#i’ll just go on a few dates with a rich old man

[tang3r1n]

life is getting too hard i’m looking at sugar baby websites.

[lilylovestowrite]

We all know that Aventurine's love language is definitely gift giving! So I would like to request aventurine spoiling his s/o with so much money and gifts. At first reader was thankful and also flustered with all of the gifts he provided for her, but later reader started to become annoyed cause he's been spoiling them too much, so one day they decided to text aventurine about this matter. They only just called his name and he already thought that they needed money so he sent the money. Reader was surprised at first but then got annoyed and decided to scold him in the chat (to which aventurine didn't take them seriously and even teases them, finding amusement with his lover's anger) make this a playful banter between the two and at the end, aventurine decided to meet up with them to pamper them, but this time, with affection ✨

MUST BE FUNNY, IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Aventurine x GN! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ You decide to confront your boyfriend over his overzealous spending habits. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I love Aventurine SO MUCH. I want to hold him and cherish him but I think he deserves to be thrown down a flight of stairs because he’s such a brat. I am so normal about this man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

‘I saw you eyeing this crystal swan the other day. When you and I get married, I’ll buy the whole store and decorate our venue with them if it’s to your liking- Kakavasha’

You are going to kill your boyfriend. 

You are going to kill your boyfriend over a Swarovski Swan on your bedside table. And thirty bottles of the same Dior perfume you wore once around him. And every piece of designer clothing he’s gifted you. And that one time he rented out a whole cruise ship just to play tag with you over a moonlit river. Well, perhaps not the last one. You liked the idea, the execution? A little overkill.

But this? Overkill can’t even begin to explain how much Aventurine has been spending on you recently. Just before you started dating, he would regularly spoil you with large bouquets of your favourite flowers and a few lovely pieces of jewellery. It was sweet at first: you remember blushing and hiding your flustered face behind your palm, only for him to kiss your hand and usher it away. “Stop, you look super cute when you’re flustered,” he’d say, but now, a deep pit of shame hollows the joy out of every gift he gives you. He gives, and gives, and spoils you, but what do you have to offer? 

You do appreciate his gestures, and it feels lovely to be kitted out in the finest gossamer, or the softest of silks. The aroma of expensive perfume smells less chemical-ly and manufactured compared to your old bottles. There isn’t a day that goes by where your flower vases in your house aren’t filled with high-end flowers. It’s affection, sure, but, you wish he didn’t feel as if your love is something to be bought. 

With Aventurine, you have to be careful with your communication. He may play off other people’s rude comments about his origin or his affiliation with the IPC. Other people’s opinions don’t matter. But you know how much he cherishes you, and you don’t fit into the bracket of ‘other people’. If you seem too dismissive of his efforts, you fear that he may feel rejected. Picturing his sad face drooping makes you only want to let him coddle you, but you can’t allow this to happen anymore. You ponder your text carefully, before hitting send. 

You: 

Kakavasha. 

Peacock <3: 

My love? 

Are you upset with me?

I’m so sorry, let me handle it. 

Oh, wow. That was a quick fix. You sigh in relief and put your phone down, allowing yourself to get more comfortable in the covers. Another ping erupts from your phone, and the notification nearly makes you turn around and sob. 

Peacock <3 has sent you 1,000,000 Credits

You: 

STOP SENDING ME MONEY

I’M NOT YOUR SUGAR BABY FFS 

So much for being ‘careful with your communication’, but 1,000,000 credits is insanity! Does he think he can buy you off? You sigh and watch the text bubbles load as he types. 

Peacock <3:

Darling, what do you mean?

I want to spoil you! 

And if I’ve done something wrong, I’ll make it up to you!

You:

Then. Maybe. ASK

‘What’s wrong?’

BEFORE SENDING ME A SHITLOAD OF CREDITS

Peacock <3:

What’s wrong, angel? 

You reread your messages and realise how aggressive you're coming off, so you decide to talk to him face to face. Surely, his suave tongue and pretty face won't distract you from the matter at hand. Right?

You:

Let’s call.

You have started a call with Peacock <3

“Kakavasha, stop sending me money!” You hiss the second he picks up the phone. It’s the early morning, and hues of liquid sunlight paint your lover’s skin in light gold. Streaks of light coming through the blinds of his window shine through his gorgeous eyes, turning them translucent like opalescent marble. Aventurine gives you a tiny lopsided grin, the same one that creeps onto his face when he’s plotting something, and you don’t like it one bit. “

“How else am I supposed to show my adoration for you?” His silken, honeyed voice echoes through the phone. You have to stop yourself from giggling at his lovely voice, the cadence rising and falling masterfully, all perfectly orchestrated to let you listen to him instead of arguing. 

But you don’t take the bait yet. 

“I don’t know, maybe spend time with me?” You reply, but you can’t conceal the blush on your face when you realise that he’s only just woken up. His light blond hair is tousled and one of the cat cakes stretches on his lap. Although Aventurine dresses to impress, it’s the domesticated, sweet mornings where he truly shines. 

“I do spend time with you. We went to see the Opera just three nights ago!”

“Without money being spent, Kakavasha. I want a simple, romantic date. No renting out hotels, no extravagant jewellery, and no mariachi band like that one time-” 

“In my defence, I was completely wasted-” He interjects, giggling softly at the memory of planning a lovely beach date after consuming wine like water, and then ordering a band on a whim.

“You were barely awake, I drew a moustache on you.” You muse. Watching Aventurine’s face morph into an angry pout, like a kitten, makes you emit an ugly laugh. 

“That was you?” He gasps, clutching his heart with faux sorrow. Dramatically falling back on his black pillow, his golden locks are spread. Aventurine’s half lidded gaze and light pink blush makes you want to crawl into bed next to him and trace patterns into his hands, and his lovely eyes would-

“Don’t distract me from the matter at hand! Please stop spending on me, sweetheart. I’m not saying I don’t like your love, I want it! Just not in such an excessively materialistic way, you know?” 

This comment breaks Aventurine’s suave attitude. He blinks at you through the camera, positively perplexed. His eyes are wide and shocked, resembling that of a deer tasting cardboard. “H-how else am I supposed to show my love for you?” 

“Well, how do I show my love for you?”

Aventurine’s eyes look up, trying to recall: “You hold my hands,” he lists one on his fingers,  “listen to me when I speak, you support me through hard times,” he smiles warmly at you, flashing a toothy grin that makes his nose scrunch up cutely, bring back pebbles that remind you of me…” A devious smirk makes its way into his face and you prepare yourself to interject: “and you bite my as-” 

“Enough!” You reprimand him, but your tone is soft. “See? I don’t buy things for you to feel loved. You’re much more than a bank, even if other people don’t make you feel that way.” Suddenly bashful, Kakavasha looks away from you. Perhaps unused to such affections, he hugs the cat cake on his lap closer to his chest. 

“I just want to give you the best of the best.” He replies defensively, and you sigh softly.

“You are the best of the best, Kakavasha.” 

“Then,” his voice cracks in an attempt to hide his shyness, “let’s meet up at your place. Let’s stay inside and watch a movie? I hear that’s a popular date idea.” 

“Perfect. My door is open, we can do face masks and-” The call is interrupted by one of the cat cakes jumping on his head, causing him to tumble off the bed and clutch onto the sheets for stability. Instead, his finger hits the end call button. You giggle softly. For all of his cocky displays, Aventurine, at his truest form, is just a little bit of a dork. 

Said dork knocks at your door, dressed in a lovely black dress shirt and his white pants. You suddenly feel a little self conscious, in your bunny slippers and oversized dress shirt. But the way he hugs you and lifts you off the ground slightly for a kiss, it makes you feel like a national treasure. You waddle your way onto the couch, still hugging, and collapse into the plush cushions.

“So, what movie are we feeling today?” Aventurine pulls a blanket over the two of you, and your eyes brighten with an idea. “The Great Gatsby?” 

“Mm, tragic ending. No. Let’s hold that thought.” He leans over and gently pries the remote out of your hand. “Instead,” he kisses your nose and pushes you into the couch a little more, “let me show you even more ways I can show my affection for you.” He whispers, and captures your lips for a deep kiss…

[martiansodas-blog]

Hi! I was just reading your art donaldson head cannons and when I read this part specifically:

♡ wouldn’t mind having a slightly younger partner. he’d like teaching them things and it’d boost his ego a little bit. you two would tease each other about your age all the time.

I immediately new I had to request a one shot ( I think thats what they’re re called ) of them actually teasing each other maybe a bit nswf but yeah so if you could make one 🙏🥹

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

“you keep me young.”

“and you gave me my first gray hair, can we go now??”

art liked to imagine you old with all gray hair and fine lines. him standing right by your side.

but he’s getting ahead of himself.

“ya know speaking of hair, you should let me use my curly products on you!”

“you don’t think i’ve outgrown that?”

“are you kidding? it would look so good on you now! i’ve only seen pictures of you with a mop on your head i want to experience it first hand.”

he rolled his eyes but the crinkles around them brought by your cheekiness was prevalent. he can’t hide anything around you.

“alright. you’ve convinced me.”

the two of you were chatting in a local coffee shop. there are a dozen cafes closer but you love this one. and art loves whatever you love. it has personality. they make their syrups from scratch and have a little patio for when it’s sunny.

the man was already convinced you were an angel, but the sun behind you giving you a halo was icing on top.

art drowned in your beauty.

the kind of beauty that made everyone else in the room look bad.

the kind that made you create a whole album in your phones photo app.

he made sure you knew just how stunning you were.

but your beauty was also the least interesting thing about you.

“thanks for taking me here.”

“of course. we really don’t come here as often as we should.”

“it’s out of the way. i’d feel bad if you had to fill up your car AND pay for my meal.”

you said it jokingly but it’s easy to feel guilty that about art spoiling you to the extent that he does. you didn’t have much to give in return.

art takes your smaller hand in his and plays with your fingers. the next time he speaks it’s quieter, and with fervor.

“you are a gift, my gift. you were sent to me.”

he looks into your eyes.

“everything i get to do for you is a joy, ok?”

art wasn’t raised religious, frankly he thinks most of them are bullshit. he never thought about believed in fate.

until you.

it took some getting used to- being appreciated on this level.

boys your age could never worship you the way art does.

you were younger than art, yes. but he wasn’t attracted to you because you were mailable. he was attracted to you because you were brilliant. you were passionate, funny, and if you disagreed with someone you stood your ground. you brought a fresher perspective to his life.

with that being said, he still wants to protect you from the big bad world.

you can defend yourself in every sense of the word, but why would you need to when you have a rich experienced man by your side? there’s a lot of people out there who don’t have the best intentions. especially with a girl in her twenties. that’s where art comes in.

he decides that you still need some convincing even after today's date, so he keeps you in his master bedroom for a few hours.

he wants to rewire your brain and ruin anyone else for you.

“you don't get it, do you? when i said i liked you, it wasn't just skin deep. ive got some bad intentions. i wanna take every inch of you and make it mine; i want you to breathe for me, eat for me, i want all of your orgasms to be because of me.”

the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you

[urrockstar-xe]

bad friend - j.m x fem!reader

posted may 2nd, 2023, 5:19 pm

anon asked: Hello!! Can I request a JJ Maybank x Fem!reader where they are dating with prompt 8. “You know you’re my favorite right?” “I better be” Maybe reader gets into a fight with John B. JJ doesnt really know which side to choose, (between best friend and girlfriend), and reader gets mad/hurt/offended whatever and walks away and JJ follows her

note from xe: strayed a little but I hope you still enjoy it! also this has no actual scene from obx involved I just kind of went with it and sry that jb is kind of a dick.

masterlist

wordcount: 0.6k

“You know what John B? At this point, I don’t give a flying fuck about the gold, I don’t care about being kook rich, I don’t care about Rafe not being in prison and I don’t care about these stupid fucking treasure hunts!” 

Your yelling was warranted, John B had been giving you shit all day about how you just don’t seem to care enough like everyone else. And he was right, because “The gold ruined my fucking life! I have nothing! Nothing John B! This is all I have, this group of people right there is It for me” 

John B scoffed, earning a glare from Kiara as he still wasn’t listening to you. “You know what I think, Y/n? I think that if you really felt that way, you’d care more, right now you’re just being a bad friend” 

“Hey, man-” Pope tried speaking up but you lifted your hand telling him to stop. JJ hadn’t moved from his spot by the railing, and Sarah and Kie were already seated in the boat you were supposed to leave on. 

Sick of fighting for a right to have feelings you began walking away, quietly speaking as you left “Fuck you, Jb.” 

John B rolled his eyes, dropping it and going to the boat. Pope sighed. “Are we gonna at least wait for her?” “Pope, do you want a chance to get to this cross or not?” 

JJ watched as Pope and John B got into the boat with the girls, before looking back in the direction you had just walked in. “Hey, you guys go ahead, we’ll catch up.” 

“JJ, what do you mean-” “Just go without me I’ll meet you guys later!” and with that, he was off. Following the trail, you had just taken. 

It didn’t take him long to catch up with you, it never did. “Hey there, pretty lady,” He said, coming up behind you. You turned to face the boy, now leaning against a similar railing to the one JJ had just been leaning on a few moments prior. 

He smiled at you, not expecting one back but getting a small one in return. “They leave?” you asked softly, your eyes not leaving JJ as he moved to stand beside you. “Yeah,” “without you?” “I’m sure they’ll make do,” JJ joked, nudging you slightly.

You moved your gaze to the floor, wondering what to say next but speaking before figuring it out. “You understand right? Why I’m exhausted? Why I can't keep doing this but do it anyway?” JJ began nodding along but you continued before he could verbally respond. 

“Like why it’d be hard, that doesn’t make me a bad friend, right? I do everything for you guys. I hope he realizes that I hope they all do. I hope you do” As you finished, you looked back up at your boyfriend, seeing the soft look on his face.  

Suddenly JJ threw his arm around your shoulders, grinning at you. You caught the vibe he was throwing your way, he was trying to lighten the mood. You helped, taking the old baseball cap off his head and putting it on your own, smiling at his hat hair.

“You know you’re my favorite right? Like even Pope can’t compete” You scoffed lightheartedly, “Yeah, I better be”

JJ fixed his hair before he stood in front of you, slowly walking backward as he spoke, “Wanna go back to the chateau? Think there’s some beer left in that cooler” You were already following his lead, “It’s probably warm” he shrugged in response, “so we’ll drink it warm”

“What about the cross?” “If they need our help they can just, I don’t know, yell super loud,” You laughed at this, and laughed some more when JJ fist-bumped the air before turning to walk properly and putting his arm around you. 

“So steal John B’s beer?” “Steal John B’s beer”

[axelsagewrites]

Daemon Targaryen*Shopping

Sugar Baby Series Part Three

Part one - Part two

Pairings: Daemon x f!reader

Other pairings: reader x platonic Jace/Cregan/Sara/Aly/Aemond, Jace x Sara Snow

Warnings: creepy Aegon, Aemond having bad parents (Aemond redemption arc anyone??), general confrontation, swears, mentions of sex but nothing graphic, innuendos

Word count: 3390

Masterlist Here

“Remind me why we have to go to work when your sugar daddies already paid our bills for the next like six months?” Sara asked after you had both just sprinted to catch the bus.

You rolled your eyes as you stood on the bustling city bus filled with stoners and depressed office workers, “When did it become our money?” you asked. By this point you had gone on several more dates with Daemon. All to fancy restaurants and lunch spots.

He’d also began to send outfits to your house for each, making sure they were sent in discreet packaging still not trusting your neighbours. Gucci belts, Louis Vuitton heels, Chanel dress, Prada bags. Each date got a new outfit, hand picked by a stylist he had hired for you. each date also got an envelope discreetly passed to you as he kissed you goodnight. These goodbye kisses may have started out slow, but one time Sara had genuinely wondered if you were having sex on the doorway with how long it was taking. The best part? You didn’t have to pick up as many shifts so for once you felt you could relax. Sadly though, you still kept working despite it all.

Sara wrapped her arm around yours, partly to try keep steady on the bumpy roads as she held onto a handrail, “I’m your sugar baby now,” she said as she leaned into you making you laugh, “How many dates till you can get a car? Oh! Try get his Benz!” She chirped as an old lady a foot away glared at her. sara just glared back.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I’ll see what I can do. Still waiting on him texting me the next date,”

“Make it soon,” she groaned. The rest of the bus journey was mostly uneventful apart from the lady sara had developed a silent beef with. Luckily, she got off before you. the restaurant wasn’t supposed to be too busy tonight however that didn’t make it safe from a Targaryen invasion.

Aly smiled unnaturally wide as you and Sara walked in, arms linked laughing. “Hey guys,” she said, drawing out the words with the biggest smile. She may be a server and a host, but she was a horrible liar. “How are you?” she asked.

Your stomach felt hollow as you realised, “Oh god not again,”

Aly told you both how Aegon had practically skipped down a few months ago when he graduated business school and now that Alicent had tracked him down and dragged him back she, her father, husband and eldest son were now due in for dinner to celebrate. “It is so not my turn, nuh uh no way,”

“Don’t worry its Cregan’s turn,” Aly said as she looked over the reservation, “I gave you the good section tonight, remember me when you marry rich,” she said, smiling as she leant on the host stand.

“You bitch,” you said as you smacked Saras arm, “How many people did you tell?”

“Ow!” Sara whined as she hit you back. “It wasn’t me gold digger,” she said as she swapped placed with Aly to take over as host, “Bet you it was Cregan,”

You rolled your eyes when Aly told you that basically everyone knew, “What about Aemond?” you asked as you tied your apron on, “Speaking of where the hell is he?”

“He’s tots freaking out about his mum coming in with Aegon and is going all perfectionist on the layout,” Aly said as she picked up her bags, “Mans been driving me up the wall. But he doesn’t know. we’re not that cruel besides he barely talks to us now,”

How is he not lonely you wondered. Before you could even protest Aly beelined for the door and you heard a loud huff, “No loitering!” Aemond puffed out his chest as he practically dragged you to the server stand, Sara giving a sorry wave as you went, “Everything needs to be perfect today, my mothers been on my case about this place and she needs to see that im still the better son so you better bring you’re a game-“

Wait a minute. “What?” you said as you stopped in the middle of the floor. There were only three tables in right now and four servers, but Aemond still walked right up to you to ask what’s wrong, “I had her last time?”

“And?” he asked, crossing his arms, “Why can’t you serve her this time? she likes you,”

You couldn’t help but snort, “Aem we used to be friends, remember?” you asked, touching his shoulder, “Remember our walk-in conversation?” you asked with raised brows. One-night Aemond practically had a breakdown his first month on the job because his mother had come in and was tormenting the staff all night, “We both know she’s a nightmare,”

“C’mon she’s my mom,” he sighed as he finished dragging you to the host stand, “Do me a favour. Since we used to be friends,” he said, rolling his eyes when he said used to, “Though I thought we still were,” he muttered and for a second you almost felt bad, “Just do your job its not that hard,” then he opened his mouth again.

“Whatevs Aemond,” you said as you logged into the tablet, “Don’t you have a rota to fuck up?” before he could protest a chef came out to drag him into the kitchen to complain about the latest food order. You knew better than to back talk Aemond but the nearly $7 in your cookie tin at home was putting a pep in your step.

Hearing that Alicent liked you was the only thing that worried you. daemon had been in a couple times since your arrangement had started and each time, he gave you a sly smirk or a wink. Whenever there was no Hightower in sight, he would request your section but even still she seemed to be catching on to some kind of tension.

When you arrived at their table to take their order you were met with the confused eyes of Aegon Targaryen, “(Y/N)?” he asked, tilting his head when he saw you before he suddenly stood up, “Long time no see,” he said and before you could say anything or even move he’d wrapped his arms around you for a brief, but very touchy hug. “How’ve you been doll?”

That name was exclusively reserved in your mind for daemon so when Aegon said it you quickly pulled him off of you with a smile, “I’m good Mr Targaryen, can I get you a drink?” you said as you showed him back to his seat. Alicent was muttering something under her breath, eyes glaring daggers into the table, “Can I get you anything ma’am?”

“Water for the table and- “

“Plenty of lemons? Of course, ma’am,” you said, cutting her off and trying not to smirk. No matter what Alicent knew, there was something she did not know. daemon had already given you all the dirt on her. he had told you every crumb of his family drama and for once you felt like you had the upper hand. “Anything for our regulars,” you smiled as you jotted down on your notepad.

Viserys seemed extremely pleased that you had recognised their frequent visits but Alicent and Otto both looked mortified. When it was finally time to take their orders, Otto spoke up first, “I’ll have a medium rare steak with no pink and not burnt either hear me? I swear your kitchen people can’t cook steak to save their life,” he muttered.

Then order something else. You wanted to scream. The whole night went like that. Alicent’s petty requests and Aegon’s creepy stares. Even Aemond had asked if you were okay at one point. You’d snuck off to the kitchen to send a quick rant text to daemon, asking how he could be related to these sorts of people.

Otto had sent back his steak for the third time, everyone else on desert as he waited. “Medium rare no pink,” you said, trying your best to smile as you sat down his impossible order. “Enjoy,”

“Wait,” he said as he picked up his cutlery, “I want to make sure its right before you run off again,” you nodded and waited as he cut into the meat, excruciatingly slow, “Again!” he yelled as he slammed the cutlery down, making even Alicent jump, “Look at all this blood! He said as he picked up the plate only to clatter it back onto the table, “Does that look medium rare to you?” he asked, pointing the steak knife at you.

“Yes,” you said blankly, ignoring the vein that almost bulged out of his forehead, “Do not yell at me sir,”

“Excuse me?” Otto yelled as he stood up, dropping his knife onto the table, “I never- I come here all the time and- Aemond!” he yelled across to the boy who was trying to hide behind a bar tender, “Talk to your staff this is ridiculous,”

Aemond practically ran over as he tried to defuse his grandfather, begging him to sit down at the same time. “She’s sorry, aren’t you?” Aemond asked as he grabbed your arm, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You briefly glanced at Sara who was watching this whole thing from the host stand and Cregan who had just walked in for his shift. You turned back to the group, looking at Alicent first, glancing over to the sulking Viserys and Aegon who had finally grown some humility, then finally the grown man yelling like a child. “I’m sorry you never learned how to order a steak,” you said slowly, ignoring how Aemond tried to pull you away and shaking him off, “Learn how to order a steak and find some manners,”

Before Otto could speak you continued, turning to face Aemond who looked on the brink of tears, “I quit, you can have my tables and as for yous- “you said turning to face the table. Aegon’s jaw went slack as he stared at you in amazement while Viserys looked at his wife, fear radiating off of him. Alicent however looked shocked, angry, and embarrassed all at once, “Have a pleasant fucking day, see ya,”

With that you stormed out to the host stand, not even bothering to clock out or put your tips in the tip out jar and grabbed your jacket from the rack. You glanced back to see Alicent and Otto screaming at Aemond, pointing at you with flailing arms. “I quit,” you told the shocked siblings, “And I think I might have accidentally got Aemond killed. Good luck,”

“You’re my hero,” Cregan said, his eyes wide with awe like a child.

“I’ve never been so proud,” Sara said before glancing back to where Alicent and Otto were now storming over, “but you need to go. Like now. Run if you can,”

You didn’t wait another second before almost running out the restaurant however as you reached the street you felt yourself smack into someone’s chest. “Doll?” a deep voice came from the man. You looked up to see Daemon, still in his work clothes and looking down at you with worry and shock, “Are you okay?”

“We need to go,” you said as you grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the car he had just got out of, “I’ll explain in the car just go, go!” you said as you jumped in the back seat.

“To my house please,” Daemon told his very shocked looking driver, “What happened doll?” he asked as he shut the door.

You looked past him to where a bewildered otto looked around the street shocked, “I think I may have upset your sister-in-law,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I guess you got my text?”

Daemon looked back from otto to you, eyebrows scrunched and jaw hanging open, “I was coming over to yell at them but looks like you beat me to it,”

When you retold your glorious tale to Daemon, he listened in silence like he was reading the tensest book of his life. When you finished your tale, you feared for a moment that he looked almost disappointed in you. then a smirk spread across his face. “I’ve never been prouder of you doll face. Eryk change of plans we need to go dress shopping. Celebrations are in order,”

You had never been shopping with daemon, but you could easily get used to it. he whisked you past all the shops you used to frequent and straight to the nearest boutique. He sat patiently, sipping champagne as a shopping assistant helped you find and try on dresses to show him.

Daemons eyes raked up and down your figure when you stepped out the changing room for the fifth time. Daemon stood up slowly from the chair, stepping towards you and silently taking your hand to slowly spin you around, “Like it?” you giggled as his eyes finally tore away from your figure to your eyes. It was a dark purple, satin evening dress that hugged you perfectly and felt as silky as a waterfall.

“Fucking love, it,” he mumbled as he stepped in closer, placing a soft kiss to your lips, “You’re getting it,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much for tonight?” you asked, stepping back with a laugh to look in the mirror. It was beautiful, you had to admit, but you had also seen the price tag.

“We’ll get another for tonight,” Daemon said as he moved back to pour you your own glass of champagne, “and that can be for the gala,”

“The gala?” you asked, finally turning back to him.

Daemon rolled his eyes as he gulped his champagne down, “It’s a family thing,” he drawled as he returned to his chair, “it will be painfully dull im afraid but suppose it will be far more enjoyable with you on my arm,”

Even still after all this time you couldn’t help your flush, “We’ll see,” you grinned as you looked at the dress, “You sure it’s not too expensive?”

“Nothings too much for my princess,” he said before waving down the store woman who was hanging around like a hawk, “Can we see her in that dark red number I saw in the window?”

“Of course, sir, just one moment,”

After another three dresses you had finally settled on one for tonight. It was a silk black dress, simpler than the rest but still to die for. When you told daemon it was the one, he nodded, kissing your cheek before waving the lady back over, “Hi we’ll take this one now along with the dark red, white, and lilac dresses from before. then as for that purple dress do yous do custom sizing?”

“Of course, sir,” the woman said, practically drooling over the commission, “I can measure her right now if you’d like,”

Daemon nodded and the woman quickly fetched the measuring tape, wasting no time in grabbing your arm to start writing the numbers down, “We need it for the sixth, will that work?”

“I’ll have it done by the first,”

when you were stood at the till beside daemon you were almost sick at the prices, “Daemon you really don’t have to,” you said, gently holding his arm as the sale girl glared at you.

“Nonsense,” Daemon said as he kissed the top of your head and swiped his card like it was second nature, “Besides we haven’t even hit the jewellers yet,”

By the time you had left the mall Daemon had spent the equivalent of a small house on your outfit for tonight with a few surprise dresses. Since you still had to get ready, and it was only five daemon was going to drop you at your house before picking you up again at six. “Where do you want to eat tonight darling?” he asked as he held your thigh in the car, his thumb stroking over your skin, “Anywhere you want,”

“Why don’t we eat in?” you offered, trying to think of anyway to save him some money after the massive shopping spree you had just been on.

Daemon looked surprised before quickly nodding, “Its short notice but im sure Olivia will be able to swing bye and rustle us something- “

“I meant like,” you said, cutting him off, “Why don’t I cook for us? It would be cute, just us,” you said, as you nudged his foot with your own, “intimate even,”

“I think I like the sounds of that,” Daemon said lowly through hooded eyes, the sight alone making your heart race. Luckily, or maybe not so lucky, you were just pulling up to your street. daemon glanced out the window, “lets do it at mine though,” he said.

You laughed at his scepticism as you grabbed the bags of dresses, “Whatever makes you happy,”

“That’d be you doll,” he said, letting go of your thigh before quickly stepping out of the car. As you waited for him to open your door, something he had insisted on doing since you started your arrangement, you were able to collect yourself.

Daemon opened the door for you and helped you carry your bags upstairs, even saying hello to Robb as he left the building. You knew sara would be home by now since you knew she only had a short shift today so you wondered how long she would squeal for when she saw the necklace daemon had bought you. when you finally reached your door daemon paused for a moment, “Im afraid I’ve not got any cash love,” he said as he handed you your bags.

You hummed in fake thought, “I suppose I can take a kiss as payment,”

Daemon chuckled as he leaned down, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for a brief but intense kiss, “See you in an hour doll,” he mumbled as he broke the kiss.

“Wish it was then,” you said, opening the door and giving him a small smirk as you stepped backwards into the flat, trying your best to seem seductive.

Weird, you thought, sara wasn’t in the living room. You sat the bags down on the couch before walking towards saras room. She can nap later, you thought. “Sara!” you called, hand on her door handle, “You will never believe what Daemon got-JACE WHAT THE FUCK!” you practically screamed as you opened the door.

Jace scrambled so quickly to cover them both that he fell off the bed, dragging the covers with him. You slapped a hand over your eyes as the pair both scrambled to get under the covers. When you finally looked through your fingers, they both looked mortified. “You said you didn’t like him!” you almost yelled at Sara.

“Yeah, well I lied, okay?!” she yelled back.

“Should I go?” Jace asked, reaching for his shirt.

“No,”

“Yes,”

“Dude!” Sara yelled.

“Dude! I need you to help me get ready,” you said, moving to sit on her bed. Sara was unfazed by how close you were, but Jace seemed to clutch the covers tighter, “Also I need to cook for daemon,”

“You’re a terrible cook,”

“Im not that bad,”

“You burnt water,” she said, glaring at you, “Ugh fine I’ll help,” she said as she moved to grab a shirt before turning back to Jace, “This was amazing babe. Just give me half an hour, an hour tops, and I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, kissing him softly making you fake gag.

A love smitten smile fell over Jaces face as he looked at sara who quickly got dressed. “Okay,” he said like he was in a dream before falling back to lay down.

When you walked into the living room with sara you paused for a moment, “If you break his heart- “you began to talk before sara shushed you.

“I do actually like him,” she sighed, “I caught feelings, I know its weird. But he’s so cute,”

“At least I won’t be alone at the gala,” you said making Sara raise an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you all about it while you do my hair,”

Sara sighed as she shoved you down onto the chair, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this gala?”

If you don't want to read smut you can skip the smut part without the series plot being affected

Part four smut edition here

a/n: so this is offically gonna be a 5 part series now. part 4 will be up tommorow then part 5 a couple days after that so dont worry its almost here i swear i promise

Part four non smut here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress @themotherofblood @avalyaaa

[praetorqueenreyna]

counterintelligence, Nesta/Eris, Eris Week Day 6: Modern AU

Please enjoy, this is just a goofy light-hearted fake dating modern AU. There is lots of Cassian slander tho.

@erisweek2023

Read here on AO3!!

”I need a favor.”

Eris stared at the text message in disbelief. It had come through several minutes ago, and he was no closer to puzzling out what it meant. Sure, people often asked him for favors. He was smart and rich and good at problem-solving. But those people were not usually Nesta Archeron.

After running through several dozen scenarios in his head, he finally texted her back.

”What?”

A nanosecond after the text registered as being delivered, the phone began to ring in his hand. “Nesta Archeron” flashed on the screen. Bemused, he answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Nesta got right down to business. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for Elain’s wedding.”

It took a lot to truly surprise Eris, but that certainly did it. “I’m sorry, what?”

A huff of frustration, as if he were the one being vague and irritating. “Cassian and I broke up a month ago.”

Another surprise. A good one, if he was being honest. Eris had always fucking hated Cassian. They had grown up in the same social circles; Cassian had weaseled into Rhysand's friend group when they were children, and their families had been in the same industry for decades. Cassian maintained that Eris was a classist who disliked Cassian because he was poor. That wasn’t strictly true: Eris disliked Cassian because he was an asshole. But he had found that Cassian was sensitive about his class status, and so it was something Eris often mocked him for.

When he had met Nesta, he had had no idea what she had seen in Cassian. She was intelligent and biting, and he was a 20-something year old man that still acted like a college frat guy. Somehow they had managed to stay together for two years without either of them murdering each other.

“He’s the best man, and I’m the maid of honor,” Nesta continued. “And he’s bringing fucking Mor. I’d rather eat glass than go to this wedding by myself.”

Ah, Morrigan. Both Eris and Cassian had dated her briefly in the past, but only one of them had ever moved on. Whenever Eris saw the whole group together, he could sense the tension between Nesta and Mor from across the room. Christ. He wasn’t one who felt a lot of sympathy for others, but wow, Nesta had been royally screwed.

“That’s shitty, I’ll admit. What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Eris. Cassian hates you. He’ll be furious when he sees you there. And I know you hate him too. You can’t tell me you don’t want to piss him off. I’ll even let you be the one to tell him we’re together.”

The offer was too good to refuse. There was almost nothing Eris would love nothing more than to look in Cassian’s big stupid face and tell him that he was with his ex. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Perfect. The wedding is in three days. Text me your address, I’ll pick you up at two.” With that, Nesta hung up on him. Eris stared at the dead phone in his hands, still trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Eris didn’t hear from Nesta for the rest of the week. He texted her once, to ask for the color of her dress so that he could buy a matching tie and pocket square. She sent him a close up of a patch of fabric that was dusty rose in color.

The day of the wedding arrived and Eris was weirdly nervous. Quite frankly, he didn’t know Nesta very well. He had met her a few times, and flirted with her to piss off Cassian. And now they were about to spend several hours together pretending to be dating. He forced himself to sit and read all morning, knowing that if he started getting ready he would spend several hours fidgeting in his suit and messing with his hair.

His doorbell rang at two on the dot. He opened the door to reveal Nesta, looking even more beautiful than he had remembered. Her hair was bound in an intricate crown of braids, and her mauve dress flowed loosely around her body, both hiding and revealing creamy skin in equal measure. He once again marveled that an oaf like Cassian had managed to keep her for more than fifteen minutes. She scanned him from head to toe, mouth pursed. “Hmm.”

“Is there a problem?” Eris asked, slightly offended. In his own unbiased opinion, he looked very dashing. His suit was immaculate; not a speck of dog hair marred the charcoal gray. He had found a tie that perfectly matched Nesta’s dress, and his shoes had been polished so they shone.

“It’s nothing.” Nesta turned away, clearly expecting Eris to follow her. He debated calling the whole thing off and slamming the door. But Nesta turned back, one hand on her car door, and Eris put together a dozen tiny details that he had missed when she was right in his face. Her mascara was smudged and her eyes were tinged red. The patch of fabric over her thigh was wrinkled from her twisting her hand into it. There was a semicircle of half-moon imprints on her left arm, as if she had dug the nails of her right hand into the flesh. Nesta was anxious and miserable and furious, all in one. And she had signed herself up to pretend to like him for several hours, which wasn’t going to make her feel much better.

Without a word, Eris slid into the passenger seat of her car.

“We reconnected two weeks ago. You came into my work, we started talking, and I gave you my number. We started dating a few days after that.” Nesta regaled him with their romantic history as she drove. Her eyes were glued to the road in front of her. The clipped, analytical tone actually put Eris more at ease. He could handle this. He was good at negotiations.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a bartender at Rita’s.”

“Really?” Eris couldn’t hide his surprise. Nesta did not seem like someone well-equipped for customer service. Especially not when the customers were drunk and horny.

“Yes, really,” she snapped. “I’m in law school, and I needed a job that let me work nights, after classes.”

Once again, Eris was both impressed by Nesta and confused that she had been with Cassian for so long. How the fuck had that neanderthal captured her attention?

“Okay, that works. I’ve gone to Rita’s a few times.”

“I have a cat named Darcy. Elain got me into stupid reality TV shows and we watch the Bachelor together every year. I can cook, but I hate it, so we mostly eat out at the Thai place down the street.” Nesta’s cheeks pinkened, flustered over having to share even the most nonsensical details about her personal life. “That should be enough to get you through this wedding.”

She paused. Eris realized she was waiting for him to to return the favor, telling her just enough to get them through the reception without giving the game away. “I have four dogs. I still like going to the theaters to see new movies. I used to smoke, but I’m trying to quit.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the social media manager for my dad’s company.”

“What?” Nesta laughed, caught off guard. The corners of her eyes crinkled. Eris noticed for the first time that one of her front teeth was chipped. “Bullshit.”

Eris smiled despite himself. “I’m serious. I do all the brand awareness and brand imaging, but nowadays that’s mostly just social media. I try to convince the public that the company isn’t an evil corporation.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Nesta laughed again. Eris could see himself becoming addicted to the sound. “Noted.”

The remainder of the drive passed quickly. They shared personal details back and forth, but with ease and warmth. It felt less like they were preparing each other for a trial and more that they were just getting to know each other. It was very much like a first date, if Eris were being honest.

Whatever camaraderie they had built up dissipated when Nesta pulled up in front of the wedding venue. He could practically see the steel wall shutting down, cutting her off from any potential heartbreak. “Are you ready?” she asked, cold and clipped. Without waiting for an answer, she got out of the car, barely waiting for him to follow her lead before she locked it and strode away.

Elain and Azriel were getting married in a cutesy old church, chosen more for its aesthetic than for any religious affiliation. The wedding was small; only a few dozen people were milling around the foyer, waiting for the ceremony to begin. It made it extremely easy to pick out Cassian, who was already glaring at them with his upper lip curled into a snarl. Eris maintained eye contact as he wrapped one arm around Nesta’s waist, his own expression carefully schooled in its usual smooth confidence. Nesta tensed under his touch, but when she caught Cassian staring she relaxed, pressing herself against Eris’s side. He delighted at the fury that flashed in Cassian’s eyes. Just as he was contemplating the pros and cons of kissing Nesta in front of him, a call went out that the wedding was about to begin, and would everybody please take their seats. With a cheeky wave to his glowering adversary, Eris followed Nesta into the main hall.

As soon as they entered the nave, Nesta was swept away with the rest of the bridal party, presumably to some staging area so they could prepare to walk down the aisle. Eris scanned the crowd, hoping for at least one person who didn’t hate him that he could sit with. He settled on his youngest brother, who was sitting near the back with his boyfriend, Tamlin. Eris settled next to Lucien, who visibly jumped at his appearance.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien asked. “Did I see you coming in with Nesta?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.” The familiar beginning notes of “Here Comes The Bride” resonated through the hall, forestalling any more questions. A procession began making its way down the center aisle. Eris could pick out a few people that he recognized, such as Feyre, Rhysand, and Mor. The maid of honor and best man walked down side by side. Both Nesta and Cassian were making an attempt to pretend everything was fine, but the resentment between them followed them like a dark cloud. It was a visible relief when they separated at the altar. Azriel was next, dashing as ever in his tailored suit. Last was the bride herself, accompanied by her father. Elain moved slowly, both for the benefit of the photographer and to make sure that her father, with his injured leg, could keep up.

The ceremony was fine. It was short, which Eris deeply appreciated. A lot of people were crying by the end of it. Eris didn’t know enough about Elain and Azriel to know if their marriage would last. His cynicism said it was unlikely. Besides, they were the least interesting thing on the altar. He found his gaze constantly drawn to Nesta. She watched her younger sister with a softness he had yet to see in her. A few times he caught her dabbing under her eyes with the pad of her finger, clearly trying to keep tears from ruining her eye makeup. A new wave of hatred for Cassian rose up in him, startling him. He had tried to ruin this for Nesta in the name of “winning” the breakup. Eris resolved to be as obnoxious as possible for the rest of the evening.

The reception was held behind the church. Dinner was served on the patio, and the garden was festooned with fairy lights. To Eris’s delight, being the date of the maid of honor meant sitting at the same table as the entire wedding party, most of whom despised him. The looks he received ranged from abject disgust (Cassian and Rhysand) to plain suspicion (Mor and Feyre). The only people who didn’t seem to care about him were Feyre’s wife, Lena, and Rhysand’s date, a smirking red-headed woman.

“Lovely ceremony,” Eris said brightly, breaking through the tension that his presence caused at the table. He stretched out his arms, resting one against the back of Nesta’s chair. Nesta, in turn, leaned back so her shoulders were pressed against his forearm.

“It was,” Feyre agreed. She opened her mouth to say more, but Cassian interrupted her.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m my girlfriend’s plus one.”

“Uh huh,” Cassian replied, unconvinced. “What’s your angle?”

That got a chuckle out of Eris. “I don’t have some evil master plan. I’m just here to enjoy the party. Be the arm candy.” He brushed his fingers across Nesta’s cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Not that anyone is looking at me when I’m next to this gorgeous woman.”

Nesta gave him an odd look, and for a moment Eris feared he had overstepped the bounds of their fake relationship. Then she smiled and looked down, the perfect picture of a flattered partner. It was cute, almost cute enough to be able to ignore Cassian’s scowling.

“How long have you two been together?” Mor cut in, a pleasant smile pasted on her face.

“Only a couple weeks.” Eris nodded towards Mor and Cassian. “What about you?”

The smile was gone. “About the same.”

“Odd. I could have sworn you two have been on and off again for years,” Eris drawled. “I’m sure it’ll stick this time.”

Now both Mor and Cassian looked like they wanted to kill him. “Seriously Nes, what the fuck are you doing with him?” Cassian growled. “Is this just to piss me off?”

“Shockingly, who I choose to date has nothing to do with you,” Nesta responded. “And don’t call me that.”

“Nes, come on—”

“Stop it!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “You stopped being allowed to tell me what to do when you cheated on me with her.” She didn’t need to gesture towards Mor to indicate who exactly she was talking about. Every time Eris thought he couldn’t get more annoyed, he was proven wrong. The sheer nerve for Cassian to actually cheat on Nesta, and then act like Nesta was in the wrong for bringing Eris? The fact that he was only here to cause drama didn’t seem relevant. Cassian deserved everything that was coming to him.

Nesta deliberately turned in her seat to strike up a conversation with Feyre. As she did, she intertwined one of her hands with one that Eris had been resting on the table. In full view of everyone, she raised their entangled hands to her mouth and pressed her lips against his knuckles. She moved casually, as if the display of affection were subconscious. A woman reaching out to her partner for reassurance. She was a much better actor than Eris would ever have given her credit for.

Dinner seemed to pass at an excruciatingly slow pace. Eris was hyper aware that Cassian was watching their every move. Nesta was all over him: a hand on his shoulder while she whispered in his ear, playing with the tips of his hair in between courses, using her thumb to wipe away crumbs from the corner of his mouth. It was difficult for Eris to focus on the conversation when he was surrounded by Nesta’s soft touches and the savory scent of her perfume. The temptation to bury his face in her neck and inhale deeply was overwhelming. He distracted himself by talking, engaging with almost everyone at the table. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about these people, but he knew how to turn on the charm when it was required. And seeing steam come out of Cassian’s ears as Eris joked with his friends made it all worth it.

Finally, finally, they got through dinner and cake, toasts and first dances. Pop music pumped through the speakers, and everybody vacated the tables in favor of the dance floor. With a minute to themselves, Eris leaned in towards Nesta. “How am I doing?”

“Fantastic. I’ve never seen Cassian so furious.”

Eris preened at the praise, but the smirk slid off his face when he caught Nesta staring wistfully at the dance floor. Cassian and Mor were wrapped up in each other’s arms, giggling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Nesta lied. She scrabbled for her purse that was draped over the back of her chair. “We can go. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“We don’t have to.” Eris didn’t know why he was arguing. He wouldn’t gain anything by staying. But if they left now, Nesta would drop him off and then go home and sulk, and he’d never see her again. “I don’t want to go.”

“Eris,” Nesta huffed. “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not.” He rose to his feet and took Nesta’s hand in his. “I want to dance.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” For the first time ever, Eris was grateful that his parents had made him take dance lessons. He twirled Nesta under his arm, causing her to shriek in surprise. When he spun her back to him, she was grinning. She had clearly had formal dance training as well; she matched him effortlessly, falling into step even when he shifted dance styles and moves. She was his favorite kind of dance partner, the kind who could read his body language and predict what he was going to do, and match him perfectly. It resulted in an effortless, elegant dance that looked like a choreographed routine. It was likely that the rest of the wedding had formed a circle around them, applauding and shouting encouragement instead of dancing themselves. He couldn’t say for sure, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Nesta. She was the embodiment of grace, her dress whirling around her like rosy wings. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but she was laughing, free as a bird.

The song ended and Eris lowered Nesta in a dramatic dip. Her hands, which were around the back of his neck, tugged his head down to meet hers. She crashed their lips together, and Eris’s brain short-circuited. A live wire of electricity shot down his body, almost startling him into dropping her. He had heard people talk about experiencing fireworks when they kissed, but this was beyond that. This was a lightning storm, consuming him from the inside out and leaving him starving for more.

One of the greatest moments of Eris’s life was rudely interrupted by Feyre grabbing Nesta and jerking her away from him. “Elain wants to to take some pictures in the garden, just the three of us,” she explained. Nesta allowed herself to be dragged away, shooting him an annoyed glance over her shoulder. Eris consciously refrained from touching his lips with his fingers in the wake of the kiss, like some kind of goddamn Victorian era romance heroine. It was all a show, nothing more. Nesta only kissed him as a ploy to aggravate her ex. Not because she liked him.

The ploy worked a little too well, judging by the way Cassian was staring at him, as if hoping he would spontaneously burst into flames. Eris’s smug grin got a lot less smug when the larger man began to actually stride towards him across the dance floor. An actual confrontation wasn’t part of the plan.

“Whatever game you think you’re playing with Nes, you better stop before she gets hurt,” Cassian rumbled.

It took all of Eris’s willpower to not take a step back. Cassian was a foot taller than him, and twice as broad. “Of the two of us, I’m not the one who’s been playing games with Nesta,” he replied, his eyes sliding meaningfully over to Mor.

Cassian’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about me, asshole. I still care about her.”

“Sure. I guess caring about her means that you’re allowed to move on and she isn’t.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

High on the adrenaline of the verbal match, Eris couldn’t help but goad him further. “I understand why you’re mad. Nesta was always too good for you. I’m guessing you wanted her to pine after you and stay single so you can go crawling back when Mor inevitably dumps your idiotic, inbred—”

Before Eris could say “ass,” and finish his devastating insult, his head exploded in pain. It was like someone had hit him in the face with a brick, knocking him to the ground and leaving him gasping for air. His vision cleared and revealed Cassian standing over him, still brandishing a curled fist. Somebody in the crowd screamed and a clamor of voices went up, but all Eris could focus on was the fact that Cassian was about to beat him to death.

“What the fuck?” Like a guardian angel, Nesta had returned just in time. She shoved her way through the crowd and crouched down next to him. He gave her his most charming smile, which was somewhat compromised by the fact that he was pretty sure his nose was broken and blood was dripping out of his mouth.

“He—” Cassian started to defend himself, but Nesta whirled around and shoved him in the chest. He stumbled back, more from shock than the push itself.

“Get out of here. And if you ever try to talk to me again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Nesta’s rage was a physical force. Even Cassian wasn’t stupid enough to defy her. He shut his mouth and stormed off. Nesta turned back to Eris, her hands gripping his wrists like iron shackles as she hauled him to his feet. Holy shit, she was strong. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, to him and only him, ignoring the rest of the gaping wedding party. Eris was more than happy to follow her out of the main hall and away from so many incriminating stares.

Nesta led him to the small room where the bridal party had gotten ready before the ceremony. Empty bottles of wine were scattered around, and a confusing mix of perfume scents hung in the air. She guided him to a chair, instructed him to stay put, and disappeared. Eris slumped over, completely exhausted but still buzzing with energy. Nesta returned with a stack of fluffy white towels she had managed to berate one of the staff members into giving her. She bent over Eris, wiping the blood from his face. He hissed when the towel touched his nose, sending a blinding bolt of pain through him. Nesta paused, then resumed her work with a lighter touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The tightness in her voice revealed that that wasn’t a phrase she said often. “This was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have let things get that far.”

“It’s fine,” Eris waved it off. “You might be shocked to learn that this isn’t the first time I’ve been punched in the face.”

The twitch of her mouth into a brief smile filled Eris with light, and suddenly his face didn’t hurt so bad. “Well, I’m still sorry. I dragged you into this and I’ve been a bitch all day.”

“No you haven’t.” Nesta snorted, and Eris corrected himself. “Okay, you have. But I get it. I’ve done a lot worse over a lot less.”

Nesta pinched together a corner of the towel that wasn’t yet covered in blood and meticulously wiped around his nostrils. She was leaning close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “This was all so stupid. I hate how much I let him hurt me, even now.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

Her surprised snort answered him before she responded. “No, of course not.” The towel dragged across Eris’s mouth and chin. His face should be clean by now. “It just sucks how much of my life is still about him. I can’t get away from him. He’s dug in, like a tick. If I want to have a relationship with my sisters, I have to deal with him. And he is such an asshole.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that years ago.” Eris worked up the nerve to ask the question he had been wanting to ask for ages. “Why were you with him for so long?”

Nesta sighed. “I don’t know. It wasn’t all bad. And when it was, I figured that’s what I deserved.”

“That’s stupid.” Maybe it was the blood loss, the blow to the head, the adrenaline. Maybe he was still reeling from their fake kiss. But his mouth kept moving and words kept pouring out. “You’re so cool and smart and beautiful. You deserve, like, a tech billionaire who is also an astronaut who is also a model.”

At that, Nesta laughed, low and husky. She studied him with clear gray eyes, only inches from his face. “Well, if you know any tech billionaires-slash-astronauts-slash-models, you can introduce me.” She carelessly dropped the bloodied towel on the ground and straightened up, pulling Eris to his feet. “Are you finally ready to leave?”

The ride back to Eris’s house was in companionable silence. Nesta had led Eris by the hand through the main reception area, ignoring all the people who tried to stop her and ask what had happened. Oddly enough, she seemed in a better mood now, and Eris didn’t want to ruin it. She walked him to his front door and he dallied unlocking it, unsure if inviting her inside would be taken well and not wanting to scare her off.

“Well that was…” Eris trailed off, searching in vain for a polite description of the evening. “Terrible.” Nesta chuckled, which he took as a good sign. “But it wasn’t all bad. Let me know if you want to piss anyone else off.”

Nesta hummed thoughtfully. “You know, there’s a really shitty barista at the coffee shop on campus. I bet you could make him cry in less than five minutes.”

Eris’s heartbeat quadrupled. Unless he was mistaken, that sounded like a coffee date. “Yeah? I’d be down for that.”

Nesta grinned and leaned forward, pressing her cool lips against his cheek. “Great. I’ll call you.”

With a hand on his cheek, he watched Nesta get in her car and drive away until she was completely out of sight.

[spideybatsy]

A+B | Chapter Three

Summary: GN!reader is falling in love with Bruce Wayne, even if they won't admit it. Everything takes a turn for the worse when Bruce's biggest secret comes to light.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader

WC: 2.1K

Warnings: attempted mugging!

Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3

Masterlist

“Going on another date, are you?”

A laugh leaves my mouth as I turn to my flatmate, Stacey. “I think you’re the only person who would call it that,” I respond.

“And what would you call it?” She walks further into the room and sits on the end of my bed.

“I don’t know,” honesty is always the best policy. “Probably just dinner with a friend.”

“A friend who just so happens to be very rich, very handsome and quite the bachelor.” She hums, “how many times have you been over now?”

“Maybe half a dozen?” It’s been a few months and you try to have dinner weekly, but things come up and plans change. “I’ll have you know that Alfred joins us every now and then.”

“Yes, Alfred. The older man who has been taking care of your ‘friend’ since his birth. Some might call him a father to Bruce.” She uses air quotes as she says friend. “Not something a couple would do at all.”

I try to brush it off, as I have done every time before, but something inside me just snaps. “Don’t you think he would’ve made a move if he was interested in me?”

Stacey goes to respond but I cut her off.

“Every time he’s seen with someone, it’s a 20-something model whose skinner, prettier and much more PR than me. He’s a playboy, Stace. He’s never had trouble making a move before and therefore, the lack of ‘move’ shows that he has no interest in me.”

She stands from the end of my bed, gently taking me into her arms. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

I struggle to keep the tears at bay. I will not cry about this. Not now, not ever. Bruce is a friend and a friend alone. He’s never made a move to indicate otherwise and it would be unfair of me to be upset about it. There are much more pressing matters than an unreciprocated crush.

“It’s fine, honestly. I’m just sick of having it thrown in my face.” My voice sounds so small, so weak.

“Okay, I’m sorry. No more Bruce talk.” Stacey rubs my back, putting me more at ease.

“Thank you.”

Our moment is cut short as someone knocks on the door. “That’ll be Alfred.” He insisted on picking me up once he found out my car was getting serviced.

“I’ll get the door,” Stacey says. “You, get all cleaned up. Can’t have him know we were talking about a boy.”

--

“Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in.” Bruce says as he stands by the door, ushering me inside.

“As long as we’re feline fine, it doesn’t matter.” I hold back a grin, watching as Bruce’s face lights up.

“That was terrible, truly.” We sit down on the couch, his thigh casually resting against my own. Every time I come over, he sits slightly closer to me. Whether it’s purposeful or subconscious, I don’t know. I do know that it sends my heart racing, so I take a deep breath as I look around the room, hoping it looks innocent enough.

We talk briefly about work but there’s not much to say. We only saw each other a few days ago and despite living in Gotham, we live uneventful lives. So, rather than sit in silence I turn on the TV. I’m flicking through the channels when an old cartoon catches my eye. I hesitate and then switch the channel.

“I thought you liked Looney Tunes?”

I turn to Bruce, still holding the remote. “I figured you wouldn’t be interested, it’s fairly… childish.”

The corner of his mouth turns down as he leans closer to me. I notice the mole next to his eye, I don’t know why I’d never seen it before. “I’d do anything, as long as you were with me.” Before I can fully process his words, he pulls back. “Looney Tunes isn’t childish anyway, it’s classic.”

Without turning away from him, I switch the channel back. Anything? With me? Bruce doesn’t look back down at me and instead seems invested in the show. I miss his small smile when I turn to the screen, I also miss the way his entire face softens when he looks over at me.

We manage to watch a few episodes before Alfred comes to get us. Whether it was because me or him, I’m not sure, but our legs are squished together, his hand resting on my leg. Knowing dinner is ready, I go to turn the tv off, but my finger slips and I accidentally bring up the news. There’s a robbery happening downtown, there are a few hostages being held at gunpoint. Bruce shifts on the couch, his hand subconsciously squeezing my knee. Alfred also moves closer, leaning on the back of the couch behind Bruce.

“Do you think Batman will show up?” Both their heads snap to me. Anytime the topic of Batman came up, I changed the subject. It was probably silly, but there was an incident last year where Bruce was being held hostage and the vigilante never showed up. It wasn’t publicly addressed, but a lot of people said that Batsy hated rich people, so he wouldn’t save the billionaire.

It’s Alfred that responds first, “I’m sure the police have it handled.”

“Batman has a duty to the people.” Bruce almost snaps back.

Alfred lets out an irate sigh. “Everyone needs a break. Even the great Batman.”

Bruce doesn't respond, instead, he stands up. I hadn’t realised how warm he was until he left my side.

“What do you think?” It takes me a moment to realise Alfred is addressing me.

I look over at Bruce, whose eyebrows are furrowed, his face in a tight scowl. I wonder if this is bringing up bad memories for him. Bringing up the anxiety he must've felt that day. I briefly consider lying but I know Bruce would see straight through me.

“I think he carries a great burden.” I look over at Bruce, but he’s death staring at the ground. “And I feel very sorry for him.”

At this, he looks at me. “Sorry?”

“Crime in Gotham never stops, which means he never stops. That’s got to be too much for one man to handle, no matter how good-looking he is.”

Alfred goes to speak but is immediately cut off by Bruce. “You think Batman is good-looking?”

“You don’t?” I almost laugh. “I mean, look at him. All dark and mysterious, with huge muscles and a desire to help people? How could you not be attracted to him?”

Silence falls over the room and suddenly I’m worried that I said too much. Bruce probably hates Batman; Batman seems to hate him. God, what if I’ve just ruined everything, my new little fa-

My thoughts are cut short when I see a small, cheeky smile play on Bruce’s lips. Alfred tries, and fails, to cover his laugh.

“Well, when you say it like that.” The older man says, “How could you not be?” Then he walks out of the room.

Bruce is still smiling when he comes over to the couch and takes my hand, leading me towards the dining room. I don’t miss the way he looks back at the tv, or the way his eyes narrow when he does.

--

We’re halfway through our meal when Bruce puts his utensils down. Alfred didn’t join us tonight, so it’s just the two of us. I hesitate on my own meal when he stands up and walks over to the side of my chair. Gently, he reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear. His hands comes to rest on my cheek. His palm is so big that it covers my cheek and still lingers on the side of my neck.

“I’ve got to go, A.” The disappointment that floods my veins must show on my face because he starts stroking my cheek with his thumb.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Alfred can make you anything you ask for and then he’ll drive you home.”

“Okay.” My voice is softer than I expected. “Is everything okay?”

“Apart from leaving you, everything is fine.” He leans in and for a moment, just a brief moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.

Instead, he pulls away and leaves. I try to compose myself enough to finish my meal, but my appetite has vanished.

“Is everything okay, Master Wayne?” Alfred stops short when he notices Bruce’s empty chair. His eyes shift over to me and instantly soften. “He left you here?”

“Yeah,” I rise from my seat. “I’m going to head home.”

“Give me one second to get the car.”

“It’s okay, I’d rather walk.” He hesitates for a moment but must decide it’s a good decision because he leads me to the door. “I am sorry, truly. Master Wayne doesn’t always think.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” I wrap my arms around his torso. “I’ll see you.”

Then I walk out the door and into the darkness.

--

The streets of Gotham are creepy during the day, so I’ve always avoided them at night. But now that I’m here, the fresh air helps ease the stinging behind my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m so upset. Bruce is an incredibly busy man, and I’ve never had any right to his time.

Part of me wonders if I’m actually upset because he didn’t kiss me. I feel myself cupping my cheek where his hand was, but it just doesn’t feel right. Am I just making all this up?

In the back of my mind, I hear distant footsteps behind me. I’m so wrapped up in my head that I don’t notice as they progressively get faster and closer.

Does Bruce think about me when I’m not around? He talks so sweetly but maybe he talks to everyone like that.

The only warning is the prickle at the back of my neck. Then heavy hands grab my shoulders. A scream escapes my throat as I try to run away, thrashing in his grasp. But it’s no use. The stranger effortlessly pulls me off the street and shoves me into a brick wall.

My face is gets scratched while I struggle against him but I quickly stop when I feel the metal head of a gun press into my side.

“Give me your wallet.” I can hardly hear him over my ragged breathing.

My hands fumble around my pocket for my wallet, I don’t bother telling him it's empty.

“Hurry up, bitch.” He presses the gun further into my side, “Or I’ll press the trigger.”

The tears are freely running down my face now, I’m almost hiccupping with every breath. My wallet falls to the floor, and I tense as he pulls away and leans down to reach for it.

Seconds pass.

Then a minute.

I take a deep breath and turn my head to look behind me, but no one’s there.

I’m overcome with relief and turn around to spot my wallet still on the floor. It’s wet and dirty but at least I won’t have to get new ID. There’s the crunch of broken glass near the dumpster. I can’t stop the flinch that jolts up my spine at the sound, as I cower away.

“Don’t be scared.” The voice is deep, unnaturally so.

“Please, I don’t have anything.” I whimper. “Please, I swear.”

A figure emerges from the darkness, yet the darkness doesn’t disappear. Then I realise, he is the darkness.

“You’re safe.”

My knees give out and I fall to the floor, as sobs rack through my body. I can’t see through my tears, but I hear him step closer. Then, he’s by my side. Arms wrapped around me, palm on my face and thumb stroking my cheek calmly.

I don’t know how long we sit there but it’s drizzling by the time I relax. Now that my eyes are cleared, I rake them over the strange man. He’s covered in head-to-toe black, but don’t look any higher than his chest and the bat symbol plastered there. I’m too scared to look into his eyes.

He helps me stand up, his arm still wrapped around my waist. He moves around for a moment and then drapes his cape across my shoulders. I hadn’t realised how cold I was. We stand in the street for what feels like minutes but is probably seconds. Then, I drag my gaze up his chest and to his eyes, which are staring back at me.

They’re stunning.

Yet, there’s something so familiar about him that I just can’t place my finger on.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

I nod and he slowly starts walking me out of the street. Then I see it. The mole next to his eye. I say it before I even think. Just one small word, yet the damage is incomprehensible.

“Bruce?”

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: Sin pt 4

Miguel x f reader | bi! Pacho x f reader | ft (briefly) Cali Cartel *

Words: 6,297

I no longer write reader inserts, so consider this one of my last ever. 💕

Fic info /chapter key/ warnings (disclaimers there as well)

An: when I refer to Miguel ex wife it’s not Maria. Maria is a queen and i hate omitting her but I can’t do her dirty. I love her. Let’s imagine she is somewhere living her best life. This wife is someone else.

Warnings: overall canon show and content ones, sex, drinking, adultery.

📣Shout out to @thesolotomyhan, since it’s been so long, I needed to hype myself up by rereading some of her sexy head canons. It helped me weave my scattered notes for this chapter into place.

😤To those ppl who like to harass writers who use their imagination and pair Pacho with a women just out of pure imagination and make believe - if any of you are reading, leave me alone. There is zero reason to write me. Yes he is bi in my *make believe* fiction - I am no longer explaining myself after this. - signing off, a bisexual queer writer who uses her damn imagination.

Below is a preview ~ read on a03

Flashback - A few weeks ago

It was dark out when the plane landed. Everyone was exhausted and there was very little conversation. You couldn’t wait to get home and sleep in your own bed, to get away from all this tension for a little while. Miguel felt like a volcano about to burst and for the last couple of hours, you’ve had this bad feeling stirring in your gut, like something terrible was about to happen.

Amado was first to leave, you said your goodbyes and watched him drive off. After the car vanished in the distance, you turned to Miguel, Azul was up ahead waiting for him, and from the look on his face, you knew he had some bad news.

“I’m going to head home. I’ll see you later.” As you said, studying Miguels eyes.

He was distracted, understandably so. Miguel nodded with tense brows.

"Goodnight Miguel.” You gently touched his shoulder, then walked to your driver.

On the way over, you took a deep breath. Though Miguel's whole plan went to shit, you’re thankful he'll be occupied. The last thing on his mind won't be what you were up to. Maybe you can keep your Pacho secret a little longer.

.

Now, Saturday

Champagne flows freely as the guests fill the room with conversation, laughter, and general revelry. The overall vibe is upbeat and from the outside, this would look like just any rich person's party.

It was parties just like this that reunited you and Miguel all those years ago. It takes you back to that first night you kissed on the balcony, when he was a better version of himself, not yet tainted by all of this.

Before, Miguel was an old schoolmate turned bodyguard who stole your heart. Now, here you are, on his arm at a fancy political Gala. The last time he invited you to one of these as his date you told him to fuck off. You weren’t speaking to him, and in true Miguel fashion, he showed up at your door anyway.

"I told you to stay away from me. Leave me alone, Miguel!" You started to close the door.

He stopped it, "from you, yes. Not this town, not this street." He said with that air of smug confidence of his.

Now, here you are, sitting beside him at the round table with a black cloth draped across it. Gold accents on the glasses and decorations, and one of the richest meals you've ever had in your stomach.

You’re not sure why you said yes to this one, maybe it's that little part of you that feels guilty about Pacho, or the even smaller part that still wants to hold on to a piece of Miguel.

You haven’t spent a lot of time with him in the last week due to a mix of avoidance and fearing he’ll look into your eyes long enough to know your secret. Then there's the other part of you, that third part that wants him to find out. It wants to see the look in his eyes once he knows you’ve been fucking the man he hates…

Keep reading here on A03

More Narcos

No taglist. I hope to wrap this one up very soon. Subscribe to the fic on A03! Check back here and on @artemiseamoon-updates

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 10. Napoleon “Leo” Usher

A/N: where is the work for my man who’s gonna do it for me every time?! This series wasn’t my fav (better than the midnight club ofc! Argue amongst yourselves) but everything was executed very well! EAT THE RICH! Anyways I’ll probably do a re-watch at some point to appreciate it better. Look at me being back on my writing kick, someone bring me a treat and by treat I mean truffle fries. Alright this is kinda late and I usually never risk writing for any of Mike’s work but here I am. Hope this doesn’t flop but with the dust in this tag makes this very likely!! Okay ✌🏽

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & HERE + I’m using: A is afraid to get the Halloween decorations out of the attic or garage, fearing there’s bugs, which leaves B to do it. + Going to questionable lengths to decorate their house/apartment.

Synopsis: People can say a lot of things about Napoleon Usher but some may not be aware that he’s actually a homebody. However there’s a few places he doesn’t mind spending his time and that so happens to be at his best friend’s place, who also doesn’t mind actually putting him to work.

WARNINGS: Platonic x reader! language + dark themes/humor + mentions of s*ic*de + gender neutral friendly!

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

⋆♱🕸️🕷️🕸️♱⋆ ⋆♱🕸️🕷️🕸️♱⋆ ⋆♱🕸️🕷️🕸️♱⋆ ⋆♱🕸️

[6 weeks before the fall…]

Second guessing.

That happened to be something that was always jammed into Rudelle Povea’s head ever since they were young. Their parents taught them to be curious when things didn’t feel right in their gut and many times that resulted in phone calls home for being, “too disruptive to others in class,” which really meant too annoying for teachers who just wanted to teach without mountains of inquires coming from this kid to being, “too smart-mouthed and a know it all for me,” from their maternal grandmother who eventually gained guardianship over Rudelle.

If something’s been instilled in you for the longest, it can become a habit—whether good or bad is always up for debate. Sure at times it made Rudelle feel as if they were being a bit indecisive but they always looked at life as one big question mark. They didn’t have to just simply take it for what was thrown at them. If they were prompted to question it all, then in a sense they were persuaded to see everything from all angles before going through with a final thought.

Rudelle wasn’t incapable of making a decision, never think that but they always needed all of the facts before going forth. For instance: take the death of Rudelle’s parents when they were only twelve years old back in the United Kingdom. Rudelle’s grandmother was not only controlling and cruel but she was also a really good liar that kept up with the tale of how Rudelle’s parents died. As if Rudelle would never get older and do a deep dive considering the career they went into as a pathologist assistant before Rudelle got laid off.

How convenient that they seemed to be laid off the further along they got into the reports of their parents’ apparent murder-suicide. Lots of sealed off information and blocked out text was enough for Rudelle to come to terms with their family constantly hiding but what exactly?There were always more questions than answers but there was no doubt in Rudelle’s mind that their grandmother had something to do with this.

A crack sounded at the window, bringing Rudelle out of their lengthy daze, spotting a black crow flying from their sight yet again. Rudelle didn’t waste any time, pulling out their phone to make note of the arrival of the same crow and exact date when it provided more damage to their window in the living room. Sighing they got to their feet, phone still in their hand as they got closer to the window, inspecting the cracks that seemed to get bigger each time.

After the sixth ring the line picked up.

“Leo, you coming ‘round?”

“…what’s in it for me?”

“Good company.”

“Is that a underlying proposition for us finally hooking up?” He sounds wide-awake now.

Rudelle snorts, “Keep on dreaming, mate.”

Rudelle doesn’t wait for a response as they end the call, knowing that when they called each other it was rarely for a chat since they could just text and send voice notes to each other. If they called each other it was usually within good reason—although it was a fact that Rudelle Povea and Napoleon Usher lived slightly different lifestyles.

It was about half an hour later when Napoleon shows up to Rudelle’s apartment, barely appearing, almost as if he was struggling to hold himself upright against the door.

Rudelle snickers at the dark attire and their friend’s appearance, “I’m surprised you didn’t use your key this time, why the long face? Did I ruin the post party?”

Napoleon rolls his eyes as he shoves his way inside the familiar apartment. He’s kicking off his shoes in the foyer and heads to the right to dive face first into the beige couch.

Rudelle closed the door behind the man and heads to where he is and squats beside him, “So…”

“No! I don’t want to take your fucking quiz, let me sleep.”

“I wasn’t going to ask any more about your night because I can just tell how it went,” Rudelle responds before adding, “I actually saw that crow again—

Napoleon lifts his chin to glance towards the window and sighs, “Where’s the maintenance manager when you need them? You do have that here in this unpleasant building, yeah?”

“I don’t care about the window.”

He blinks hard at Rudelle, “well you should, love. There’s what? Three cracks now and if you don’t know, they can spread and who knows what else will get into this building once the window finally decides to give way?”

“Your concern is sweet.” Rudelle’s reply is sarcastic.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Buuut! This is the crow’s third time doing that and it’s got me thinking.” Rudelle plops down on the floor, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Let me guess? About you fantasizing about being Brandon Lee’s eternal lover.” Napoleon mumbles—as if he hasn’t heard this before.

Rudelle’s been going on about this crow for a few weeks now and, “the Crow,” (1994) happened to be one of their favorite movies. The thing about Rudelle is that they always tried to find meaning and symbolism for everything. They honestly should have went into literature. Napoleon may have half-lidded eyes right now but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t ever listening. He’s known Rudelle for years, before Roderick came around and molded him into a Usher. They’ve always had a hunch for something and Rudelle wasn’t wrong about Napoleon’s father so who’s to say they would be wrong about this crow?

“No Leo…this time I’m thinking about decorating.”

Napoleon sighs as a smile appears on his face then, “I knew this day would come! There’s not much to work with but I’ve been saying this flat needs a makeover. It just doesn’t fit for you, you know? You’ve got personality and yet this still looks like a staged showing when we first toured this dreadful place. It’s boring and sort of stale—much like Tamerlane’s home now that I’ve come to think of it.”

“Whoa there, I don’t have nearly enough mirrors for us to match.”

“Funny,” Napoleon smirks a bit at the jab since that’s what it was. It’s not like he would ever blame his siblings for the way they all turned out and carried themselves, they had their father to thank for that but that also didn’t mean they were really loving towards each other either. They didn’t know what that felt like either and although Napoleon had his mother in his life, they drifted the moment she sent him here to meet Roderick at eighteen. The Usher siblings gave each other shit right to each others faces and behind each other’s backs.

Rudelle’s been around since before Napoleon gained the title of “being a usher,” so she’s seen it all and only threw in jabs to get a reaction from Napoleon. They knew to tread lightly, not out of fear but they still knew their lane and left that open for Leo to completely bash—if need be. However that still wasn’t in his nature to bash any of his half-siblings, he still saw something in them that they all shared…the torment conditions of being a usher maybe?

Believe it or not, he’s got some feelings about the mere thought of having siblings although they had their issues…there was still some level of respect beneath it all. This was just who they were, take it or leave it.

The world would most likely leave it.

Yes he was closer? If you want to use that term—to Camille and Perry but he was the one who wasn’t afraid to stand on how fucked this family is and always would be while the rest chose to shield that to the public eye.

“Which space are you thinking of first? This living room should be it since it’s the second focal point of this flat. And please don’t tell me you’re going for wallpaper? This is not the bloody 1920’s.” Napoleon spoke, resting his cheek against the back of his hand.

Rudelle shook their head, “I’m not really talking about renovations Leo. The crow’s got me thinking about Halloween decorations…which are down in the basement.”

Leo sits up instead and opens his mouth ready to respond until something catches his eyes on the coffee table. He leans over to snatch the files up, already sensing what they were before his eyes briefly scanned over them. “Ru! You’re investigating again?!”

“Well yes but this has nothing to do with my desire to be festive this time around.”

“I can’t say I believe that,” Leo shakes his head in disapproval, “this is the same shit that got you laid off from a decent pay—for your standards and now look! You’ve gone and decided to be some sort of archivist?”

“They actually haven’t called me back about that interview so…”

“And why do you think that is?”

“My nan’s got just enough pull as daddy Roderick and Auntie Madeline?”

Leo rubs at his beard in frustration, “for fucks sake I almost threw up in my mouth just then. I told you before not to refer to Roderick as that!” He glared at Rudelle who is definitely amused, knowing that irritates him then continued on, “…That could be almost true since your nan gives shady vibes too but you can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not? I’ve got nothing else better to do.” Rudelle shrugs confused before stating, “Just your unemployed friend on a Tuesday that’s keeping busy and trying to not ride on their savings.”

Leo raised his brow, “you think cracking the case on your parents’ death is somehow gonna give you income? That’s like wishing on a lucky star babe. There’s a reason you haven’t got anywhere with this and it’s been months, yeah?!”

“They were framed for a murder they probably didn’t commit which led to their deaths…if I can fix this then I can sue this shit system for if not all it’s worth then…I’ll take half.”

The determination was clear in Leo’s best friend’s eyes. They didn’t see that it was sounding a bit deranged but they had their own facts as well and if they strongly believed this then who was Leo to stomp on it? Leo didn’t know how it felt to not have two parents around but he did know how it felt to have a emotionally sad mother raising him. His mum was kind hearted to Rudelle back when they all lived in Redbridge and it certainly wasn’t out of pity, she was kind to anyone who shared the same decency to her son.

See, Napoleon’s mum is also very observant. She knew from the moment that Napoleon and Rudelle became friends (aged fourteen) that they would be able to keep each other afloat.

They were the pieces of good—more so Rudelle on the surface—that battled the bad the world laid upon them.

“Alright then…” Napoleon trailed off glancing upwards in thought, “in the mean time, you suppose decorating for Halloween will bring you clarity?”

Rudelle shrugs, “maybe. This could be a breakthrough.”

A breakthrough to just accept the job Napoleon’s been offering them since they settled into this city back when Rudelle was twenty-one. Leo’s been into gaming since he can remember, always wanted the latest games that his mother couldn’t afford at the time just to end up with it later on mercilessly. Not really—Roderick made it his job to buy his way in and taking care of Leo financially from a distance.

Yet when those eighteen years arrived and he actually met the mysterious man who tried to buy—definitely not his love—but rather his place as a Usher…Napoleon thought he was getting a chance to build a relationship with a man he didn’t know very well…but instead he was one of the shiny pieces in Roderick’s game.

Rudelle had dreams of being a geologist until she was in custody of their grandmother. They always had that woman in their ear growing up, dictating what they should be instead of what they wanted. All kids have dreams and aspirations but along the way there’s often detours. Those detours happen to be people who only saw greed and Rudelle chose what she thought would be the better option. To do it all on her own instead of being beneath her grandmother’s claws and Leo was still affiliated business wise or not no matter what choice he made.

They were both similar in that way.

Making their own choices, thinking it would work out in their favor.

“Fuck it, let’s do it.”

“Great,” Rudelle grinned ready to get to their feet, “I’ll grab the keys for the basement and you can head down. It’s seventy-four which is in the path of almost like a S shape.”

Leo frowns as Rudelle begins to move around the apartment in search of the keys, “wait…you’re not sending me down there alone are you?”

“Yes I am.” Rudelle went through the cabinets of their white kitchen, “there’s bugs down there. I can’t—I won’t. I can still feel those ant bites from last year just speaking on it.” They trail off in thought, scratching at their collarbone, “Which is why I kept most of my decorations shoved in closets up here.”

Leo frowns, “you sure you weren’t on shrooms?”

“Oh piss off! I still got the bills to prove it.”

“So you want me? This glorious piece of ass to be a early feast for some critters? Do you hate me? Do we suddenly have a problem that I’m unaware of?”

“You just said you’re going to participate in my breakthrough? Aren’t we mates?”

“Mates don’t set up mates!”

Rudelle pretends to think about it, which earns them a shove from Leo while Rudelle laughs in return latching onto some keys that were tossed into a drawer.

“Fine, if you wanna hold hands just say that.”

“Are you really going to hold my hand? A taken man?”

Rudelle was tempted to throw in a, ‘Glad you remember that you actually have a boyfriend this time around, considering how many times I’ve caught you in cheating acts.’

But they refrained…only because they had this idea to get their hands on the decorations and didn’t want to do it alone. Sure Rudelle maybe grasping at straws but that holiday changed the trajectory of everything losing their parents on that Halloween night. If you believe in the supernatural…maybe just maybe they could communicate with them in some way.

“Only if you’re afraid of the dark.”

“It’s not of the dark, rather what’s in it.”

“Don’t you worry buttercup, I’ve thought of it all.” Rudelle’s patting Leo’s cheek who furrows his brows as they disappear again around their home.

Leo exhales deeply, “if you did then why am I being dragged into this?!”

“Because you’re my best friend and you can’t help but to love me back.”

“I guess…”

“What?!” Rudelle calls from somewhere in the apartment.

“I said I must confess! You know like queen Britney once said.”

“Uh huh.” Rudelle appears back in front of Leo who started peeking through their fridge.

He clasps a tatted hand to his chest, “I forgot that you’re so light on your feet, should have been a astronaut.”

“Not a chance, I think you’d miss me too much,” Rudelle winks and begins to model out the accessories they gathered for the both of them on their sudden adventure.

Leo thinks about it, taking a bite out of the cold veggie pizza and shrugs, “eh you’re probably right.”

There was no denying that Leo classified Rudelle as his only and legitimate friend who didn’t care about his nepotism. Don’t think they didn’t argue over money when his ignorance got the best of him in the beginning but it didn’t become a thing until it became a thing from time to time.

The basement in Rudelle’s building always smelled of moth balls, fresh dirt, cigarette smoke, and wet air. It wasn’t the best thing to inhale but with the city that they lived in it wasn’t anything foreign. The deeper the pair traveled through the bottom of the building, the colder it felt; even with the friends standing side by side.

Leo whispers to his left, “you look like you’re not batting on a full wicket.” Referring to Rudelle’s attire of a full hooded wetsuit, sunglasses, and a KN95 mask.

“Sounds like you’re jealous and wouldn’t be able to pull off this fit.”

“Even if I wanted to,” Leo starts doing that irritated blinking he so commonly does, “which trust me I don’t—I’d like for my balls to breathe so that’ll be a negative on the jealously part. You however still are giving very much nutbag.”

Rudelle bows, “thank you, thank you. A true star is going to war.”

“Star? Let’s not go that far with that outfit you’re wearing.”

“You should really talk to your therapist about your haterism,” Rudelle bumps Leo’s shoulder, “ready?”

“Not really,” Leo comments, “what are the sunnies for?”

“The jumping spiders.”

“The what?!” Leo stops in his tracks, “you never said a thing about that. I thought we only had to worry about the ants. Spiders are much worse than ants!”

Rudelle shushes the man from beneath their mask, “can’t turn away now, we’re not far from the decor.”

Leo is muttering away as Rudelle begins to drag the brooding man along, “you have me smelling like a old man who has back spasms on a daily with this lavender and eucalyptus oil. You better be lucky that I like you.”

“Oh what ever would I do if a usher despised little ol’ me?” Rudelle pouts beneath their mask.

“More like, what would you do without me?” Leo mentioned as they traveled the s path to the storage room.

You know that eerie feeling you have when it feels like someone is watching you from the corner of a room or standing over you as you sleep? It’s one of the reasons why Rudelle sleeps with the covers completely over their face. It’s also one of the reasons why Leo was more of a side sleeper than any other position—unless he was up to something else that is. That same feeling was creeping up the nape of Leo’s neck although his hoodie was tightened to his head.

As the friends take what feels like slow steps closer to the storage, there’s a tapping feeling that falls upon Leo’s right shoulder. It’s instant that he whips his head to his left to where Rudelle once stood but they’re actually up ahead, unlocking the first gates to the storage room.

“Did you feel that?” Leo calls out, while looking behind him at the path in which they came.

The creaking of the gate is followed before Rudelle says anything, “depends what was felt.”

Leo isn’t sure if he likes that response, “what do you mean?”

“I’m not the only tenant that doesn’t like coming down here.” Rudelle says, “come on then, don’t be afraid.”

“I’d actually feel quite better if I had my Mjölnir.”

“You’ve got me, babe?” Rudelle grins over at Leo who snorts as he cautiously approaches them.

Leo stands at the entrance of the gate while Rudelle is already inside, “is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Sonny and Cher think so.” Rudelle winks over at Leo who shakes his head at that.

“Cute but not really my style of music.”

“Don’t I know it Mr. Hangs out at cracked out pubs for fun.”

“Definitely not my kinda party either.” Leo steps inside the gate while Rudelle searches for their storage, trying to recollect which side it was actually on.

Rudelle let’s out a cackle at that. They remembered a time when a tattoo-less glasses wearing Leo was afraid to try a spliff back in the day and now look at him, the main party man out of the duo.

Leo let’s put a whistle as he walks down the aisle of gated storages that seemed to be collecting dust on top of their piled up items. “This isn’t so bad although most of you may have a hoarding problem.”

With those words lingering in the air, the main gate behind them seems to slam shut behind them making both Rudelle and Leo’s heads turn back to the entrance.

“Don’t tell me—

Rudelle shakes their head in disapproval, “I told you to use the brick to keep it open!”

“When did you say that?!” Leo exasperates, hands thrown up in the air.

“Back when you said someone tapped on your shoulder.”

Leo rests his clasped hands on top of his hood as he gulped, “I—I never told you that.”

“Yes you did.”

“No! No I didn’t, Ru!” Leo felt unsettled, “I only asked if you felt it but never elaborated to what it was.”

Rudelle hums at this.

They could have sworn they heard Leo explaining that to them? There were reasons why the tenants on Sycapine hardly ever came this far down in the building. Things that couldn’t be explained, much like what the two best friends were experiencing. Leo would later brush this off not bothering to connect what he encountered with Ru as similar incidents his own family would face but way more extreme.

“Well…might as well stay awhile. We got nothing else better to do, since you just locked us in.” Rudelle unlocks their storage section, holding eye contact with a very annoyed Leo.

Leo points, “I didn’t do anything! You thought you could suddenly telepathically tell me shit for real this time?!”

It wouldn’t be Rudelle’s first time.

“You’re the one who said someone tapped on your shoulder, so clearly you’re the one who failed at telepathy.”

Leo felt his eye twitch, “I knew I should have stayed home.”

“Whatever,” Rudelle says kicking a box towards the dark haired man, “pop a squat buddy, you’re not going anywhere.”

Leo kicks back at the box and rushes over to the gate to rattle against it, thinking that would apparently get it to unlock. Slipping their hand against the padlock, he couldn’t angle his wrist just right to pad any numbers in and the extra stab was seeing a brick right across the gate, almost mocking Leo with bright green eyes while the hallway went black for a good two seconds, demanding that Leo witness the disturbing image.

The after effects of a party never had Leo like this before.

There’s another touch but it’s a pinch this time that sends him snatching his hand back through the gaps in the gate. Holding onto his skin he examines it to see that there’s no damage only tricks playing on his mind?

He glances back at Rudelle who comes back out shoving a heavy box out of their storage.

Leo finds a spot on the lighter box Rudelle previously kicked his way, keeping quiet until they come back with yet another box to sit across from Leo. He tilts his gaze sideways to read the text, “HALLOWEEN,” on the brown box.

“You owe me big time for this.”

Rudelle dips their head, “cross my heart—

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Leo shushes his friend while peering around, “never made any sense to me anyway. Who the fuck hopes to die?!”

“Relax babes, the yelling.” Rudelle curls a finger against their ear.

“Sorry are my frustrations bothering you?”

“No but you acting like a dickhead is.”

“How are you being so calm about this?”

“Normally I wouldn’t be but things are happening too much for this to be a coincidence so I’m looking at this as another perspective. This all could be my parents’ doing. Thus! The breakthrough.” Rudelle taps on their temple.

“If you say breakthrough one more time,” Leo warns, “you’re good at second guessing yourself and believing whatever your brain tells you to but has it occurred to you that this could all be the devil?”

Rudelle says, “and here I thought you weren’t religious.”

“I didn’t put a label on anything, it’s not really my thing but one thing I know is evil. And what I feel down here is not necessarily kind. Are you sure you wanna fuck with that more with these decorations?” Leo leaned his elbows into his knees.

Rudelle sighs, “can you definitely say that? And not just blame it on anxiety?”

“Would you say the same with the crows? I mean that is the whole reason why we’re down here.”

Rudelle is silent at this for awhile and Leo can see the wheels turning but he’s not the most patient.

“I’m convinced it’s something else.” Rudelle exhales, “I know this building better since I did the research before moving in.”

“Do I wanna know that history?”

Rudelle lightly shakes their head, “I’ll keep it to myself…otherwise you might burst a blood vessel and I feel better having you focused rather than pissed.”

“fucking hell! I don’t like it when you keep secrets.”

“I know!” Rudelle yells back, “but this is an itch that I can finally scratch and I just need the support.”

Leo rubbed at his face, digging the palms into his tired eyes. He understood, of course he understood, he just didn’t exactly enjoy things that go bump in the night.

Never did but being the kind of friend that he is, he would get his point across—even if you didn’t like it but still find a way to be what you needed.

“Fine,” Leo holds out his hand which Rudelle smiled at before quickly tapping the back of their hands together before moving into a smoking motion, pointer and thumb pressed together as they pressed a kiss there before pulling away to exhale the bad into the air, “one love.”

“Always.”

Leo’s smile quickly vanished, “Just know…”

“Ah, here we go.”

“I’ll fucking haunt you if I go first.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Leon.” Rudelle rolls their eyes, “there’s answers in here somewhere.”

Leo feels he’s holding his breath as Rudelle begins to reach for the flaps of the brown box. He’s not sure what could be so off-putting by Halloween decorations and if these would be the usual kind? He personally wasn’t the biggest fan of Halloween as he didn’t enjoy being spooked since that tended to make things difficult for him.

‘Yes there are…but are they the answers they want?’ A feminine voice belonging to the entity named Vera, who hasn’t fully introduced themselves yet speaks above the long time friend’s heads but she doesn’t show herself.

She lingers in the shadows for now but she’s never far. So she watches on as the box becomes open, four flaps folded back as Rudelle takes a large inhale, peeking at Leo who holds their stare.

Unbeknownst to them, the gate behind Leo quietly unlocks and leaves the door ajar.

⋆♱🕸️🕷️🕸️♱⋆ ⋆♱🕸️🕷️🕸️♱⋆ ⋆♱🕸️🕷️🕸️♱⋆ ⋆♱🕸️

Continue along with my fall anthology prompts here.

[thecrimsondandelion]

Richie is basically climbing the fucking walls. He’s got half his wardrobe pulled out and scattered over his bed, a mountain of florals, tacky t-shirts, and the few new suits he’s collected thanks to a certain Miss Beverly Marsh.

He’s never had this much trouble trying to pick an outfit in his entire life. Not at prom, or at any award show he somehow managed to get an invite to. He’s gone on talk shows with a ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing.’ t-shirt he found at Goodwill.

“I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Did you not hear me before? That me and Eddie are going on a date? Edward fucking Kaspbrak, love of my life since we were kids, know him?”

“How many times have you guys gone out together since he moved in with you? If I have to see another Instagram post where you both argue in the comment section like some weird mix of horny teens and an old married couple, I’m going to go crazy.”

“That’s different!” Richie whines, throwing himself back onto the heap of clothes on his bed, “Those weren’t dates, not like, officially.” They’d decided to take it slow and date first after a semi-heated kiss at the Benverly’s (as Richie lovingly called them, like the teen girl he was put into the body of a hairy middle-aged man) cabin, after a tipsy love confession. A love confession that Richie absolutely did not reply to with ‘That is so fucking neat.’ They’d gone out together plenty, but they both agreed to date like normal people would, like they might have done when they were younger if their lives hadn't been fucked up by the killer-clown-from-Outerspace.

“You sound so lame right now. I hope you know that.” Despite the comment, the layer of fondness was clear in Stan’s tone.

Richie pouts, mumbles a petty little, “No, you.” back.

“Anyway, back to the point. What the fuck am I going to wear?”

“You’re talking to the wrong Loser.”

“You’re so right, I don’t wanna turn up dressed like you, Grandpa. I’ll call Bev.” He pauses, pulls at a piece of skin on his lip with his teeth, trying to soothe his racing heart.

“Hey. You’re gonna be fine, Rich. And if Eddie breaks your heart, I’ll break his entire body, okay?” And fuck does that make Richie tear up a little, after all these years, even 27 of them apart, Stan was still particularly protective of him. Even against another of his best friends. His low self esteem appreciated the safety net of knowing that when if Eddie ever just got fed up with him, Stan would be there on his side. “Not that he’s going to. He’s just as stupid and in love as you are.”

“Aw, Staniel. You big ole softie... Thanks, man. Tell Pats I’m asking for her, yeah?” With that he hangs up.

For a moment Richie feels calm again. Until he looks at the mountain of clothes dumped out onto his bed. Fuck.

Bev answers on the second ring, “Hey, Honey! How’re-”

“Eddie and I are going on a date, what the fuck do I wear, Bev?”

She vetoes most of his wardrobe, Ben shows up for moral support too, like the angel sent from Heaven that he is. The thing is though, Richie feels pretty fucking awful leaving the house without his garish shirts – they're his armour. He can wear something fucking horrendous and it distracts away from everything that is him.

Miss Beverly Marsh knows this, and she simply won’t stand for it.

In the end he’s wearing a nice pair of black jeans, cuffed to show off the bright pink Monty Python socks that had been Okay'd so he could have at least one comfort item. And another compromise, a navy shirt with a subtle floral print. It doesn’t scream ‘Weird Al meets the Muppets.’ but it’s enough that it doesn’t make Richie feel stuffy and unlike himself.

“Lookin’ sharp, Richie!” Fucking Ben, so earnest and nice, Beverly coos at his side in agreement, giving a whistle as he’s forced to give them a turn. He’s not used to that kind of attention; he can feel his face heat up and the way his too-tall body wants to shrink in on itself.

“Have a good night, Sweetie! Remember to use protect-”

Richie cuts her off with a shout, suddenly feeling like a teenager being embarrassed by their parents before a first date, “Oh my god, Bev. Shut up.” She cackles good-naturedly at him, while Ben holds back a smirk.

The call ends and he feels sort of bad that Bill and Mike were left out of his crisis, so he shoots them a text: ‘Got a date with Eddie, literally going to die. See you in hell Billiam. I’ll miss you when you’re chilling up in heaven Mikey.’

He can only let himself be distracted by the other Losers for so long, and how fun it was to have his battle with Bill. But it’s creeping closer and closer to 6pm, he knows that he and Eddie will have to leave soon to make it to their reservation. So, he rubs his sweaty palms against the thighs of his jeans, sniffs his pits to make sure he still smells good, and pushes himself out to go knock on Eddie’s bedroom door – which he couldn’t help but achingly hope would become the guest bedroom again in the nearby future.

And isn’t Eddie just a fucking sight for sore eyes, his hair isn’t gelled back to oblivion, so it looks so soft, it curls around his face prettily. Makes Eddie look younger. He’s dressed up in clothes that cost more than Richie has ever spent on anything for himself, fucking Gucci loafers and everything. He looks hot as fuck, and he smells sweet and earthy.

Eddie also has the most shit-eating grin. “I hear you were having some trouble.”

“What? Which one of those assholes told you?” Richie would, in future, deny how whiny he sounded whenever Eddie brings it up to the Losers, when he brings it up at their wedding.

“Rich.” Eddie has the cutest, most devious fucking look on his face. Richie’s cheeks burn as his face is gently held between Eddie’s hands, he can feel the callouses from Eddie’s car endeavors, he can smell the cologne on Eddie’s wrist. “I could hear you, I’m across the fucking hall and you speak like you have a built in megaphone.” And Jesus God Damn Christ, Eddie says it like it’s a compliment, like it's something he adores about him.

Richie turns his face to hide it in the palm of one of Eddie’s hands and, again, whines. The part of him that overthinks, that hates every move he makes, tells him that he’s already fucked up. That Eddie is going to realize that he’s an idiot, that he’s a dork and completely and utterly out of Eddie’s league. As if Eddie isn’t the type to say, ‘See you later alligator.’ or ‘Okay-dokey.’ in a serious conversation.

“C’mon, we’ve got reservations and I’m starving my ass off.”

Richie makes a great effort Not to make a comment on how much of a tragedy that would be, because he really does love that little fucker’s ass.

He does let himself show a little vulnerability, “You still wanna go?”

Eddie cocks his head to the side and gives him the sweetest little smile, catches one of Richie’s hands in his own and gives it a squeeze, “Fuck yeah. You look too good not to, Trashmouth.”

[boldlyvoid]

a dirty dancing hotch fic you say?

I UNO reversed this one so Aaron is Baby and the Reader is one of the dancers at Kellermans

It’s kinda hard to miss him. 

From the moment he rolls up behind his family's car on a motorcycle, every girl at the resort had ideas about what they’d like to do with him during summer vacation. Both the goody-goody girls with daddy’s money, seeing the resort as a waste of their time when they could be partying, and the servant girls who needed this job to live through the other 3 seasons of the year, were captivated by the new man. 

“Really, he’s just another white boy with brown hair, he’s not special,” Y/N shoved the shoulder of a co-worker whose jaw hit the floor. 

“He’s the older Hotchner boy, we haven’t seen him in a few years,” another voice explains. Sandy… Y/N turns to see her and then turns right back around. 

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s a reason,” she’s snippy. Never able to share a nice word with Sandy, not since she stole her solo this year at the Carlton. 

Every year the 2 best dancers are sent to the neighbouring resort to give a performance, and it has a huge payout. It’s normally given to the most senior, dedicated dancer to Kellerman’s, which would’ve been Y/N if Sandy didn’t start dating the owner's son for the season. She did it on purpose, she rubbed it in, and she clearly had a thing for this Hotchner guy. 

So Y/N walked right over to him, with a smile on her face and a pep in her step, “Welcome to Kellerman’s, where friendships are born,” she gives the cheesy tagline and watches the smile take over his face. “Anything I can do to help you settle in?” 

He just looks her up at down, “You’re not dressed like the wait staff…” 

“I’m with the entertainment crew,” she corrects, “but it looks like all the girls are too busy staring at your ass in those leather chaps to actually help move your luggage to your cabin.” 

“Finally,” his father's voice draws her attention away, “here, we’re going to the Presidential Suite.” He puts 2 dress bags in her arms and then 4 boxes of shoes on top. 

“Dad,” he looks like he’s ready to swing at him. “She’s not a servant.” 

“She offered, didn’t ya sweetheart?” 

She nods, not sure how to deal with conflict or old rich men. 

He rolls his eyes and takes the shoe boxes, “come on,” he points in the direction of their usual cabin, so it would seem. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“Is he usually like that or was it a long drive?” 

“Both,” he sighs, “I’m Aaron by the way, most people call me Hotch, though.” 

“Y/N,” she smiles, “I heard it's been a few summers since you’ve been here?” 

“I went to college,” he doesn’t go into detail. “I just got into Law School, Dad thought it would be nice to have two weeks off but I think he just wanted to make sure he has enough time to convince me to go to his choice school.” 

“Rich boy problems,” she teases him. Reaching the VIP suites, she opens the presidential door and places the bags on the main bed, “my parents didn’t want me to be a dancer full time, but look at me now.” 

“What did they want you to do?” 

She shrugs, “I’ll tell you when I figure it out. Till then, dancing pays the bills and there’s free lodging here.” 

He takes her hand before she can head back to help bring more luggage to his family's room, “come on, let’s get out of here.” 

“I can’t,” she tugs her hand away, “if I bring enough bags here, your dad might give me a 20 and I could buy some snacks for the week.” 

“I get it,” he looks upset, probably feeling used like all the other girls make him feel. He just walks off into the woods, taking the chance of them being friends with him. 

[petalsfm]

if you’re hearing PARANOID by POST MALONE playing, you have to know HUNTER CLARKE (HE / HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the TWENTY-EIGHT year old LAWN CARE TECHNICIAN has been in denver for, like, THREE MONTHS. they’re known to be quite SECRETIVE, but being ASTUTE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble NICK ROBINSON. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those THE SMELL OF CIGARETTES AND WEED LINGERING LONG AFTER YOU'VE LEFT, THE ECHO OF AN UNFURNISHED APARTMENT, ALWAYS HAVING YOUR ( WIRED ) EARBUDS IN YOUR EARS, THE FEELING OF THE WIND AGAINST YOUR SKIN AS YOU BIKE AROUND TOWN vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the LAKERIDGE DISTRICT long enough!

STATS:

full name :       hunter theodore clarke nickname(s) :     n / a birthplace :      montrose, colorado date of birth :       02 / 14 / 1995 parentage :      georgia hansen clarke & jonathan clarke sibling(s) :      n / a relationship status :     single gender identity :     cis man ( he/him ) sexual orientation :      heterosexual faceclaim :      nick robinson

BACKGROUND: ( tw: emotional abuse, running away, homelessness )

never stays in one place too long. honestly he’s surprised he’s been in denver for 3 months. staying places and making connections isnt really his thing

EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW ! grew up with two parents who had more interest in arguing with each other than raising their own son

hunter was not a bad kid by any means, his parents were simply unfit for their roles. becoming parents at the age of eighteen and twenty-three, they were forced into a shotgun wedding and ended up living in a trailer home. neither of them actually WANTED to be parents-- they didn't want to hear any noise, be disturbed, nor did they want to help him with any problem he may have had-- academic or personal

being the cause of many of their arguments was not good for the young boy. hearing the two scream back and forth about who went wrong in what area of raising their son made it incredibly difficult for him to want to stick around TW END !

so, at the age of fourteen he snuck out in the middle of the night ( with nothing but his birth certificate, social security card, and cash he'd stolen from his parents ) in hopes that everything would just be over

he didn’t have a lot of money and couldn’t officially start working for another two years so he had to improvise. he began going to different neighborhoods and offering to mow the lawns of rich people with yards bigger than his old house. only a few people said yes, but it was enough to keep him afloat for a little bit. 

obviously, once that money was gone he had to look for some other way to at least keep eating. as stupid as it sounds, he resorted to stealing phone chargers and selling them / phone parts for cheap. iphones and galaxy’s were really gaining popularity back then so he was lowkey making bank

he hated stealing but you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes

he didn't really have enough money to leave montrose for awhile so he just hung around parts he knew his parents would never go to

the one place he could find solace was at the few churches he could find that left their doors unlocked overnight. he'd grown accustomed to being a light sleeper, but being able to lay down in the pews and just close his eyes gave him some comfort.

eventually, though, with his limited amount of money, he was able to go back and forth between colorado and utah, just finding any place he could work himself into

as he got older he got into stealing more things because it was easier than trying to get a job ( which is almost impossible when you have no address ) and was definitely almost caught multiple times

once he got enough money ( and barely missed getting arrested ) he skipped town and went to las vegas for awhile. he thought it’d be easier because there are so many people there and he could start a new life. however, he ran out of money quick and couldnt find anyone. he’ll tell you he likes and prefers being on his own but he’s really bad at life without a little help / push in the right direction

so he’s back in colorado!! he found his way to denver back in june, which seemed like the perfect time to get back into the lawn care business

honestly now ?? he’s tired of stealing so he’s probably just mowing grass and pulling weeds to stay afloat. it's the easiest job he can picture for someone who dropped out in the ninth grade

he never means to hurt anyones feelings but if it happens it happens

doesn’t really apologize lol hes GARBAGE!

never ??? sees when hes in the wrong ??? nothing is ever his fault.

MISCELLANEOUS / HEADCANONS: ( tw: drug mention )

has never spoken a coherent sentence in his life

he probably gives everybody a fake name. it started at first because he didn't somehow want his parents to catch wind of where he was ( not like they'd care much ), but continued as he grew older just because he feels his real name isn't actually that important to learn

he also never remembers the names he gives people. you could be calling "james !!! james !!!" and he'd have no clue you were calling him fjdhgfdkjgh

speaking of names, he's horrible at remembering other people's names. you will have to tell him a hundred times

definitely owns an iphone 8 he bought off craigslist. was mad as hell he had to buy a dongle to make his wired earbuds usable, but he's never letting the wired earbuds go.

also, definitely doesn't have any numbers saved in his phone. every time he gets a text his automatic reply is "who's this?" even if there's text history

he steals shit and barely has money but he’s definitely the type to flex on these hoes! smh probably goes into an expensive ass store and tries on a watch, takes a selfie with it, then says hes not gonna buy the watch. if u ever ask him abt it he says he lost it or he chooses not to wear it bc time is a social construct.

really bad with feelings. like so bad. he doesn’t know them. has never felt an emotion ever, actually.

the least confrontational man on the planet. he hears a raised voice? he's gone faster than you can say the fake name he's given you. will literally never argue and has never argued in his life.

his most prized possession is his bike, which is the one nice thing he's ever bought for himself. he doesn’t even want a car he really does not. he’s such a fuckin loser but he just loves riding all around denver. new route every day.

the only piece of furniture he owns is an air mattress that lays in the center of the living room in his studio apartment.

probably always wearing a hoodie. he likes looking ~mysterious~ cus hes a LOSER

trying to save up his money for vegas 2.0 but definitely spends it all on cigs and weed LOL hashtag grown man things

[peachie-kyng]

Dreamland

So this has nothing to do with NCT or anyone famous. Just a dream with a random guy and baby in it.

I don’t know whose baby that was. I want to say it was my mom’s, granted she’s too old to have anymore kids and it damn sure wasn’t my baby. But it was a new born baby, and was coming home the hospital. For whatever reason my mom decided to have me and the baby get out of the car just few houses away from home. (The home that I grew up in and no longer live there)

So as I’m walking the rest of the way, holding the baby in my arms, down the street. There’s no sidewalk at the moment. Just the street. So random white guy is driving up the street in this 2010 looking car. That’s a salmon color but the right side of the car is black. The guy had to be about 45-48 years old. And kind of went off on me for being in the street. Granted there’s no sidewalks and I tried to get as far out of his way as possible. So as he keeps driving by I’m like “Yeah, Yeah, I can see you.” And continue to walk home.

Why he stop and was saying something else. I don’t know what the hell he was saying, but I’m like “All I said was that I can see you.” Then continue to walk home. I swear I repeated myself 3 more times to this guy, not even caring about what he was saying. Until he decides to turn around and come back down the street and half parks in my driveway. Making my mom have to park in front of our neighbors house.

I sigh, the baby still in my hold, and now needs a diaper change. The guy gets out the car and comes around to stand to in front of me. I say, as nicely and clearly as possible one more time. “I said, that I can see you.” And what I thought was about to be heated argument turned into him basically asking me on a date without asking me on a date…!?!

I believe he said sorry, but then he started rambling about rushing, and saying that if can get a babysitter that his mom is having this big birthday party. My first thought is, this is not my baby. But I said “what does me getting a babysitter have to do with anything?” And this guy had the nerve to look a bit shy and nervous. And started rambling a bit again. So I’m like, “are you asking me to go with you?” And he like, “when I come back, I’ll wait for you if you decide that you want to go.”

My brain was like what!?! To go out with this stranger or not to? I’m thinking this as he gets back in his two toned car. So I go to his window and tell him to give me a pen and paper. Gave him my number and then go in the house cause now the baby is starting to smell. And…

That’s it!

I don’t know what this dream is trying to tell me, but okay?!… the guy had British accent too. He wasn’t all that cute/handsome either. But he was okay. Granted his car looked like it was about to break down on him, my brain was like ‘sugar daddy’? This man seems rich and is faking it… I don’t know. But that happened.

@naniolimpo

[jodithann827]

Pretty Woman 8/11

Rating: Explicit / posted on AO3 /tagging @today-in-fic

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Tuesday

9:02 am

Sitting behind his larger-than-life mahogany desk, Mulder fiddles with the small rectangular tickets in his hand. So many life-altering thoughts are swirling through this head. Visions of business ventures, Diana, Mr. Spender, and Scully. He’s beginning to see what Scully was saying about Spender. The old man had called the previous evening, pushing Mulder for an answer. Attempting to hold him off, Mulder informed him he would be away from the office for the day but promised to get back to him. The more Mulder thinks about it, the offer doesn’t sit right with him. He’s excited to get away, clear his head, and think about the decision with an open and carefree mind.

He puts tickets down gently and then quickly picks them back up, turning them over. A knock at the door startles him, bringing him out of his trance-like state. As the door opens, Mulder drops the tickets into his open desk drawer and casually looks up to meet Diana’s eyes.

“So what’s it going to be Fox? Are you willing to play ball with Mr. Spender?” she asks, dropping to a chair in his office.

“What’s his first name?” Mulder asks. Diana opens her mouth to begin to speak, then quickly closes it. Her face indicates that she’s searching her brain for an answer. In her silence, Mulder continues, “Don’t you think it’s odd that we don’t know his name? He doesn’t seem to play by any social rules, he doesn’t answer to anyone but himself, that we know of. I mean, who is this guy?”

“Who is this guy?” she repeats, not fully comprehending what Mulder is trying to imply. “He is a very rich man who wants to give you a truckload of money for his internet company. So what if you have to do some ‘behind-the-scenes activities for him. Fox, this deal is almost closed. Finish it already!” She looks at him and sees that he is not actively looking at her, but instead picking up and playing with rectangular papers.

Fox,” she snaps. “What is wrong with you? Your behavior has been outlandish,” she punctuates. His silence speaks volumes so she goes in for the kill. “Up late with the hooker?”

This gets Mulder’s attention and fire flashes across his eyes. Diana realizes she may have taken it a step too far and backtracks. “I just mean that clearly, this woman has you under some type of spell, the way you’ve been acting. I alluded to it yesterday.”

Mulder, doing his best to ignore her, hastily pushes back from the desk and stands.

“Spender is my business, Diana. And so is Dana. I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana.” He shifts to make his way toward the door but Diana quickly steps in front of him, blocking his way and not caring that she has moved completely past the realm of professionalism.

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning. Where are you headed?”

“I have a date,” he says, though he offers no additional information. He sidesteps her.

“A date?” she questions, doing little to hide how appalled she is. She turns, watching him head for the door. “You’re dating the hooker now?” He pauses as he reaches the office door and turns, eerily calm, then meets her confused eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana. I’ll be out of touch all day and evening,” he says, shutting her down and ending the conversation. With that he turns to leave, offering up no further explanation.

California Freeway

11:10 am

“You’re kidnapping me,” she informs him as they sit in comfortable silence in the limo with Langly driving through the streets of California. There’s no fear in her voice, only eagerness.

“Kidnapping would imply that I took you without your consent,” Mulder replies in that charming and self-assured way Scully has grown to like over the past few days. “You willingly got into the car.” They sit next to each other with one of Mulder’s hands draped across Scully’s knee, idly drawing a figure eight over and over. In the past twelve hours, he has been overcome with this great need to be touching her, feeling her presence. Her almost departure shook him deeply, something he struggles admitting to himself.

“That’s because there was a promise of a surprise,” Scully explains while fidgeting in her seat, unable to stay still. She’s excited in a schoolgirl-like way. It doesn’t help that at the start of the adventure, Mulder placed a blindfold over her eyes. Scully shivers, thinking about other things she could be doing with and to Mulder with the covering on her face.

“Still not kidnapping.”

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” she pouts, hoping he can hear the tone in her voice, not even knowing if he’s looking at her or not.

“Patience, Scully.”

She huffs, but on the inside she is jubilant. She can’t remember a time someone did something for her out of the goodness of their heart. Yes, on one hand, Mulder is paying her for the week. However, Scully can’t help but think that their actions over the past day or two, have gone beyond the arrangement. She’s never felt like this before. The butterflies flutter about in her stomach when she thinks of him. The emptiness in her heart when he isn’t with her. She breathes slowly, trying to rid herself of the lump she knows is forming in her throat. Pull it together, Dana. You only have today and tomorrow with him and then this is over, she thinks. That only makes the lump grow, so she tries another tactic. Dana, this man, this sweet, caring, sexy-as-hell man, is trying to give you the best day. Get out of your head for a while and try to enjoy it! Mission slightly accomplished, she sighs, leaning into Mulder ever so gently, relaxing to the feeling of his hand on her knee.

After what seems like an agonizingly long drive, the limo slows. Losing the warmth of Mulder as he quickly exits the car, Scully then feels his tight grip slip around her slim fingers. With a pull, she is out of the car, but her equilibrium is off due to the blindfold. Mulder steadies her, the cloth never slipping from its position. Feeling a tickle in her ear, she hears, “Wait here. Langly is behind you and won’t let anything happen to you. I need to take care of a quick thing and then I’ll be right back.” Before she can protest, she feels a breeze replacing the warmth where he just stood. Panic quickly sets in, yet she maintains a slow and calming breath, knowing Mulder would not leave her in a helpless situation.

“He needs to go check in,” Langly whispers from a foot or so behind her, sensing her hesitation and rising apprehensiveness.

“Where are were Langly?” she questions, knowing he won’t answer her.

“This is supposed to be fun, Scully; make sure to enjoy yourself,” is his only response before going mute again.

After what seems like eons, though she’s sure is less than five minutes, she senses Mulder’s presence back at her side. Grasping her hand, he leads her forward. They walk ever so slowly.

“You know, Mulder,” she starts, “You could take this off and we could get where you want to be faster.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Scully? This is probably the most excited I’ve been about a surprise in… hell in I don’t know how many years. It’s just as much for me as it is for you. Please don’t make me ruin it. I promise we’ll lose the blindfold in a few minutes.”

The genuineness in his voice doesn’t surprise her in the sense that he is tickled for her, but more so for the fact that he is exhilarated about it himself.

After a few more strides and a few more minutes, they come to a stop. Scully hears people, lots of people, but beyond that, she cannot fathom where they are.

Standing just behind her, Mulder unties the cloth and lets it fall from Scully’s vision.

Raising her hand to her mouth in utter disbelief, all she can muster is, “Oh my… Mulder…”

“I wish it was Cinderella’s, but Sleeping Beauty’s will have to do. We didn’t have time to make it to Florida,” is all he says, letting her take in the vision before her.

Spellbinding is the first word that comes to mind. Amazing. Magnificent. Completely unbelievable. Magical. The bricks are several shades of gray. The flags burst with gold emblems. The tower points are the most spectacular shade of blue. It’s an image she’s only seen in pictures and only perceived in her mind. She’s standing at the foot of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Large crowds move about their day around them, but for Scully, time stands still. She is back in her childhood home with her family, healthy and happy. She’s on vacations, at dance recitals, and at school science fairs. She is in every wonderful memory she can summon from her childhood. Tears spring to her eyes as she whips around to finally face the man she is falling in love with, but can never have.

“You brought me to Disneyland.” It’s not a question. It’s barely a statement.

Mulder seems shy, almost bashful; he wasn’t sure how she would react and this is almost too much. So he states the obvious, “I brought you to Disneyland.”

Suddenly her arms are around him and she’s squeezing as if trying to convey how much this moment means to her through a hug. “I hope you like it,” he says into her hair, his arms running softly over her back. She pulls slightly back and arches an eyebrow.

“Like it? Mulder, no one has ever done anything remotely close to this in my entire life. I don’t even have the words to–”

“Then don’t say anything. Let’s just enjoy the day. We have plenty of time in the park, several shows to see, an amazing dinner planned, and then to top it off, we’re spending the night in the castle.”

Scully’s eyes widen, though she didn’t think they could get any bigger, “Mulder…”

“Come on, Scully,” he says, maneuvering his arm so Scully can link hers with his, “let’s go to Disneyland.”

She pauses briefly and turns to him. “Mulder, this is… well this is truly amazing; thank you. And if I forget to tell you, I had an amazing time today.”

He blushes again and smiles, then leads her to where the fun awaits.

Carthay Circle Restaurant

9:45 pm

Elation mixed with a feeling of fulfillment settles over her. Not just because she is stuffed with the most amazing food she has ever eaten, but full of joy, happiness, jubilation, and glee, just to name a few, due to the last ten hours and the company she kept. The day spent with Mulder in the park was one that even in her wildest dreams she never could have imagined. They had played—literally played—like children who were given a free pass to a glorious world of magic and imagination. She felt free. Not restricted to the life she was currently living. Not worrying about her family, her employment, and what she wanted to do with her life. She’s been thinking these last few days about her life: agonizing, contemplating, unable to believe she can go back to the boulevard with Missy. There is more to life and she is ready to explore it all.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her eyes raise to meet his.

Still guarded, she replies, “This food, this day, this place. It’s—it’s almost too much.” Mulder reaches for her hand after placing his dessert fork on his plate.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve it, Dana.”

Scully’s eyes widen at the mention of her first name, but she doesn’t speak, sensing he has more to say.

“You are a loving, warm, compassionate, and passionate person. You have much to offer. You have brains and beauty. You could do anything, Scully, be anything.” A single tear threatens to fall from her eye. He’s looking at her and truly seeing her, beyond the job. He understands her better than anyone has since she lost her father. Needing to do something with her hands, she lifts her champagne glass and sips.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, both taking in the day and the evening to come.

“Well,” he tosses his napkin on the table. “Another spin around the park? A stroll downtown?” He’s sliding his foot along Scully’s leg.

She stares at the man in front of her, his beautiful face and tender heart. She knows that she has fallen head over heels in love with him. Leaning forward so her face is inches away from his, in a sultry tone she whispers, “Take me to bed, Mulder.”

Sleeping Beauty’s Castle

10:20 pm

Thump.

Lifting Scully in his arms, he holds her tight against the suite door. He’s ravaging her neck as she’s scraping her nails along his back.

Their coupling over the last week has varied. Sometimes soft and delicate, sometimes quick and dirty. It would be a lie if Scully said she didn’t want it all tonight. She wants every variation, every angle, and all of Mulder. The feeling of his hands kneading her ass and his unmalleable erection presenting itself through his pants. He is without a doubt marking her neck, but at the moment she doesn’t care. All she cares about is becoming lost in the pleasure that is Fox Mulder. As if reading her thoughts, his hands dig deeper into her, wrapping around her back.

“Where–” she starts to ask, but he cuts her off.

“If I don’t get you into bed right now…” he stops short of finishing his sentence. She shivers, knowing in her head what will happen if he doesn’t get her into the bed, not that she would mind.

The room is magnificent. As beautiful as the castle was on the outside, the interior is even more so. Spacious and bright, there are several bedrooms, living spaces, and a massive kitchen. The master bedroom, however, is the most luxurious space she’s ever inhabited. All of this is second on her mind to what Mulder is currently doing to her.

Dropping her onto the high-top mattress with a slight bounce, Mulder pulls off his clothes first, discarding them on the floor at the end of the bed. Proceeding to rid her of her clothes, he stops and settles himself between her thighs so they are eye to eye.

“You make me feel more alive than ever before, Dana Scully.”

Before she can contemplate the consequences of her actions, she leans in and captures his lips. Only taken aback for a second, Mulder pushes into the kiss and mirrors her need. Kissing as though they’ve never been kissed before, or would be again, they devour each other's mouths equally. Tongues, lips, and teeth. Biting, sucking, and pulling. The need for air is a minor detail that they are willing to overlook. Scully is pretty sure that she could cum any second with how turned on she is. Rules and consequences be damned, she pulls his lower lip into her mouth, hoover-like, which elicits a moan from deep in Mulder’s throat.

Scully pauses, releasing him. Mulder takes the opportunity to speak, though it’s choppy due to his breathing. “I don't think I’ll last too long, Scully.” He presses kisses to her lips in between words. Now that they have kissed, he can’t stop.

“Make love to me, Mulder,” she whispers. He obliges.

[jaxteller87]

Five Seconds

So, there I was, lying in bed with Amber, the woman who had come all the way from New York to spend the weekend with me. We had been sharing this bed for a few nights now, enjoying each other’s company. While I was happy to see her, and pretty sure she was happy to see me, she seemed to really love what I did with the place.

Amber has been raving about the room since she got here. Yeah, it looked nice, but I spend more time on two wheels than I do on a couch, so I don’t quite understand what she sees in it. The centerpiece of the room is a large, dark oak four-poster bed. Its rich, polished wood gushes with elegance, kind of reminds me of the luxurious bedrooms I used to see on TV when Gemma would occasionally tune into one of those cheesy soap operas. The bed is a dark earthy tone, and there are these two blankets with plaid and paisley patterns stitched into them. Amber says it reflects a touch of rustic Southern charm; I think it looks more like something my old man would have had. Not the expensive bedspread but the dated patterns.

In fact, I think I recall a picture of him with a plaid bedroll on his chopper that kind of looked like the comforter on the bed.

I’ll have to look for that photo later.

Opposite the bed, against the wall, stand a set of hard oak dressers, pretty close to the ones Donna and Ope have in their place. As I walk across the room, my feet sink into an opulent rug pressed with some intricate design, and I almost forget for a moment that I’m some rough and tough biker. Instead, I just pretend I’m an average white-collar, picket-fence guy.

Yeah, could you imagine? Me neither.

Both Amber and I are a little more morning than we are night which means that a prominent feature we both enjoy of this bedroom is the large window that floods the room in natural light. During the day, the sun beams through the window, casting warm, golden hues across the space. The dark red curtains are made from some sort of rich fabric like velvet or silk; I don’t know, Amber said they were expensive, but when drawn, they envelop the room in a warm, pink tint.

Long story short, she loves it here. But despite all the fancy furniture and inviting allure of the room, my favorite thing in it was her. As I nuzzled her neck and playfully pecked at her cheek, she gently moved away and uttered those words that any guy in the heat of the moment doesn’t want to hear, “I’m not in the mood.”

It wasn’t just what she said but how she said it. There was something deeper behind her words, her tone, a sense that something was wrong. Concerned, I asked her gently, “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied. Again, this was not the way I planned this moment going, and conversation-wise, she was giving me nothing to work with.

“Babe? Amber? You came all the way out here to visit me, and now that you’re here, you’re acting like you rather be somewhere else.”

“What? No,” she hesitated, “it’s not that. It’s just—”

“It’s just what? Tell me, so we can try and fix it together,” I laid my hand on her thigh and looked into her troubled eyes.

We stayed silent for a few seconds, but as I waited for her to say something, I couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “You know, we can’t fix it if we don’t talk about it, my love,” I gently nudged.

She sighed, burying her face in my chest.

With a huff, she replied, “I suck in bed,” pulling the blanket over her head. I followed suit, covering my head with the blanket to be close to her. I wanted to hear her, to be there for my girl.

She continued, sharing her frustrations, “Last night, it only lasted a second. You had barely done anything, Jax. Just a few kisses and nibbles, and I was already panting for more. It’s not right.”

I knew I shouldn’t have let my cockiness get the better of me. “It was just one time, Amber. Were you counting? Come on now, that’s not fair. You’re not horrible in bed,” I said firmly, pulling the blanket off her so she had no choice but to look at me.

“Look at me, Amber Lynn, please. The last few weeks have been the best sex I’ve ever had, and I mean that! We’re learning together. When we took our relationship to the next level, it was bound to hit a bump in the road, but that’s just part of the journey. A relationship is about learning and adapting to one another, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But It’s not just about lasting longer,” she sighed. “I was so turned on; I couldn’t do anything but lie there. It’s not fair.”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me at all. Don’t I get a say in what I do or don’t enjoy?” I glanced at her.

“I guess, but I don’t know,” she paused, “it’s just different.”

“How so?” I pushed.

“You are Jax Teller,” she responded, “You could have anyone, even a damn porn star. But for whatever reason, you chose me.”

“Yeah, I did choose you. Take a moment and let that sink in. And it’s not just about experience; it’s about the connection we share.” Curious, I asked, “Has someone said something to you?”

“No, it’s not what they say, but how they look at me,” she turned away from me. “I feel like you should be with someone more experienced. Someone who you can do more with.”

I stopped her, gently making her look at me again. “Stop,” I said firmly, “You’re doing wonderful. I’m having a blast teaching you and growing with you, Amber. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I leaned in and kissed her forehead tenderly.

“Part of the problem might be my cerebral palsy. Maybe it’s why I feel things differently or don’t like certain things. But I don’t want to blame everything on that.”

“Maybe, but you need to trust that when something does bother me, that I’ll speak up and tell you. There’s no use in getting yourself worked up over speculating on what you think, Im thinking.”I stared into her eyes.

“I wish you knew how wonderful it feels when you hold me in your arms. Words can’t even explain it,” she whispered softly, returning my embrace.

“I know what you mean; it’s the same way I feel when I’m hittin’ dat ass.” I snuck a little joke in there to try and lighten the mood.

She smiled, then became serious again, “I want us to be on an even playing field, as we discussed in my notebook a while ago. That’s why sex never interested me before because people can be so self-centered. And I’m not just talking about guys; ladies can be the same.”

“Don’t I know it,” I replied.

“I think it’s the emotional connection we have, especially last night, that gets me going more than the physical stuff,” she admitted.

“Hey, while we’re on the topic of being honest, let me just say that when you said, ‘That’s it, Jax, don’t stop,’ as I was touching you, do you know how good that made me feel?” I didn’t want to sound self-centered, but damn it all if I wasn’t being truthful.

“Really?” she asked with her big innocent eyes.

“Yes! Really!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact she even had to ask. “Okay, so can we be done with this for today and just get back to enjoying each other’s company?”

“Yes, of course,” she hugged me tightly, “just promise me we’ll keep growing together. I’ll never find anyone like you, Jackson Nathaniel Teller. If I’d ever lose you, I’d just—”

“Don’t say it, don’t worry about it, and don’t even think it! I ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’” I kissed her lips.

“I love you,” she said, kissing me back.

“So, if you want, we can explore different positions if you think it might help, but do you know why I think you don’t last very long?” I said, trying to hide my smile.

She looked up at me, curious.

“All that pent-up energy you have,” I joked, “you’re like a little sexual volcano, ready to blow.”

“Oh, you’re funny,” she gave me a sarcastic grin, “although you might be right, Jax.”

“Or it could be that you said the magic words to me, and anytime I hear you utter that majestical phrase, I become some sort of feral fuck boy,” I suggested.

“Magical phrase?” she asked.

I couldn’t help myself, responding in a sing-songy voice, “How I love it when you call me Big Poppa.”

Amber looked up at me and almost died of laughter. “Well played, Teller. Well played.”

“We laughed so hard my ribs hurt later that day. But it was in that moment I knew that we would navigate this journey together, finding pleasure and fulfillment in each other’s company.

[damnthelust]

Sugar Coated Bullets

2 of ?

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“Why didn’t you tell us about this, Phantom?” Dark sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decided not to wear his blazer today, but still wore his other accessories for the sake of it. “We would’ve kept your finances in a separate account.”

“I am not getting all of you dunder-heads in on my personal hobby.” Phantom huffed, propping his legs onto the meeting table, fixing his nails while he felt Dark’s intense gaze. Then the door opened to reveal Chase. “What I do is not any of your business.”

“It is when it’s our money you’re taking!”

“What did I miss?” He asked, making his way to his respectable chair, seeing the tension within the four men.

“Phantom has been lying about his finances.” Dark placed his hands on the table, straightening his back slightly.

“He’s been financing a private business.” Wilford spoke, “we have noticed that our funds have been going down in chunks at certain patterns and we have seen that Phantom would have the money to fund the business.”

“How come Mare didn’t know about it?” Chase pointed at the twin. 

“I don’t have to know everything about his life.” Mare scoffed, “If I did, it would’ve went smoother.”

“You fucking piece of shit!” Phantom went to lunge at his brother, Wilford catching him before he was able to get Mare, “Bastard! Wait until Wilford let’s go of me and I will-“

“That is enough!” Dark slammed his hands onto the table, silencing everyone in the room with his outburst. Dark then cleared his throat, carding his fingers through his hair as he sighed, calming himself down as the other three sat down. Chase watched the whole situation go down an awkward tension growing. “Now if you both will stop acting like children we can asses boundaries for Phantom’s business.” 

“Business will pick up, I know it.” Phantom huffed, “But I’ll need some funds to cover the next few months.” He stated and Dark nodded.

“We will discuss this later.” Phantom was compliant though sat quietly.

“You are all dismissed, I need to speak to Chase privately.” Dark waved the three out of the room, looking over at Chase and giving the file to him once they left. “There is your target. The client is willing to pay fifty grand if you successfully kill their grandfather. An abusive history trails behind the frail man and the client wants you to kill him off,” Dark stood up walking to the door, “his legacy dies, the client gets the will money, you get the money. It’s a win-win.” Dark’s smile was rather sickly, laced with a sadistic nature.

“Not for the old man, though.” Chase chuckled lightly.

“I said win-win. Not win-win-win.” Dark said, opening the door, “good luck, Chase.”

“Don’t need it.” Chase smirked, making Dark roll his eyes before he left the room, leaving Chase by himself. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket, going to his contacts to see Marvin’s number immediately texting the number to start off the conversation.

Not even a minute later, his phone started to ring, startling him before quickly answering it, “Marvin?”

“Hello, Chase,” He heard Marvin’s purr again, hearing the whirring of machines in the background, then a door closing, and silence. “sorry just got back into my office.” 

“Nah, you’re fine,” Chase waved off, leaning against his seat, “But I was wondering about your proposal to the.. Date? For this weekend?”

“It’s a date, silly,” Marvin’s laugh was rich like velvet, “I don’t give my number out to just anybody I see- or bumps into me anyway.” Chase blushed lightly.

“Well.. I was wondering if I could take you to a restaurant?” He asked, spinning his chair slightly.

“Ooh! Should I dress up?”

“Only if you want to,” Chase answered, “but it is on the fancy side a bit.” He heard Marvin hum in acknowledgement.

“I can pick you up at seven if that’s okay?”

“Oh that is perfect,” Marvin chirped, “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Nothing but your pretty face.” Chase smiled though he winced lightly as to how sappy that sounded. He heard Marvin’s laugh once more.

“You flatter me, Chase,” Marvin’s smile could be heard from the other as he cooed, “I’ll be sure to bring my pretty face.” 

Chase smiled, blushing, “Well I guess that settles it. Want me to pick you up at seven?”

“If you want to, honey.” Chase’s blush grew darker.

“Honey?”

“… Well you are sweet.” Chase couldn’t help but laugh.

“At least I know we are both corny.” Marvin giggled.

“Well, I got to go. Gotta keep business going. See you on Saturday, Chase. Bye~” He heard Marvin purr before he hung up, now looking at the ceiling, smiling before he sighed, “You can come out now, Wilford.”

“Now, I was just walking by!” Wilford protested as he opened the door, “I wouldn’t dare eavesdrop on my dearest buddy.” The larger dramatically placed a hand on his face.

Chase shook his head, “How much did you hear?”

“I was… Slowly walking by, so I heard everything.” Wilford rubbed the back of his neck.

“Damnit, Wilford.” 

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