#only to find out they won’t be released until next month

[armandyke]

being so so normal about David at UK Comic Con

[puckinghischier]

Spotlight

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary - reader prefers to stay out of the spotlight being luke hughes’ girlfriend brings

notes - y’all asked for luke, so luke you’ll get. i wanted to try to get out at least one more fic for you guys before my semester kicks off tomorrow. i don’t know how often i’ll be able to write once things get going, but i’m going to try my best not to completely disappear again. i don’t really like the ending of this, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. happy reading! 🫶🏼

request - “go with me?” “only if you’ll hold my hand” “take my jacket, i don’t want you catching a cold”

[2.3k]

You were someone that absolutely hated the spotlight. You hated the feeling of eyes on you, the knowledge that every move you make is being observed and analyzed.

You flew under the radar all through school, until college. You managed to become valedictorian of your program, earning a highly sought after position with a company based out of New Jersey.

The city has always brought a sense of anonymity to you that you’ve enjoyed. The ability to be a stranger everywhere you go brings a certain comfort to you.

That is, until you met one of the most well-known men in Jersey.

You first met Luke at an event your company was hosting in partnership with the Devils to present them with a hefty donation for a new practice facility. You had tried to get out of going, suit and tie events not being your typical scene, but your boss informed you that you were required to attend.

Even wearing the most plain dress you could find, you caught the attention of none other than the team’s rookie defenseman. You had tried to politely make your exit, but Luke was too intrigued by the pretty stranger in the corner.

The two of you had spent the rest of the night talking, despite the feeling of every eye on you as Luke lead you back to a table. The two of you exchanged numbers at the end of the event, Luke inviting you out to a game. He offered to give you a ticket, but you informed him that your company had rink-side season seats, courtesy of the GM after the donation.

You attended games regularly after that night, blending in the sea of red with Luke’s own Jersey on your back—another perk of the large donation— while also chatting with Luke nearly every day over text, which eventually morphed into phone calls, then facetime calls when he was on the road.

Four months after your initial meeting, Luke decided to make it official and put a label on your relationship.

You had worried about the unwanted attention that came with being a ‘WAG’ as you learned the other significant others on the team were nicknamed, but your feelings for Luke were greater than any discomfort you may experience.

Now, though, looking at the hoard of photographers that are stationed around the rink, your anxiety begins to spike a little.

“Honeybee, I promise it’ll be fine. They probably won’t even focus on us, anyways. They’ll want a few shots of me and Jack with mom and dad, but it’s likely they’ll be too busy on the guys with kids to even notice you’re with me,” Luke reassures you, crouched in front of you while tying your skates.

Today was family skate day for the team, Luke having asked you weeks ago to participate with him.

You agreed, despite your limited ability to skate, thinking it was just going to be the players and their families, no media presence. When you arrived with Luke this morning, however, and you saw the photographers trying to get pictures through the windows of Luke’s BMW, you realized you were wrong.

“I’m just nervous, Luke,” you tell him quietly. “I know if they release pictures of you with a girl during family skate it’s going to be the next big hockey gossip topic, and then it’ll feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Luke’s soft eyes look up at you, sensing the nervousness in your own.

“I know, sweet girl. But I promise, I’ll have Tom talk to the media and tell him to withhold any pictures of us together, if that makes you feel better?” he offers, picking up your now skate clad foot off of his knee and placing it on the padded floor.

You think about the offer, but realize it would still cause unwanted attention on you. You don’t want to be difficult, just invisible.

“No, I don’t want to overcomplicate things. It’s fine. Like you said, I’m sure they’ll mostly focus on everyone else,” you smile down at him, watching his own grin overtake his face.

“Well then, it’s time we finally get you acquainted with the ice. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot of it in your future,” he winks, standing to his full height and holding a hand out to help you off of the bench.

He helps you walk over to the entrance to the rink, steadying you after every wobble. Once you reached the gate, you hesitate, halting your movements.

“C’mon, Honeybee. Go with me?” Luke asks you, already having stepped on the ice.

Thinking about what this means once more, and the huge step it is, no only onto the ice but in your relationship, you hesitate for only a few seconds.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you tell him, your words going deeper than just ice skating.

“Always,” he responds, tugging your hands towards him when you step onto the ice, shakily keeping your balance.

“Well, look at you, Wallflower, out here skating with the big dogs,” Jack calls out, skating up towards you and Luke.

Looking over to give him a short smile, you try to keep a majority of your attention on not falling over as Luke slowly pulls you towards him as he skates backwards.

“Figured it can’t be that hard if you do it all the time,” you tease him back, the two of you becoming close friends over the course of yours and Luke’s relationship.

Jack, as rambunctious and rowdy as he can be, is one of the people who works the hardest to keep you out of the spotlight, other than Luke, of course.

On the rare occasion you decide to tag along for team outings with Luke, Jack will act as your own personal body guard, perfectly hiding you in-between him and Luke anytime there’s a flash of a camera or a squeal of a fan.

“Oh, yeah, make fun of the professional. Let’s see you do this,” Jack makes a big show of skating backwards while swiveling, then executing a very poor jump, but still managing to land upright on his skates.

You roll your eyes at him, only glancing up for a few seconds at a time, trying to keep your eyes on your own feet.

“Alright, Jack, that’s enough showing off. Give the poor girl a break,” you hear Ellen scold her middle child as her and Jim skate over towards the three of you, hand in hand.

“Hey, she started it. I was just trying to defend myself,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

Luke guides you over to one of the short walls, allowing you to hold onto it for support for a second, giving you a break.

“Don’t act like you have to have a reason to show off, it’s just your natural state,” you tease Jack again, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

“You got me there,” Jack doesn’t argue, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

“Jack! Luke! Over here!” you hear a voice yell, turning to look at the photographer a few feet away from you, leaning over the wall with his camera pointed in your direction.

You feel the spike of anxiety in your chest, attempting to scoot further down the wall to separate yourself from them, but nearly losing your balance.

Luckily Luke was right there to catch you. “Hey, it’s okay. They’ll just get a few pictures of our family together and then move on,” he assures you once he makes sure you’re steady enough to be left alone.

You watch as Jack and Luke position themselves in just the right way that you’re completely hidden behind them, the added bodies of Ellen and Jim only ensuring your hidden state.

The photographer snaps a few shots of the family before giving a thumbs up, looking down to check the quality of his pictures.

You let out the breath you were holding in, sagging a bit at the relief of avoiding any unwanted attention.

“See, told you there was nothing to worry about,” Luke skates over to you again, leading you away from the wall.

“Luke! How about a shot of you and your lady!” the same photographer yells out, causing your relaxed state to turn rigid in a heartbeat.

“Nah, man. No pictures for her today. Just me and Jack,” Luke replies, skating to stand in front of you, blocking you from the camera pointed at you.

“Oh, c’mon, man. The fans will love it!” the photographer tries again, attempting to move positions to catch a glimpse of you.

“He said, no, man. Go get some shots of Cap or something. She doesn’t want her picture taken,” Jack skates up, standing in front of both you and Luke.

The photographer rolls his eyes, agitated at the loss of a good picture opportunity. “Fine, whatever,” the man huffs, turning and walking towards Nico and his family.

“Thanks, you guys,” you mumble out, embarrassed at the interaction.

“I told you, no pictures if you don’t want them,” Luke turns to face you, taking your hands in his once again, pulling you out further onto the ice.

The rest of the skate goes smoothly, no more unwanted attention from the photographers, just you and Luke and his family skating in small circles and having a good time.

Towards the end of the skate, you start bringing your gloved hands up to rub at your red nose, the chill of the ice finally getting to you.

“You cold, Honeybee?” Luke asks you, knowing how chilled you get, even when wearing layers like you were right now.

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly in here. Not that you’d know,” you tease your boyfriend, gesturing to his full set of pads and jersey he was wearing. Not to mention his tolerance for the cold anyways.

He leads the two of you over towards the benches, leaving you leaned against the wall for a second before returning with something in his hands.

“Here, take my jacket, I don’t want you catching a cold,” he tells you, draping your favorite plaid jacket of his over your shoulders.

You put your arms through the large sleeves, loving how you were now engulfed in the smell of his cologne.

Thanking him, you lean up to give him a small kiss, not caring who was watching, lost in your love for your boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you out of these skates and back into your normal shoes before people start filing in for warm ups. I have a game to play and you have to get to your seat so you can watch your hunky boyfriend do his manly job of hitting people and chasing a piece of rubber on ice,” he tells you, causing you to laugh at him, bringing a hand up to ruffle his curls.

After helping you remove your skates, and pouting until you give him a good luck kiss, Luke shoos you away so you can make your way to your usual seat, Jim and Ellen opting to join you at the glass rather than sitting in a box with some of the other player parents.

The boys ended up winning their game, Luke coming straight out of the locker room after the game and picking you up in a celebratory spin, claiming you have to go skating with him before every game now.

You laugh at his superstitious self, grabbing his hand and walking towards the exit of the rink with him to join the rest of the team for celebratory drinks, not wanting to bail on Luke after such a game.

Weeks later, when you see an article containing the pictures from the family skate event, you click on it and scroll through the various snapshots.

You find yourself smiling at all of the family pictures of Luke’s teammates, enjoying how happy the guys are to have their wives and kids with them on the ice.

Scrolling all the way to the end of the article, you find yourself stopping on a couple pictures in particular, the familiar pit of anxiety forming in your stomach.

The last two pictures in the article are pictures of you and Luke. The first was taken when he was zipping up the jacket he gave you, the two of you looking at each other with so much fondness you could feel the love radiating from the picture.

The second is when you were craning your neck to give Luke a small kiss, the picture captured right before your lips touched, both of you smiling at the other with the same fond look in your eyes.

Your immediate reaction should have been a level three meltdown, your picture out there with Luke, officially, in an ESPN article of all places, but you were surprisingly calm. You should have been screaming and angry, having specifically told the photographer no pictures, but you couldn’t find that anger within yourself.

The pictures showcased yours and Luke’s love for each other so well, you wanted copies of them for yourself. Suddenly you didn’t care if people knew your name, or your face. You could care less if you were front and center on every hockey gossip page in existence.

All you cared about was the amount of happiness you saw on Luke’s face in the pictures, and how deeply you felt about him.

So, when Luke called you an hour later, panicked and telling you he was in the process of getting them taken down, you told him it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to be taken down, because you didn’t care if you had to stand naked in the middle of the rink during puck drop at his next game, you just wanted people to know you loved him with every ounce of your being.

Your aversion to attention be damned, seeing these pictures made you want to scream your love for him from the rooftop of the highest building in Jersey. You were still opposed to the idea of unwanted and unnecessary attention, but decided right here that there would be no more hiding. You were going to be there for Luke in any way he wanted or needed you from here on out. And if you happened to be caught in a few pictures on the way? Well, you guess you’ll just have to get them framed.

[spidehpig]

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap. 

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought. 

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive. 

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival. 

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior. 

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now. 

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm. 

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it. 

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology. 

Ghost decides that he hates her for it. 

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman. 

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top. 

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. 

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick. 

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini. 

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk. 

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face. 

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs. 

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock. 

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp. 

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him. 

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep. 

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment. 

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.” 

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost. 

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest.  Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

[wosoamazing]

Comp Struggles

Part 2 | Beneath the Surface

Warnings: Endometriosis, Pain (including talks of pain meds and green whistles), bleeding through, mentions of vomit.

Notes: Thank you @samkerrworshipper for your help on both this part and the previous part!

2.5k words

“I’m going to be on my period for the Aquatics GB Championships,” you announced to Leah and your Mum as you walked into the living room where they sat, both letting out a small ‘oh’.

“I can still compete right?” you asked plonking yourself down between the both of them on the couch, forcing your Mum to move over slightly.

“Of course bubs, it’s up to you, the only thing is you might not be able to take your pain meds until after you compete, but I’m sure we can find alternative ways to help the pain until after you compete,” your Mum told you.

“What if I leak?” 

“You haven’t at training yet,” 

“Yeah but I wear my special swimsuits, and leaking at training is nowhere near as scary as leaking in front of Aquatics GB,”

“We could get you period swim bottoms, and you could wear them under your togs, it’d be the same but that way you would still be able to wear your race suit, you’d just most likely see the outline of them under your suit so you’d have to be okay with that.” Leah added

“If it meant I could race I wouldn’t really mind,” you answered and Leah nodded before getting up to get her computer, as she did so you winced ever so slightly and pressed your fingers into your hips, trying to alleviate the shooting pain running through your pelvis. “Does your stomach hurt?” Your Mum asked and you nodded at her, “Have you taken anything?”

“No, I take too many painkillers these days and I don’t want to be reliant, they’re not good for you,”

“Bubs, you aren’t, and they’re not good for you when you take them for no reason, but you have a reason and we know that. They told us from the ultrasound results it’s likely you have endo, and usually that doesn’t happen, most of the time you have to fight for a laparoscopy especially at your age, but they said they were booking you in for one, and it’s as soon as we could do with how busy we are the next few months, which normally you have to wait for ages too. This isn’t normal and I know you wish it would go away but it won’t at least for the time being,” your Mum told you and you looked at her almost broken, you knew this but somehow her saying it hurt more, “What if we looked into seeing a pelvic floor therapist to help,” your Mum suggested wanting to try and make you feel better, “it might not do anything but it might help to reduce your pain, would you like that? Obviously if we start and it doesn’t help we can stop at any time and if you don’t like it or don’t want to continue we can stop too.”

“Yes please,” you said, releasing your grip on your stomach, the pain subsiding into a dull ache.

Leah came back and wordlessly handed you a panadol along with your water bottle and heat pad, before resuming her place on the couch, and opening her laptop, you shuffled over closer to her, leaning against her as you watched her scroll through the many sites that offered period swim bottoms, you giving your opinion on some every now and then, before you both found yourself looking through the Nike site together, pointing out what you liked. Your Mum couldn’t help but smile as she watched the domesticated interaction between the both of you, warmth spreading through her, she was always worried about you and what would happen if she ever did eventually find a long term partner, she met Leah and knew instantly, there was a connection between her and Leah she hadn’t felt before, but she couldn’t get her hopes up, you came first before anything else and if Leah didn’t understand that and if you didn’t get along with her the relationship couldn’t happen. However Leah understood that you came first immediately and very quickly Leah started putting you first too. She knew Leah was perfect however she was wary about how much Leah actually cared for you, however all her doubt washed away, the day you managed to get a concussion at swim training, which also happened to be the day Beth was making her return, Leah had overhead your Mum talking to Jonas about what to do as the team was already down a physio so she couldn’t really leave but she also couldn’t leave your concussed self at training, ‘I can pick her up,’ Leah interjected, and your Mum looked at her trying to read whether she was truly okay with it, ‘I promise, it’s okay, I’ll pick her up and take her home, and make sure she is okay,’ Leah said and your Mum knew then she was going to marry Leah. Leah who had just wholeheartedly said she would miss her best friend’s return to pick you up, she would miss a match for you. You who was just her girlfriend's daughter. You who she didn’t really get a choice about letting into her life, however she did, she made it her choice by showing you how much she cared about you and how much you mattered to her everyday. 

It wasn’t really the best combination leading up to the Championships, your Mum ended up having to go with the team to Melbourne, having been told if she wanted the time off until the start of preseason for the whole team she had to go, so it was just you and Leah, you also did end up getting your period like you thought, and it was safe to say it was bad, if not the worse one you have had yet. You sat in the passenger seat as Leah drove you both up to Sheffield, your suitcases and swim bag in the back, you were curled up in your seat, feet resting on the seat as your knees were as close to your chest as possible, your body leant against the back of the seat as your chin rested on top of your knees, your eyes watching out the window, a sick bag sat next to you on the seat, along with your phone and headphones. You were meant to have left two hours earlier, so you had a lot more time before needing to be at the pool but things changed when you ended up hunched over the toilet 5 minutes before your planned leaving time, Leah ultimately gave into the fact it was just nerves and not your period, but she was unsure, this was uncharted territory, and she knew you’re Mum would’ve called it all off the second you were sick but she was left in charge your Mum telling her she trusted her judgement, she wanted to let you do this but at the same time she was concerned for you. 

______

“I have to ask you this,” Leah blurted out half way through the drive, “I know you want to do this, and you want to swim but if we get there and you’re five minutes out from your race and you tell me you don’t want to do it am I telling you that’s okay or am I telling you that you can do it? Obviously if you need to pull out we will, but there are two challenges today and the biggest one will be the mental challenge and I need to know what you want from me,”

“That I can do it, I know it’s going to hurt and I might even regret racing after but I want to try, I’ll regret it more if I don’t, but also if you think I really do need to pull out, do it, take me out,”

“Okay, you still good? Do you want me to stop off earlier?” she asked and you shook your head, knowing you were stopping off in 20-30 minutes anyway.

“You all sorted?” Leah asked as you walked out of the bathroom, and you nodded at her, before she gave you a nod in return and you both walked out together, Leah had been given permission to be on the floor during your race in case something went wrong, she moved to stand next to your coach in their designated area. As you lined up waiting for your race, she could tell you were in pain, your hands pressed tightly against your stomach just inside your hips, your breaths were heavy and you looked pale, she watched you stand up and get yourself sorted on the blocks before you seamlessly dived into the pool, and took the lead, which you kept hold of finishing the race ahead of the others, with silent tears now falling down your face, you clung to the edge of the pool as you had to agonisingly wait for everyone to finish before you were all let out. You don’t really remember how but you managed to get yourself out of the pool and over to Leah, collapsing in her arms as you reached her. She picked you up, her arms holding you against her, your legs weakly wrapped around her body, your arms around her shoulders, your hands fisting the back of her shirt as you buried your head into the crook of her neck, trying to hide the fact you were now sobbing. 

“You did absolutely amazing, my girl. I am so fucking proud of you, what you just did was absolutely incredible,” Leah told you as you continued to sob. 

Both of you expected this after your race, having a chronic condition was all about pacing yourself and not overexerting yourself, especially during flare ups. However as an athlete that was hard, you’d spoken to Leah about how it might be a lot worse after you raced. Leah understood how hard it was to have a condition that threatened to ‘ruin’ your life and that you have no control over and deep down Leah knew you could do this, and you did, you’d just won your race with a pb, she was just hoping that what you said in the car was true and that you did prefer regretting racing than regretting not racing. 

“Mam, if you could follow us,” an event informant said to Leah as she came up to the both of you, and Leah nodded following them into one of the medical rooms, before she sat down on the bed with you and rested against the back of it, you brought your legs into your chest and moved your hands to the front of Leah’s shirt but otherwise your position remained the same, as you tried to survive the feeling that your insides were getting ripped apart, along with the constant throbbing deep in your pelvis and the constant ache in your back, occasionally accompanied by a zap of pain running down your back and through to your thighs.

Leah managed to get you to take one of your tablets before two medics walked in and Leah explained to them what was happening, that there was nothing to do but wait. Leah lightly massaged your back as she whispered encouraging and reassuring words in your ear, occasionally placing a kiss on your temple.

“It’s probably something that’s only been done a few times before but we could give you a green whistle which she could use to take the edge off the pain until her meds kick in,” one of the medics suggested, seeing as you were still in so much pain 10 minutes later.

“Do you want to try that bubs?” Leah asked and she took the movement of your head as a yes, “Yeah sure, thank you,” Leah said to the medics as she was handed a green whistle, which she helped you take some breaths from, after 12 breaths she felt your body physically relax ever so slightly, allowing her worry to also decrease. Eventually the combination of pain meds had worked enough making the pain bearable.

____

“Do you want me to help you get changed and then we can go?” Leah asked and you nodded, the pain having finally settled down to just above its 'normal' level during your period, Leah walked into the bathroom with you before shutting and locking the door behind you both.

-

“I-I think I bleed through Le,” you quietly told her before a fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes.

“Bubs, that’s okay, we’ll try and clean it and if we can’t we’ll just buy you a new one, it’s not your fault okay,” you nodded into her hug.

Leah helped you get changed and cleaned up, putting you in a pair of your tracksuit and one of your Mum’s hoodies, hoping it might make you feel slightly better, before you both walked back out the bathroom.

-

As Leah packed your bag back up you slid down the wall beside her, the pain hurting too much to stand, she gave you a soft apologetic smile before she had to fill in some paperwork with the medics, who kindly offered to take you around to your car in one of the golf buggies staff used to get around.

“Can we go back home? I know it’s a long drive and we’ve paid for a hotel but I’d rather be at home, I think I’d be more comfortable. But if you’re too tired or you don’t want to it’s okay,”

“We can absolutely go straight back home, do you want anything to eat? We could stop somewhere,”

“No, I think I’ll be sick if I eat,”

“That’s okay, just tell me if you need me to pull over or stop at any time, okay?” “Okay, thank you,” you said before she shut your door and moved around to the driver's seat, Leah kept glancing at you as she drove, to check you were still okay, every time you were in the exact same position, which just happened to be the exact same position you were in on the drive there, however this time Leah was pretty sure you had fallen asleep.

—

“Hey bubs, how are you going?” your Mum asked, Leah having woken you up because she called. “Okay, we’re in the car now, going home,” you told her.

“I’m really really proud of you, you did an amazing job. Maybe there is a reason the universe made me be here in Melbourne, because I can for sure tell you that I wouldn’t have let you race,”

“I bleed through my race suit,”

“That’s okay, we can try and wash it and if we can’t we’ll just buy you a new one, it’s no biggie,”

“Yeah okay, love you,” you said, before you started to drift back to sleep, and your Mum continued to talk to Leah.

[rafecameronsslxt]

Please make a part 2 to forbidden touch

Stepbrother! Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: After so many months of teasing you find your stepbrother Rafe masturbating with your panties.

Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, taboo themes, stepcest, called bitch, nicknames like stepbrother, stepsister, and stepbrother, teasing, p in v, and grinding.

A/N: I hope this doesn't seem too rushed, but they did get a happy ending!

Part one

You tried to push him away, you did, but he wouldn’t leave. It was supposed to be a night of releasing pent-up tension- or that’s what you told yourself, and now Rafe can’t keep his hands off you. It wasn’t just sex, Rafe confided in you. He told you things he’d never tell anyone else, and you replicated his gestures and late-night talks. Your friends started to notice how close you and Rafe had become, and so did your Mother. She was delighted that Rafe had someone to talk to, for him to have such a good sister like you. 

   You put your hands on Rafe’s chest to stop him from kissing you. “Rafe, we can’t do this anymore before- before we get attached. I’m serious.” You were lying through your teeth. He knew it because you were already attached. “I thought we inferred that you were a good sister. Can’t fuck your stepbrother one more time, baby.” His veiny hand makes its way up your thigh and unbuttons your shorts. He slips his hand under your panties, gliding his finger over your slit before easing his middle finger into you. “You like that sister?” The nickname only made you wetter. You nod, leaning to kiss him, but he pushes you away and removes his finger from your cunt. You rub your thighs concurrently, whining. 

   Rafe lays you back against your pillows, his body between your legs, his erection pressed against your pussy. “You’re going to kiss me next time like a good stepsister?” He grabs your jaw, lips pushing together as you choke out a desperate yes, grinding your hips onto his. Rafe presses his mouth to yours and spits saliva angrily into your mouth, and you swallow it like a good stepsister. Despite your neediness, you pretend to gently run your hands through Rafe’s dishevelled hair but tug his head back, watching him smile sinisterly. This week Rafe has had a temper hence the anger already shared in the few seconds, and you always let him use you. So it was time to have a switch. Until you hear your Mother’s voice from the other side, causing you to stiffen up. “Yeah, Mom?” You call out while Rafe kisses your jaw, only to find your sweet spot for you to moan quietly. “I need to talk to you.” You yell out okay.

   “Rafe Cameron, the bathroom now!” You whisper-scream at him because he won’t stop kissing you. Then, finally, you push him by the butt to get in there, rolling your eyes after.

   You compose yourself before opening the bedroom door, taking deep breaths and buttoning up your shorts. “Mom, what do you want to talk about?” You smile, both of you sitting on the bed where you were grinding onto Rafe. “I know you and Rafe have been becoming closer, and I just want you to be careful because he can be…” She rubs her neck, giving you a slight smile and obvious ‘mom’ advice. All girls should be wary around Rafe because the next thing you know, you're having sex with him every day. 

   “But, I also wanted you to know that me and Ward aren’t doing so hot right now.” You try not to look happy because your mom is heartbroken, but you choke on your spit, wheezing until your breath becomes stable. She gives you a worried look but brushes it off. “I’m hoping it’ll work out, but I’m exhausted after this long day.” You yawn on cue, eyes saddening for your mom's convenience. You walk her out to the hall. “Night, love you.” You shut and lock your bedroom door, jump onto Rafe excitedly, and wrap your legs around his waist. You kiss all over his face as he laughs. 

   He lightly throws you into the bed and quickly throws your shorts and panties to the wooden floor. You unbuckle his bed and slide his khakis off with his boxers, letting his cock lay against your abdomen. “I’m not fucking you.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a light kiss on them. You furrow your brows, confused. “But we got good news.” You sigh, irritated. Of course, Rafe had to be stubborn today. 

   Rafe rubs his tip up and down your folds, putting extra pressure on your clit. Your hands grasp the sheets until your knuckles turn white, and the only oxygen you can breathe is his because his mouth is sealed to yours. He pulls away. “C’mon, rub yourself on me since you decided to be a bitch today.” His gravelly voice whispers, biting your bottom lip, creating an indent from his teeth. 

   You’re so desperate that you oblige. You lower your cunt on Rafe’s erection, and every bulging vein is more prominent as you stroke his cock with your pussy, adding to the pleasure of his tip slightly curving up into you, but he doesn’t let it happen. “Just one thrust. Please, baby.” You pout sweetly, throwing your hands around his neck, legs shuddering just for Rafe to look conceited. He pulls your shirt off, sucking on your nipples that turn sensitive too quickly. “Rafe, please. I need you.” You say tersely, and you see him deciding whether he should. Finally, he does—one deep but profound thrust as you cry out in pleasure, covering your mouth quickly. 

   You knew you would barely last a minute because of his teasing. The bed squeaks with each movement, and your breasts bounce as Rafe pounds into you unmercifully. Finally, his hand rubs quick circles on your clit, and you are gone. Your eyes roll back, pussy spasming around his cock, and long lines of ripped skin on Rafe’s taut back. 

   A month later, you’re completely moved out of the Camerons' house and back into the comfort of your home. Fortunately, your feelings for Rafe didn’t leave but grew more assertive, leading to a secret relationship until it reached figure eight, and everyone knew. At first, you weren’t on speaking terms with most of your friends, but they later accepted it, saying more than needed kinky things about your relationship with Rafe. 

   You could call it a happy ending for now.

[mandukkul]

TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out. 

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years. 

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it. 

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying. 

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things. 

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think. 

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today. 

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal.  Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are. 

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies. 

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday. 

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%. 

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good. 

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations. 

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection. 

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching). 

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.  

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait. 

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain. 

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently. 

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area. 

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate. 

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music. 

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much. 

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face. 

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour. 

so much for God's mercy. 

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best. 

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb.  This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid  in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look. 

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain. 

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him. 

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him. 

talk about rift. 

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.  

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck. 

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling. 

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions. 

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink. 

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you. 

“aren’t your parents worried?” 

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday 

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as  look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives. 

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head. 

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes. 

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch. 

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either. 

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress. 

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life. 

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago. 

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things. 

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline. 

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern. 

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor. 

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore). 

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”. 

the sick you are even snarky than normal you. 

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers. 

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection. 

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so. 

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches. 

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer. 

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room. 

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich. 

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you. 

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to. 

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth. 

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist. 

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention. 

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different. 

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it. 

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking. 

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least. 

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours. 

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself. 

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you. 

That was the last time you felt noticed. 

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh? 

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few). 

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst. 

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile. 

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero. 

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him. 

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand. 

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile. 

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly. 

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now. 

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety. 

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else. 

something new. 

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like. 

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went. 

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you. 

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health. 

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you. 

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours. 

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at. 

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ. 

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life. 

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while. 

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference. 

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless. 

“i don’t hate you” 

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it. 

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face. 

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you. 

you only hate him because he hates you 

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide. 

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin. 

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation. 

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept. 

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard. 

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second”  he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze. 

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick. 

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back” 

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit. 

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession. 

actually he did confess. to you. right now. 

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever. 

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red. 

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him. 

He's so glad it’s dark right now. 

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name. 

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips. 

He wants to hear it again. 

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered. 

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness. 

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance. 

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine. 

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face. 

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point. 

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes. 

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes. 

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“  you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that 

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along. 

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the. 

girl

he

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically. 

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you). 

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up. 

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”. 

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more. 

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you. 

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years” 

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was. 

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it. 

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was. 

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now. 

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

[blueberry-boyfriends]

I want someone to control when, where, and how I get to orgasm. Keep me denied for so long, making me touch my wet and aching pussy every night for you before bed, but not letting me finish. Watch my every move and wait until I’m right on the precipice, breathy and shaky and eager, and then tell me to stop in that voice that I wouldn’t dare disobey. Do this over and over and over until I’m desperate, begging for you to let me keep going just this once, please I want to cum, I need it. But you never do. You promise I can cum for you soon, but not now.

This goes on for weeks.

I go about my days constantly thinking about how much I want to get off, my needy clit rubbing against the fabric of my underwear and a wet spot growing because I can’t stop leaking. I can feel it all the time, and my mind won’t stop wandering as I count down the minutes until I get home that night when I’ll get to touch myself again. I won’t be able to get off, but at least there’s a little relief from being able to touch.

And then I get a text from you. It’s a simple message, one I’d been waiting to hear for weeks now: “You can cum for me.” A thrill rolls through me, because finally, I’ll get to feel that release tonight.

Except a second message comes through: “You have 5 minutes to get off.” My heart skips, because maybe I’m at work, or getting groceries, or whatever, but in any case I’m in public. There’s no way I can get home in 5 minutes. I know this. You know this. The clock is ticking.

Maybe I drop everything and go out to my car. Maybe I find a bathroom, or a fitting room, or just a storage closet in the back of my office. But I know this is the only chance you’ll give me for a long time, and I don’t want to waste it. The second I have a moment of privacy my hand is in my underwear, and my clit is so sensitive to the touch of my fingers, slicked up from my own juices. It took me a minute or two to find somewhere to be alone, so I know I don’t have much time. I rub and finger and grind, sweat beading on my forehead and slick ruining my underwear as I get closer and closer, until finally the tension that’s been building for so long hits me full-force and I’m cumming so hard I have to clamp my other hand over my mouth so I don’t get caught. I nearly collapse where I stand, panting and shaking, my pussy still clenching as it soaks through my underwear with cum. Relief washes over my entire body.

Another message comes through right after, exactly five minutes since the last one: “Hope it was good. Next time we’ll go for a few months.”

[erodasfishtacos]

As It Was (You Know It’s Not The Same)

prompt: part II of the pornstar!au; what happens after the shoot

warnings: angst,smut, minors dni

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part one

-

YN is staring blankly into her bowl of chicken alfredo that Niall was kind enough to make after they got home from the shoot.

She had so many different emotions coursing through her that it felt like overload and it was making her numb as not one single thought could be construed properly in her head.

Niall let her process for a while as he chowed down on his own meal, eyeing his best friend regularly to try to get a gauge on her mental status.

It jars them both when Niall’s phone begins to ring, the obnoxious default music echoing through the apartment and interrupting the silence.

His phone was face down, in typical Niall fashion, he flips it quickly and answers, barely glancing at the unknown number on the screen.

“‘Ello?” He states through a mouthful, ever the gentleman, and as soon as the caller begins to talk, Niall’s eyebrows pinch downward and he drops his fork as he listens.

“She doesn’t owe you shit, mate,” Niall responds loudly and YN already knows who it is, knows that Harry has Niall’s number but not hers because she changed it a while back when a subscriber found it out and called incessantly.

“I’m not asking her whether she wants to talk or not. If she did, she obviously would have stuck around to do so. You don’t get to make demands when you were the one getting your dick wet elsewhere,” Niall was nearly shouting at this point where YN didn’t even need to hear Harry to know that he was keeping a deathly calm tone with a sharp edge to each word.

YN had only heard him yell once.

-

“You won’t let me explain!” Harry erupts angrily, YN had never heard him this loud ever as he stood in the entryway of their apartment, “You’re kicking me out and you won’t even fucking let me explain to you what’s been going on!”

“You had time to explain,” YN grits out, there were fat tears streaming down her cheeks and she could not catch her breath, “But when I asked you wh-what was going on you lied. You said n-nothing was sneak-sneaky.”

Harry’s eyes soften a bit as he tries to step forward with his arms outstretched, “Baby, you need to breathe. You’re going to pass out. Please, just let me help you first.”

“Don’t you dare,” YN manages to hiss between hiccups, taking a step back until she hits the wall behind her, “Don’t even think about touching me.”

Harry’s voice raises again, “You think that I would throw what we had away? For what? Sex? Are you that fuckin’ daft? When would I have time to get it anywhere when I’m trying to get with you every time I can? Our sex life is literally amazing.”

“You tell me,” She rebukes with a shake of her head, she just needs a minute to think and everything is going a mile a minute, “You tell me why.”

“You know what?” Harry scoffs with a clenched jaw, he looked more intimidating in this moment than he ever had as he spoke through his teeth, “The fact that you think I would ever cheat on you is disgusting. That you think so god damn little of me after I’ve spent the last five years proving my love and loyalty to you.”

YN’s bottom lip quivers at that, a fresh round of tears because this isn’t her fucking fault, and he is making her doubt herself right now.

“The fact that you’re willing to throw away this relationship because of something you suspect with nofucking proof. Just because of what you went through with your parents. That ready to get rid of me,” Harry’s volume lowers by the end, a watery edge of emotion to it, and YN watches him rub his eyes furiously to wash away the tears.

YN regrets what she says next because she knows they should have a conversation even if it’s not what she wants to hear.

However, she instead spits out, “Get the fuck out. I hope I never see your fucking face again. Go find the girl who was worth it and enjoy your life.”

And then she’s turning on her heel out of the room, the deafening sound of Harry slamming the front door shut as he leaves makes her ears ring and he had to have to splinter it.

YN has never collapsed to the ground before like she did right then, sliding down the wall in her kitchen and dropping her head to her knees - letting out the most earth-shattering wail as her soulmate walks out of her life.

-

“You can fuck off, mate,” Naill’s hard words interrupt her flashback as he pulls his phone away from his ear and presses the red ‘end’ button before setting his phone back down on the table, “Jesus. He wants your number.”

YN squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, shaking her head and taking in a deep inhale because it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, she just knows that it’s not the best decision for her.

However, with the choices she made today to sleep with him, she wasn’t truly making great decisions anyways at this point.

It didn’t get him out of her system, if anything, it reminded her of how much her body craved him and how much her soul needed him - it reminded her of how broken she was without him.

“Thanks, Niall,” YN sighs as she pushes her full plate away, “I just…I just need some time to decompress. I’m probably just going to get a bath and head to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow. Thanks for everything today.”

Niall gives her a concerned look, not truly believing that she was okay enough to be alone but he nods, leaning over to kiss her forehead before telling her, “Call me if you need anything before then. Okay pet?”

YN agrees before walking him to the door, locking it behind him, and just standing there for a moment to gather herself - she hated that there were pinpricks of tears in her eyes because she missed Harry.

It didn’t help when she was undressing in her bathroom as her tub filled up, eyes tracing the bruises that Harry had left all over her skin - it was so unprofessional, actors knew that was in poor taste to leave marks.

Harry had proved once again how much he owned, controlled her body, even now with how tender the skin on her belly, hips, thighs were from his blunt teeth that nipped into her.

As she’s relaxing in the water, head resting against the basin as she watches a trashy reality television show on her phone, the dialogue pauses when there’s an incoming call on her phone from a number that wasn’t saved in her phone.

She can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the interruption as she answers with a short, “Hello?”

“Hello,” It’s a voice that sends chills down her spine, she swears her nipples tighten at the mere single word uttered through the phone.

“How did you get my number?” YN demands, her heart already beating out of her chest as she sits further up in the bathtub.

“I have my ways,” Harry responds uselessly before he’s continuing on, “You ran from me today. You broke your promise.”

“Let’s not talk about broken promises, Harry,” YN snaps automatically, defensive and on-edge instantly with the conversation.

How dare he.

Harry let’s out a low chuckle that makes YN’s skin prickle in aggravation, like he’s in on a secret joke that she’s not privy to, “I promise you that the conversation I wanted to have with you would have benefited you. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Why else would you need to call me?” YN prompts because if she’s not aggressive like this, she’s going to cry, and she hates not feeling in control of her emotions, hasn’t felt like this in so long.

“I’m checking to see if you’re okay,” Harry’s bravado had softened now, like it did when he would really baby her, “I know today wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for me, at least.”

“You got your rocks off, how wasn’t it easy?” She replies sharply, YN knew that it wouldn’t be easy for him either but she wanted to hear it, she wanted to hear Harry say how hard it was for him - she knew that was wrong but in this moment, she didn’t care.

“YN,” He huffs in disapproval, he seems to debate his words before speaking carefully, “To have sex with you after not being able to for a year. To have sex with the woman that I thought that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The only person I would have sex with for the rest of my life. It was fucking devastating.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence and he pulls away from the receiver to cough - he would always couch to hide emotion, it was a tell for him, always had been, and it makes her heart ache a bit.

“Well, you’re in the adult film industry now. I guess you gave up that idea,” YN hates how cold she sounds, her instinct is to comfort him, and assure him that she was struggling to - she couldn’t give in.

“No, not really,” Harry tells her, “Today would have been my first shot with another actor. All my other work has been solo. I haven’t slept with anyone since you. I feel like you showing up today was my sign that I don’t want to sleep with anyone else.”

YN realizes that she was digging her nails deeply into her palm, leaving marks, and she stops clenching her fist, resting it more delicately against her thigh, and she looks away from the lovebite that it lands on.

“I did two scenes,” YN mumbles under her breath, she knows she has no reason to feel guilty or bad about it, they were broken up, “One with a guy and I hated it so I did one with a girl and I didn’t like it either. I’ve been doing it solo since then.”

“I see,” Harry responds, his voice doesn’t give anything away.

“I-Does that make you mad?”” YN regrets asking instantly, she doesn’t know why she felt the need to fucking ask that - of course, she wants to know the answer but she needs a filter sometimes.

Harry pauses for a moment, thinking over his response carefully, “No. Just, it doesn’t feel good to hear, obviously, but I’m not upset with you, sweethea-.” He catches his pet name and rephrases, “Don’t act like you don’t remember what a possessive sod I was. It makes my skin crawl to imagine you with some else but it’s nothing that you did wrong.”

-

“Harry, baby,” YN giggles quietly as Harry’s mouth attacks her neck, sucking harsh bruises into the thin skin, biting at the crook of her neck as she knots her fingers into his curls to grip him, “S’okay, H.”

Harry’s hands curling into the waistband of her biker shorts, tugging them down her thighs along with her underwear, his hand finding her mound, and his fingers splitting through her plump lips to push up inside of her.

“S’mine, yeah? Tell me, pet,” Harry orders as he pulls back from her neck, only to bring their lips together as he crooks his two thick fingers forward to pet at the sponges spot inside her walls.

“Oo-oh fuck,” YN moans as softly as possible, her back hitting the stall door, and making a shuttering noise as he scissors his fingers to spread her open, thumb navigating to her clit to rub at it.

“I’m going to stop,” Harry bites out, acting like he’s about to pull out his fingers, and it makes YN let out the most spoiled whine which makes him drag his teeth against her jaw, “Tell me, whose this is? Tell me who owns this cute little cunt.”

“You, baby, you,” YN babbles quickly because she wants to come, she can feel herself dripping onto his palm, and it’s making the most filthy slick sound in the otherwise silent bathroom.

It was all because they were working out at the gym and while Harry stepped away to refill his water bottle, some guy took the opportunity to approach YN to ask if she needed help with weights, and lifting technique.

Harry did not miss the way the chiseled man’s eyes didn’t move from YN’s bum for more than a minute while she squatted and ignored his advances - acting like she couldn’t hear him through the music in her headphones.

“She’s good, mate,” Harry cuts in, his hand coming to rest possessively at the small of her back, fingers creeping towards her bum to let this guy know that he didn’t have a fucking chance, “Don’t fucking approach her again.”

Dude got the message quickly, scurrying back to a different bench press but Harry could still feel this creep’s gaze on his girl as she went about her workout and he didn’t miss the way other men at the gym stole glimpses too.

“Who am I? Say my name,” Harry goads as YN tries to clench her thighs together with her oncoming orgasm but he knees them even further apart, and with his free hand, he yanks down her sports bra until her tits spill out, ducking down to lick at the hard nubs.

“Harry, Harry,” YN chants as her thighs begin to quiver violently, her head knocking against the door as she lets her eyes close and let out a long mewl as the intense feelings rock through her.

“There’s my girl,” He hums approvingly, cheekily licking at his fingers before helping tug her leggings back up in the small gym bathroom, “All mine, yeah? Don’t I make you feel so good, yeah?”

“Always,” YN replies sweetly, leaning forward to give him an appreciative kiss and tug him into a hug which makes the tough man melt a little bit.

“Let’s get you home, shower you, and then I’ll give you a nice cuddle, hm?”

He was so fucking gone for her.

-

“I remember,” YN can’t help let the giggle spill from her lips at the memories of him.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Harry pouts but lets it dissolve into a laugh as well, “Fuck, I miss that sound.”

“Harry, why did you call?” YN sighs, bringing the conversation back to the now because YN felt herself melting into him like she always did and she couldn’t let herself do that.

“Like I said, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry reiterates, “It was an emotional day and you bailed before I could check on you. I just wanted to make sure you were good.”

She wasn’t.

“I’m fine,” YN couldn’t even deny how much of a lie it sounded like.

“YN,” Harry grunts firmly because he knew, of course, he knew, “We need to talk. Seriously.”

And this is were YN backs out, cowardly, she doesn’t care because she can’t talk, she can’t get her heart broken again.

“I, uh,” YN sputters for a moment, wracking her brain for an excuse, “I forgot I have something in the oven. I have to go. Bye.”

With that she hangs up on him, she knows hes going to call back, and like clockwork, he does - phone lighting up again with the unsaved number, YN silences her phone and tosses it onto the plush rug - slipping back down into the tub and groaning at the shit storm she got herself into.

-

YN was a bit early, always was usually, especially to an important meeting like today.

It was with Warren at the production headquarters, all that she’s been told is that it’s good news, and that she shouldn’t worry about anything because at first she thought she might be in trouble over something.

They guide her into one of the fancy conference rooms with sleek gray colors and modern furniture - she’s dressed in a professional outfit, a tailored suit and her favorite pair of heels.

Anxiously, she plays on her phone as she waits for the others to arrive, and after a few minutes, people begin slowly pouring into the room - they come with tablets, computers, notepads that mean business.

Warren walks in like he owns the place as always, a tacky white suit on with his black hair slicked back with so much gel it looks greasy as he sits at the head of the table, “Just waiting on one more,” He announces as he fixes his gaudy gold watch on his wrist.

YN should not be shocked at this point when Harry enters the conference room last, in a tailored suit too but his button up was barely buttoned, revealing the butterfly right below his sternum and his sparrows on display.

She can tell that Harry was also not expecting her there by the surprise on his face when he scans the room and sees her sitting there, he regulates himself fast and his face goes back to emotionless as he sits down closer to Warren in the last available seat.

“Okay, now I know you two don’t know why we’ve called this meeting,” Warren begins and picks up a little remote, clicking on a projector screen as multiple graphs pop up on the wall, “But this is about the video you two made last week. It’s the most view, top rated, and most downloaded video that has ever been posted on our sight. THe demographic is evenly split between male and female viewers. The age demographic also ranging from eighteen to sixty. The advertisement revenue has brought in nearly five million dollars alone.”

If YN wasn’t working on controlling her facial expression, her eyes would have bugged out of her head at the announcement - she hadn’t been tracking how successful it had been but she did not expect that.

“Based on the majority of comments, female fans loved the intimacy and realistic interaction between you two. They reported that it reminded them of a real couple. Men commented that they enjoyed that dominance of the Harry and how responsive YN was to him.”

YN felt the heat rising to her cheeks as they discussed the topic, her eyes glued to her hands as she nervously picked at her nail beds until it hurt, she didn’t know where this conversation was going.

“We are offering both of you an opportunity,” Warren continues with excitement in his voice, “A series on the channel. The catch is that we will be asking you two to exclusively film with each other at this time. We are aiming for at least ten videos but possibly more based on the continued popularity which we do not see as being a problem.”

Oh god.

“The team has decided on a generous offer of two point five millions dollars for ten videos plus added bonuses contingent on the advertisement revenue,” Another businessman speaks up, he’s clicking around on his laptop as he talks, “Then there will be another offer if the series continues.”

Two point five million dollars.

Never.

Ever.

In YN’s wildest dreams would she think she would be offered that amount, right in front of her, let along to get to do the videos with the only person she’s every felt sexually compatible with.

She wouldn’t consider herself greedy but that amount of money would really really push her life in the right direction, she could find a better apartment in the city, she could do so much.

YN was willing to put up with the emotional sacrifice, fuck, she’d hire a therapist with that money if she had to but she couldn’t imagine turning that down all because it’s will Harry - she’d had sex with him for free anyways.

It’s a no brainer.

So it’s an absolute shock when YN gazes up at Harry, who’s sat back in his seat with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed.

Her heart drops into her stomach when he makes direct eye contact with her and tells the room, “Absolutely not. I decline the offer. I have no desire to participate in this.”

[deakyjoe]

Do you mind if I ask a question about the band Ghost please?

I’m (very confused) around the numbered what seems like lead singers? Are they all the same person but different times/phases? Not sure if it makes sense. I find it so interesting when you post about them but I just can’t figure it out!

Oh my god, my time has come… here is a guide to the Papas (lead singers) of Ghost:

So first off let me start by clarifying that the band members of Ghost (Papas as lead singers and Nameless Ghouls as instrumentalists and backing vocalists) are all characters. They’re a group of folks in masks and makeup. There’s a lot of lore and backstory around the band but we won’t touch on that too much here. I’ll just talk about the Papas - the anti-pope leads. (Also the following will contain Rite Here Rite Now/Ghovie spoilers!!)

Ok so the lead singers we’ve had in Ghost so far have been Papa Emeritus I (Primo), Papa Emeritus II (Secondo), Papa Emeritus III (Terzo) and Cardinal Copia who was eventually promoted to being Papa Emeritus IV. These lead singer characters are all half brothers (their father is Papa Nihil who we’ll discuss briefly later) and all pretty much have their own albums (few EPs and live albums in there too but I won’t bore you with those).

All the lead singers of Ghost, all Emeritus brothers, have been played by this guy - Tobias Forge!

He writes and sings all of the songs, does the majority of studio work too from what I understand. So whilst there have been several “different” lead singers of Ghost due to the role being taken over by new Papas, technically they’re all Tobias in masks.

First Papa we had in the early days (around 2010 - 2012) was Primo (Papa Emeritus I). He’s the hardest to find photos/footage of since it was the beginnings. I always affectionately refer to him as “The Old One” since he was supposed to be about 80. His album was Opus Eponymous.

Next up we had Secondo (Papa Emeritus II) for a couple years (around 2012 - 2015). His face is the one that makes an appearance on a lot of Ghost merch I find. I think of him as “The Bald One” (lovingly of course). His album was Infestissumam.

Then we had Terzo (Papa Emeritus III) for a while (around 2015 - 2017) before he was dramatically ripped off stage and (maybe) decapitated. He’s only supposed to be 3 months younger than Secondo. I call him “The Hot One” because he’s fine as hell. His album was Meliora.

Then there was a dramatic shift in the way things worked. We were out of Emeritus brothers as they kept “retiring” (supposedly according to the lore) but it’s okay because a lovely little Cardinal came along to save the day! Introducing: Cardinal Copia!! To me he’s “Just A Little Guy” which is the most accurate description of him you’ll ever hear I promise you. (Also when Copia took over it was revealed that the previous Papas had been “killed”.) His album was Prequelle.

Eventually Copia was promoted to being Papa Emeritus IV (it had been pretty heavily implied up until that point that he was also an Emeritus half brother) which meant he could wear the Papa paints now. Also Copia is my personal favourite. Copia got a second album with Impera.

We had Copia from 2018 - now (he’s just been promoted again to Frater Imperator so will probably no longer be frontman for the band). This means Papa Emeritus V will be introduced at some point (probably Copia’s twin which was a detail revealed in Rite Here Rite Now - the recent Ghost concert movie).

But going back to Papa Nihil (the father of all the Emeritus brothers). I would like to make it clear that Ghost formed in 2006 and released their first demos in 2010 but according to their lore they go back to at least the 1960s. Which is when Nihil was frontman for the group. Nihil is not played by Tobias Forge, he’s had different actors for both his old and young versions, but his songs are sung by him (e.g. the hit song Mary On A Cross). Nihil has not been lead singer for the band on stage at any point (though he does make appearances and play the sax at some of them). Nihil has an EP called Seven Inches of Satanic Panic (“originally” from 1969 and then “re-released” in 2019) which features Mary On A Cross and Kiss The Go-Goat. (Also has an additional song revealed recently - The Future Is A Foreign Land.)

So essentially all the Papas are different characters but all played by the same guy. They have different faces (masks) and makeup, different personalities, different mannerisms, and slightly different singing voices (Tobias switches up the way he sings songs slightly between Papas) as well as talking voices. There’s way more to it all (which you can read about on any fan website, or even Wikipedia,) as the lore is pretty extensive for a silly little satanic band. I’d recommend watching The Chapters on YouTube if you’re interested in more. Also Papaganda Parts 1 and 2 which are pretty funny. There’s also a few helpful videos on YouTube that discuss the Ghost timeline in way more depth.

Sorry if this was a little too much rambling but it’s difficult to be concise with Ghost. Hope this all makes sense. Thanks, anon, for the question as I love to talk about anything I’m interested in!!

[c-h-e-r-r-i-e-s]

Just thinking about Choso and his lil blood supernovas when he’s just letting go while fucking you.

Choso had never been with anyone, he’d stolen a kiss or two from Yuki but he’s still new to relationships. And you were so sweet and understanding. You’d waited until he was ready to be physical. You’d gone on countless dates until you finally kissed and when you did, Choso was so excited! He blushed and stammered, rubbing the toes of his shoes together. No clue what he was supposed to do or say next.

But you were there to kiss him back. And there holding his hand when he thought he’d messed up your 6 month anniversary. He got the idea from Yuji but you told him it wasn’t something adults usually celebrated. That years were nice to count but months was something people Yujis age do. And at your 8 month mark Choso decided he really wanted to be with you. And you were so flattered. Gushing over how it’s important to wait for the right person. And that only confirmed more that he wanted you.

Choso came to you saying “please baby I really want to.” You both were sitting on your bed together caught in a twist of tongues. Clinging to each other like life depended on it. And to him it did.

He laid down on the bed just watching as your fingers trace across his skin. Having discarded his shirt just so he could feel more of you on him. Skin to skin. He pulls up your shirt too. You instruct “just do what feels natural.” With sultry eyes and a smile that was sure to put him in an early grave.

Choso runs his fingers over your sides and up your back, pulling you closer so your chests touch. Wrapping your arms around his neck you press your lips to his and kiss deeply. Angling your head so every bit of your mouths can touch, the soft wet skin sliding over each others.

Wetness pools between your legs and you involuntarily rub yourself on his hardening length. Shivering at the thought of him and what you want.

“Choso it’s okay if you want to stop but if you don’t stop me I’ll keep going. D-do you want that?” He nods and looks into your eyes full of need and hunger for you.

Removing yourself from his lap you stand up and remove the rest of your outfit. Letting the lacy panties fall to the floor and Choso.. well his eyes won’t leave your body. Drinking in all of you “So s-So beautiful” he laments. Reaching out to run hands on your hips, he pulls you back down on his lap.

Giggling you stand back up and coax his pants off as well. Sultry eyes look through lashes as you release all of him from his clothes. Teasingly you let your body graze over his as you go to sit back on his lap.

His eyes are screwed shut and you whisper “please look at me for a few okay?”

He can’t bear to not do as you request and his lashes flutter as eyes open. You both fall to the bed together in an embrace and roll into a tangle of limbs. Kissing his neck and chest before you’re both needily pressing your hips together.

Your thumbs finding the hook in his little waist. And your eyes roll back as you sigh at the desperation you feel. Whispering “please let me take care of you” grinding your self down on him you can’t seem to get close enough. So you straddle him pressing his hard dick on your slit. Slowly you slide him into you. And your arms pull him up into a grasping embrace as you start moving your hips up and down.

Choso’s big fingers press into your skin, bucking his hips up into yours. The actions you both take making lewd slapping noises that combine with your moans to make a sinful soundtrack.

Hands run over lovers skin begging for more. Your face hides in the crook of his neck and your clit rubs against his pelvis. Bringing you both closer to release.

Getting desperate for it, you push him back on the bed and ride him. Hands on his chest and chasing your high.

As he gets closer you see his cheeks flush and his dick gets so much harder inside you. The scar across his face grows, small points forming at the end on his cheeks and over his eyes.

He screws his eyes shut trying to keep himself from letting go inside you. Squeezing his hands on your hips and guiding you on his length, he hits euphoria and starts letting go. Little orbs of blood flow from his face and Choso doesn’t notice but you do.

Interrupting his high you stop moving but his hands stay moving your hips. “Choso please look”

He opens his eyes to your sweaty face and wimpers, filling You up. Pulling you completely on him to the hilt. And his little blood supernovas fall to the bed around you. The sticky red substance splattering around you both. Covering your sheets and parts of your body.

Choso blushes furiously and immediately apologizes. “So sorry, I’m so sorry” he repeats forgetting he can just suck it back up easily. You’ve just flustered him to no end with your pretty moans and how incredible you make him feel.

But not to worry because you already came anyway and you don’t end up leaving the bed again for a few days. Now that he’s had you once he just wants you to stay naked with him forever.

@missphanosaur18 @chosos-wife

[bluekidchaos]

toxic!mark hoffman x reader

this is ass btw

Pairings: Mark Hoffman x reader (no pronouns i think but envisioned as fem)

Warnings: 18+, manipulation, panic attacks, trauma, reader was in a saw game but no actual details are there, age gap (not actually mentioned but i envisioned it so in my head and i think it adds another spicy layer to the toxicness hihi), i guess kinda dub-con bc she’s only attracted to him bc trauma and manipulation so idk

Words: 1.5k

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

mark isn’t handling your case directly but he sees you at the station after you had won your game and he’s mesmerized as he sees you again

he approaches you and makes sure you are ok and don't need anything

when you’re at the hospital he visits you as much as possible, offering a shoulder to cry on and to listen when you talk about what happened (or anything really) 

he sneaks you non-hospital food and drinks and keeps you comfortable

when you get released he gives you his personal phone number and tells you to call or text whenever and he’ll respond as soon as you can

you’re a bit hesitant at first, i mean he’s already done so much for you and now he’s letting you bother him off the clock?

but he insists that it’s ok, the first text comes late that night, just a small thank you for everything

the next few calls and texts are few and far between but as he keeps reassuring you it's okay you feel comfortable calling him more, sometimes just to chat about random stuff

you’d consider him a friend at this point and you meet up a month later for coffee, you mention feeling paranoid in your apartment, it’s where you were taken after all and he tells you there's nothing to worry about but to call if anything happens

a night or so after the meet you call him in the middle of the night, he can tell you’ve been crying by your hoarse voice and the sniffles coming through the phone

“what’s wrong?” he fakes a tired voice. “i’m s-sorry, did i- did i wake you?” you almost sob out. “no, not at all, are you okay?” worry clear in his tone, “i can’t stay here, i keep seeing shadows move in every corner and i constantly feel like someones watching me.” you blurt it all out in one breath. 

mark tries his best not to let the smirk betray his voice, “alright, you’re alright. i..” he pauses “i might have a suggestion but please tell me if i'm crossing a boundary here.” he knows you won’t say no but he’s gotta keep up the act a bit longer

“please, anything, i don't know what to do anymore, i haven’t slept in days.” you sound so desperate for his help and he has to stop himself from groaning into the phone, “you can sleep at mine tonight, i’ll take the couch and then i’ll help you find a new place okay?” 

your heart misses a beat, and you wanna take the offer the second it leaves his lips but the thought of putting him on the couch in his own home stops you, “i can’t do that, i mean you shouldn’t have to do that”

“it’s fine, it won't be forever” he gives a little laugh that reassures you, “just until we find you a new place ok?”

you resing your hesitation, you’re too exhausted to argue “okay..thank you” mark smiles again, this time not caring as much if it's noticeable “alright, text me your address and i’ll come and pick you up right away, and pack a bag.” 

you hang up and text him the address and start packing as he said

mark already knows where you live of course but you don't need to know that, he waits in his car for the time it would have taken him to drive from his to you before stepping out of the car and going up to your door and pressing the buzzer, “i’ll be right down!” he hears you say through the door phone before it flashes green and he steps inside and waits for you

you come down the stairs fast, he can tell you haven’t slept in a while, the bags under your eyes the biggest indicator

he grabs the bag from you and escorts you to his car before driving the two of you to his place

it’s the first night you sleep through all the way, feeling safe as mark is just outside on the couch and you're surrounded by the smell of him and his things

the next morning you wake up by mark shuffling around in the room clearly trying to be quiet but he notices you stirring and goes still “shit, sorry i was trying not to wake you” you sit up and groggily rub your eyes, “what time is it?” he walks over to his dresser and grabs some sock out of it, you notice now he isn’t wearing a shirt, only some sleep short and you turn your gaze away, a bit flustered, “5.30 am, sorry i’m just getting ready for work. you should go back to sleep.” 

oh, work, right he has a life to live, now you feel extra stupid for taking his offer, depriving him of sleep when he has to get up and work, stupid. but it’s like he can tell what you’re thinking, “hey, you go back to sleep and stay here today alright? you can use my computer to look at apartments if you want.” you nod and lay down again, and you fall asleep before he’s out the door.

that evening when he walked through the door he was met with the most delicious smell as you greeted him from the kitchen, “i thought i’d at least make myself useful while im here so i made dinner” he walked over to the stove and to a deep breath, he probably hadn’t smelt anything this good in years. “wow, it smells really amazing, thank you, darling.”

the name made your stomach flutter, and you blushed at his praise, “oh it’s nothing"

the next 2 months consisted of you and mark living together, you cooked and cleaned while he was at work, making sure he always came home to a warm meal, he would go with you to look at apartments and give his advice and opinion when asked. you really appreciated it, he always knew when an area was unsafe or not and you seemed to be quite unlucky in your search as all the places you found were either in unsafe areas or unsafe apartments, you didn’t really understand that but you trusted marks opinion on your safety and if he didn’t deem it safe for you you didn’t take it. 

you and mark had also gotten closer during this time, he’d care for you through your nightmares and panic attacks, and he’d hold you while you cried yourself to sleep and stay all night in bed with you. you were so lucky to have mark, he really cared for you, he'd seen you at your worst but still cared. he’d kissed you one night while comforting you, it caught you off guard a bit but you craved his affection and touch. it was the first time you had sex. 

you tried your best to go out and be a part of society but it always felt like someone lurked in the shadows, ready to get you at any moment. sometimes you called mark in a panic bc it felt like someone was following you, 

he gladly came to get you every time, lamenting on about how you had to be careful and there were dangerous people out there, he would always bring up some case he was working on as examples, eventually you stopped trying to go out on your own

you had realised one night while looking at places together that you didn’t want to live without mark, couldn’t live without him, the thought alone made your chest squeeze and your breath heavy. he could tell you were having another panic attack and pulled you into his arms immediately soothing you, “hey, hey what’s wrong?” he pushed some hair behind your ear to get a better look at you.

your glazed and teary eyes find his and the look you give him makes him have to bite back a moan, he always loved seeing you like this, panicked, desperate for his comfort, only he could calm you down, “i can’t live without you, i don’t feel safe if you're not around, how am i supposed to be on my own, i need you there!” you practically wail at him in your hysteria, clinging to him like your life depended on it and to you it felt that way

mark only held you closer and ran his hands soothingly up and down your back, “shh, shh, it’ll be alright. you don’t have to move out if you don’t want to, i don’t mind having you here. i’d feel better with you near me too.”

“really?” you barely get the word out between sobs, “yeah, i mean we’re together anyways so moving together officially maybe isn’t that dumb. and it’s a dangerous world out there, how am i supposed to protect you if i'm not with you?”

you nodded in a haze, “thank you, thank you, i’m safe with you” you cried as you buried your face in his chest again and he continued stroking your back

you couldn’t see the smile on his face as he finally had you exactly where he wanted you

paranoid and afraid of the world around you, only trusting of him, your love

[eoieopda]

*tata mic face* dad!yoongi pls 🙂

everybody’s gangster until the tata mic face comes out 🫣 please accept this nonsense, which shall henceforth be known as dadchwita.

1/2/23: a second dadchwita drabble can be found here!

Darksided AU Masterlist

Cheek smushed into the pillow, a weight on the small of your back kept you from rolling over. Bleary-eyed, you squinted ahead to find your husband in a similar position. His eyes were, of course, still shut.

Yoongi’s alarm clock hadn’t gone off yet, indicating it was even earlier than six in the morning. This wasn’t much of a surprise, however. Neither of you had been able to utilize that alarm much over the past five years.

Unable to make full use of your mouth, what you came up with was a mumble at best: “Your children would like your attention, love.”

When he didn’t stir, you slid your arm across the sheets without breaching the border of your comforter. You tapped the tip of his nose gently with your index finger, searching for proof of life. Impassive, as was to be expected at this hour.

If not for that gravelly morning voice blowing his cover, he could’ve kept his grift going. Stayed in bed, soaking in whatever extra minutes he could gather while you attempted to persuade your children back into their beds. It would’ve been difficult, given the current circumstances, but you’d seen him sleep through worse.

“I thought we settled on this. Before seven o’clock, they’re your kids,” he groaned.

You snorted; the force of the exhale through your nose prompted him to crack his eyes open. This was your favorite way to start every day: watching his pupils dilate as he woke up and saw you before anything or anyone else. Even if that occurred before sunrise.

“I think they’ve got us surrounded, general,” He yawned, “What’s your status?”

There was wiggling above you. Two arms slipped around your back in a hug that couldn’t quite complete its circle around you. Judging by the quiet affection, the child clinging to you like a backpack was your oldest; you were sure. Sweet as honey, that five year-old, and as soft-spoken as her father.

You reported out, furthering the bit, “I’ve literally got opposition breathing down my neck, sergeant. Their leader, Iseul, is holding her position. What’s your status?”

Your youngest - at only eighteen months - had fashioned himself into a hat for his father. Two tiny legs draped over Yoongi’s head at his chin and forehead, framing the face shooting a sleepy, closed-mouth smile your way.

Of course his father hadn’t woken up when he climbed up there. Perhaps Iseul gave him a boost once she was done springing him from his room.

Yoongi’s arms reached up to keep the little one’s balance. He babbled excitedly at the attention, and kicked his legs in a way that made Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, “They’ve got a tank, general! Woo-jin is bringing out the artillery!”

“Hold that line, sergeant, no matter what it takes! On my signal, we launch a counter strike!”

His twinkling eyes set their sights on your face, waiting for your instruction. A moment later, you narrowed your eyes, pursed your lips, and nodded firmly.

Your respective, living accessories each exploded into giggles as their parents lurched upright and snatched them both up. Iseul squealed as your fingertips tickled her sides without mercy. Even flailing wildly, she made no real effort to escape your lap or your teasing.

“Tell me where your sniper is!” You demanded through your own giddy laughter, “I’ll abide by the Geneva Convention, but I won’t let you off the hook!”

Next to you, Yoongi tugged up Woo-jin’s dinosaur-print pajama top and blew a loud raspberry on the toddler’s bare belly. He wasn’t quick enough in his retreat, though. Woo-jin’s chubby, socked foot knocked him right in the ear.

“General, I’ve been hit!” He sucked in a massive breath, then released it in a gasp, “I’m not gonna make it. Promise me that you’ll tell my wife I loved her -“

You were laughing so hard, your eyes were swimming. But Yoongi didn’t end his theatrics there. He never shied away from melodrama if given the stage for it.

“- and that there is a more efficient way to load the dishwasher, but I didn’t push it because she does this scary thing with her eyebrows when given constructive criticism!”

With that, his second gasp came even more loudly than his first. He closed his eyes, let his tongue slip out of the corner of his mouth, and then he slumped over until his body covered Woo-jin’s. With his arms already wrapped firmly around your youngest, Yoongi’s weight was maintained exclusively on his own elbows.

“No, no, daddy!” Woo-jin’s tiny voice erupted from under the black curtain of Yoongi’s hair, but it was difficult to hear over the rapid-fire kisses Yoongi was peppering over his cheeks - and his squeaky, belly laugh.

Iseul, who was breathless and blushing cherry red in your arms, shrieked, “Now!”

“Oh, no!” You squealed, eyes wide with genuine apprehension.

The four-year-old wild card hadn’t made a peep yet. Given his penchant for chaos, this was deeply unsettling. Next to you, Yoongi ceased his barrage of affection and tilted his head to look your way. The uneasy expression on his face was identical to yours.

There was a roar from behind you that seemed to pause the Earth’s rotation. As if in slow motion, Yoongi’s jaw dropped open as his gaze tracked movement you were unable to see. You, none the wiser, braced yourself for whatever was coming next.

From the bed frame above you - formerly hidden in plain sight, uncharacteristically still - came Duri, like a bat out of hell.

His kamikaze dive down onto your back ended with two arms linking around your neck - much more carefully than he’d ever done before. His clumsy hand pushed your hair off your cheek to make way for a sloppy kiss. Your heart, still pounding, swelled in your chest.

Iseul’s flushed face was taken over by a mischievous grin. She pushed her messy bangs out of her eyes before meeting her dongsaeng’s waiting hand in a high-five. Victorious, she snickered, “We win, mommy.”

Apparently, you really hadn’t learned your lesson with her father.

You really can’t trust the quiet ones, can you?

[undead-supernova]

If It’s Right…You Know / Masterlist

plot: they say that if it's right...you know...nothing has ever felt so wrong (so maybe you’ll just drunkenly wander the streets until you figure out somewhere to go)

warnings: alcohol consumption, arguments, cigarettes, I frowed up, hurt/comfort

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

song inspiration: Hits Different by Taylor Swift (I've listened to this on repeat for like an entire year now)

note: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY to everyone who actually does NOT have a Valentine and would rather read about fictional characters because you're a real one out there.

“Can someone call her a cab?”

“No!’’ you exclaim, wiping the tears under your eyes. You’re staring up at the bartender, trying to silently plead him to take pity on you despite how embarrassed you feel. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll just go.”

He eyes you, shoving his plaid shirtsleeve up to his elbow as he walks over to the small computer. His eyes flicker towards you every few seconds, the buttons on the screen seemingly nothing compared to the state of you. It’s like you’re a car wreck, isn’t it? Just too hard to look away from despite the carnage.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he slaps your receipt down. You’re starting to scribble a tip with the shitty pen he’s provided when he decides to add, “This is the third time you’ve done this.”

You look back up, mortified. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, god,” you groan, desperately wanting to curl up into a ball and die. “That’s mortifying. I’ll do better next time.”

“Maybe lay off the booze until you feel better,” he suggests. “Or, you know, you talk to whoever that Steve guy is. Maybe try that.”

Before you can say anything in return, he’s grabbing your receipt, saluting you, and moving on to the next person in line.

And that’s it.

Tab closed.

Moment gone.

Sighing, you stand and grab your purse and jacket. Dip back whatever’s left of your shitty glass of a Screwdriver, the watered-down vodka tasting like absolutely nothing on your tongue. Suppressing your groan, you push through the growing crowd as you try to escape.

As soon as you emerge from the shitty little dive bar, you’re nearly blinded by the fresh midnight air. It nips at your skin, the September of it all begging for a chance to release its worst. And you’re wearing a short dress with high heels that aren’t covering your feet. It’s your own damn fault for not checking the weather before you came. Now look where you are.

Now it’s time to wander the streets, to try and find somewhere reasonable to go. 

Because why go back home? Why risk sitting by yourself in the dark, nursing a bottle of wine that certainly won’t mix well with orange juice and vodka before spending the whole night by the toilet?

Why leave when the streets are perfect for a heartbroken woman like you, crowded with the hordes of others experiencing some form, no matter how miniscule, of melancholia? 

A part of you finds it funny, fucking hilarious, that no one around you knows what you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. 

If only they knew about the self-loathing, the devouring loneliness. How this is eating at the lining of your stomach, a kind of hunger that feels so different than any that has come to pass. 

It always happens after a vacation, doesn’t it?

See, just a month ago, Steve had taken you on vacation to some beach in California. Said it was to get away from work. To get away from the stress. The late nights. The fuckery that lied in office buildings and smushed cubicles. 

The beach felt like a perfect fit, thick with the scent of sunscreen and a couple of beers in a melting cooler. The sun itself felt like a form of freedom, cascading through the tie-dye umbrella desperately trying to stay put in the sand. 

But it just kept slipping, kept trying to escape whenever the breeze rolled in. You sat closest to it, trying to hold it down whenever it popped up. 

After maybe the fifth, sixth time, Steve had had enough.

“I got it, I got it,” he said with a sigh, trying to push the umbrella further into the sand. But every time he tested its stability, the pole seemed to shoot out of the damn hole.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed.

“Maybe we should just call it and put it down,” you suggested.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. “What, and risk getting sunburnt?”

“So?”

He waved his hand around. “So, it’ll hurt. Like, a lot. And then neither of us will have any fun.”

“I think you’re just overreacting.”

But that was before you got burned.

And then you were the one losing it.

“This fucking hurts!” you nearly screeched, the sheets of the hotel bed scratching up against your inflamed skin.

“I told you that it was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, I know, Steve,” you grumbled. “I got that the first ten times you said it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Steve, the one who had been worried about getting burned, hadn’t. In fact, his skin was glowing. Practically radiating with the most perfect tan you’d ever seen. Just a fucking daydream of golden skin and honey hair.

Despite your scowl, Steve seemed to let go, the crease between his eyebrows smoothing out. 

“Come here,” he whispered, squeezing the green aloe vera gel into his palm. “You can be grumpy, but you’ll have to let me play doctor.”

“Don’t you dare,” you nearly seethed.

But you weren’t scary enough for Steve. He took a small glob and rubbed it along your shoulder. You yelped at the cold sting, but that was before it settled in and left you at a comfortable ease.

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed, letting your head finally rest against the pillow.

“Oh, look at that. I’ve already got my license.”

That pulled a giggle out of you, finally, the irritation seeming to dissipate the longer you let it out. Steve joined in with you, probably just happy that you weren’t acting like a complete asshole.

The rest of your trip was spent smearing aloe vera over your body and lounging on the balcony. Eating seafood at little restaurants along the coast. Walked the piers at night, taking flashlights to look for little crabs. You even brought home a whole bag of seashells. 

Despite the pain, you had the best time of your life with Steve.

But that was the heart of summer.

And now it’s coming to a close.

A few more blocks over, your mind starts to stray away from the present, the liquor reaching the corners of your mind that you’d rather leave darkened. The parts that have always been an issue, even when you were secure enough in your relationship.

Where’s Steve tonight? you wonder. Who is he with?

Because there are so many women out there, so so many, who would lose their minds if they met someone like Steve. He’s something more than just a man, more than just a pretty face or a quick fuck. No, he’s got something about him that transcends what you have always comprehended about the male species. Something that feels almost…magical. 

He’s something of a dreamboat, an absolute firework show with that hair and those eyes and that smile and— 

Well.

He’s not yours right now, is he?

He doesn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him anymore. In fact, he could be with some other girl. Some girl with a better smile and a better laugh and a better body and better lips, holding onto his arm as they walk down the cobblestones of a street you used to stroll down. Steve helping her walk in her heels through the cracks, guiding her like a fucking gentleman.

And maybe he’s kissing her right now, whispering to her that she’s much, much better than his ex, some crazy fucked up mess who doesn’t know what she’s missing. How you’re just too hard to handle, too soft and sensitive for him. How you never gave him any chance at peace. How it was so much better now that you’re gone. 

What if he’s kissing some other girl right now?

Leaning up against a streetlamp, you can’t help it when your stomach makes the decision for you. You can’t think properly, can barely see through your tears as you lean over and throw up on the street.

“You good?” a female voice asks, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You turn to her, registering her hesitance at your appearance most likely, and nod. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

She looks relatively around your age, with a perfect manicure and a cigarette in her fingers, mauve lipstick wrapped around the filter. Her dark chestnut strands waves around her face, eyelids sparkling with pink glitter.

“Do you have anyone with you?” she asks, looking around.

“Yeah,” you lie immediately, pointing at the crowded bar across the street. “I’ve got some girls waiting for me inside. Just went a little heavy on the liquor tonight.”

“Is this about some guy?” she presses. You can’t help but nod. “Take my advice. Lay off the alcohol for a little bit and get yourself some sleep. You’ll wake up and think to yourself, ‘Wow, that random stranger was right. Thank you, random stranger.’” That makes you chuckle. “I’m sure your friends will understand.”

“Yeah,” you say before you slip in a lie. “I’ll try to do that.”

“Godspeed, my new friend,” she responds with a smile. She salutes you, pats your shoulder, and walks away. 

You watch her as she goes, stunned that a mere stranger could see right through you.

Maybe people do know that you’re experiencing heartbreak. Maybe it’s written all over your face, some typical sad woman with smudged mascara and lipstick. A desperate girl stumbling down the street, destined for catastrophic failure. Or maybe you’re just shit at keeping yourself together in public. 

But you’ve come too far now to turn back. It’s time to keep moving.

You knew you fucked up the moment it was all said and done. 

See, when you broke up with Steve, you really, really didn’t want to. You thought you needed space, that there was shit the two of you needed to figure out. Separately. If your jealousy and his indifference were to collide, well, maybe you shouldn’t be together. 

And maybe it was better if you sabotaged yourself instead of trying to actually work on yourself. What’s the point of trying to fix the problem instead of running away and convincing yourself that you weren’t supposed to be this happy? That you weren’t supposed to be this at ease. That you didn’t deserve to be with Steve.

It didn’t even really matter the reasoning if you even had one at all. The details were insignificant, the excuses piss poor. All you can hear now is Steve’s voice, all crackly and strained as he asked you question after question.

“I don’t understand.”

“So, what, now you’re just gonna leave? Leave us behind?”

“Do you still love me?”

To that, you had an answer. 

“Yes.”

“So why are you doing this?”

To that, you had none.

Steve left his spare key that night when your inevitable fight led to an outburst and a slamming of the door. You didn’t notice for days, hoping that you’d hear the key turn in the door, and he’d stumble down the hallway with a hug and a promise that you’d fix this.

But he didn’t.

And you said nothing.

So, you spent your nights going out to bars for some kind of companionship with the other strangers haunting the sticky, stingy rooms. You became a blubbery fool, desperate for a conversation that you refused to initiate. Desperate to get over Steve. Desperate to let him be like all the rest, insignificant and easy to forget. 

But Steve is different. 

And you are really starting to fucking hate these heels.

How did you end up here?

You pause, staring up at the sign above the door.

Penguin & The Whale.

It was, you guessed it, a neon image of a penguin standing in the mouth of a whale. 

This…is the bar you and Steve go the most. The one you met in years ago, just two stupid college students without any clue as to what the future held. Him working on some finance presentation and you finding any chance not to read the book you were supposed to. 

That night started with a “You go to college around here?” and ended with his number on a scrap of paper that you still keep in your wallet.

And somehow…you’re here after weeks of avoidance.

Staring at that damn penguin.

That damn whale.

Despite your confusion, your aching feet and chilled legs pull you in, using some of the last of your physical energy to push open the door. You’re hit with the thick smell of tobacco, the whole room seemingly drenched in smoke.

For nearly one in the morning, the place is still relatively crowded. There’s college students (mainly frat bros) and two separate bachelorette parties, all congregated along the length of the bar itself. You do your usual shimmy through moving figures, desperate to get to your spot.

God, it’s stuffy and you’re tired and your fucking feet are killing you and— 

There at your favorite table, next to your favorite seat, is Steve.

He’s running his hand through his hair, scribbling something on a napkin. Mouthing along to whatever he’s writing, like he’s still figuring out what he’s trying to say. He strikes through something rapidly before letting out a sigh.

Steve isn’t his usual self, you realize. His hair doesn’t hold the same volume or shine. There’s a bit more acne than usual, all picked at and scabbed. His outfit is more casual than usual, a Hall & Oats t-shirt and…were those a pair of sweatpants? 

He never goes outside with sweats on…

“Steve?”

He looks up, nearly startled. Like he’s shocked to see you here.

“Hey,” he says, standing. Runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his shirt. “What, uh, what’re you doing here?”

You don’t miss it when he turns over the napkin.

“Just kinda wound up here,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, well, you know.” He takes a deep breath. “Just kinda wanted to get a quick drink, you know, ‘cause…” He stops himself, tapping himself on the head before waving his hand in the air. Puts his hand on his hips. “Yeah, uh, forget it. I’m lying. I was waiting for you. I’ve been waiting here for you for the past week.”

“For me?”

“Yeah,” he responds, nodding. “Not like living here, obviously, ‘cause that would be insane. But I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you if you ever came. Oh, and I think the bartender might be sick of me.” You open your mouth to say something, but Steve rattles on. “And it’s actually crazy because I started thinking fifteen minutes ago, ‘You know, the probability of her showing up is actually quite dismal’, but here you are, proving myself wrong—"  

Without hesitation, you pull him into a hug. It’s maybe the most tender hug you’ve ever had, with his arms wrapping around you immediately. Giving a soft squeeze, running his fingers through your hair. His face is nuzzling into your neck, his breath sending shivers down your back. He’s melting you, wearing down the shell you’d forced yourself into. For too long you’ve been coasting by, letting your pride and jealousy get the best of you. Convincing yourself that he’d walk away and leave you shattered on the floor before running off into the arms of some other girl that only exists in your head. 

But here Steve is, waiting for you. Choosing you. 

There never was any competition, was there?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just needed some time, I get it.”

You pull him tighter against you. “I don’t want to keep pretending that this isn’t the absolute worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“That’s okay,” he says, pulling back. Wipes some of your smudged lipstick and mascara out of the way. Leaves a peck on the tip of your nose. “How about we fix that mistake together?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” His lips meet your forehead before he dips down to meet your eyes. “Want me to get you a drink?”

“Water.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “I think I’m going to lay off the booze for a while.”

This gets a laugh out of him, the first you’ve heard in weeks. 

It’s bliss.

“Okay, hun. Sit down here,” he says as he pulls out your favorite chair, helps to push it in once you sit. “You look good but, Jesus, your feet must be killing you.”

You smile. And this is your first smile today. The first time you’re feeling a release of every nasty, negative feeling you’ve had for the last two weeks. 

Steve walks towards the bar, fiddling with his hair again and you even see him check his breath. 

Looking over, you see the napkin resting on the edge of the table.

You glance back over, making sure Steve’s back is still turned before you turn it over. 

There’s just something about you

I just can’t stop thinking about you

I don’t know.

I fucking miss you!!!!

I love you. I’m sorry.

I’m an idiot. This is stupid.

Can we please talk through this?

I can’t move on because of you.

Because I love you.

Because it’s you.

[blueroan-equestrian]

Yawne pt 3

@Isazelhmann

I’m order to explain something’s without having a long explanation…. I made reader a little sheltered soooooooo yup going to be a part 4 now

Aonung kept looking over at me as we worked on fixing up the old nets. “Ma Aonung, you are staring at me… why do you stare?”

He smirked, “Because you glow my darling.”

I rolled my eyes, “You are full of it you know?”

He leaned in for a kiss and I gladly gave it, “You are and you know…it’s mating season… I will start my rut soon and surely I will fill you with child soon.”

“Mating season? Seriously?”

His eyebrows shot up, “Yes… how sheltered are you? Do you know what a rut is?”

“Well… if that’s real does it effect you physically? I never noticed anything different in the village back home.”

He smirked, “There are remedies just like there are remedies for your heat… and if you have time some of those remedies can be quite fun.”

Suddenly I my confusion turned into shyness, “have you ever participated in the fun ones?”

He buried his nose into my throat, peppering it with kisses, “I have… but don’t worry I never went all the way with any one… just hand jobs and blow jobs… temporary fixes really…”

I straightened up feeling a tinge of jealousy, “you’ve done sexual acts with other women?”

He reached out to run his hand through my hair, “I have. But to be fair… I was in rut. I have not only have had sex with you but done so outside of my rut. You have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you. Look at me Yawne.” I do and am met with a sympathetic smile, “Rut is a painfully strong urge to breed. I… I wasn’t always good about being prepared for it… I sometimes forget to take the medicine my mother gave me before it hit… it was just quick releases. I’m the next chief… it wasn’t hard to find someone who would help with the urges… it meant nothing to me, just a means of an end of an uncomfortable state that I was in.”

“Rut… is like being in heat?”

“Sorta but where you have a week twice a year, I have a month once a year…”

“What if my heat doesn’t start until after your rut?”

“You were really sheltered, weren’t you? It will more than likely start, our bodies are in sync. That being said we could still get pregnant outside our breeding cycles, it’s just not as easy. Seriously though have you never had this explained? You have brothers.”

I shrugged, “not really… we barely had the mating talk.”

He laughed, “my sweet innocent girl, you weren’t prepared for this… well if we choose to go through it, I will tell you that it will be a little rough. Have I gone through the full thing? No. Have I gone through someone’s heat? Also no… but I have had this talk when it first started.”

“Do you…. Want to go through it?” I questioned tentatively.

“It’s the best way to get pregnant. Almost sure fire.” He nodded fixing another knot in the line.

“So you have thought about this a lot?”

“Of course, ever since we talked about having babies.”

I paused to focus on him, “How will we manage your… urges? I haven’t ever forgotten my medication for my heat so I don’t know what to expect from either of us.”

He shifted, “Well we will need someone to help with the hunting. You suck at it, no offense, and I won’t be able to.”

“… what if we prepare with dry rations? My brothers and your sister can fill in when needed… though will you really want to eat? I am told when heat hits women we don’t want anything other than… hence why I never forgot to take my medicine.” I trailed off.

“No but we will need to eat, and while you aren’t in heat, you will need to make sure I do eat… whether or not I want to. Don’t let me touch you unless I have eaten at least once a day until you hit your heat. Then we will fuck each other’s brains out for a solid week and then depending on where I am on my rut, you might have to continue with the force feeding, until I come off it…”

“We can’t just give you the medicine?”

“No, I will be too far in for it to work unless we start at the same time or maybe three days apart tops and I doubt we will be so lucky. But drying our food is a good idea. Tomorrow I will get started on our perseves.”

…..

“Aonung… are you alright?” I questioned as my husband stumbled in with his skin glistening.

His stare was predatory, “Let me touch you baby.”

My eyebrows shot up, “Is this the rut?”

It was clear that he was fighting to collect himself, “Yes Baby, please touch me, let me touch you.”

“After dinner, okay?” I said hesitantly.

He stalked forward dropping his loincloth, “please just touch me, it’s been hard all day and I have had to finish getting our perseveres.”

I rolled my eyes, “sit your ass down, and eat, dinner is ready. I will give you a hand job as we eat, I suppose.”

He plopped down quickly taking the bowl I handed him, “thank you baby!”

He ate as he bucked his hips into my hand that stroked his length. I kept an eye on him as I ate my own food and stroked him with my free hand. He only seemed to be a little feral but I would learn that this is just the beginning.

As soon as I got up to clear the table his hands were roaming my body freely. I tried to get started on cleaning but his hands pulled back my hips, discarded my loincloth and quickly inserted himself into me. I yelped in surprise, “Aonung! What are you doing? I need to clean.”

“I need relief. You can clean while I am inside of your pretty pussy.”

“This is going to be a long month, isn’t it?” I grumble.

…

My heat hit and Aonung reacted to it like I was his air. His lips worshipped my skin as his teeth left bruises behind. His hands held onto my hips with bruising force as he slammed his thick length into me. We rarely disconnected while we were both in our states. The pleasure was intoxicating. I was enraptured with the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of me. The feeling of him engulfed me and still it wasn’t enough. He had filled me so many times that his essence was unable to be contained inside me.

When I finally came down, my body ached and I felt disconnected even with him still inside of me. I whined as I took a moment to come back to reality from the fog. I kept my legs slack and to the sides as I allowed my brain to focus. I let him finish before cooing, “Ma Aonung, please, I need you to pull out. I need to get cleaned up and rest.”

He paused for a moment but he complied. He only had a few more days on his rut and he was coming back down. I had to clean everything but it was worth it because I was pregnant.

Part 4

[barbiecrocs]

Bad Acting

Miguel O'Hara

Part 1 Part 2

tags! Actress x Businessman, masturbating(fem)

WC.1743

Barbies Note... I'm like the Boruto Manga the way I'm uploading once a month. Keep em waiting 😜😜😜 Anyway, not much to say but ENJOYYYYYYY

Bad News

You finally make it home after a painful morning meeting with your manager Lyla when you realize how much your back hurts. Setting your purse and jacket on the coat hanger by the door, you start feeling a buzzing sensation from your purse. Digging out the item you find that it’s your personal phone getting lit up by some unknown number. You press decline but they call again and send a text message before you can block them.

“I guess giving me the cold shoulder is the only way to get back at “him”, huh?”

You almost overlook the message, thinking it was some crazed fan who found your number until the gears in your head click. You kiss your teeth when you think of standing toe to toe with him in a heated verbal dispute that was most likely started by you out of sudden anger. “Fucker. How dare you?” You frown, muttering as you type those exact thoughts adding the question, “How did you get my number? I changed it like three times.” Onto the back. The reply you get is immediate. “I’m not supposed to say.” He says which is… ominous for sure but also a little out of character for him. Almost as if he weren't here to start an unnecessary argument with you or ruin the rest of your day. “We have better things to discuss. I have a favor to ask of you, but it’s the kind of thing that should be asked in person if you catch my drift.”

Hell. Nah. And that’s where you’ll leave it. In fact, you’ll wipe the pointless conversation from your memory.

You stare at your phone, the feeling of cringe almost overflowing as you read the text. No, you don’t catch his damn drift. His words don't answer any questions and only confuse you more after he drops a time and place for today before going radio silent.

. Seriously, the audacity of this man! To grab your personal number from where ever the fuck, or whoever the fuck, and contact you early in the morning like a close friend, knowing you are no longer that and hate his guts. Well, not his guts. More like his brother’s to be frank, but in your eyes they are basically the same person. Hell, Miguel is probably where Gabriel learned all his terrible behavior because why wouldn’t he take after his bigger brother? Anyway, despite knowing your distaste for the family, he still tried it? It truly makes you wonder if there's a brain up there, at least a working brain cell. Then he thinks that you’d meet up with him? That you’d do him a favor? Pshhhhh, a dream if he ever had one.

Setting the shower to your preferred temperature, you lock the door and shut the windows to prevent the steam from escaping. You set your phone face down on your bathroom’s pristine marble counter before getting ready to shower and laze around the house all day. Having already kicked off your shoes at the front door, you begin undressing. First, your socks, then leggings, next, your top and bra, and lastly your makeup. Drying your face, you close your eyes as a huge breath is sucked into your mouth and released in one big whoosh as a sigh. Almost all nerves are terminated except the last one that weighs on your mind, telling you this seems like a too-good-to-be-true dream.

But, even if it is, you won’t mind falling for it just this once because you rarely get a full day to yourself. Just think about all the things you can do. The thought makes a pleasurable shiver run up your spine, releasing a certain set of chemicals in your brain, and you refuse to deny what they want your body to do. Finally, the steam surrounds your body and it’s not long until you get caught up in the mood of things and start feeling another heartbeat between your legs. You step into the bathtub, with not only a small gratifying smile on your face but a different objective than what you originally came for. You let the water run down your body, watching it as it hits your chest as a whole before breaking up into multiple streams again. Some travel down the valley of your breast while others go haywire with all types of twists and turns after running down your boobs, ribcage, and curves of your midsection. Once you’re warm, you begin getting into position, knees to your chest, under the bathtub faucet switching the water from the shower head to the nozzle below.

The water wastes no time making its way to your clit making you gasp from the suddenness even though you should’ve been prepared since its release was in your hands. Nevertheless, this miniscule experience doesn’t dull the tender leg-shaking feeling the water gives you. The pressure, the warmth, the wetness, it’s everything as you let the water beat up on your clit in the best way possible. A hand sneaks around your butt, gently feeling around as to not break emersion before sliding your fingers into your pussy, but they don’t do much considering the lack of length on them. But you still crave a little more stimulation even going as far as pulling the hood on your clit back a bit before feeling your orgasm come on too quick for your liking. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and you will savor and drag it out for as long as you can. Trying to get more than 24 hours out of the 24 hours the day has given you. Plus, everything feels better when you have to wait for it, just like this day. Just like your orgasm, but it doesn’t hit you as it usually would. There’s a build-up to it that explodes with pleasure in the middle but also plateaus at the highest peak before gradually coming down with half-lidded eyes and a brain that buzzes oh so sweetly with every thought. You push away from the faucet and lay there until you can get a hold of your bearings, letting out a big sigh before rising to your feet to continue where you left off.

You feel excited as you step out of the shower and into your robe and slippers, only to realize that you finally have the opportunity to go through your whole skin and body care routine. The thought brings not only a smile to your face but also motivation to shave your whole body neck to toe. Another shiver skips down your spine but this time it was one of joy. Oh, how ecstatic you were for something so minuscule in others eyes. Mental Health Days with a sprinkle of body care have been one of your favorite things in the world ever since breaking up with your toxic ex. Your mind begins to drift into the past but you quickly stop yourself, only preaching to look forward in life, never back.

In the midst of jamming to your music and putting on your gel face mask you get a call. At first, you roll your eyes thinking it was Miguel again until you remember that you blocked his ass immediately after the interaction y’all had. You pat various places on your counter until looking down and see your phone missing, not having time to look for it, you tell Alexa to answer it for you.

“Hello-” Before you can get a whole sentence out a loud voice overcomes yours, “Finally the little diva picks up the phone. I’ve been calling you for the past 20 minutes. Do you have any idea how much my phone bill is gonna be?”

“You can’t blame that on me. You know, most people would stop calling after the third one and say, “Hm, it looks like she’s busy right now. I guess I’ll call later.” And go on about their day waiting for either a callback or a reasonable time to call again.” You huff, half frustrated that you can’t find your phone and half frustrated that Lyla interrupted your Mental Health day. Unbeknownst to you, Lyla retorts something but as said, it goes over your head as you search your house room to room, upside and down, and inside and out. In defeat, you stalk back into your bathroom, head down only to see your phone on the floor behind the toilet. You can feel your eye twitch before a reasonable roar rips through you and Lyla goes silent on the other side. It seems as if you’ve broken her train of thought because she begins talking about what she truly called you for. Which would seem like a relief for you, but in reality it’s not.

Anyhow, you put your phone down and begin the second half of your skincare, body care.

“Anyway, I noticed that your schedule seemed too empty today, so I did you a favor and-” Before she finishes her thought, you cut her off. 

“NO!” You yell and everything goes quiet. Her breath hitches on the other side and you continue your thought after realizing she isn’t going to chip in. “My schedule is very much full today with me, myself, and I. No room for anything else today, sorry.” You say and right before you can hang up she manages to get a word in. “Oh, come on! You act like I filled up your schedule. I only booked one thing, which you would’ve known if you paid attention to your phone because I sent it to you! Plus you should drop the 'tude! Everything I do is for you and your success. I mean that as a friend and your manager.” Your shoulders sag seeing how right she is when you turn on your phone only to see ten missed calls and desperate texts. “Ugh, what is it even about?” Dread oozing from your voice.

“Read the calendar I sent you.”

“When is it?” You push for an answer which you still don’t get.

“Read the calendar I sent you!”

“Where is it?” You push once more, tipping her over the edge.

“READ THE CALENDAR- UGH YOU KNOW WHAT? I ALREADY KNOW YOU’RE DOING THIS TO GET ON MY NERVES, BYE GIRL.” She hangs up in your face and you silently chuckle to yourself, "Payback." You mutter. Opening up your text messages you see that she sent you one last text after the call.

'Hm, it's a link.' You think as you hesitate to tap, praying that this isn't another meeting.

Your thumb finally makes contact with the screen and a dark bubble in your stomach pops with relief. Well, half relief because it isn't another meeting, but a date?

MYSTERY MAN!! (Information below)

-DRESS FORMAL

-NO MONEY NEEDED (All expenses paid)

-FOOD AND ALCOHOL SERVED

-WEAR GOLD CLOTHING AND JEWELRY OR CLOSE TO IT

-THE DATE SHOULD LAST FROM 8:00PM TO AS LATE AS 12AM

-MOST IMPORTANTLY, HAVE FUN

-LYLA WILL BE IN THE ROOM TO ENSURE NO ONE GETS HANDSY yet ;)

XOXO, Your manager.

Knowing that you most likely won't be able to control whatever happens next, you pour yourself a moderate glass of red wine, turn on your favorite show, and kick back on your sofa to enjoy the rest of your mental health day before getting back up again.

Barbies Note... Two Barbie Notes in this chapter?🤨🤨🤨 Yes. Anyway I just wanted to say that this chapter was a bit of a snooze fest, ik ik but the next chapter should be more interesting with some lore dropping😼

[wrongcaitlyn]

also, since i feel bad about making you guys wait so long and i'm also not 100% sure if i'll manage a chapter before sunday (will be trying, but it's been a whileDJSD) here's a snippet of what i've already written!

and a little update on the chapter, i've got like.. 1/6 of it done? ish? and i def could've written more earlier but instead i spent an hour planning and outlining one of nico's future music videos with @wronghuntress

it's a very cool mv and i am very proud of it and just like the details and aesthetics of the next few albums are ahghsldkjsldfj im so so excited for you guys to seee!! i feel like i should be making pinterest boards for these. but that's my brain derailing me again. i will do that over summer.

so!! snippet!!

They decide on the end of July for the rescheduled concerts. Partly because it gives Nico a little over two months to mentally prepare, partly because Will has a summer class in June so he’d be able to travel with them in July (along with Leo, who invited himself along too), and partly because it worked with Alex’s schedule.

Until then, though, there turns out to be a lot to get done.

Will’s rescheduled finals have been all finished by the end of May. Apollo has set up a series of job interviews for the three main people he’s decided they need—a publicist, a tour manager, and an assistant for him (that last one was pushed for by Nico, and then Will as well, and because Apollo isn’t able to resist their combined efforts, it worked)—throughout the last week of May and early June. The Archery World Championships are from the tenth to the sixteenth, in the Netherlands, and the entire family will be there to watch Kayla. 

From there on, it’s studio work, studio work, and more studio work throughout the rest of June. It’s a lot of therapy. It’s some secret project that Apollo keeps obviously working on, but is clearly attempting to hide the evidence of. Nico doesn’t know whether he should be concerned, but his eye bags have faded slightly, and he’s returned to styling his hair rather than throwing it up in a bun, so Nico thinks that’s a good sign.

The New York estate doesn’t have a proper studio—at least, not as good as Apollo’s house in LA. Still, it has the basics, including a mic, a computer with some audio editing software that Nico’s familiar with, and a keyboard, so while Will is studying and out taking his exams, Nico is there. 

For once, he feels like he doesn’t have much to write about the situation. It scares him for a bit when first walking into the studio, expecting to open his phone to an extensive list of depressing lyrics, only to find nothing.

He tells Mr. D that during their next therapy session. There’s no concrete answer, because Nico isn’t quite sure what exactly prompts him to spill out his thoughts in lyric form usually, but Mr. D had suggested the idea that instead of falling straight to the conclusion and having to sort out his thoughts, he was instead stuck in a sort of paralysis while Will was in the hospital, and then immediately talked out his feelings in person rather than on paper afterward.

Nico supposes that it makes sense. But that doesn’t stop him from rushing to the studio as soon as he’s sure Will won’t ‘accidentally’ overwork himself once left alone for over an hour—just to see if there really isn’t anything left to say.

It turns out, there is. There always is. But the songs that he writes now feel more self-deprecating and slightly relieved rather than the accusatory, grieving tones of the rest of the album. And besides, he thinks that he’s too close to a possible release date (or, at least, the beginning of the promotional singles process) to be planning an entirely new series of songs.

He still writes them, of course. They’ll just have to remain in lyric form, for now, though.