#the production i saw was SO GOOD genuinely

[inkk-tv]

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ]

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin. 

in which: Chris attempts to not have another life crisis during a pub golf video and is failing miserably.

3.7k words [ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three, coming soon... ]

[oc x arthurtv x chrismd]

[warnings: Excessive drinking, sexual innuendos and light sexual content]

Chris is torn. 

Logically, he knows football pub golf is a content gold mine. It could easily be one of the best videos of the year, especially with the team line ups. On the other hand, the last time Chris filmed a pub golf for Chip's channel some eight months ago, it ended with him so fucked he'd uprooted his entire life twenty four hours later.

Mid to late twenties was not a good time to have a sexuality crisis - and Chris speaks from experience. Why it took 11 drinks and joking that he'd shag his best mate for space hopper-ing over a bollard to realise he genuinely wanted to snog him silly, Chris isn't sure.

In retrospect, he'd probably fancied Arthur way back in sixth form, sitting with him in every class, dragging the poor bloke to join his football team. The biting should have been a hint. 'Cuteness aggression', as a session of hungover googling informed him, is horribly common. Chris was so torn up about it all that he talks it over with Shannon the night after, when he's not sure if the urge to vomit is from nerves, guilt or the hangover.

He tries to tell her that it doesn't have to change things, that he still loves her. But she still calls it off.

He can't really be mad at her for that, so it's amicable. The two of them weren't built to last much longer anyway; if marriage was in the cards, Shannon wouldn't get snippy anytime her mother brought it up and Chris wouldn't feel nauseous every time he saw an advert for rings. If they were destined for 'forever', talk of marriage wouldn't sound like an expiration date.

Chris spends a couple of months sorting out all his shit and takes a long hard look at his own feelings.

Everyone is sort of weird about the break-up. For a while they all sort of act like it's temporary. Once he puts out a statement though, his friends take that as confirmation that it's actually over. Arthur -Hill not TV- and George take him out drinking a few times as self declared experts in heartbreak and the single life. Their ventures have the three of them planning to move in together when their leases expire in October. Harry corrals him onto a few dating apps and Chris humours him because how is he supposed to tell the guy that women are the last thing on his mind and that he's head over heels (and possibly in love with) one of their mates, who is noticeably a bloke.

At least this time the pub golf is for his channel, so if there's another earth-shattering life crisis, he can edit it out at the least. Save himself the embarrassment of seeing the clip every few weeks on TikTok. Luckily, Chris is not the kind of man who loses all impulse control when faced with a couple of pints.

He is admittedly two shots up already and they've only just settled at hole four. If anything's going to set their team back, it's this. Chris knows the moment he sees Jamie, his production assistant, walk out with a tray of wine-glasses all of which were bordering on over-filled with rosé. 

"Oh god," Lucy groans, her head pitching forwards to thud onto the table. Jamie just smiles as he places the three glasses around the halo of blonde hair. Her next complaint comes out muffled. "Why wine? I can't do wine."

"Come on, Luce." Chris grabs her shoulders to drag her back up straight, shaking them a few times for good measure. "Where's all that team spirit gone?"

"Come on En-ga-land, Score some fucking goals." She quotes, putting on the thick northern accent for it.

Seeing as Chris is a little too far gone to keep explaining the rules at each pub without hurling insults at his friends, Jamie's the one who does it this round, citing that each drink must be fed by a teammate.

"I got a great trick for this one," There's a bit of a slur to Arthur's words, but that could just be him and not the alcohol. Then again, he did do a shot when they got to the pub ‘for fun’ which will most definitely bite them in the arse. "We hold hands and squeeze depending on ho-"

Arthur hiccups halfway through his sentence and it's enough to get a snort out of Chris and devolve Lucy into giggles as he continues. " -how, how much you want."

Chris goes first, and Arthur’s hand is warm in his own as he pours the wine into his mouth. 

Although, when it’s Arthur’s turn and Lucy grabs the wine glass off the table, she frowns. “You’re too tall for this.”

There's not that much of a gap between them with her heels factored in but it's enough that to get her arm up and angle the glass right, it would certainly be uncomfortable for Lucy.

“Come on, tip toes surely.” Arthur says, but she’s already got a hand on his shoulder.

“On your knees, Television.” She says it so calmly, pressing lightly on his shoulder- not enough to push Arthur down, Chris knows he’s stronger than he looks, but he goes anyway.

Something that’s horribly aroused stirs in Chris’s stomach, watching Arthur drop to his knees in front of Lucy, mouth open as she leans down just slightly to press the glass against his lips. He grips her wrist instead of her hand and swallows every mouthful of pretty pink rosé so eagerly that there’s evidence of it left on her skin, little crescent indented where his nails had dug in.

It’s awfully sobering to realise that Chris might actually have to fight a semi while filming.

There’s been jokes about it, in the past few years as his content has matured along with his audience and those sorts of comments were left in the final cut. But Christ, watching Arthur lick his lips clean of wine, not even moving to stand until Lucy pulls him to his feet by the hand, that’s enough to make anyone sexually attracted to men a little off kilter. 

He’s never really had the ‘awkward boners’ at least not since his teenage years. Chris is pretty sure it’s something to do with the messy ball of crossed wires that is his sexuality, the fact he never really gets a hard on for someone he’s not head over heels for but he’s not really put much time into untangling that.

Although, he might need to do that soon. 

Something about the way Arthur looks at her, as if from the moment she put her hand on him, she was everything- the centre of his universe. 

Not that Chris can really blame him. Lucy’s always been captivating like that. He’s not a moron, Lucy’s attractive, objectively. She’s cute, green eyes, light tan to her skin that’s more from sunshine than genetics, and blonde hair that's half pulled back with a white ribbon, a couple strands falling in front of her face. Round cheeks that push up towards her eyes when she smiles, a little tip up to the end of her nose. She’s got the kind of features that would make Chris pause on those stupid dating apps he only swipes though when Harry’s looking over his shoulder. 

Arthur yields so easily for her, blinking at her with those brown eyes and chewing his bottom lip a little, hands still messily entwined together as Harry makes a poor sex joke. 

It’s an orbit that Chris has watched many men tumble into before, the gravitational pull of Lucy Bell. There’s something about the way she carries herself, a confidence that makes eyes drawn to her. On night outs, there’s mixed reactions. George and Arthur Hill love it, girls are more than happy to chat and linger at their table, eased in the risk of approaching a bunch of men in a club by the presence of a woman like Lucy. 

He thinks about all the dickheads he’s seen try and fail to make a pass on her, as Chris picks up the final glass of rosé.

Lucy has, and will continue to, drink Chris under the table, but she is under or just about five foot six. And There's only so many miracles a liver that size can facilitate. Maybe she’s a little further finished than he thought, because when he holds the wine glass up to her, and clasps their palms together, she just isn’t taking it like she was earlier.

“Come on Luce, down in one.” He murmurs, “You got it.”

A little dribble of it runs down her chin and into the curve of her throat, but no one calls her on it and Lucy is left gagging on the taste of rosé that she’d downed. She’s squeezing his hands tight as she recoils and pulls a face. Chris rubs her back and gives it a couple of pats as she leans into his side. “I hate rosé.”

Arthur reappears with three glasses of water, precariously balanced in his hands and he deposits one in front of each of them. It’s the best drink Chris has been given all day and he can’t help the words that slip out. “Oh my god I love you.”

No one blinks at it though, not Arthur, not Chris. He’s said it before, there’s no reason for anyone to think it means anything more than it used to. 

Lucy doesn’t bat an eye, just gives Arthur this awfully soft look before guzzling down half the glass in one go. Until Stephen drops a balled up napkin on the floor and kicks it between her feet, nutmegging her.

Honestly, Chris had sort of forgotten about writing that rule into the video and he sort of feels bad now. Lucy’s probably going to be the only victim of it for the afternoon, because everyone else is far enough gone that they’re a little fuzzy on the rules too.

She and Stephen do shots of baby guinness together (because apparently he just wanted to?) and Chris has to stare into his water glass, tracing patterns on the condensation with his thumb so he doesn’t stare at Arthur and imagine him at the foot of his bed, on his knees for Chris. Complacent and content. 

Chris kind of wants to curl in on himself. 

Beside him, Arthur’s hand slips down from Chris’ shoulder and along his back, stepping around both him and Lucy, hand slipping to her waist and along the curve of it as he ducks back inside the pub. 

There’s jeers from the German team and Cal follows Arthur inside to make sure he’s not chundering in the bathroom. 

“Chris, I’m not gonna lie,” Lucy leans into whisper, “I don’t think I’ll be standing by the end of this video.”

She looks utterly gone. Her eyes are wide, and there’s a little sheen to the column of her neck, maybe from the wine she’d dribbled or the haste to skull the water she was handed. This close, he can see the lines of her makeup, where the eyeliner is a little shaky right at her lash line and the few eyelashes that are clumpy with mascara.

It’s the drunkest he’s seen her in a while, and she’s probably only one drink off of ‘cartwheel Lucy’- the stage of intoxication where she feels the urge to display her impressive coordination that she, annoyingly, never loses no matter how much alcohol she’s ingested.

Chris tips his head forwards and bites her deltoid. Teeth sinking softly into the fabric of her jersey until he can just feel the solidness of her shoulder underneath. Lucy startels, a little, whines then swats at Chris until he retreats half a step.

She looks at the bite mark on her pristine England Jersey, wiping at Chris’ spit as she scoffs and scrunches her nose up a little. "I’m going to catch diseases off you at this rate.”

There’s about half a second where he considers making an STD joke, but there’s a camera sitting on them and it feels a little disrespectful to suggest something like that. 

Lucy frowns down at the black line on the inside of her wrist. “Where’s Arthur, I need a tally mark.”

And the man of the hour is dragged from the Pub’s entrance, clinging to Cal, looking significantly more gone than he had five minutes ago. The wine must have been hitting hard. 

Supposedly, there was no puke, but for the antics Arthur received a red card, putting the English team even further down the hole they’re stuck in. It doesn’t help that the other team all get their drinks down in one.

Not that Chris was really paying attention, he was too busy watching Arthur poke at Cal, enjoying pressing his buttons. 

“How many holes do we have left?” He asks once he’s settled back into his stool.

Chris snorts. “Me after five drinks on a saturday night, am I right?”

Arthur holds his hand up for a high five, but Chris has his arms crossed and his brain is working a little slow to catch it before the palm is descending into a playful smack on his face. He grabs Arthur's hand with both of his and licks a fat stripe up his palm, tongue feeling the roughness of calluses from the gym and the faint taste of beer. 

The reaction is immediate. “Noooo!”

Arthur recoils and wipes his hand of spit on Chris’ jersey. 

Lord, Chris must be so much further gone than he thought, because he just devolves into giggles, even after fully licking his best mate’s hand. It’s only when Jess, his production manager, starts herding them down the footpath to the next pub that Chris finally gets a handle on his giggles. 

Somehow, when they make it to Pub number five, everyone- including his own employees- goads Chris into climbing the tree opposite it. Which earns them two points deducted, so they’ve almost worked off the red card from Arthur’s endeavours with a toilet bowl at the second pub.

The Vodka Oranges are, mercifully, only one standard drink. Although, Lucy’s still looking a little queasy at the prospect of downing it. “I hope this doesn’t have pulp.”

Arthur frowns and holds his drink up in the light to get a better look. “I don’t think so.”

“If there’s pulp I might actually throw up. I can’t do the texture.”

“Can’t say I’m a big fan either.” The downwards tilt of Arthur’s lips is painfully cute and Chris kind of wants to lean over and bite at him, but he’s not supposed to be doing that today. Instead he huddles them closer together, like was in the plan for pub five and they have their half-time strategy meeting. 

“If either of you puke, I swear to god I will never forgive you.” Chris says, focusing very hard on not slurring his words. “We can’t lose to Stephen Tries. He already carries this channel enough.”

“Come on- I’ve done plenty.” Arthur complains. “I got Harry three shots deeper.” 

Admittedly, an impressive feat, but it’s still about thirty less shots than Harry WroeToShaw needs to start feeling the effects of Alcohol and far from enough to recover from all the penalty points he’s been earning. Chris tuts “Only one of us has climbed a tree so I really think that you guys need to step up to the plate at this point.”

The pair just stare at him, and for a moment, Chris sort of loses the plot in Arthur’s eyes. “You’ve got very nice eyes.”

They are. A nice dark brown that sort of looks like pots of honey, mesmerising while Chris blinks into them, with a sort of depth that makes it impossibly easy to sink into them. He’s better at it now, remembering to look away, but the alcohol’s got him a little slower to catch it.

“Christ, they are nice eyes.” Lucy agrees leaning in to get a better look at Arthur, who’s blushing a little from the attention, then towards Chris. “You’ve got good eyes too.”

Arthur nods eagerly. “He does have lovely eyes.”

“Lucy, your eyes are great.” Chris pivots, hoping to save his brain from malfunctioning, onto Lucy, planting a hand on her shoulder to lean in close and study her eyes. 

They’re more green than blue, wide as she processes how close he’s gotten to her. He’s heard people say the grass is greener on the other side, but looking at Lucy’s eyes, it might just be true. It’s almost like staring at the overgrown grass of his childhood football pitch, some streaks a little darker than others, and the underlying feeling that there’s something to be found there, if one cared to look a little deeper than surface level. 

“Oh, they are.” Arthur agrees, squinting a little as he peers at her. 

All three of them have completely lost the whole ‘strategy meeting’ plot that was supposed to be their halftime regroup and by the time Chris untangles himself from their eyes, it’s time to down the vodka oranges that have been sweating condensation down their wrists.

Cal corrals both teams into a cheers and miraculously, everyone manages to get it down in one. 

Thankfully, they’d figured people would be a bit gone by pub five, so a nice lengthy walk proceeds pub six.

Chris just about hangs off Arthur the whole time, who at first is a little distracted by texting George Clarkey in an attempt to convey how ‘sober’ he is, but eventually slings his arm over Chris’ shoulder and lets him stay there. He tries to not stir things, lest he be shoved away, instead basking in the bloody amazing smell of Arthur cologne as it mixes with his deodorant. Chris couldn’t name what either of them smell like, but it’s a scent that’s so uniquely Arthur he wouldn’t be able to associate it with anything else.

“George says he’s gonna come pick me up from the last pub.” He declares, shoving his phone into Chris’ face. It’s a little too close to read, but he squints and tries anyway. Arthur only gives him a few seconds before pulling the screen back and pocketing it. 

At one point in their walk, Chris bites at his wrist where it hangs next to his face but it’s not enough to chase him off. 

“Next pub golf, it’s twenty quid per bite.” Arthur grimaces, whipping the back of his hand of spit down the front of Chris’ jersey. “Lucy had the right idea.”

“I think you owe her a tally mark. Maybe.” Chris frowns, trying to recall if they’d added the last nip. 

“Luce!” He calls. “Did we add the last tally? From Pub four with the rosé?”

She’s about ten meters ahead, tangled up with Stephen as he tries to wrangle her into some kind of hug or headlock, it’s a little unclear which. For a moment the pair of them freeze, and Lucy does that little frown and nose scrunch she does whenever she thinks particularly hard on something. “No!”

Then she kicks Stephen’s sneaker and he bowles over, caught off guard. 

“Yellow card! Yellow card!” Arthur shouts, pointing so obnoxiously that Chris almost wants to tell him it’s rude. “Ref, that’s diving!”

Cal dishes out a Yellow card and Stephen goes back to trying to deck Lucy, via bowling her knees out from under her. But by the time they make it to pub six, he’s managed to weasel a piggy back out of her and the two of them pause by the gate to point out where ‘live music: ChrisMD Diss-Track cover band’ is written in neat print of the blackboard. 

The two of them are gone, and it’s probably lucky that Lucy isn’t the kind of drunk that gets clumsy, otherwise the two of them would never have managed to make it through the beer garden benches without knocking into one. Arthur isn’t as lucky, knocking his shin against one on his way over to the tables his production team has claimed. 

“Ow.” He whines as Chris gets his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, shaking him until they’re at the seats and he’s shoving him off in fake annoyance. “Get off you leach.”

He digs the pen out of his shorts pocket, and bites the cap off, keeping it wedged between his teeth as he calls out to Lucy. Her name comes out muffled around the cap but she deposits Stephen and collapses next to Arthur, who grabs her wrist. There’s an awful lot of concentration on his face for something as simple as drawing a line. 

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin. 

They fall into their own little bubble as they start up a series of naughts and crosses games. Chris has to kick them under the table to gain their attention when Cal starts explaining the pub-quiz rules. The aim was to guess the cocktail themed pun based on the footballer’s name. 

Chris wasn’t expecting greatness to begin with. He knows his footballers, but Arthur and Lucy don’t really know them by name and face- unless they play for the teams they support. There’s a much higher chance of a Man United player showing up than a Brighton player, so Lucy might be completely out of her depth. 

They manage to break even only because the German team are shouting out the footballer’s names and failing to relate it back to a cocktail, so the three of them can steal the point out from under them By the end of it, they’re left with a martini, a strawberry daiquiri and a rum punch. 

Chris gets the easy way out and is handed the martini, Lucy recoils once she finishes her rum punch, a shiver racking her spine and Arthur struggles to drink his daiquiri that is filled with ice, though a piss-weak paper straw. 

But it’s down in one for all of them, even the other team.

As he hauls himself to his feet, the gin hits him like a truck. Enough that he stumbles half a step back. Chris knows, as he catches the worried look his production team are giving him, that his hope of ending the afternoon without puking, was a lost cause. 

[ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three, coming soon... ]

ink note: part two! poor christopher's got it bad. this is our last chris chapter for a while, so pray for the poor lad.

[ if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

[g3othermal3scapism]

Rahrahrah I love your legally blonde art, I saw it while scrolling the tag and I love it so much, you literally portray them both so well omg

-clown anon

AW tysmm im so obsessed w them and it makes me sad theres not a lot of content of them !!! I just went to see the musical live (it fucking rocked) and im back on my emelle bullshit so expect more legally blonde art :) this was such a nice ask to receive thank yeww <333

[thealogie]

So I've just finished ALL of DT does a podcast, and came to a conclusion that in terms of host-guest audio chemistry the two best ones are Michael Sheen and, surprisingly, Jennifer Garner. Ashamed to say I had a very vague notion of how she is, just something pleasant and giggly lol. But she and DT came across as two peas in a pod(cast), like, incredibly similar people, and their chemistry and humour is sooo super pleasant, easy and uplifting. Two work junkies sharing their best heroin trips and tips and gently poking/building up each other's egos because they know they're both most comfortable with taking themselves down a notch. It honestly seems like they grew up together, even though they say that they've known each other for about a year. They even look alike in the picture for the podcast! Madness. Now I want them to work together again on something good (Camping reviews are so bad I'm afraid to even try it). For me, new lethal DT chemistry was unlocked and I'm hungry for more.

This is the most potent review of a podcast episode I’ve ever heard. New DT chemistry partner unlocked? That’s crazy that it was on a Michael Sheen level for you. I will be listening to this immediately.

[taketheringtolohac]

sometimes I think abt that one person who was like “I really didn’t like Chicago there wasn’t a big elaborate set or lots of costume changes :/“ like look we all have our own tastes in theater but also like. you can’t go to the ice cream store and complain that they don’t have burgers. like the part of the point of Chicago is that it’s a bit minimalist bc the focus is really on the dance and the interpretive aspects of the show to emphasize the way that the justice system makes a spectacle of murder and crime for the sake of spectacle it’s not abt big costume changes and set pieces and whatever it’s abt the way that those small things are turned into something larger than life and again. the dance. perhaps most famously so. and also like that’s discrediting a lot of the design that goes into such a minimally designed show like that bc it makes all the things that ARENT solid Black stand out and also the variance within the solid Black costume pieces as well. Like I think the reason why I think abt this so often and why it was so jarring was bc the person like made an entire account all abt seeing theater in nyc and reviewing shows they saw and presenting themself as this theater guru and yet seemingly could not comprehend why a musical might not have eight million quick changes or a flashy showy set. Again it’s not a crime to have preferences, obviously this person prefers the big flashy stuff and I mean I love that too! But again to call yourself someone who knows a lot about theater and to say that seeing Chicago was “disappointing” bc of the “lack of design” is completely disregarding the work and thought that goes into a production like this and also the history of a production (which is especially important for a revival of a show…) as well as the artistic vision and direction. and again. It would be different if it was just a casual theater goer but she has a whole account dedicated to reviewing theater. Which is more than a casual theater goer. Like imagine seeing a production of a chorus line and going “man the songs were good but why was the stage bare and the actors in dance clothes” like you literally sound like theater reviewers in the 70s. Utterly ridiculous from someone who supposedly sees theater several times a month and reviews it claiming to be an authority

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[sunniepoo]

I NEED more of the obx/reader love islane PLEEK 😭😭😭 jj next pls pls pls

love island!jj

jj is an og boy through and through, i have no clue why but something about him screams being in the original line up. the public love him from the moment he comes on, from his looks to his personality he already becomes a bit of a fan favourite

i feel like you would also be in the original line up however you wouldn’t be coupled together, i think it’d be a situation where the public chooses who should go together and honestly he’s gutted. his eyeballs nearly popped out when he saw you and in his head he’s praying that the public chose you to be with him but to his dismay it was not the case

but that doesn’t stop either of you, it was easy to fall for him with his jokey, playful manor but still that masculine presence that follows him - i think the moment where the two of you’d click is when your playing a game around the fire pit and you mention something about the ocean or surfing and it just clicks for him that he needs to get you in his bed as soon as possible

i think it’s only a matter of time before he’s pulling you for chats and slowly flirting his way into your heart, during one of the first recouplings he picks you and honestly that’s only the beginning for the two of you, it’s really sweet and romantic from there on and you become a public favourite quite quickly (sort of like lana and ron s9)

the main major stump between the two of you is when bombshells come in and neither of you have communicated well about that situation so when you see him cracking on with another girl that’s not you, it genuinely shatters your heart into a million

i feel like we see this in obx and i can see it translate into this very well is jj’s fear of intimacy and closeness, for him he could care less about the bombshell but it’s the idea that you and him have been getting so close it’s causing him to freak out and that’s how he finds himself flirting with someone’s name he can barely remember

and before he can even explain himself or even talk to you, everyone’s gathering around the fire pit and he’s being chosen leaving you single - he couldn’t hate himself more in that moment because the idea of you going home genuinely makes him want to leave with you but production comes through and you’re being sent on a date ( really pulling a mimii on this one s11)

following that it’s just a bit of back and forth of arguing and getting back at each other before he sits you down and just breaks, he starts pouring his heart out and you start to realise that whatever anger you have is not worth it

not to say it doesn’t cause a stump in your relationship but your connection with him is stronger than the anger you have. truly once you guys get over that it’s so so sweet and heartwarming

you’d 100% be the very loud, active couple like everyone else is complaining at how your going at it and he genuinely has no shame and doesn’t care - he’s eating you out under those covers with no shame

you guys going to the hideaway would go so viral just cause of how fucked out you look after (lowk like in love island usa when kenny and jaNa came out) hair is a mess and everyone is making memes about how he gives it good

casa amour is such a realisation for him at how much he needs you to keep his mood up because for the first time he is just so out of it and it’s solely because he misses you - the casa recoupling is so cute because you literally run to him and he’s looking at you so in love

like i said casa is such a realisation for him that it doesn’t take long for him to make you his girlfriend and drop the l bomb and if people though you were loud before, god were they not prepared

people have been rooting for you since like day one, when they saw his face when you’d strutted in so it was a very clear and obvious win, and all hell breaks loose when you announce your first kid a couple years later and all you can think is how this started from a silly show you went on for fun

[itsjustrosee]

Alright because of all the support on my last post with Stiles, I figured I should write another 😚👍

Worried Sick Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Context: established relationship, Stiles comes to visit you when you don't show up to school

Warnings: none, just fluff

Wordcount: 1.1k

You had been in your room curled up in bed, tangled in blankets and stuffed animals all while you were supposed to be at school.

You had just gotten your period and your cramps left you nothing short of bedridden and on the verge of throwing up all day. You were experiencing womanhood at its absolute finest, to say the least.

Suddenly, the door to your room swung open, and a very confused and distressed Stiles entered your room. His expression softened once he saw you weren't dead or bleeding out, and a wave of relief seemed to wash over him.

"Not using the window to get in anymore?" You asked jokingly, rolling to your side to face Stiles who had now set down his bag and kneeled at the side of your bed. Being Scott's twin, you and Stiles needed to keep your relationship a secret. That's why when it came to hanging out, Stiles would always come in through your window rather than your front door so the both of you wouldn't get caught.

"Well, you gave me a key to your house for a reason right? Also going in through the window would've taken me too long," Stiles explains, his expression still slightly filled with worry as he placed one of his hands on your bed while the other tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"What were you in such a rush for?" You ask with a chuckle in reaction to Stiles's seriousness, snaking your hand out of your covers and placing it on top of his.

"Well you didn't show up to school and I was worried," He explains, his expression soft and genuine. "I thought something bad might've happened," He says quietly and slowly.

For any other boyfriend, his girlfriend not showing up to school shouldn't cause them this much stress, but considering all the supernatural shit Stiles has somehow managed to get involved in, he couldn't help but worry himself to death.

"I'm okay Stiles, really I am," You say, reassuring him, "Just on my period that's all," You explain, trying to manage a smile but your stomach felt like it was being turned inside out, so it probably came out as more slightly disturbing than comforting.

"Ok good, I thought it could've had something to do with that. Which is why-" Stiles says, relieved, as he gets up and grabs his bag before sitting down next to you on the bed. "I have come prepared," He continues with a goofy smirk plastered on that stupidly cute face of his.

You sit up lazily as Stiles begins to show you what he bought. He whips out a plastic bag from inside of his backpack with items ranging from Tylonal, Advil, and Mydol, (which you immediately snatched and swallowed), all the way to chocolates and a heated stuffed animal.

"I got confused when I saw all the... feminine products, so- um-" He explains while taking out yet another plastic shopping bag from his backpack to reveal at least ten different boxes of tampons and pads.

You pause and stare at the ginormous haul of items that Stiles has bought you and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

You appreciated Stiles and his caring towards you more than anything, especially in moments like these. He always knew the right things to do and the right things to say, and you loved him for it.

Stiles, however, didn't take your silence in the right way. "I'm sorry- it's stupid I know, I bought way too much. I bet I still have the receipt somewhere, maybe I can still return it-" He asked, sadness and disappointment slowly creeping into his voice.

"No!" You reply quickly. "Don't return it, and none of this is stupid," You confirm before sighing for a moment. "Stiles, this is literally like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," You explain, turning to look at him while you say it, a smile slowly forming on your face as you do so.

"Really?" Stiles questions, his embarrassed expression being replaced by one of relief and pride.

"Really," You say while scooting over in your bed and patting the space next to you, beckoning him to join you.

Stiles lays down next to you, and you gladly roll over and climb on top of him, resting your head by the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him. The heat radiated off of his body as you listened to his heartbeat and the slow movements of his chest going up and down.

Stiles brought the covers over you and kissed your head before speaking once more, "You don't want to use the stuffed animal I gave you?" He asks with a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back.

"Nope, I think you'll do just fine," You say as you lift your head to look up at him.

Stiles takes this moment to lean down and kiss you gently. He kissed and held you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if with one wrong move you'd shatter into a million pieces, so he treated you with such care, holding you softly and closely to make sure you didn't.

Though the kiss only lasted a few moments, it made you forget all about the pain you felt in your abdomen and replaced it with butterflies. He definitely had a way of making you feel safe and comfortable whenever you were around him.

Once he pulled away, he looked at you with hearts in his eyes, "You're so beautiful, you know that right baby?" He said, his voice so faint that it practically made your heart beat out of your chest. He removed one of his hands from your back and placed it on your cheek and you immediately melted into his touch.

You could only let out a satisfied hum in response, you were too lost in his features to bother replying coherently.

Stiles let out a low chuckle as he kissed your forehead, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, stroking your hair as he did so.

"Get some sleep okay?" He said while wrapping his arm just a bit tighter around you, "I'll be right here if you need anything," He said softly.

"I know," You say, your words muffled slightly as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, "You're not goin' anywhere," You say with a smile as you place a quick kiss on his neck.

"Didn't plan on it," Stiles mumbles, about to fall asleep even before you do. But as your meds kick in, you can't help but slowly drift off to sleep as well.

Okay, I'm having WAYYYYYY too much fun writing these I'm sorry 😭

I finished majority of my finals so I'm going to be much more active again so keep sending in requests! I'm continuing to work on them

Also, I cannot thank you guys enough for all of the compliments and praise I've received on my last post with Stiles, it was literally so sweet of you guys. My inbox was literally filled with people praising my writing and y'all have no idea how happy that made me, like literally my heart almost burst.

[anniflamma]

Annimaflama, I'm genuinely tweaking with the new Epic animations, it was too good and now I'm a crying mess.

What do you plan on doing now that it ended? Have you seen the new Greek mythology inspired musicals that are appearing now? Do you plan on animating any of them?

(I'm pretty sure I also saw a new musical on production about the bible, it sounded nice, I can't remember the name of the creator though)

Soo my plan is to atleast make one animatic from the ithaca saga. I do however want to do all of them tho. TT.TT And we can't forget Get In The Water/600 Strikes!

But right now it looks like Im gonna continue what I do. Keep doing the stuff I like! I also have so many other musicals I wanna try make content of, like Of Ashes, Warriors or X Venice! Maybe I can sprinkle them in between the Epic ones? I'm also planning on open my commissions too, not yet, but have it open around the end of January!

And If you are talking about Stories From Styx.... yhea I have my eyes on it!!! >:D

And HOW DARE YOU SAYING THERE IS THIS NEW BIBLE MUSICAL, NOT REMEMBER THE NAME AND THEN TELLING ME ABOUT IT! You breaking my heart! /j

[hxney-lemcn]

True Beauty — Vil Schoenheit x gn! reader

summary: a simple sleepover had Vil questioning how you made him feel.

tw: none (maybe not the best characterization of Vil's thought process but this is cute so...)

a/n: just a small thought I needed to get out.

wc: 0.5k

Master List

“He is not pretty,” You said with a judgmental look on your face.

“Are you blind?” Vil asked back, raising one of his perfect eyebrows. “Look at his jawline, the impeccable makeup, the fashion style!”

“He cheated on his partner!” You shot back, nearly causing Vil to mess up his application serum to your skin. His light colored eyes narrowed, silently warning you to stay still.

“That may be, but that has nothing to do with his looks,” Vil countered, carefully picking out an eye cream that would suit you. 

The two of you were having a sleepover…well that's what you were calling it. Vil had simply offered you help with your night routine since ‘your skin looked puffy’ (you hadn’t seen a difference but this was Vil we’re talking about). You managed to convince Vil to put on a show in the background and he had simply pointed out the main antagonist looked attractive, which led to this mini-argument. 

“Wrong,” You stated, making a buzzer noise. “Personality is everything. Yeah I can see what you mean physically, but he ruined his looks with his actions. He’s the ugliest character ever because of what he did.” Vil paused his actions, blinking at you. He genuinely was caught off guard by what you said. His entire life he felt pressured to look perfect, it didn’t matter how a person would act. He had always wanted a starring role, a role that was painted as a hero, yet he was always shot down because he ‘looked’ like a villain. So you stating that you saw the world differently, that you judged others mainly on actions instead of looks, he found himself speechless for once. 

“Yet you’ve fallen for my charms,” Vil tried to rebuttal, ignoring the weird warmth that tried to consume him. You were such a strange person, he still couldn’t wrap his head around you…but he supposes that was your appeal. 

“Yeah,” You shrugged, pulling back as Vil finished putting a really good smelling moisturizer on you. “Because you’re really nice. I mean you literally just used skin care products on me that cost more than my life.” 

Once again you had managed to make his heart stutter and he hated you for it (not really, he’s just being a drama queen). You said it so casually, do you not realize just what that meant to him? He always felt like he had to prove himself, make himself look the most beautiful, work hard for his place, yet you had managed to carelessly toss it to the side with such a simple statement. With a simple belief. You sat across from him as he wore no makeup, his hair messy (it was perfect even if it was casual), and in pajamas (they were the most expensive pajamas you had ever seen), yet your eyes held nothing but adoration. 

“Can I do yours now?” You asked, like you hadn’t just shaken his entire world. Typically he’d deny such a request…but he found his resolve crumbling under your warm smile.

Just what were you doing to him?

[baby-yongbok]

Don't Go Insane

Neighbor!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧Genre - Smut ✧Warnings: Unprotected piv (Wrap it up ya'll) ✧ Masterlist ✧

A/N: I have never ever written a fic in this format but it was the only was for my brain to process the idea😭This is a product of those fucking SINFUL photos that Chan took for Nylon Japan. I'm sorry if it sucks, I'm trying to get back into writing again so I might suck for a bit, sorry! Hope you enjoy! (not proofread)

You weren't expecting to actually like your new neighbor since your previous one was such a dick but when you meet Chan he's more than kind to you. 

He always greets you in the hallway, helping you bring your bags up to your place when you get home from shopping and checks in on you when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days

You find yourself going out around the same time that he would usually get home from his morning workout just so you can talk to him. He's so sweet and charming and hot. Oh so hot. 

He brings you food when he's made too much dinner to fit in his fridge which is code for he wanted an excuse to talk to you and gave you 50% of his meal just to see your face. 

You invite him in to eat the first time that he brings you food and it quickly turns into spending Sunday nights eating together and laughing at his stories. It's your favorite day of the week now. 

You drop by his place to ask if he needs anything from the store every time that you go now. He's memorized the pattern of your knock and jumps to his feet every time he hears it. 

You're in line at the store one day when a magazine catches your eye. Is that…Chan!? You grab it, looking through with wide eyes before buying it and nearly forgetting about the rest of your items. 

You don't tell him that you saw it. He never said what he did for work and yeah he's hot - Oh so hot - but you never thought that this would be his occupation and you defiantly didn't think that this is how you'd find out.

You flip through the magazine all night. Staring at his beautiful chocolate gaze and his perfectly blushed lips. How is he even real?

You may have also stared at his shirtless pics for an hour too long. No one has to know that though.

He brings over a new recipe that he tried this Sunday. Setting up your usual spot on the living room floor when his eyes land on a familiar photo on your side table. It's him. You bought his magazine? He tries to act normal about it but his red ears and blushed cheeks give him away. 

You catch on when he glances at it for a second time and you internally body slam yourself for forgetting to put it away. You both eat quietly, blushing and trying to find the right thing to say next. 

“I'm sorry about that.” You speak first and he glances up quickly, straightening himself up with a shy smile. “It's fine, I'm just embarrassed I guess.” He's shy about being hot?? Why does that make him hotter?

“Are you always the shy type?” Your question was genuine but your tone was suggestive, almost teasing. It creates a shift in his demeanor that makes you shiver. “Not always, no.”

You don't know how it happened. It's all a blur. One second he was talking to you, confident and sweet. He was telling you about the shoot for the magazine when he got to the topic of the shirtless photos. The air around you thickened and the words that started it all slid off your tongue.

“You look so good it could drive me insane.” You chuckled but his eyes darkened in response. 

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are on yours, his gaze is heavy and intense. “What?” You drop your fork, swallowing hard. “Make you go insane?”

That's how you ended up with his lips on yours. He swallowed each and every strangled moan and replaced it with one of his own. His hands explored your body, fast yet cautious. A gentleman.

He pulls you into his lap, one of his large palms gripping your ass over your leggings and the other cupping your cheek to keep you still for him. He pulls you close, chest to chest. He's been waiting to feel you since the moment he first saw you. He feels like he's dreaming and he prays that he never wakes up. 

His breathing picks up when you plant sloppy kisses along his jawline. Mind numbing groans and hisses falling from his lips. “You're gonna make me go insane, fuck.”

His lips feel like heaven against your skin. Soft and all-consuming. He leaves marks along your collar bones, sucking and flicking his tongue over the delicate skin. Your head is spinning as you take him in. This beautiful man that you've been dreaming of for months finally has his hands on you. 

You grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses up into you. The way that he looks up at you with his lip caught between his teeth is intoxicating. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiles at your compliment, blinking a blush away and trying to keep his composure. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

You pull back, sitting on the shaggy rug and frantically undressing. You're desperate, antsy, absolutely insatiable and Chan isn't too far behind but you could never tell by how composed he looks. How does he have that much self control?

He moves to sit on the couch and watches you as you strip. Taking in every beautiful inch of your body while he makes himself comfortable. You look up at him as he sits, man spreading at the edge of your couch and giving you the perfect view of his aching cock straining against his jeans. 

Fucking sinful

"Crawl to me, baby. Come here." He beckons you with two fingers that you're dying to be acquainted with. The smile on his face while you follow his order is enough to make you explode already.

He leans forward, cupping your face and kissing you with such soft hunger. So much passion and desire. A promise, like his kiss is asking you to be his. You palm him softly over his jeans earning a soft moan from him. "You want it?” He leans back, resting against the back of your sofa, giving you full access to his zipper and button. “Go ahead, take it, princess."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you free his cock and his eyes roll back when you fist it confidently. Pumping him at a deliciously slow place. You want to drag this out. You don't ever want this to end. 

He puts his hand over yours once he gets fed up with your teasing. He loves how your hand feels around him but he needs more of you. He taps his leaking cock against your lips and you allow your spit to dribble down his shaft. "Stick that tongue out. There we go, baby. That's my girl. Look at that.”

He holds your hair back as you slide his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His fingers massage your scalp softly making you hum around him. He's a gentleman, a filthy one. 

He couldn’t wait to switch places with you, falling to his knees so fluidly that you couldn’t help but to groan at the sight of him. His gaze never left yours. His eyes were constantly asking for permission to continue and you eagerly granted it every time.

He ate your pussy like a fucking starved man. Lick and sucking the expanse of your cunt like he’d never see you again. Your moans encouraged him as he lapped at you, he wanted - no, needed - you to cum on his tongue. It’s all that he’s been dreaming of for the last month. 

He made you cum twice and had to hold back the urge to keep going. He’s definitely found his new favorite thing.

Nevermind, kissing you is his favorite thing. The way that you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and biting his bottom lip drives him wild. 

You’re seeing stars as soon as he slips into you. His strong arms on either side of your head as he hovers, kissing you softly as you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream come true, ya know that? I’ve dreamt of this, princess.” You can hardly reply once he fills you to the hilt but you try to anyway, moaning out as your vision blurs. “Wanted you so bad, Channie.”

That was enough to break him. He snapped his hips into you, giving you everything that you ever wanted, ever needed, from him. He fucks you deep, speeding up gradually just to hear you moan his name a little louder. He wants to be gentle with you but with a cunt that feels this amazing he can’t help but want to make you fall apart underneath him.

You always imagined being on top when you finally got to be with Chan but it looks like that’ll have to be another day. The way that his cock is splitting you open makes you feel like you might have to call out of work tomorrow. 

“Look at me, babygirl. You liked seeing my pictures, huh? Did you touch this pretty cunt while looking at them?” You nod your head with such urgency that you’re positive that you look absolutely pathetic but Chan thinks that it’s cute, he’s in love with how fucked out you look drooling under him. “All you had to do was ask for the real thing.” He rolls his hips into you and your eyes roll back right after. 

He holds both of your hands as he slows down a bit, he wants to make love to you. Wants to treat you like the precious gem that he knows that you are but your cunt keeps fucking squeezing around him. He curses under his breath as he tries to compose himself but it’s no use. He watches as he disappears inside of you, groaning when he sees just how perfectly your pussy is taking him. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. You’re too much. Too good.” 

Much to his surprise you cave before he does, chanting his name like a prayer while he rocks into you at the perfect angle. You feel dizzy as you unravel under him, nails digging into his strong arms and your legs wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to feel grounded. 

The way that you look cumming on his cock drives him over the edge. He picks up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he’s chasing his. The overstimulation draws out your climax causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you harder than the last. “Yeah yeah yeah, oh fuck such a pretty girl cumming on my cock like that, that's it baby.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he doesn’t care he’s so close so so so close.

You forced your eyes open when he pulled out, you needed to watch him stroke himself over the edge and cover your stomach in his cum. You need to take in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow while he moans for you. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”

The giggles that you share after may be Chan’s new favorite part. He cleaned you up and wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your hair as you both talk about what just happened with smiles on your faces 

“This is a bit backwards but uh, can I take you out? Maybe next weekend?” The butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you blush into his chest, nodding happily and answering with a muffled ‘yes’ that makes Chan chuckle. “Maybe afterward I can fuck the sense back into ya, since I drove you insane tonight.”

[orbitsaturn]

"go outside!"

━ in which the guy you're beefing with online turns out to be cute

modern au! kinich x reader

part 2 here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"your builds are lackluster, I suggest using these artifacts for better damage" you read, gritting your teeth, about to smash the computer screen right in front of you.

It's been about 5 minutes since you started beefing with this random dude off the internet for apparently no reason. (you started it) about the builds of characters that you showcase.

"my builds aren't your business!" typing harshly on your keyboard, it's noises loud. almost instantly you get a respond back. "well, you posted saying you wanted an opinion on how good your character is. I just gave you the input you asked for." the reply reads.

"but you badiaccly worded it in a way that Impliees my builf is trash!" you type hastily, not bothering to fix the spelling mistakes. to be fair, you were overreacting a bit (a lot.) but you had a bad day today! and some random dude off the internet is making it worse.

"my apologies." he replies.

"..." you stare at the computer screen in front of you for a moment, wondering what to do. either you continue the petty fight you have or accept his apology right now. either way, it's your decision.

and somehow you choose to continue fighting the random stranger online!

almost instantly you type back a response, the clicks of your keyboard filling the room. "my apologies? MY APOLOGIES?! my apologies my ass. that wasn't genuine at all!" you type before hitting send. after a few seconds you see a reply pop up, "friend me, i'll help you build your character correctly."

THE AUDAC-

wait. if you did accept his offer, you can flex your newfound damage to your friends...

...

..

.

never mind!

"no!"

right after the reply you sent, a notification quickly popped up.

"have fun with your trash characters then, loser."

HUH?!

almost instantly you start typing a response the moment you saw those words on the computer screen.

"TRASH CHARACTERS?! TRASH?? CHARACTERS?? why are you even beefing with some stranger online. GET A LIFE!!"

"sorry that was my pet lizard."

.

PET LIZARD?? DOES HE THINK IM STUPID??

"you're kidding me. pet lizard?? you think I'd believe that?? you're just trying to find an excuse."

"no, I'm serious, that really was my lizard. his name is ajaw."

your eye twitched, is he really going to keep up with the 'my pet dog ate my homework' type of shit?? you sigh, maybe it was time to just let him go, i mean... he really used his lizard as an excuse... so you quickly type out a response, expecting the argument to be over. (no) "geez. just stop... go outside! this is actually really sad."

"I do go outside, I go out a lot actually"

man. now he's (you) dragging it out.

"i doubt that. proof?" you respond, closing your computer for the day, not expecting a reply. after a bad day, you really needed a good afternoon nap.

----

RING RIIINGGG RINGGG RINGGG

RINGGG RIIIIIINGGGG

loud ringing could be heard from your phone, instantly waking you up, delirious on whether it was the next day or in the middle of the night. you grab your phone lazily, the sound of ringing feeding you feelings of annoyance. as you look at your screen your alarm clock asking you to snooze more or stop the alarm.

obviously you would've chosen to snooze more. but you were feeling a bit more productive today! (spending all your time on games)

so you got up, turning your computer on getting ready to have another late night gaming session, when you something at the corner of your eye.

1 new message from almightydragonlord!

oh it was that rude fellow from earlier...

but of course you clicked on the notification, not expecting to see anything grand.

but your jaw instantly drops.

because in the video you see.

is a cute ass boy with dark hair and green eyes.

"hi sparklingtoots, I do go outside, as for this video, ajaw insisted on giving you hard concrete proof, I didn't really want to. but here you go."

as the video pans out you can see inside a helicopter..?

oh he's jumping out

wait.

HE'S JUMPING OUT?!

and when the camera pans outside the helicopter, the figure of the almightydragonlord was getting smaller and smaller as he falls down. with the video ending right when he pulls his parachute.

"what the fuck." was all you could say.

you stare off into space, what the hell did you just see? some cute dude skydiving off a helicopter? a really. really. cute dude skydiving off a helicopter? the cute dude you were beefing with a few hours ago?

and suddenly a notification popped up, your eyes almost bulging out of your sockets on what you see.

"see, i told you i do go outside."

and it follows up with something that makes you scream internally.

"accept my friend request too."

and of course you accepted this time.

[etheries1015]

I had sort of a crack idea of what would the non-human twst boys do if their crush or s/o was allergic to them? Savanaclaw and Octonivelle with like the fur allergy and seafood allergy. Maybe diasomnia’s s/o has some sort of fairy allergy? Sorry if this is too silly for you to write, it’s alright if you don’t 😭

I LOVE THIS BECAUSE I'VE HAD A SIMILAR THOUGHT i'm allergic to cats and i'm like...man what am I gonna do around Grim BUAHAHA...this is a great idea. Nothing is too silly to write my friend!

Non-human Twst boys reacting to a S/O who is allergic to them!

featuring: Savanaclaw and Octavinelle!

general warnings: gender neutral reader, not really proof read \

TW: None! just fluff. and allergies.

Leona

The first time you sneezed around him, they didn't know it was literally BECAUSE of him. This was until you two took a nap together for the first time, and when you woke up he saw your face...Oh, brother. Your eyes were puffy and red, congested, and your nose leaked like nobody's business. He genuinely felt bad about this, but wouldn't let you in on his true feelings/emotions. Without understanding the cause (though he had an inkling) he immediately took you to the doctor.

"They're allergic to me? What kind of shitty nonsense is that?!"

Leona invested in the most expensive of healthcare for you. Allergy pills and whatnot, because he wasn't about to sacrifice his lovely naps with his significant other. No amount of allergy is gonna stop him from getting what he wants, and that is your affection.

Ruggie

"Sooo...basically you're saying you're allergic to me? Cause' im part heyena?"

"It's a little more complicated than that. It's more like...animal dander? I guess?" You didn't seem to certain in your answer either, it was more or less a guess since...well, there wasn't half beast half human where you are from. You can only make an educated guess on why you're so allergic to him based off of the information you had back at home.

Ruggie is honestly so sad about this. He can't afford to get you any treatments or medical help with this, so you two just have to be careful. He does manage to get his hands on some special washing products (probably legally) and takes extra care of what he eats, and how clean he his. He's consistently brushing his hair and cleaning his ears.

"Man i'm such a simp. What's wrong with me?!" ...He isn't used to bending backward for people. But seeing you so sick around him, hurt him even more than his pride, so he of course would do anything to make sure you're as comfortable around him as possible. Ahh...the power of love <3

Jack

He gives me the "I must stay away from you for your own good," Type. Although this doesn't last very long. Jack is incredibly loyal, and he's far too attached to let you go. There's times where he would try and keep a distance (much to your annoyance), but when you began sneezing and itching your eyes you knew he was somewhere nearby. Jack is protective like that, but it pains his heart to see you so sick because of something he cannot control.

He does both a mix of what Ruggie and Leona does. He took up extra part-time jobs to afford good allergy medication for you, the entire works. Pills, eye drops, nasal sprays, breathing treatments...He also invests in high-quality shampoo and conditioner to help rid of his dander and hopefully reduce the amount of shedding he has.

With the amount of hair Jack has, he is CONSTANTLY brushing it and it is CONSTANTLY shedding. He does EVERYTHING under the sun to control this, all for you. Although... this is a partnership! You told him that a relationship goes two ways. You love him regardless of how itchy you may get, and you equally chip in to problem-solve.

You're both loyal to each other until the very end, no matter what trivial matters may get in your way <3

Azul

He knew before you two started dating that you had a severe allergy to seafood, so he made it a point to avoid you. But...that didn't stop YOU from coming to HIM. It was one of the things that drew him towards you, the way even though you were gaining a rash you would still wrap your arms around the back of him. Although it wasn't as bad in his human form, he was always terrified what would happen if he were to unleash his original form.

But worry not! We are talking about the literal king of potionology. He finds a remedy very quickly, and you trust him...a little too fast. He is astonished when he says;

"Take this...the second you drink this your allergies will be something of the past. But be warned-" You grabbed it out of his hand and chugged it. He stared at you with his jaw slacked open, his face turning a deep shade of hot red when you throw yourself onto Azul and place a big fat kiss against his cheek.

He imploded. But hey! his potion worked! He tried to get you to give him some sort of paypack, but you mentioned that your form of payment was in that kiss.

He now demands kisses every time he makes the potion for you <3 It's kind of a silent agreement. He just stares at you after you're done drinking it, and whenever you feign ignorance the point upon his lips is far too obvious.

Jade

The first time you broke out in hives, he remained completely calm. Jade is rather smart, and he understands your allergy must be because of his disposition as a mer-folk. Although in human form, he couldn't help but notice the way you would hide your rashes either behind makeup or by bulking clothing. He was amused by this for a moment, but when he saw it worsen he couldn't help but become worried.

"Why would you go so far for me? what do you gain by allowing yourself to become sick?" When you replied with a blush that you simply liked Jade, thus his shock soon turned into action. He excused himself for a few days to climb mountains and collect the most effective of flowers and medicinal remedies for allergies and put together a potion that you were able to take to alleviate your symptoms.

He isn't the vice house warden for nothing! His talents and magic prowess truly aided him, albeit in a way that was seemingly selfish. It was all worth it for you, though.

But he does use you as an example during a class project in potionology, having you stand up in front of the class while he compares your allergies before and after taking the potion.

He got a 100% in the project. And a Significant other. A win-win for everyone!

Floyd

Floyd is much smarter than he lets on. The moment he hugs you from behind and touches your arm, he notices the rash right away. He eyed it with a frown, and without saying anything he let go of you much to your dismay, leaving you to your lonesome for a few days on end.

You had to admit you missed Floyd, his silly jokes and way of talking, his unpredictable personality, and the attention he would often give y you. While sitting at the table during a free period, your head was propped up against your hand and a sad sigh escaping your lips.

"Ehhhh? Why is shrimpy sitting here all alone? Didya miss me?" A familiar voice teased as arms wrapped around you and something akin to a vegetable drink set in front of you. You gasped and smile up at the tall male, who wasn't wrapping his arms around you as you were used to, typically ignoring the itching of your rashes. He convinced you to drink what he sat in front of you, and although you eyed it with suspicion, you sighed and drank it in one gulp and tightly shut eyes.

Nothing happened. You turned to look over at Floyd, about to question the purpose of making you drink the (surprisingly tasty) smoothie-like liquid but were quickly interrupted by lips pressing against your own.

The kiss caught you off guard and you began to panic, talking about your allergy...before you realized that nothing was happening. No rash, no itchiness, nothing.

"Seeeee? It's a potion. I made Azul make it for me. Now I can touch you as much as I want," He smiled proudly. However he managed to convince Azul would forever be beyond you...

He forgets to give you the potion sometimes, only when you two are cuddling and a rash or itching pops up do the both of you realize it's time for a dose.

Ya'll are so silly for each other <3

[natalievoncatte]

“Hey,” Kara said, “want to grab something for lunch?”

Seated at her desk, Lena waved her hand dismissively, even though she was only talking to Kara on the phone.

“I can’t. I have too much to do.”

“You’re the boss, you can just take off. Everyone has to do what you say.”

Lena rolled her eyes. There was a hint of teasing in Kara’s voice, but Lena meant it. L-Corp was in the final stages of a major acquisition. Lena was taking over an AI startup that was developing a key technology for one of her medical division products, and to make it viable she needed their patents, IP, and scientific talent.

“I really am swamped.”

“Can’t you spare half an hour? For me? I want to make sure you’re not starving yourself again.”

Lena sighed. The teasing was replaced with a genuine concern, now. Lena had admitted to Kara that she lost five the last time she got caught up in something for three weeks. Of everyone she mentioned it to, Kara was the only one who didn’t congratulate her. She worried, she fussed, and she fed Lena that night.

“Okay,” said Lena. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten, does that sound…”

“I’m already here.”

Kara then opened the door and walked in, smirking. Lena’s breath caught when she saw her. Kara had her hair in an elaborate braid and was dressed for the blistering summer heat in a green sun dress and sandals. Joy sparkled in her blue eyes and she smiled wide.

“We could get delivery,” said Lena.

“Nope! Fresh air! It’s good for you!”

Lena sighed and allowed herself to be bundle outside, throwing on a hat and sunglasses. Since she was in the office on a Saturday and had let herself in, she had dressed casually and the heat was tolerable while they walked.

They spent the trip in companionable silence. Kara walked close to her, a presence just to Lena’s right that seemed to electrify the air, like something pulling between them.

Lena noticed things. Like how Kara always walked between her and the road, and how the way her arms would swing always seemed to leave Kara’s pinky brushing the outside of Lena’s hand. Sometimes she’d mumble an apology. Sometimes not. Sometimes Lena would feel the tender touch, and find Kara looking at her oddly, a soft wistful smile on her face that made Lena melt.

Sometimes she thought about catching her hand. Sometimes she thought about stopping and meeting that look, gently asking what Kara was so intent about. She never did, because as much as she enjoyed that fluttering feeling in her belly, she was certain Kara was straight.

It was like an ache she just couldn’t stop, dull and pulsing at the back of her mind. One soft brush of Kara’s lips on her own would be more than-

“Hey,” Kara said. “You’re a million miles away.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, realizing that she’d been staring this time. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about work.”

There was a nearly imperceptible flash of concern and sadness on Kara’s face, the tiniest hint of a frown that made Lena want to cup her cheek and whisper an apology, but didn’t.

“This is it,” said Kara. “Try to relax, alright?”

Lena sighed her best promise and followed Kara in to a quaint little lunch spot with air conditioning and big ceiling fans mounted high overhead, and they took their seats.

Kara ordered for her -you need protein, Lena!- and she spent the next forty-five minutes picking at a turkey wrap and listening to Kara chatter excitedly about gossip and work and who was dating who at CatCo and a big story she was working on. Lena knew she had a lopsided smile on her face and was nodding along, as much for the delight of Kara’s excitement. She did little voices when she imitated her coworkers and got animated when talking about her story.

Lena barely said a word.

“You’re quiet,” Kara finally said.

I’m in love with you, Lena thought.

“I’m just tired. I was listening. You think Elliot is dating… Katie?”

Kara smirked at her.

“I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. There’s more to life than work.”

Kara rested her hand atop Lena’s, and Lena felt her heart flip in her chest.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, this project just means a lot to me.”

“Let’s get you back before the building burns down,” said Kara.

Lena felt a little guilty as they walked into the bar to pay the bill. For some reason, Lena felt a little thrill when Kara insisted on paying, and the host looked at Lena and then smirked at Kara.

They turned, snd a man stepped up to Lena.

“Luthor!” he shouted. “You ruined my fucking life!”

Lena froze, wide-eyed, about to ask what she did. The man raised the gun he had hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt and fired. The sound was incredible, stabbing at her ear drums and filling the world with a dull ringing. She stumbled back into the bar.

Kara’s fist was clenched in front of her chest, her eyes wide and expression wild. Kara snapped her attention to the gunman, who fired again.

She stepped between the gun and Lena. Five more shots went off and seemed to rumple her dress with tiny bursts of wind, but then Lena saw the bullets had torn the fabric before they tumbled to the floor.

Kara swept her hand and yanked the gun out of his hand, and it fell to the floor in a crumpled mass, sliding along the tiles.

She changed. It was as if she grew taller, wider, expression hardening. She grabbed the attacker by his collar and hauled him off the floor with one hand, and Lena felt a pang of fear as fire literally blazed in her eyes.

When she put a hand on Kara’s shoulder, the muscles were coiled like steel cables.

“Don’t” she caught herself whispering.

Kara threw him. He slid across the floor and thumped against the wall, and she strode over and planted her foot on his chest, easily pinning him. He stared up at her in naked shock.

Kara touched her ear. “Alex, get to my location asap. Someone just tried to kill Lena. We need a cleanup.”

Lena stared at her.

It wasn’t five minutes before her sister, in full tactical gear, led a team of armed agents into the cafe and bundled up Lena’s assailant, dragging him away. They took the crumpled gun and the fallen bullets and began talking to the other patrons and staff.

Lena started to shake.

Kara focused on her instantly and led her outside, where “FBI” vans were waiting. Kara stepped into one and in half a second, without seeming to break stride, stepped back into view in full Supergirl regalia.

Lena almost fell. He knees went wobbly and she slumped, right into Kara’s arms. Kara scooped her up in a single fluid motion and lifted off as Lena took a death grip on the collar of her suit and buried her face in Kara’s neck.

Moments later they lighted on Lena’s balcony. Kara pushed the door aside, ignoring the very expensive lock that popped off as she did, and carried her inside.

Bolting, Lena ran to the bathroom. Her entire body had gone cold, like she’d been dunked in ice water. She sagged to her knees and grabbed the toilet, retching.

Kara was there. A soft, reassuring hand rubbed her back while the other tenderly and expertly gathered her hair. Lena couldn’t help it; she struggled to hold on her lunch, shaking, screaming between retches.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

“He almost killed me,” Lena choked out. “If you weren’t there I’d be dead.”

Kara sat down, and pulled Lena into her lap, rocking her softly until the shaking subsided before standing up, easily carrying her out of the room.

A glass of water helped. Kara was attentive, gently, softly encouraging while the adrenaline shakes ravaged Lena.

Kara was Supergirl. It seemed weirdly obvious to her now. She looked up and realized that Kara hadn’t unbraided her hair, and the effect was disconcerting. Kara took Lena in her arms again, hugging her tight.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”

Lena took in a deep breath, drinking her scent as Kara rubbed her back and did the same, burying her face in Lena’s hair.

“You’re going to be okay,” Kara murmured, “it’s alright.”

“I’m so tired of this,” Lena whimpered. “What did I do? Why did he want to hurt me?”

“You don’t deserve to live this way,” said Kara.

“Oh God,” said Lena. “I have to… the acquisition, my work…”

Kara seized her head in her hands, firmly yet gently, cupping Lena’s cheeks in her palms. Kara stared at her with shocking intensity, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Fuck your work,” Kara almost shouted. “I care about you. You, Lena! You’re more than… you… I…”

Lena stared back at her, in shock at the intensity in her voice, even moreso than the out of character f-bomb. Kara was still holding her, looking at her with such fullness of feeling, biting her lip and struggling to hold back tears and failing, that Lena couldn’t stop herself. She lunged, diving into Kara, hugging her.

Lena hugged Kara, but Kara was the one to kiss her first. Their lips met in a nearly painful crash, Kara diving into her like she might never see her again.

Oh.

It was a wild sensation, this adrenaline shock combined with the feeling of Kara’s powerful arms wrapped around her, fingers that could crush diamonds gripping her hip and the back of her neck, the way Kara stood tall over her and her boots thumped on the floor when she took a step.

“You mean everything to me.”

Lena sucked in a breath and swallowed a sob.

Oh.

“Don’t leave,” Lena chirped out. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

Lena finally felt herself slowing down, but it left her drained, barely able to stand. She slumped against Kara and stayed there, clinging to her.

“I’m going to change,” Kara murmured. “Easy.”

She lowered Lena onto the sofa and she curled in the corner, huddled in a ball.

Then Kara reached to her shoulders unclasped one side of her cape, then the other. With a flourish she swung it wide and swept it over Lena as a blanket.

“Stay right here.”

She wasn’t gone long. In mere moments she was there in a t-shirt and shorts, wrapping herself around Lena.

It took hours for Lena to finally calm down, and by then she’d fallen asleep on Kara’s shoulder. When she woke up, Kara was teasing her fingers along Lena’s scalp and singing softly. It took a moment for Lena to realize that the clipped, rhythmic language had to be Kryptonian.

“Are you okay?”

Lena nodded.

“It was different this time. People have tried to kill me before but… it was different. He was just some guy in a cafe.”

“Lena,” Kara murmured, “look at me.”

Lena looked up, meeting Kara’s soft, intent gaze.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Lena’s heart swelled. It felt so real, so true. Kara meant it, every bit of it, from the depths of her being. Lena tucked in closer to her and sighed on her shoulder.

“Work can wait until Monday,” Lena whispered.

“Tuesday,” Kara corrected.

“Can you stay tonight?” said Lena. “Just to sleep,” she added.

“Of course.”

They were silent to a while.

“Lena?”

“Yeah.”

“About earlier, if I… overstepped, I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Lena sucked in a sharp breath.

“It means everything.”

“Oh,” said Kara.

[probablyintensemuses]

how wwould armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same way, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

Te amo 🌸💗

Wait For Your Love-

Armando Aretas

summary: Armando doesn’t wish you a happy birthday so you’re day is basically ruined, up until it isn’t.

themes: angst, fluff, smut.

warnings: smut 18+

authors note: I know this isn’t exactly like the request, but genuinely I tried. I hope y’all like it 🥹. Not edited btw, I wrote this on my lunch break.

Happy birthday to you,’ kelly sang, walking a candlelight cupcake over to your desk, Dorn, Mike, and Marcus following behind her. “Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday, our sweet girl, happy birthday to you.” Kelly gives you a hug from behind and you lean into her.

“Thanks guys,’ you smile big, blowing out the candle on your cupcake.

“What your young ass wish for?” Mike asks, slinging a birthday girl sash over your shoulders.

Marcus slaps his chest. “You know she can’t tell you, that’ll ruin it.”

Mike smacks his lips. “Man, shut your superstitious ass up. Seriously, what you wish for.”

You laugh. “I wished for the second day at my cafe to run smoothly for my employees.’ Everyone shakes their heads, happily, saying your wish was a great one.

“Speaking of,” you dig into your bag, pulling out pink envelopes with hearts on their seals. “If you guys can make time I’d love to have you over there for small party. It’s nothing big, just a new cake recipe I was working on, some drinks, and food if you guys want to bring any.”

They all accept your invite, taking their cards with them and back to their desks.

You sit back down with a smile and continue to unencrypte the harddrive they’d found at a crime scene. Mike had told you it was very important they get it open with everything on it.

So that was the goal today before your party, so you could get as drunk as you wanted to and cry as much as you wanted too.

Hopefully not the latter, though.

The compound door swings open with a shriek before slamming shut, echoing through the whole place.

You turn and your heart stops in your chest as Armando Aretas makes his way through.

It was no secret, to the team anyway, that you had a mild crush on Armando. Despite knowing the things of his past, some desperate part of your self truly liked him. And corny enough, you saw the goodness and potential within him.

It’s why you went with Mike to the D.A’s office and fought for him to serve out his tenured in AMMO instead of prison. You knew he wasn’t all bad, he could be reformed, you’d seen it multiple times.

Like when he took all those stab wounds for Callie, the daughter of the woman actively hunting him. Or how he tried constantly, despite his past and his own convictions, to have a relationship with Mike. Even how kind he was to you at times, especially when you know it’s hard for him, training his mind to know that kindness isn’t a weakness after years of being a product to the cartel.

So you couldn’t help but smile when you see him walk down the stairs and take a seat at his desk across from yours.

“Armando,’ Mike says. “You’re late, we’re about to start debriefing in ten.”

Armando shrugs, slinging off his leather jacket and exposing his bulging, biceps and veiny forearms.

You check the glare in your computer, checking for drool, before eyeing his torso, the skin tight black shirt doing nothing for your unquenched thirst.

“Had to pick something up.” He says, eyeing you.

You turn, looking over your shoulder. Was he actually staring at you?

Everyone else must have noticed too, because before you know it, you have eight pairs of hungry eyes watching you both.

“Anything you want to say to her?” Kelly practically nudges Armando with her voice.

Armando eyes you up in down, taking in your typical appearance of a cardigan and jeans, your curls pulled high in a puff on your head.

His eyes pull away from you as he stands and walks over to the room where the team debriefs. “Nah,” he says.

You fell your heart crash to your feet.

Did he just?

Now, you could understand if he forgot it was your birthday, but you have a cupcake with a candle on it sitting on your desk not to mention the fucking sash that says “birthday girl,” no way he thought you were just wearing it for convenience.

You thought, just for once, Armando would show you even a slither of the same kind of affections you held for him…especially on your birthday.

But you were wrong.

Your heart chips a little at that realization, you feel pathetic like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles as you ball up the invitation you had stored away for Armando, it yellow and bright unlike the others.

You were pathetic to think the man you liked would even consider you an option, let alone come to some dumb birthday party of yours. He was too busy for that, and you were too desperate.

Another year older, yet never wiser. It was clear in your delusions of Armando as you wait for his love.

###

You’re careful to not drop your cake as you push it through the swinging doors of your new cafe.

You decided to get this cafe as a side shop because you always loved pastries, and making cakes and sweet treats got you through the stress of school and the police force.

So now that you’re older, why not have a cafe for fun and passive income? Was it more stress, yes, but it was totally worth it.

“Wow, that looks amazing!” Dorn’s eyes light up as your bring the cake over to the booths and tables your friends occupy.

“You think so?” You smile.

“Oh hell yeah,’ Marcus likes his lips, clapping his hands together. “You know I’m for anything sweet so.”

You chuckle. “Forewarning. It’s a teramassu cake, so you old dogs might be up all night if you eat too much.”

“Damn! It’s like that!” Mike laughs.

You smile and begin cutting into the cake and passing out pieces. “Yeah, it’s like that.”

“And to think we basically raised you.” Marcus says. “I’m going to let you slide though. One because it’s your birthday. And two, because this cake is fire.”

You clap and squeal. “I’m so glad you like it. I didn’t want to mess it up, but it’s pretty difficult.”

“Mhm,’ kelly says, taking a sip of her wine. “So what’s harder, cake baking? Or admitting your crush to Armando?”

Your smile drops in an instant and you send an icy glare Kelly’s way. “Seriously?”

Kelly hiccups. “I’m sorry, but the way your face looked when he didn’t tell you happy birthday, I mean how can you like a guy like that? No offense, Mike.”

Mikes eyebrows rise. “I mean, it was a jerk move. But it’s Armando. Who knows, he might say happy birthday tomorrow.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, but it won’t be worth anything tomorrow when he knew today. I mean, I’m really pathetic to wish he was here when he couldn’t even do the bare minimum for me.” Your eyes well with tears.

“Hey, no.’ Dorn wipes your eyes. “Don’t cry on your birthday about him. Cry tomorrow, and then come see my therapist.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Sorry, she’s just amazing, I always like to shout her out.”

You sigh. “Thanks, Dorn.”

Even with all this smiling faces around you, you couldn’t shake the anchor pulling at your ankle. You wished Armando would have just told you happy birthday, even pretended to care. That would have meant more to you than what you got.

But here you were, with all your friends who actually cared about you, about to cry over a guy who couldn’t even be bothered.

A tear streaks down your face and you look away. “You guys should go,’ you say. “I’m sorry.”

Mike pats your shoulder. “I’ll try talking to him.”

You grip his wrist. “Don’t. I don’t want him to know about this, he’ll think I’m insane.”

“Don’t sweat it too hard,’ kelly kisses your head. “I know plenty of guys at the department that would fall to their knees right now over you.”

“Thanks,’ you half smile, watching as your friends leave before you break down completely.

Tears streaked into your palm as you cried out. It didn’t hit you until this morning just how deeply you cared for Armando.

You truly liked him, and his blatant rejection had set all your emotions flaring.

Sniffling into your hands, the soft chime of your cafes door catches your attention.

“We’re closed.” You grumble, not bothering to look up.

“Even for me, ¿dulce niña?” Armando says.

Your head shoots up and the air is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you take him in.

He’s dapper in a black button up not all the way buttoned, exposing some of his tone chest and a silver St. Christopher necklace. His pants are the right amount of tightness, highlighting his muscular thighs, and his hair is dark and trimmed, just like his beard.

Armando, as always, is hard to look away from. But still, resist and play it cool, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your hands over your small chest.

Armando walks towards you, hands behind his back as he observes your cafe, like some kind of museum tourist. “The cafe came together nice.” He says, stepping a bit too close to you.

For air, you take a step back, Armando notices and smirks. “Stop avoiding the question. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a party I wasn’t invited to. That’s not very nice, bebita.” He smirks.

“Yeah, it was invite only.”

“I don’t qualify?”

You scoff. “You didn’t even know it was my birthday.”

“I knew.”

“Oh, you knew, so you just didn’t care.”

“I cared.’ Armando gets close, pulling at the tule fabric of your pink mini dress. He lets out a shaky breath. “This is beautiful on you, by the way.”

You push him away at the chest, he hardly moves. “Stop it.” You whine.

“Stop what?”

“Stop acting like you like me!” You shout. “You don’t! And it’s fucking embarrassing, Armando!”

Armando swallows, and even in the darkness you can see the shame painted into the little creases of his face and the fast lifts of his chest.

Armando’s hands finally fall to his sides and you see now what he has done. In his hands are a large bouquet of flowers and a blue bag.

“No,” You say.

He steps forward. “This is why I was late to work, princesa, because I got this for you.”

“Armando.”

“Open it.” He says.

Reluctantly you take the bag from his hands, sharp rods of electricity swirling up your arm when your fingers meet.

Slowly, you open the bag and look inside. There, a small velvet box awaits you. Hesitant, you pick it up and open it.

You gasp at what you see. A necklace, tiny diamonds all the way around. It shimmers in the moonlight that peaks into the cafe as you hold it up.

“You bought this for me?’ You gasp. “How can you even afford this?”

Armando rolls his eyes. “I use to be a drug dealer, baby.”

You sigh and put the necklace, as pretty as it is, back into the box. “I can’t take this.” You hand it back.

Armando frowns. “Why not?”

You turn, holding yourself. “Because how do I know if you even like me?”

Armando’s eyes hidden and he holds the bag on display. “Baby, I just dropped bands on this necklace for you. I think that shows alot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You step back, walking away from him.

He catches your arm, gently pulling you back. “Maybe?” He scoffs offended. “You didn’t even invite me tonight, yet I got you a gift, and you say maybe.”

You snatch out of his grip. “I didn’t invite you tonight because you’re an asshole!”

“I’m not!” Armando shouts back.

“Then prove it,’ you square into his space. “Stop making me wait for your love and tell me what you know I want to hear.”

Armando opens his mouth to speak, but the words are lost when he leans in, his mouth crashing onto yours.

Your shocked, your lips are still against his until something burst inside of you, everything you’ve been craving sealed in this one kiss.

This causes you to moan against his lips. Armando swallows it, slipping his hands into your curls and tilting your head to the side, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, scratching at his faded low cut, deepening your kiss.

Armando’s hands trail down the fluff of your dress until they reach the hem. He flips it upward and finds your underwear, growling as he feels the thin layer of cotton. You shudder at his touch, your pussy throbbing at the thought of him making contact.

“Fuck,’ he moans, slipping two fingers into your thongs, rolling his thick fingers over your clit.

Your head falls back as you let out a low, moan. “Fuck, baby.”

“You like that?’ He strokes his fingers up and down your soaking wet slit. “Tan mojado, maldita sea.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Oh, yes.”

Armando grabs you by your waist flipping you around, the rounds of your ass pressed against the swells of his cock.

You gasp as Armando pushes you against his hard on, you imagine how it will feel once he’s deep inside your soaking, needy cunt.

Armando nibbles at the bottom of your ear. “You feel that baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Y—yes,” you sputter.

He grinds against you, his face deep in your hair, taking a whiff.

“God I need to be inside you.” Armando whines. “I’ve always needed it.”

“Then do it. Stop holding back.” You moan out.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because in a flash Armando’s got your dress up, your thong to the side, and you bent over the counter of your cafe.

God you hoped no one walked past, because if they did, they get an eyeful of your ass and Armando’s bulging cock.

“Fuck,” Armando moans, rubbing the leaking pink tip of his cock against you sleek folds, shuddering as he pulls back, your slick dripping off his tip. “You ready, baby?”

“Yes, oh yes.” You moan, digging your head into the cold marble of the counter.

Armando strokes your entrance one last time before pushing into slowly. You both let out loud, pornagraphic moans finally being full of each other.

The strokes start of slow and deep, each smack creating friction between the top of your dress and your skin. The deeper and harder Armando fucks you, the lower your dress falls until eventually your boobs spill out.

Armando’s pace picks up and he begins to fuck you with speed that causes you to cry out. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your boobs and holding onto them, circling your nipples between his fingers, pounding deeper and harder into you.

“God, mama, you’re incredible.’ Armando growls. “I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

“More!” You moan.

Armando flips you over, lifting you up by your ass and slamming you onto the counter. He waste no time shoving into you and fucking you, your boobs bouncing up and down equivalent to his rhythm.

You reach down, rubbing your clit in circles, you’re desperate to come on Armando’s cock and have him come inside of you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach build and you know you’re close. The sounds of skin slapping and heavy moans echos off the walls of the cafe.

Your pussy leaks, leaving a white ring Armando’s cock as he drills into you, using one lifted leg as leverage.

Your knot builds, expanding, and you know you’re close to the edge.

You pull Armando close. “I want you to finish me, then I need your come inside of me.” You cry out.

Armando doesn’t even question your requests before obliterating you with speed and strokes.

Your knot unfurls and you moan out, shuttering as you

Come on his cock. Armando does the same, pumping all of him inside of you.

Sweaty and breathing hard, he pulls out, lifting you up bridal style.

He carries you to one of the larger booths at the back of the cafe, using his jacket as a blanket for you both.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks.

You shake your head no. “It’s okay. We’re fine. I’ll just get a plan B.”

Armando nods kissing your forehead. “And by the way,’ he pulls you into his strong arms. “Happy birthday.”

You snicker, eyelids heavy. “Thank you.”