”

He looks up from his own lap at last. Two blue halos study you from within broken, dark-shadowed eyes, finally really seeing you. He looks like he’s about to cry, but does not. He glances down again, but tugs the corners of his mouth into the best effort of a smile he can manage, and this time, it doesn’t suggest he’s going to die in the next scene. “Thank you.”

You sit with him for awhile, talking. Reassuring him, while mentally kicking yourself for hurting the sweetest man on the planet.

“Yagi Toshinori,” he introduces himself. 

So much for staying strangers, you think, smiling as you tell him your name in return.

[hollandspiderling]

Shopping Challenge | Blurb Request | Tom Holland x You

“Hi, can you write a tom holland blurb about tom and reader doing the “buying everything my girlfriend touches” challenge with reader at expensive places and end up spending huge money and harry and sam are like “what are you doing, She will empty your bank account”? I don’t know if you are familiar with the challenge, but the girlfriend is blindfolded so she doesn’t know what she is touching and the boyfriend has to buy everything she touches.” - @photoshopart15

Here you go, lovely! I hope you like it haha I’ve seen different variations of this challenge but I’m hoping I gave it the justice it deserves! Thank you so much for reading and sending in a request! xoxo, Astrid  ❤

—-

“Baby, say hi to everyone!” you happily greeted Tom with a camera recording, skipping towards Harrison, Harry, and him who were walking in front of you.

The four of you ended up going to Rodeo Drive because someone had suggested that you and Tom do one of the viral couple challenges on Tik Tok. It was the summer and the boys had decided to spend their vacation with you along with all their other friends in the City of Angels. You and Tom met each other through Jacob at one of his parties when you were finally gaining momentum as a fashion and beauty Youtuber. You didn’t think that he’d know who you were, but surprised when he mentioned a couple of your videos. It was easy to say that things kicked off for you two and ended up planning a date by the end of the night, with the not so subtle help of Jacob. From there it was the blossoming of your budding relationship with Tom. Since he had just wrapped up filming for his upcoming movie, it was easy for him to spend long amounts of time with you in LA. Every now and then it’d be you who would take the time to fly out to London to spend some time with his close circle of friends and family. Then one day, one teeny little slip up on a live through social media was what exposed your relationship to the world. But thankfully, you guys were welcomed warmly. This was probably because him and the boys were regular faces on your vlogs and Jacob was also one of your best friends.

Now here you were, currently walking through the infamous area that is known for its luxury stores and focused on taking some shots for your B-roll. Harry was hovering behind you to help you get the perfect shots and gave you some tips that you didn’t know yet. Not far from you, Harrison and Tom were standing underneath a nearby awning. Tom was mindlessly playing with the blindfold you handed him when you guys got out of the car while Harrison snickered at the current state of his best friend and Harry could only shake his head.

“Oi, I can’t believe you really said yes to this challenge.”

Tom snapped out of his daze from admiring you and he rubbed his neck sheepishly, keeping his eyes on you.

“What can I say man? I can’t really say no to her.”

“But you had to choose Rodeo Drive? Mate, we could’ve just gone to Target for this.” Harrison incredulously laughed.

“I know, she even said it was okay to do that but…” Tom trailed off and shrugged with a love struck smile on his face.

“But what- no Thomas. Absolutely not. You are not going to be like this! The boys and I can’t lose you. You can’t be that whipped for her.”

Tom laughed as Harrison fake cried and tried to hug and kiss him. “You’re supposed to be only mine, Holland.”

“Well, too bad. Go cry me a river because Tom is mine, Haz.” You smirked as you recorded their small interaction then laughed when Harrison continued to be affectionate towards Tom.

Tom playfully pushed Harrison away from him and slung his arm over his best friend’s shoulders, focusing their attention on you to find out what was going to happen next. Handing the camera to Harry, he took on the role as the videographer for the day and you smiled at the boys.

“Alright babe, what are your rules and restrictions? I know you said it’s going to be okay, but what is okay for you?” You asked.

You watched as your boyfriend pursed his lips and you couldn’t help but feel warm inside. Tom was the type of boyfriend who would give you the entire world if he could. A part of you was worried of what the public would think, but it was Tom’s decision to bring you to Rodeo Drive for the challenge. He reassured you that everything is going to be okay and if he needed to, you guys could clarify things before the actual footage played. Then again, Tom also mentioned that it was better to ‘go big or go home.’ Mentally rolling your eyes at the memory, you bit your lip in anticipation for his rules.

“For this challenge, I’ll allow you to go into three stores of your choice. You have 5 minutes and whatever you touch, I’ll buy it for you.”

“I think five minutes could be too long, Tom.” Harry said in a sing-song voice.

“What are you doing, Thomas? Y/N’s going to empty your bank account.” Harrison jokingly said and poked the side of your stomach.

You stuck your tongue out in retaliation but sighed to yourself. Even you knew that Tom was going too lenient on you.

“Babe, I love you, but I think five minutes is too long too. I’d say two to three minutes depending on big the store is.”

“I think I can work with that, so what are your choices?”

Holding out your hand, he handed you the blindfold and you began to make your way towards the first shop: Balenciaga. You smirked to yourself as you heard the boys whistle and began to put on your blindfold while Harry went to make sure that it was okay to film in the store. Tom helped you secure the blindfold and Harry shouted the okay.

“Ready, love?” he murmured into your ear.

You nodded, excitement flowing throughout your body. Harrison announced that he got the timer ready and in a blink of a second, you were on the go. Tom was right by your side to help guide you as you grabbed whatever you could in the said time frame. The same thing went on for your other stores of choice: Louis Vuitton and Vera Wang. Once everything was finished, Tom made sure that everything you picked out was to your size and you guys went home.

Back at the boys’ apartment for the summer, you were glad to see that everything you chose ended up being in a singular bag from each store. Harry was back to filming and Tom set the three bags in front of you while Harrison prepared well-deserved cocktails for everyone. Your excited and happy chatter filled the air as the boys watched you react to what you blindly picked out.

“Do you like your picks?” Tom asked as he watched your reactions to what you pulled out.

You nodded happily and said, “I’m glad I managed to snag some things that I can frequently wear but also some day to day necessities and accessories that I needed for work.”

Harrison reappeared with the drinks as you neatly put everything back into the bags. You laughed as you noticed Tom take a longer sip than usual after everyone received their drinks.

“I’m sorry babe, I really am. But you were the one that insisted…” You said and he reassuringly rubbed your thigh.

“It’s okay babe, if you’d like, we can do a part two where I get to do it.”

You beamed and pecked his cheek. “I was just thinking that, and it could be a great way to even it out. But really, thank you so much for doing this. I would have been totally fine with going to Target, but you never fail to surprise me. I love you, Tommy.”

He lovingly kissed your forehead and said, “Anything for you sweetheart, you are my absolute world. I love you too, Y/N.”

“Uh excuse me, we’re still here y’know.” Harrison coughed while Harry cringed behind the camera. Everyone burst out laughing as you all continued to relax for the day.