#they could not in fact work it out on the remix

[portablechargertmblr]

“Yeah I don’t know if you like me

Sometimes I think you may hate me

Sometimes I think I may hate you

Maybe you just wanna be me”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 24

Phantom is just chilling in Gotham at night. It had been a few years since he realized he wasn't aging and was stuck at 14 forever, thus having to find a solution to the whole portal problem once and for all. After explaining his situation Pandora made quick work of it for him as a repayment for his previous help and sent him off into the zone.

Danny floated into a closed museum and sat on the top of the large Saturn model, leave it to him to find a space museum staring out at the exhibits and enjoying the peace and quiet. He removed himself from the visable spectrum once he felt someone approaching the building. Odd, he thought, there shouldn't be anything here that Catwoman would want to steal.

To his surprise it wasn't Catwoman who appeared. It was one of the bats. Phantom realized he must have tripped a silent alarm.

As he watched one of the bats slowly crept throught the museum, keeping to the shadows, he came up with an idea.

He quickly overshadowed one of the machines and powered it on, making it play the creepiest possible remix of the music it was supposed to play. The bat looked wary but didn't flee and Danny made it his personal mission to made this bat screech.

He failed of course. He had trapped the bat in here and done every horror story/creepy pasta plot he could think of and nothing worked.

More importantly the bat is making space puns and talking nerdy about space facts as he fights the machine constructs phantom had made

Danny decided that if the bat lasted till dawn then he would give them a major magical gift.

And maybe ask if Nightwing wants a sidekick

[sanarsi]

It's just business

Javier Peña x informant!f!Reader

Summary: As one of the drug cartels' representatives, you were incredibly useful to Agent Peña. However, he can't stop his habit of fucking his informants. Warnings: +18, MDNI, rough sex, unprotected PIV, hair pulling, dirty talk, insults, rough!dom!Javier, mention of drugs, mention of killing, reader eats meat, age gap (not specified) Wordcount: 3,1k An: I admit, I got hot when I wrote this. As much as I have a weakness for soft Javi, I can't resist rough Javier as well. It’s for my all slutty sluts, enjoy xx Music I worked with: Trust Issues - The Weeknd (Remix)

Masterlist

You and Javier had a purely business relationship. Information for information. And he honestly wasn't happy about it. He'd rather see you behind bars.

Or in his bed.

Both options were satisfactory.

But he promised you immunity in exchange for information. You were useful and that's the only reason he gave you what you wanted in return.

That's why he was driving towards the city center again with a folder of documents on the seat next to him. He was already smoking another cigarette out of nerves after today's work. And the worst thing was that he continued working after work. What an irony.

He parked under one of the skyscrapers where you were supposed to wait for him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and fixed his hair and mustache. He didn't look perfect but he was after a whole day of sitting in a damn office. He had the right to look and feel like shit.

Despite that, he put on some cologne and changed his shirt to a fresh one that was lying on the back seat. He carefully buttoned every button and straightened the collar of his black shirt. He took a briefcase with documents and a leather jacket from seat next to him and then headed towards the entrance to the skyscraper.

You loved meeting him in damn rich places. You emphasized your position in this city.

It was amazing how well it was to live on illegal money and hands covered in blood.

You were the perfect example of how beautiful the devil can be. And Javier was just a man who was easy to persuade to sin.

However, fate did not want to allow it.

You were the only informant he did not put his sticky hands on. And he didn't know if he was more pissed off or relieved that at least he hadn't sold out to someone like you.

He took the elevator up to the top floor where the restaurant was located. Too lavish for his taste. But it suited you perfectly.

The waiter directed him to one of the tables in the middle of the room. What else could he have expected?

You loved to shine.

But your excuse was that it was darkest under the streetlight.

That's why you always met in public places in full view.

The black dress barely reached mid-thigh and the shiny jewelry added sex appeal to you. You slowly sipped your champagne, watching the view of the illuminated city outside the window. Even the fact that Javier approached the table and sat down opposite you, didn't distract you. Only a smirk appeared on your lips as you took another sip of champagne.

He watched you in silence for a moment before he sighed and looked at the view outside the window himself. From this perspective, the city looked like paradise. It was a shame that so much shit was happening on its streets.

Shit that you were also responsible for.

“We could be quite successful together on the streets of this city,” you said lightly. Javier glanced at you but didn’t comment on your words. He had long since grown tired of refusing you such cooperation.

You took the last sip of champagne and finally turned your gaze to him. Damn piercing.

He wondered how you would look at him as he pushed his cock inside you.

“Not nice of you to keep me waiting,” you smacked your lips disapprovingly and glanced at the watch on your wrist. “As much as seven minutes,” you added, raising your eyebrows in amusement. “We should respect each other’s time, wouldn’t you agree?” you asked confidently.

He watched you in silence and really wished he could wipe that smirk off your face.

Javier couldn't remember the last time he hated someone as much as you and wanted someone so damn much at the same time.

Kill you or fuck you? He saw no difference.

“Sorry,” he commented briefly, without an ounce of sympathy. You smiled wider.

“I accept your apology. Champagne?” you suggested, pointing to the bottle between you. Javier declined with a shake of his head.

“I’m driving,” he explained, to which you nodded in understanding. Suddenly, a waiter appeared out of nowhere, placing a meal in front of you. If that was what you could call a piece of meat with a few unnecessary decorations.

“Disfrute de su comida,” the waiter said with a pleasant smile. You returned the gesture, taking the cutlery.

“Gracias,” you replied with a warm smile.

Javier watched you silently like a predator. You always had impeccable manners. You were always so damn nice and polite. You made him sick.

How on earth were you complicit in so many bad things?

How on earth do you pull the trigger on so many people's heads and look like an angel at the same time?

You began to eat your meal gracefully. And as usual, he didn't even touch his. Nothing new, and yet you ordered for him every time.

“I see you’re not very talkative today so I suggest we get straight to business,” you suggested, chewing on a piece of meat and taking a sip of champagne.

Javier wordlessly pulled out a stack of papers from inside his jacket and placed it on the table between you. You put down the cutlery and picked up the briefcase. You began to look through its contents in silence. You took your time. You had to be sure that everything you wanted was in it.

"Family information is classified even for me," he said immediately to forestall your question. You glanced at him for a moment and then started reading again.

“We both know you can if you want to, Agent Peña,” you replied with a smirk. Javier clenched his jaw, watching closely as your fingers gently turned the pages. How your lips tightened in concentration. How your eyes followed the text intently.

Fuck, he was getting hard just by looking at you.

"I won't risk my job because of your whims," ​​he said in a slightly lower tone. You looked at him, raising your eyebrows with a smile.

"Aren't you already doing that? Sitting at the same table with me? Talking to me without witnesses and without handcuffs?" you asked with that sly glint in your eye.

Yeah, he was getting harder.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. You snorted slightly when you didn't get an answer from him. You went back to reading the data and Javier was tempted to pour himself that damn champagne. He had to drink something. He couldn't be fully focused on you or he would go crazy.

You glanced at him, observing his actions but didn't comment on it. He poured himself half a glass and drank it all in one go.

"Hard day at work?" you asked lightly without looking away from the papers. Javier looked at you and put the glass on the table.

"No more than yours," he snapped. He couldn't help the venom in his voice. But you got used to it.

"No, my day was exceptionally pleasant," you replied, reading another sheet of paper.

"Sure, taking your own shit is pleasant," he said with disgust and leaned back heavily in the chair. You laughed quietly under your breath.

"You'll be surprised, but my life doesn't revolve around cocaine."

"Oh yeah?" he raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. You looked up at him with a gentle smile.

Fuck, you looked so cute.

So sexy.

His dick twitched.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I went bowling with my nephews,” you said happily. He clenched his jaw tighter.

His sexual frustration was boiling through his veins like poison.

“But I killed a few people in my five-minute break. Just for fun,” you teased him and winked.

You closed the folder and put it in your bag. You took a deep breath and sipped your champagne.

“I’m not satisfied. There are a few things missing,” you announced before you started eating again.

Javier straightened up and poured himself some champagne again. This time he began to calmly sip the fizzy alcohol as he leaned his elbows on the table.

“I gave you too much already,” he replied raising an eyebrow.

“I disagree,” you replied swallowing the meat and you looked up at him. “Don’t treat me the way you wouldn’t want to be treated,” you said seriously.

Javier sipped his champagne watching your cold gaze.

“You expect me to give you full information?” you asked raising an eyebrow. “Then give me the same in return,” you added seriously.

Jesus, he loved it when you talked to him as if he were a disobedient dog.

"Otherwise, our cooperation won't need to continue," you announced, starting to cut another piece of meat. "I don't need you as much as you think," you noted indifferently. And Javier knew you were right.

He needed you more than you needed him.

He nodded, sipping his champagne.

“So give me today something that’s worth the information I gave you,” he announced, trying to get to safe ground. He knew when to back off. And that was the moment.

You put the cutlery on your plate and looked at him.

“Your information is worth shit,” you said seriously and reached your hand to your bra between your breasts. Javier couldn’t help but stare at your movements. “But unlike you, I keep my word.” You pulled a small piece of paper out of your bra and held it out to him.

He looked at the small piece of paper and reached for it, deliberately brushing his fingers against yours.

Your skin was so damn soft and cold compared to his.

And he couldn’t help but think that he’d want to help you warm up.

He unfolded the folded piece of paper and read the address in his mind.

Fuck, even your handwriting was perfect.

“More cocaine will pass through this house on Friday night than will fit in your ridiculous agency,” you explained, and he immediately put the note in his pocket, mentally jotting down everything you said. His agent instincts immediately kicked in. He watched as you calmly sipped your champagne, your tongue licking up a stray drop.

Were you doing that on purpose so he couldn’t concentrate?

“Few people, lots of stuff. Something you like,” you said with a forced smile. He loved how reluctant you both were to share information with each other.

Maybe you weren’t so different after all?

Apart from the important fact that you were on opposite sides of the law.

"This is going to be a big operation for which you will get a certificate and a brave scout badge," you teased. "So I expect you to leave me alone for at least a month after this," you added seriously placing your empty glass on the table. You wiped your lips on a napkin leaving a trace of lipstick on it.

Your meeting was coming to an end.

“No promises,” he replied with a smirk. You forced a fake smile, looking at him with reluctance.

“Don’t fuck with me, Agent Peña. None of us will benefit from this,” you warned before getting up from the table. You adjusted your dress that had ridden up your thighs and his gaze didn’t leave yours for a second. “Keep an eye on my bag,” you said indifferently and headed towards the bathroom.

Javier watched your hips sway from side to side with every step and he felt like a hungry animal. You disappeared behind the wall and he immediately looked at your bag. His leg started to bounce nervously as a very stupid idea started to form in his head.

Well, sometimes he had to admit that he thought with a different head than the one on his neck.

In a second he stood up taking your bag and followed you. He looked towards the men's room before quickly slipping into the women's room.

You were washing your hands when you heard someone come in. You looked up and in the reflection in the mirror you saw Javier watching you carefully. You frowned turning towards him.

"What are you-" you started but you were interrupted by the sound of the door lock closing. You looked at his hand feeling your pulse speed up.

Javier quickly crossed the distance between you and in one move threw your bag on the sink before he grabbed you by the cheeks and attacked your lips.

You moaned in surprise stepping back from his strength. He pressed your hips against the sink not letting you move away. His kisses were so strong and intense that you were unable to fight him. You clenched your fists on his shirt when his tongue crept into your mouth and immediately dominated yours. You moaned as you felt him rub his hips against yours and his hard cock made itself known.

You finally gathered enough strength to push him away from you. Javier took a step back, giving you a moment of respite. You looked at each other, breathing heavily.

You were in shock at what had happened and he was even more shocked that he had done it at all.

"What the fuck, Peña?" you gasped, swallowing hard. Javier was silent for a moment, his gaze only gaining intensity.

"I'm checking if fucking with you will bring any benefits," he replied confidently before he closed the distance between you again and turned you towards the mirror in one move. You leaned your hands against the sink as he pinned you with his hips again.

You began to breathe heavily as his hands pulled up your dress exposing your hips. You watched in the reflection as he focused on unbuttoning his pants before pulling out his cock with a sigh of satisfaction.

His gaze found yours in the mirror before you felt him start to slide his dick over your ass.

“Feel it?” he asked raising his eyebrows. “How hard I am just from your fuckin’ bullshit,” he growled and slammed his cock on your butt. You gasped for air when he ripped your panties apart in one move.

"They were expensive," you mumbled, tightening your fingers on the sink. His tip ran over your wet slit, spreading the moisture that had already leaked out of you.

"I'll buy you new ones," he said before he pushed into you with a strong movement, entering all the way.

You screamed in pain, resting your hand on the mirror and looking at his reflection with hatred. Javier tangled his hand in your hair and pulled you back, making you moan, arching your back.

"Be a good girl for once," he mumbled against your ear, maintaining eye contact with you in the mirror. You clenched your jaw tightly, holding back the urge to spit on his reflection.

A sly smirk appeared on his lips before he began to thrust into you. Hard and deep. Making you unable to hold back your moans.

His grip on your hair tightened, holding you in place. Every movement of his hips was damn precise, hitting your weak spot. His growls echoed off the bathroom walls as he watched his cock disappear inside you.

“Your pussy is just as harsh as your mouth,” he panted, catching your gaze in the mirror before he tugged on your hair, tilting your head to the side.

You hissed in pain and then pleasure as his lips bit into your neck, beginning to suck and nibble. You closed your eyes, feeling the pain mix with pleasure with each thrust of his hips.

“Did you ever wonder what they would do to you if you went to prison?” he murmured against your skin and began to place wet kisses along your length, all the way to your shoulder. “With a face like that, you better not end up there, right?” he began to nibble on your arm and his hand dove between you and the sink.

“Are you threatening me?” you gasped.

“I’m warning you,” he replied before his fingers found your clit. You moaned as he began to massage it perfectly in time with his hips.

Your orgasm was approaching with great strides.

“Do you know how many things I could do to you if you were handcuffed?” he asked, looking at your face contorted in pleasure. “You would be begging me to stop,” he growled against your ear, speeding up his thrusts. You moaned, fighting for the tiniest bit of oxygen. “Fuckin’ slut,” he growled, looking down as his hips slammed against yours with a loud slap.

"Don't let yourself, dog," you growled, looking at him with hatred. Not only was the cop fucking you, but he was also being too self-conscious with his words. He laughed bitterly then growled feeling you slowly tighten around him more and more often.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," he mumbled massaging your clit harder. You whimpered and your knees trembled. "I'm supposedly on the other side and yet inside you," he said with superiority. "Irony of fate, huh?" he mumbled with a smile of satisfaction and you felt your legs start to tremble. "And now you're going to cum from my cock," he laughed bitterly. "But don't worry," he whispered in your ear. "I won't tell anyone about that." He bit your earlobe sending waves of shivers straight between your legs.

You gasped moaning when you came so hard that Javier hissed in pain. He let go of your hair making you stumble against the mirror, supporting yourself with your hand at the last moment.

His hands tightened on your hips as he pushed into you further. You gasped for air as you felt the waves of your orgasm spread through your body. He growled in his throat before pulling out of you and grabbing his cock, pumping it a few times before he came on your ass with a groan.

You were both breathing heavily after your orgasm when Javier reached for the tissues by the sink and wiped his cum from your skin.

"See?"

Your eyes met in the mirror.

"Like I was never here," he said, throwing the tissue into the trash and hiding his cock in his underwear, buttoning his pants.

He slapped your ass and growled in satisfaction at seeing it shake before straightening your dress.

"See you in a month," he winked and headed for the exit. He unlocked the door and stopped before leaving. He glanced at you over his shoulder with a sly smile. "Unless you miss me sooner." And he left.

-> (part 2 "Forbidden fruit”)

[bella-goths-wife]

How yandere Vs use your ability

Platonic vox, val and velvette x assistant reader

Please let me know if you enjoy this :)

MDNI

Warnings: Valentino, SA mentions, porn mentions, reader is uncomfortable a lot, reader uses their ability to hurt people

Vox:

When vox first met you in that disgusting alley way, he assumed that he’d get a few good uses of your ability for a few months and then either work you to death or kick you to the curb

But when he took a closer look at your ability, he realised how powerful he could make you

He looked at you and saw pure potential of the future, someone he could mold to his image and rise to his level

Or well, just below him

He saw how effectively you could manipulate and summon sound at your command, he saw the easy way you could charm someone just by giving them a soothing song in their ear

Or how you could steal someone’s words and make a completely new sentence with them, like a DJ remix’s songs but with actual words instead of music

You were like a perfected piece of AI, someone who could make something new from something old

He claims his favourite way to use your ability is when he combines his hypnosis with your ability to create new music, he’d have you make him jingles for voxtech and combined his hypnosis within them to make the most profit

But this is a lie, he enjoys his private uses of your ability much more

He likes watching you use your ability to hurt other people, because he can see the true potential in you in moments like that

He sees how he could make you like him, bloodthirsty and ambitious

He wants to make you into something similar to a successor, an heir of sorts even if he’d never allow himself to die

But he believes you must earn that title, so he will command cruelty out of you no matter how hesitant you are

He’s seen how you can be a soft touch and while he appreciates some gentleness in his afterlife, he finds himself wanting to make it so your cruel to everyone but him and the Vs

He sees softness as weakness, and he wants to have that weakness preserved for him

He would never admit his intentions to anyone, it’s best they think your just a lowly assistant who is just another soul chained to vox’s cruel hand

For your safety of course, or that’s the reason he’s deluded himself into believing

But he can’t hide his pride in certain moments, when he commands you to make a sinners ears bleed by using high frequencies of sound on them

And when your forced to comply, he can’t help the fondness that seeps into his smile as he watches you and your wincing face

Almost like a proud father watching his daughter…

Velvette:

When velvette first met you, all she saw was some scrappy sewer rat that vox hired for a few months to make up for the fact that exterminations had wiped out a few voxtech employees

So she assumed that she’d just make do with your presence until your eventually killed or fired

So she didn’t really want to spend time getting to know you, what was the point of that?

That was until she saw you using your ability, now that was a sight for sore eyes

She knew that people in the V tower were rude to you, called you names or mocked you

She didn’t particularly care so she just let it continue, even when it happened around her

But someone had said something velvette couldn’t hear, but she could definitely see it struck a very deep nerve in you

They collapsed and held their ears while screeching in pain, but you just held a calm look as you stared at them

That definitely intrigued her, and that rarely happens in hell nowadays

So she cornered you one night as you were doing the Vs paperwork and interrogated you about what else you could do

And when she heard you could manipulate sounds around you, even words, she couldn’t stop the devilish grin that spread across her face

She’d show you countless videos of people who posed a threat to her speaking, and then she’d command you to manipulate the words with your ability to make them say extremely damaging or embarrassing things

People can still get cancelled in hell y’know, just takes a lot more effort

She’d record you doing this and upload the audio online and watch as the business that was a threat to her crumble

You became an asset to velvette that day, and that’s as close as friends you could get with velvette

Her obsession grew from there, she used to look at you like a temporary nuisance

Now she looks at you like a prized pet who she can command to bark when she’s bored

She’ll even teach you a few tricks if you behave

Valentino:

At first Valentino saw in you what he sees in most sinners, a pretty face and good body

He presented himself around you like he would any other sinner, and vox allowed this to happen until he felt himself growing attached

So vox forbid Valentino from his usual behaviours around you, claimed you were too young for it despite being 18

But you were thankful enough to be spared from the lavish porn sets that Valentino was usually found in

So originally Valentino just used you as an assistant and then he realised how you could use your ability to help him

You could manipulate sounds, and he knew he could use you to cut out hours of editing time for his videos

You see, a pornstar may be a great actor but after five shoots in a row they aren’t gonna sound as enthusiastic at the end as they do at the start

So Valentino would force you to listen to an actors moans from the first few shoots of the day and then would command you to use your ability to make the moans sound more enthusiastic

You were extremely uncomfortable at all times and even vox couldn’t make Valentino stop, so eventually you had to get used to the sound and drown it out as best you could while using your ability

But this wasn’t his favourite way to use your ability, no that came a few months into your employment with voxtech

Valentino was prone to creating a dramatic, rage filled fit when things didn’t go his way

Usually only vox could calm him down from these fits, until you came along

He was raging in his studio one evening when everyone had left because he felt neglected by vox and angel dust wasn’t answering his calls

He thought he was alone as he destroyed his studio, he obviously failed to see little you in the corner as you were filling in paperwork

He continued to rage until he heard something ringing in his ears

It was a gentle humming, similar to one a mother would hum to her child in an attempt to get them to sleep

But the humming was mixed with a rhythmic, heart beat like sound behind it

Valentino felt himself sink into the sound as he sat on the ground for a few moments

He followed this siren song until his eyes met yours

He demanded an explanation, and you simply explained that you used your ability to manipulate your humming and heartbeat to create a calming effect on him

After that night Valentino would call for you every time he felt himself experiencing an emotion he wanted to get rid of quickly

You became more in his eyes after that, you became more valued and thus were treated better

He found himself craving your presence more and more, like how a child craves his favourite toy

He’s never shown affection or favouritism towards a sinner who he wasn’t sexually involved with, but he never felt that urge with you

You were more of a possession than someone he’d want to get with, he just couldn’t get himself to be attracted to you in that way

You were a calming toy, his little music box

You better hope you don’t refuse to play, Valentino doesn’t throw away his toys when they stop working

He just does what he can to ‘fix’ them no matter the pain caused

So don’t let yourself become rusty, or your face the consequences from all three of the Vs

What did you guys think

Also @buttercupfangirl asked for a tag so here you go :)

[eternally--mortal]

Facebook is full of it right now. All of my creative art communities have been doomed and overloaded with it. Lots of ignorant people are being suckered into believing it’s real photography with real models, or real outfits made from real fabric.

They’ve moved onto cakes now. I’m also waiting to see it more from the architecture groups. I don’t think these people realize the importance of structural knowledge about materials and time commitment when it comes to designing clothes and baked goods and buildings.

It’s so maddening to me. And I hate that so many people are being suckered into believing that it’s real when it seems so obviously fake to me. They’re like sleeper agents. They’re being lulled into a sense of amazement so that when they discover the truth they’ll defend it because they’ve been programmed to believe it’s a beautiful gift.

i hate when people try to defend ai art with “but i want to be able to make pretty pictures like you guys!!” ok grab a canvas go to youtube and watch bob ross. grab some pencils buy a sketchbook and a beginners drawing book and learn like the rest of us. we didn’t spend years honing our craft just so you could plug it into a machine that spits out a poor mimicry in .2 seconds so that you could feel like you made something you didn’t work for

[janeyseymour]

Dancing On My Own (Tiesto Remix)

Summary: You're a Cowboys fan in Eagles territory. Melissa finds out.

WC: ~2.05k

You have a secret- a deep, dark secret that you never ever want your fiery, die hard Eagles fan girlfriend to find out. You’re terrified of what will happen if she does. You’re a Dallas Cowboys fan. Okay, so maybe you were a second-hand Cowboys fan, but your dad bought you one of the jerseys because he absolutely adores them. And when you go home to Texas (how you ended up in the one state, one city that hates Dallas more than anything, you’ll never know), your dad always drags you to a game.

Upon moving to Philly, you took down every indication that you would ever associate yourself with the team that the Eagles love to hate. You couldn’t risk becoming an outcast before you even start your new life here.

And it did you good. You somehow land in the heart of the city, and you work for a school that absolutely bleeds Philadelphia. The principal adores the Eagles, Mr. Johnson is constantly yelling ‘Go Birds!’, Janine has a few trinkets in her room for each of the Philly Sports teams… even Gregory has come around to love Gritty. And then there’s Melissa Schemmenti. She’s had to go to court for throwing a corn cob at Ben Simmons when he pissed her off, she has ins with those who worked the demolition at the Linc,  she’s a season ticket holder for the Phillies and the Eagles… and she absolutely detests the Cowboys- more than most Eagles fans too. She’s gotten into more trouble for heckling the Dallas team than she’s willing to admit- knocking over portapotties when Cowboys fans are in them, throwing Philly cheesesteaks, hurling eggs and Molotov cocktails at the bus. 

And yet, she’s your girlfriend. How? You’re nearly perfect. You’re smart, you’re funny, you can sing and play instruments to make her swoon, you’re a wonderful teacher and great with the kids, and you’re more than easy on the eyes. And that was what she knew of you before she fell madly in love with you. 

With the season coming up, your girlfriend is more than excited. She’s been waiting for the season tickets to go on sale, but even then… if she doesn’t get them the legal way, she knows a guy.

She does end up getting them. Of course she does. And as soon as she does, she’s coming into the teachers lounge doing her happy dance and making her way over to you. She kisses you soundly before proclaiming that she is 100% taking you to an Eagles game.

“And,” she notes. “I’m gonna make sure it’s a good one… Eagles versus the fuckin’ Cowgirls! Go birds!”

She’s met with a chorus of ‘Go birds!’ right back, but you stay quiet.

She turns to you with a curious look, amused grin now gone. “Babe, aren’t you excited?!”

You shrug. “I just… haven’t ever really been into football?” you offer weakly.

“Well, I’m gonna make sure that you have a great time there. I’m gonna get you an Eagles jersey, a Jalen Hurts one, and you’re gonna have the damn time of your life!”

Again, you shrug your shoulders, looking unsure.

“Aye, if she ain’t gonna use the ticket for good, I’m right here!” Mr. Johnson points to himself. “You know we’ll have a good time.”

“Nah, Mr. J,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “I’m taking Y/N, and she’s gonna leave the Linc a die hard Eagles fan, right?” She looks at you in a way that tells you there’s no convincing her otherwise unless you want to out yourself right now as a fan of the Cowboys.

You just nod, knowing you can’t have this conversation in public- you do not want to be shunned by the rest of your coworkers. You could potentially lose this job; Ava has fired people for less despite the fact that she really couldn’t afford to fire them and that’s why both you and Melissa are teaching two different grades at a time.

That’s the end of that conversation.

Until she comes over to your apartment that night, ready to cook dinner for you and stay over. 

“You gonna tell me why you got so weird about going to a football game with me? Is it because we might see our students at the game?” she asks. “Because if it is, I promise you… you know Philly is pretty cool about LGBT stuff.”

“I know, I know,” you say softly. “I’ve just… could we go to a baseball game instead?” You never pledged your allegiance to any baseball team, so you would be willing to wear a Harper or Nola jersey.

“I mean, I could get us tickets to a game,” she tells you as she puts the meat into the pan to start cooking. “But I really love football and the Eagles, and that’s something I want to share with you.”

“Does it have to be a game with the Cowboys?” you ask.

She turns to you at that. “Those are the best games.”

“I-” you sigh. Deciding to just rip off the bandaid, you take off the Abbott sweatshirt that you’re wearing to reveal the Day Prescott jersey your dad had given you the last time you visited your hometown. 

Her jaw drops, and her eyes fill with a fire. “When the fuck were you gonna tell me that you were the enemy?” she seethes.

“Mel,” you say softly, trying to calm her down.

“Don’t ‘Mel’ me right now,” the redhead hisses. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?!”

“Melissa, honey,” you continue. “Please-”

“I- no,” she stops you from getting any closer to her when you attempt. “Don’t. Don’t you even fucking dare.”

She’s out of your house before you can say anything else, and the only thing that you can hear is the flank steak sizzling quietly in the pan on the stove.

When you get to school the next day, you head straight for her room to try to talk to her again.

“Melissa,” you knock on the door, a cup of her favorite coffee in your hands as a peace offering.

“No.”

You set the warm drink on her desk, which she promptly smacks into the garbage can under her desk. She stands hastily and storms out of the room in the direction of the staff room.

“Melissa, please!” you beg as you chase after her. “Please!”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she hisses as she rips her arm away from you when you catch her gently. She storms into the break room and heads right for the coffee mugs.

“Please!” your voice cracks, and everyone that is already gathered there turns at the commotion.

“Ooh,” Ava says. “Trouble in paradise. Spill.”

“This one-” your girlfriend, if she even still is after your reveal last night, points to you and looks at you with disgust. “-is a Cowgirls fan, and decided not to let me know until last night!”

“Boo!” Mr. Johnson heckles you. You give him a nearly murderous look.

“Just let me explain!” you plead.

“You have nothin’ to explain! You’re a traitor!” the redhead barks at you before turning back to the mugs. She slams the door as she closes it, slams her coffee mug down on the counter, and storms her way to her seat next to Barbara. She makes it so that there is absolutely no way you could sit next to her.

All eyes are on you, and you hate it. So you do what you know how to do: run.

You avoid the second grade teacher at all possible costs for the next few days, giving her the chance to cool down. Finally, at the end of the week, you attempt to talk to her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she huffs. She doesn’t even bother looking up from her nails. She doesn’t even give you the chance to explain yourself. “I ain’t dating no Cowgirl.”

You cry the entire way home. You lost your girlfriend, and all because of some stupid football team.

You call your father that night, a sobbing mess.

“You were dating an Eagles fan?!”

“Dad,” you cry. “Please. I don’t- I just need you to tell me that it’s all going to be okay.”

“It is,” he promises you. “But, seriously?”

You hang up on him.

He calls back a few minutes later, apologizing for his words. You forgive him of course. You love your father more than anything. 

“If you really love her, you’ll get her back… even if it means you betray our team,” he tells you.

“R-really?” you whisper.

“You’re in Philly now,” your dad sighs softly. “If you can’t beat ‘em, and the lord knows you can’t because no one can beat Philly fans, join ‘em.”

That’s all you need to hear to know what you’re going to do. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course, kiddo. Just know that when you come home to visit, you are back on my team.”

“I know,” you chuckle through your tears. “But if I bring Mel back home, there is to be absolutely no football talk.”

“Deal,” he laughs. “I’m not trying to get our house lit on fire.”

You thank him again, tell him you love him and hang up. 

That weekend, you go out and buy a bunch of Philadelphia sports apparel; your credit card statement this month is going to be a doozy. But if it means you’ll get Melissa back, it’ll be worth it.

On Monday, you show up in your baseball gear, rooting for the Phillies as they play against the Cincinnati Twins. It gets the redhead’s attention, just slightly. But she turns her head when you look in her direction.

You wear your Flyers gear the next day. That gets Gregory’s attention.

The Sixers are the next. Janine grins.

You had even bought a Philadelphia Union jersey that you wear on Thursday. Jacob tells you how massively underrated they are and that he thinks they deserve to have a bigger following.

When you come in on Friday, not clad in Eagles gear like Melissa thought you would be, that is the final straw for her. She has you backed into a corner telling you that you can pretend to bleed Philly all you want, but at the end of the day you’re just a traitor.

You let her get up in your face, red with anger. You know that you didn’t wear it because you’re saving it for Monday- when they play.

You actually managed to get a ticket to the game, one next to hers- not that she knows it. You thank Barbara profusely when she’s able to get you the name of Melissa’s guy and where her tickets for this game are. Your plan is to show up in your new Jalen Hurts jersey that you spent a fortune on and win her back. You don’t want to lose her. Never. 

You race home after school to change out of your green shirt that you wore to school and into your Hurts jersey and a pair of leggings. You grab the baseball cap that you bought and pop it on your head before heading out to your car.

You park your car for the ridiculous amount of money they’re charging before going to find your seat. 

As you approach though, you see someone new with Melissa- someone you’ve never seen before. She has an arm around the woman’s waist like the way she used to hold you. You convince yourself it’s just a friend and continue on your way to your seat. But then she plants a kiss to the new woman’s lips, and your world shatters.

You might be at a football game, but you should be at a Phillies game with their unofficial anthem playing.

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh no

And I'm right over here, why can't you see me? Oh no

And I'm giving it my all

But I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh

I keep dancing on my own

So far away, but still so near

The lights come on, the music dies

But you don't see me standing here

[eatingfireflies]

2.2 is coming and if I don't write this now, how can I get jossed later?

This is the moment when I started to wonder if their 2.0 conversation was a role play.

Like, we know this issue is a sore point for Ratio. The fact that this guy he called a loud peacock in 2.0 made a joke about his failure to get into the Genius Society and all he said was 'I was being sarcastic'?? Babe, is something wrong? You barely touched your sharp and witty comeback.

(Btw I checked both Cn and Jp, he says 'It was just a joke.')

And I don't want to bring up the voice acting because the way voices sound is subjective and what I hear might not be what you hear, but the Double Indemnity scenes with Ratio are probably the most relaxed we ever see Aventurine ever. (I'm talking about the Cn version, but I played in Jp audio and I could hear it there too.) He's playful and his voice is higher pitched, so different from what we've seen of him so far.

It sounds like Ratio and Aventurine have known each other longer than they want us to believe in their 2.0 convo.

I mean, the implication here is Ratio did some research on Aventurine's background recently and that's how he found out about Aventurine's past. So we make the assumption that they haven't been working together for long.

Look, they even did a Penacony remix of their Final Victor conversation

But honestly, you'd think Ratio would have figured out if he trusted Aventurine or not at this point, considering he came back for more after Final Victor (lmao??)

Also, we know Aventurine had been planning for Penacony since his call to Topaz, where he asked for her help. It's hard to believe that he went through all the trouble of asking two different Stonehearts to lend him their cornerstones and then went to Penacony and the Dreamscape with Ratio, whom he barely knows. That's too much gambling, Aventurine!

We know the Family won't let anyone from the IPC to enter the Dreamscape and Aventurine only gets a pass because of the Watchmaker's invite

But Himeko is wrong here: Aventurine didn't go inside the Dreamscape alone and he does have someone backing him up. It just happened that almost no one else saw Ratio in Penacony and the one scene where we did see him talking to Aventurine was 2.0, where he got angry and left Aventurine babbling to himself.

But now that we're here, what did Ratio do in Penacony aside from bicker and betray?

His initial job is to gather intel, afaik. Aventurine tells him to go look into things in 2.0 before he left. And he does give Aventurine updates in 2.1 (Aventurine finds out about Firefly from Ratio) so good for you, professor!

Ratio is Aventurine's connection to his colleagues outside. Once Aventurine's plans enter the Dead phase, Ratio is the only one left to tell Topaz and Jade if the plan had been a success or not. (Aventurine also makes a joke about the Genius from the Council of the Mundanites offering to be his undertaker. In the Jp version, he says 'So the Genius from the Council of the Mundanites wants to claim my corpse? What an honour.' So there's also that... Uh. Idk how dead dead Aventurine really is, but at least we know someone's looking after his body while he's gone lmao??)

But also he's Aventurine's bait to Sunday, the (fake) weak link in Aventurine's plans that Sunday thought he could exploit.

And the 3rd one is a bit complicated, because it is a gamble. Remember Aventurine's E1? Prisoner's Dilemma? Yeah, it's kinda like that. I talked about it before, but let's copy paste it here for easier reading (and because this post totally needs to be a wall of text)

Let's zoom out a bit again and remember that Aventurine was sent to Penacony because Diamond thinks this whole affair could still have a peaceful resolution. Meaning: Aventurine is the kind option. The IPC could have sent Opal instead, but it sounds like that means there would be a body count.

And I think that's why Ratio is here and why he agreed to cooperate. Because if Aventurine's plan works out, only Aventurine's life will ever be in real danger. (And we know from Ratio's note that he also took steps to increase the chances of Aventurine coming back.)

Ratio being there is important to the plan because

Him being from the Intelligentsia Guild removes some of the heat from the Family. If Ratio is coming in as a plus one, the IPC (in this case, I'm assuming it's Aventurine because he's the guy in charge of the operation) chose the best person for the job. It makes the Family happier knowing there are not two IPC envoys walking around the Dreamscape and Aventurine has a buddy who can move around more freely than another IPC employee could

But because Ratio is an outsider, he's also the weak link in Aventurine's plans. Another IPC employee will probably not betray Aventurine, but the Guild has no particular horse in this race. We were also led to believe from their 2.0 conversation that Ratio doesn't like Aventurine very much. This is what I meant when I said Ratio is a bait: Aventurine was pretty much dangling him in front of Sunday, making Sunday think he could use Ratio to ruin Aventurine's plans. The important thing of course is the trust the two of them have for each other (yay, Prisoner's Dilemma). Ratio could ruin Aventurine's plan if he wants to (very bad for all involved because I'm guessing Opal is the next step) and Aventurine could fail (not as bad for everyone involved after 2.1 because the IPC has already won regardless. There's still a Phase 2 in Aventurine's plan and Ratio seems to want him back after that, so I guess he'd consider it a failure if Aventurine doesn't return?), but trusting each other means they win.

Tl;dr Ratio's presence in Penacony is a bit of a gamble on Aventurine's part but it worked well for him so far. Ratio is here to make sure everyone stays alive. (And maybe the Phase Flame? I honestly don't know if the Annihilation Gang will ever come back again, but for now I'm going with the obvious and assuming Ratio is here because he thinks Aventurine's plan will work and work with the least amount of pain for everyone.)

Thank you for getting this far. Why do we think they deserve Oscars?

Aside from the movie references (we'll get to that), we have 3 different instances where Aventurine mentions acting / the 'script'.

The most direct is the conversation with future!Aventurine in the garden maze: future!Aventurine praises Ratio's acting while Aventurine says 'Or he might not be acting at all' (the inability of these two to admit they are friends, but more importantly they don't think the other person thinks highly of them, is2g).

The next one is hidden in the mission description

And the other one got lost in translation. This was translated to 'You catch on quickly' in En. In Jp he says something like 'You have a good sense for drama, professor' (Sorry Idk what this is in the og Cn)

Finally, Double Indemnity. I haven't seen the movie, but it seems to be about an insurance salesman who gets seduced by a hot wife femme fatale into helping her get rid of her husband so she could claim his insurance. Double Indemnity refers to this clause where the insurance gets doubled if the person suddenly dies of an accident.

I've thought about this so hard, let me tell you. What could this possibly have to do with Aventurine and the mission? (For example, 'Hot wife Sunday seduces Ratio the insurance salesman into helping him get rid of Aventurine' etc.) And I honestly still don't know but one detail does help my theory so I'm pulling it out:

The relationship between the insurance salesman and the hot wife femme fatale was known only to the two of them. To the insurance claims adjuster, who was investigating the case and trying to prove the husband's death wasn't an accident, those two are unrelated people who might have seen each other once or twice. The claims adjuster suspected the wife, but had no idea of the insurance salesman's involvement. The truth is, they actually knew each other a full year before the plan was set in motion. Hey, doesn't it actually fit nicely now?

(Spellbound otoh, I still don't know. I have a Sunday and Gallagher reading of it, but Hvy keeps telling me no and making it gay instead so Idk.)

[hyewka]

STRICTLY PLATONIC [teaser] | choi beomgyu

SUMMARY. fucking your best friend was supposed to be a one time thing in the hopes of relinquishing feelings for your ex, but a one time turned into a weekly and cuddles after sex are way too intimate for your liking. but beomgyu insists that he’d never catch feelings for you, that he’s experienced in these types of arrangements. he still saw you as his best friend! it was totally only platonic for you too… right?

GENRE. smut, fluff, angst, college au, a hyewka fic with plot and structure.. sort of

TEASER WARNINGS. nothing explicit just some marking lol

AUTHOR NOTE. the dream fwb fic ive been wanting to write for ages so thank you to the ask i recently replied to as it was the main motivator for this 😭 this is going to be a long one so we're going the traditional route with a teaser, im opening a tag list so if you wish to be added send an ask or comment!

You’ve never seen Choi Beomgyu in a different light. That’s what you liked about him, that everything was so… constant. Your life could crash and burn but hey, Beomgyu was still Beomgyu— your friendship was a variable in your life that stayed undeniably the exact same.

You know, until you allowed him to fuck your brains out.

Even the sole fact that you have given the thought of Beomgyu being a ‘sex symbol’ has you quivering out of sheer horror— Beomgyu… has never been a sex symbol. Sure, he fucked around, and has a reputation and yeah sure, he was crazy hot when he isn’t showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation …but you’ve just never seen him in that light.

And to have let it simmer in your thoughts for longer than a second, makes you just a tinge hesitant in letting the silly goof pull you into the dancing crowd. You whine, “I’m tired Beomgyu! My heels are killing me.”

He either doesn’t hear over the blasting music or isn’t going to give it up because he pulls you in anyway, crashing your head right into his chest and you let out an instinctual ouch at the hard surface. Your eyes are wide looking up at him, sputtering out an unbelievable sentence. “Have you—have you been working out?”

His grin widens, holding up your arm to guide at feeling out his biceps. “Every now and then.” He doesn’t mind the minute it takes you to actually feel every muscle through his shirt, in fact he’s relishing in your sudden pique of interest in his body.

Whether he’s flexing them or not doesn’t show in his face—he looks completely relaxed and you finally admit—Beomgyu is getting toned.

“Why? You hate working out.” You could barely muffle those words with the way he had you engulfed in his arms, leaning his head in your neck, swaying side to side as if the song blasting was off of Taylor Swift’s Lover and not a Lil Wayne remix.

And he hasn’t even gotten a drop of alcohol yet.

But it’s true, Beomgyu hated the gym. Like, even more than you did. Which is a testament in and of itself.

He pulls away from the crook of your neck, a pout on his lips. “Didn’t you say your type was muscular men? At Halloween weekend?”

Halloween weekend was a year ago, the first frat party you managed to get into with the help of Beomgyu’s friend, Jake. You barely remember anything from it. Other than the occasional retells of the nights by Yunjin’s words, which are always a different version of the same story... so a not very credible source. “I mean, I guess they are. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know, just saying. Jaehyun was suuper muscly.” Okay, the random mention of your ex…maybe he had some drop of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

“You took too long to come back, lost at beer pong.”

“How many shots?” you interrogate.

“Two.” At your suspecting glare, he continues on, “Four…five…like, at most seven.”

Your eyes bulge out, huffing out a scoff. You guys always got wasted together! Noticing the furrow of your brows he holds you tighter whining, “I know I know, sorry, I tried telling Heeseung but he’s a savage cruel man, I was practically force fed that cup.”

You don’t doubt that he attempted to persuade Heeseung but you do doubt the force feeding, it only takes a couple nudges before getting Beomgyu to drink. “I’m just slightly tipsy, not drunk yet anyway. I pledged to never ever get trashed without you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You slap away the hand he puts up over his chest, incredulously, losing your control over the fits of giggles when he takes your flying hand in his, taking advantage by intertwining your fingers together. “What are you doing?” your cheeks probably hurt from all the smiling, you don’t know, you think your nerves are numb.

“Can’t a guy hold his twin flame, platonic best friend’s hand?”

Skinship was not an unfamiliar with Beomgyu—he was always a naturally clingy guy. You figured when the first ever official lunch hangout you’ve had with the boy and a few of your other friends, had included a lot of random footsie.

You didn’t even know him that well in high school. Who plays footsie with an acquaintance? Choi Beomgyu, that’s who. Yet even after some reluctance that day, you end up letting him have his childish, sort of endearing fun.

Though this was all but childish, the innocently mischievous twinkle of a scrawny teenage boy had been long gone, instead replaced by the most attractive man’s hungry, lust filled gaze. “Who told you to look so sexy today?”

The theme was Angel & Devil—to match with Beomgyu, you insisted on giving him the angel outfit, and you the costume of a devil. Matching was always the fun part of these parties. “Only today?” you drawl, making an exaggerated sultry trail with your finger on his chest.

“God, shut up, you know you’re always hot,” You don’t expect the seriousness of his tone, especially when you were just teasing, but he snakes his hand around your waist, pushing you further into his body, your tits suffocatingly pressed against his chest.

You do not expect the slight squeeze to your ass, your eyes shooting particularly wide, blood rushing up to trickle your cheeks. “But I like it when you’re a little devil, makes you so sexy and alluring.”

His face buried into your neck again, this time not missing the chance of taking a deep inhale. Beomgyu could stay like this forever, filling his lungs with you, and only you. “Still can’t believe I had my hands off you for so long little devil.” Your eyes flutter shut, taking quick breaths as he moves his soft lips to your neck, wet kisses with a slip of teeth nibbling just slightly to tease, planning on coloring you with all the pretty purple hues.

And you’re sure he was well on his way until you sober up at the abrupt change in the DJ’s track.

“Beomgyu, not—not now, we’re in public.” And surrounded by tons of people that you’re either friends with or know. That broke one of the most important pillars of your agreement—to keep the fuck buddies ‘thing’ a secret.

You don’t expect the speed of his instant pull away when processing your words, blinking his pretty lashes and the tipsiness away—his doe eyes are too much of a weakness, the little furrow of his brows something you desperately want to kiss and smoothen out. “Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck, genuinely apologetic.

And eats away at you. You know Beomgyu well—he hates keeping things secret, he’s the type of person to flaunt relationships all over his feed in that lovesick puppy way that most women could only dream of having—but you weren’t dating. And that was the boundary set.

You didn’t ask him to pull away completely though, but here you were, awkwardly as distanced as you could be in the middle of a rager with sweaty college students rubbing their bodies against each other. As gross as that was, you zero’d in on something less of a given: the fact that you’ve never felt this way with Beomgyu. Ever. It was like you were starring in the most awkward coming of age indie movie, y’know, without the crazy scenery and cinematography.

And more often than not, you find that these occurance of realisations, become more and more frequent. You feel things you’ve never felt a certain way with Beomgyu. Which only brought you to realize something else; Beomgyu was now a changing variable in your life and you’re not entirely sure how to handle that.

[hopeymchope]

I wish Spike Chunsoft would just go full "Persona" with Danganronpa and milk it with tons of spinoffs.

I'd be there for every goddamn one of them on DAY ONE, you know. Pick your genre! The minute they figured out how to make a decent third-person DR action game with Ultra Despair Girls, that should've opened the floodgates wide IMO. In fact, if you take any given Persona spinoff, I can tell you how easily/naturally they could develop (and I could get super-hyped for) a Danganronpa equivalent.

Danganronpa Arena is SO obvious. It's the MOST obvious spinoff, and it has been sitting there waiting to be creating for seven goddamn years now. Ever since Kodaka said he wants a DR fighting game. Hey, remember that official DR3 Staff Book art that showed Nanami dreaming about it? Many of us have shared fan ideas for the story and/or for character moves. COME ON, y'all. What's the holdup?? DO IT! DO IT NOW!

Danganronpa: Dancing? FUCK YAS. I mean, there's already some wicked dance remixes of the game soundtracks in that Crypt of the Necrodancer DR content, so why the hell not?? And I recall that @dreamrlu did some great fanart (1) for how the (2) V3 crew could dress (3).

Danganronpa Q, a dungeon crawler? Despair Dungeon already exists, so it's COMPLETELY NATURAL. It's just a higher-quality production of that same concept! And if you haven't seen that fanmade version of the first "Persona Q" opening where it's the casts of DR1 and DR2 meeting up? It's AMAZING.

Danganronpa Tactica? Imagine leading squads from the Future Foundation (including DR1 and DR3 cast members) in missions against remaining Remnants of Despair. I've been playing a lot of tactical RPGs lately, and there's a lot of room to tell a ton of story in this format... plus it's not like you even have to make complex graphics to make it work, so SC doesn't have to worry about struggling with 3D renders if they don't want to. Just consider how Digimon Survive pulled this off with 2D sprite art!

Danganronpa Strikers is, uh, maybe the hardest to justify — but if you set it in the virtual world, that could make it easy! Since Danganronpa S already took place entirely in VR and contained a load of combat encounters, why the hell not do a similar setup for an action game? And if you prefer to keep in the real world, there are still a number of characters I could easily justify making playable in such a scenario — Genocide(r), Sakura, Asahina, Mondo, Nekomaru, Peko, Akane, Great Gozu, Seiko, Munakata, Maki, Gonta, etc. I can even picture some more-unlikely candidates such as Kimura slotting into the roster. I don't even like musou games that much, but ofc I'd play the SHIT out of this one.

Look: I know I'm an insatiable fan who just wants more precious content with these characters. But you can't convince me that these things wouldn't also SELL. The brand reached new heights of awareness and sales with V3, and they haven't really capitalized on that at all aside from giving us "Danganronpa S." We haven't even gotten a new anime since DR3, FFS! And I'm confident that any one of the ideas listed above would sell far better than a weird digital board game with RPG combat set inside VR, frankly. :P

[hwaightme]

Avaritia

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

⚫ pairing: ceo/sugar daddy!hongjoong x assistant/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut... just smut really ⚫ summary: everything has a price, but sugar makes this truth so much sweeter. no matter what he says, hongjoong will buy that new purse for you, will flaunt you in front of his business partners, and will make sure you know you are his. ⚫ wordcount: 8.3k ⚫ warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, tried to edit - lost it - bon appetit, language, teasing, on a flight, a lot of money, wealth, first world, brand name dropping harder than San in the logs, hj is a sweetheart, mc is needy but in denial, full avarice mode lmk if anything else, nsfw tags and playlist rec under the cut ⚫ taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ⚫ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ⚫ a/n: Sometimes, I am calm. Other times (read 'all the time) I am getting wrecked by everyone in ATEEZ. Here is what Balmain Joong did to me. Any comments, reblogs much loved; we spiraled into madness (hail sucrose pop, glucose father joong lol)

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me…  so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

What was it that you were truly greedy for?

[heavyhitterheaux]

Pop A Plan B Before I Let Him Trap A Bitch (NSFW 18+)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Jealous Jackman 😜

Synopsis: Jack isn't very happy with you after he hears your verse on FNF remix and decides to make a little song of his own

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: my treacherous twin @harlowsbby 😘🥰

Thank you @hoodharlow and @nattinatalia for helping me 😘

Warnings: Mention of a miscarriage

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack was currently in New York for a few appearances while you were home in Atlanta working on a few different things and he was fuming.

Maybe he was overreacting a little bit, but a fair warning would have been nice from you as he was still trying to wrap his head around your verse and the song that you were featured on. 

The FNF remix with Glorilla and JT had been released and Jack had your verse on repeat, sitting in disbelief as to why you even mentioned that last line.

Pop a plan B before I let him trap a bitch

He was trying to gather his thoughts because you had just sent him a text asking if he had listened to it and if he liked it. That was something that the two of you always did when you wanted to keep songs a secret from each other so it could be a surprise. 

A text response wasn't going to get his point across so he decided to call you on facetime.

When you picked up, his face came into view and you were nothing but smiles. But you could tell that something was wrong with your husband and you were immediately going to try to pull it out of him.

"Hii baby! I miss you! You okay?"

"You got something you wanna tell me? Now I'm trying to trap you?" Jack asked and you were extremely confused as to what he was talking about.

"What you mean babe? What in the world are you talking about? Trying to trap you? Last time I checked I had a whole ring on my finger and we have the same last name."

"You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about so stop fucking playing with me.” You then looked at your husband sideways and took a deep breath to calm yourself not wanting to go off on him because you were definitely ready to.

"Pookie, I'm not a mind reader so be an adult and say what's on your mind."

Jack was quiet for a few seconds before confessing on why he was so upset.

"Your FNF verse."

"Did you like it? We had so much fun in the studio that day." You answered while smiling in the camera and Jack knew he was mad at you and wasn’t even paying attention to how excited you were about it. 

"Pop a plan B before I let him trap a bitch? Are you serious right now?"

Oh. So that’s why he’s upset.

"Baby, it's just a song. You know I meant nothing by it. Didn’t I marry you?"

"How am I supposed to know that? And you've been asking me to get you pregnant for the longest. So what the fuck?"

"Are you really mad about this? Like seriously Jackman?"

"Do I look overjoyed to you right now? I thought it was fucking clear that I was mad." 

"Baby come on. Don't be mad. It was just meant to be something fun and that was it."

You were a little disappointed in Jack’s reaction seeing how proud you were of your verse and the fact that you had been getting a lot of features with many different artists.

Jack just shook his head before responding to you and you knew that he was about to be an entire ass about this for the next few days. All you knew was that by the time both of you got back home, he had better fixed his attitude. 

"I'll talk to you later." Jack immediately hung up without telling you that he loved you and of course it made you feel some type of way because he usually never hung up a call without saying it to you.

You simply threw your phone on the side of you and shook your head in disbelief.

After Jack had hung up with you, he sent a quick text to Drama saying he wanted to meet up with him in the studio.

What better way to let out his frustrations?

He couldn’t have sex with you to let it out and besides, you were the one that he was mad at. 

Jack- My mind is racing and I need to get it out

Drama- Been working on some things and I got the perfect beat for you. But we can listen to a few of them and then you can decide which one fits best. When did you want to do it?

Jack- Today. You in New York?

Drama- I am. Give me an hour and we can make it happen. I'll send you the address.

It was now Friday and you and Jack had barely spoken to one another since the whole incident of him being mad about the FNF verse. You even sent him nudes as a last resort and all he sent back was a thumbs up leaving you even more pissed.

And you had gotten all of the perfect angles too.

You figured he would come around when he was ready and that you were done stressing over it. If he planned on being an ass, he could go right ahead while you continued to do your features on other people’s songs.

You just planned on giving him head in the hopes that he would forget about it, but if he didn’t even react to your nudes, you didn’t know how that was about to suffice.

You then got a text from Saweetie and you were highly confused.

Saweetie- OOP Jack's new song is FIRE

You- Huh? When did he release it?

Saweetie- uh? At midnight. He didn't tell you? It's called Mockingbird Valley with Drama. Doesn't he tell you everything since yall are attached at the damn hip?

You immediately pulled it up on your phone and began listening to it.

But it wasn't until you heard a few lines that left you with your jaw on the floor. 

I'm finally speakin' up to anything that's not okay with me

Okay, so far so good.

Long way from my wife having kids

You were starting to get annoyed.

Course I got a main, but I'm still out here a la cartin'

Was he fucking serious?

You immediately sent him a text still in disbelief about it. In no way shape or form did you put in your verse about having a main and a side piece and you were about to get on him about that. 

You- Oh, so you think you funny huh? You better fucking answer me, Jackman and answer me now.

Jack- Yeah I'm the funniest

You- I will kick your white ass. Now why would you say that!?

Jack- Same reason you said that last line in your verse

You- You know that you are the only person that I ever want to have kids with so why are you acting like an ass? Oh and you got a main but you still out here a la cartin? I wish you motherfucking would, I fucking dare you.

Jack- It’s just a song, babe. I didn’t mean anything by it. Sound familiar?

Just then you called him on facetime and he was simply laying in the bed in his hotel room eating strawberries and looking at you.

“You got some fucking nerve.” You blurted out when you saw how calm he was. 

“Oh? Me? You started this shit, so don’t get mad now.”

“MY WIFE IS A LONG WAY FROM HAVING KIDS? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Go ahead and pop that plan B the next time we go at it to make sure. Don’t want to mess anything up for you.”

“Nah, now your ass is being petty with a capital P. We usually say a whole bunch of different things in our lyrics, but this is what set you off?”

“Are we done talking about this?”

“Oh because you got your lick back you think that everything is all good? Fuck outta here with that bullshit. I thought you would be proud of me, but I guess not. I am always supportive of you. ALWAYS. And this is what I get in return? If you want to act like this don’t bother coming home until you get rid of that fucking attitude.”

“I am always proud of you so cut that shit out and I’m supportive. I LITERALLY GOT DRAMA TO SIGN YOU. I always want to see my wife win at everything she does but why would you say that shit when we just recently had a miscarriage? What was the reason?”

Oh, that’s what it was.

“I wrote the lyrics before it happened so I didn’t do that on purpose. Is that what you’re so mad about? And didn’t your ass say my wife is a long way from having kids? Make it make sense.”

“And you didn’t think to change the lyrics? And I didn’t mean it in that context, it was a response to what you had said in FNF.”

“For what, Jack? For fucking what? Is me changing the lyrics going to suddenly bring our baby back? Didn’t fucking think so.”

You could feel your eyes start to water and Jack noticed this and knew he had fucked up and went a bit too far.

“Baby.. I-....”

“I have to go, got things to do. See you whenever you get home.”

“Baby, wait a minute!”

Without another word, you hung up the phone and placed it on DND for the rest of the day not wanting to be bothered with anything or anyone. 

The next morning you woke up to see your husband beside you and he was wide awake looking over at the TV and playing with Blanche and Sophia who were both perched on his lap.

You really didn’t want to talk to him, but you knew that you needed to.

All you did was turn around and face away from Jack which immediately led to him getting a pout on his face.

“Baby girl?”

“What, Jackman?”

“Can you turn back around and look at me so we can talk about this?”

“No.”

“Baby, come on. I need to apologize to you because I definitely overreacted and took it too far. I just… for some reason when I heard it, I just got pissed off. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. And don’t ever for a second think that I’m not proud of you because I am. I love you and always want to see you be successful in everything that you did. You’re my baby girl and you know how much you mean to me. When I said that line in the song, it was simply a response back to what you said in FNF and nothing else. That was not meant to be taken any other way.”

“It sounds as if you were saying that I’m incapable of having kids because of what happened.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t think that at all and I apologize. You’re going to get pregnant when the time is right and I have no doubt about that.”

“Hmm.”

“Baby, please turn this way and look at me.”

You slowly turned around and saw Jack looking at you before leaning over to kiss your forehead. 

“I love you, mamas.”

“And I love you too no matter how much you get on my last nerve.”

“I deserve that.”

“And the fact that you only sent me a thumbs up emoji when I sent you nudes the other day? You had me fucked all the way up with that one. I hit all of your favorite angles and that’s the thanks that I get?”

“I-... I was mad at you still, but if it makes you feel any better, I definitely had to make good use of my hand when I saw them. Especially the one where you were on all fours and I know that I could probably see that pussy dripping from a mile away.”

Blanche and Sophia had hopped down to do only God knows what and you were simply staring at Jack.

“You okay?” He suddenly asked and you simply nodded.

“I’m fine.” You answered while shrugging but you slowly sat up to take your shirt off throwing it across the room leaving your top half bare in front of Jack.

He immediately raised an eyebrow at you and all you did was look at him.

“You owe me for that response to my nudes and I want it now.” You desperately pleaded as you could feel the flood gates opening up down below and Jack hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Say less, mamas. But be careful what you ask for.” Jack said as he hovered over top of you before sliding down your shorts and seeing how wet you were. All he did was take two of his fingers and slowly massage your clit as you went to answer him. 

“What?”

“I’m still not showing you any mercy for what you did. You ready for me? Because I didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

When you didn’t answer him, he stopped his movements to peer down at you and gave you a look. 

“I’m ready. Just come on.”

“Get on all fours. Now.”

—

As Jack was pounding into you from behind, you were grabbing at the sheets beneath you and you were a screaming crying mess.

The two of you had been at it for at least an hour switching to different positions, but Jack once again wanted you on all fours.

“Shit… shit…. Oh fuckkkkkkk!”

“There’s my good girl. You gonna cum for me again?”

You simply nodded your head, but quickly opened your mouth to respond because you knew that Jack would stop his movements if he didn’t hear you.

“Yes!”

In the process of Jack fucking you into oblivion, your bonnet had fallen off and it was somewhere across the room so your hair was literally everywhere. The only thing that you would probably get on him about was sweating out your hair.

Jack then slid out of you before starting to eat you out from the back.

You absolutely loved every time that he did this and it took everything in you to hold still.

“Babe….” You let out while trying to catch your breath, but Jack simply kept going.

He inserted two of his fingers in you while keeping his mouth on you and you knew that you were close.

“Shit…. Jackkkkkk.”

“Damn, you never call me by my first name when I’m in you.”

“Baby, let me cum. Please let me cum.”

“Not yet. Almost, be patient.”

Jack had then slid back into you and you knew that you weren’t about to be able to hold on much longer.

“BABYYY!”

Jack then reached underneath you to massage your clit and you were squirting all over him within a matter of seconds. 

Jack soon followed and pulled out of you, releasing all over your back.

You would have preferred your face, but that could be for next time. 

“What you got to say now mamas? Screaming, crying mess underneath me. Did that make up for me not saying anything about the pictures you sent me?” Jack asked as he slapped your ass and you immediately groaned. 

“Leave me alone.” You replied while collapsing onto your stomach and trying to catch your breath.

“Nah, we not about to leave this bed until I get you pregnant. Go wash the cum out your weave and get ready for the next round. Pop a plan B, my ass.” 

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jacksmoviestar

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@jackmansbabymama

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@toocriticalharlow

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

[gallierhouse]

maybe I just hate santiago right now, but the only history between him and armand I can think of is "their FWB arrangement ended after a month bc santiago's too into feet and it weirded armand out''

Well, the interesting thing about Santiago is that he’s an older blond man who’s self-assured, confident, and powerful, despite his age (for a human he’s old, for a vampire he’s young). Does that remind you of anyone? It tracks with Armand’s type. He’s also the one with the most authority within the coven after Armand, and the one who stages the coup, if the story is to be believed. Does that remind you of anyone?

Then there’s opening night, when Santiago presses his kiss to Armand’s lips, and if Armand’s account is to be believed, he and Santiago used to fuck. But then there’s also Santiago’s resentment of Armand — even before the coup — for executing his maker. But he’s also the one who Armand cuts the most slack. They’re physically familiar with each other, he’s been awarded the lead role despite being the newest and youngest member of the coven until Claudia joins, he throws tantrums at dinner and Armand doesn’t intervene until Louis makes it physical, he complains about Armand missing rehearsal and talks back to him, and Armand tolerates it. There’s this interesting power play going on between them. Armand’s older, and he’s the artistic director, maitre, if you will, but Santiago’s the one who inhabits the spotlight and bosses everyone around when Armand isn’t there. He looks older, too, and that affords him authority that Armand will never have. He doesn’t even really seem afraid of Armand (a grave mistake to make), even after Armand punishes him for eavesdropping in that alley. Maybe it’s because the coup is already in motion, but all vampires in the coven know that Armand could dispose of them with less effort than it would take to swat a fly. This might be related to the fact that the audience is working with incomplete information about the coup, though.

All this is to say that if they were fucking, I don’t think Armand is the one who would’ve been weirded out. Santiago might as well be a remix of Lestat, and Lestat is a remix of someone else for Armand. It’s more likely that if they had a physical relationship it fizzled out because of the inherent tension between being someone’s maitre and whatever sexual dynamics they participated in. I don’t even really know if they had a physical relationship, though, just because Armand announces it slightly too flippantly. In my opinion it’s more likely they’ve had sexual tension for the last decade that neither of them have acted on but continued to indulge in via play fighting and flirting and that’s the weird vibe I’m picking up.

[gerec]

Hi! First of all, thank you for all your amazing cherik fic recommendations. You're literally doing a god's work 💜 Could you please recommend some good fics with Top!Charles? I'd also be okay with them switching. Thank you so much in advance 😊

Hi Anon - thank you for your lovely message and for your patience! Here are some great Top!Charles fics; there's a mix of canon and au along with some dom/sub and a/o ones that I hope you enjoy!

Beneath Me by Magnetism_bind

Charles is a young lord staying at his family's estate for the summer. Erik is his family's stable-hand.

Coup - Alpha!Charles dethrones Shaw and conquers his omega guard.

Treasure by professor

Knight Erik thinks he’s going to slay the dragon and take the beast’s treasure. He’s very, very wrong about that.

Masterpiece by professor

An artist sculpts his finest creation.

Coax me out my love low by tahariel (Frontseat 'verse series)

It’s hard enough waiting a year to meet the man you’re engaged to, but harder still when that man doesn’t even want to stay bonded to you. Charles is determined, however, not to let Erik get away.

deeper than swords (the sun and stars remix) by specficslut (homosociality)

Erik has been traded to a foreign king for a chest of gold and a hundred bushels of grain. In Westchester, he must learn to start a new life... and navigate the roles that have been thrust upon him, whether concubine or courtesan, consort or slave.

Heated Discussion by annejumps

Professor Lehnsherr is an omega and Professor Xavier is an alpha, but somehow in the weeks they've known each other, the issue has never come up....

The Watch by hllfire

Erik decides to take a break one Friday night, going to a club to try and meet someone for a one-night stand. In a dimly lit hallway, with a stranger behind him, he gets what he wants.

twilight by ikeracity, specficslut (homosociality)

"Volatility was a chemical property. Erik remembered Mrs. Berkowitz saying, with the rhythm of a chant, volatility was how likely a substance was to mist into air, and that was how he felt now, like he could dissolve into nothing at any moment, unless he fucked Charles so hard his eyes spun back in his head."

For someone who kills monsters for a living, Erik is irrationally conflicted about the monster in his bed.

Build you up, Break you apart by orphan_account

Charles makes quick work of rolling them over again so that he is once more on top of Erik. This time when Erik reels back to throw a punch, he finds himself immobile. With outstretched fingers, he reaches for the familiar sensation of metal particles but nothing comes to him and Erik’s pupils dilate, a frightening thought waking in its place. No one’s coming to rescue me.

In which Erik is an omega who takes heat suppressants despite the fact that they don't really work well. And on that one day he decides to stay over at Charles' place, his heat cycle starts.

Sharing by ikeracity

One night during the mutant road trip, Erik knocks on Charles's door and brusquely demands to be taken to bed. Charles, who has been very careful about staying out of Erik’s head, is disoriented by the haunted look in Erik’s eyes but is ultimately swayed by the fact that they’ve had this burgeoning tension between them since forever.

They then proceed to have The Saddest And Worst Sex Ever. Erik stalks off all humiliated and unhappy and Charles is confused until he works out that Erik was a virgin--at which point Charles feels equal parts guilty and furious that Erik's basically used him as an instrument of self-harm.

The next time it happens, Charles teaches Erik what it means to really make love.

awoke with a scar by mixture

It isn't so much about the alpha fighting for his honor, but what the alpha does afterwards that sets Erik's teeth on edge.

in the empty moments by soetry

Charles was the only alpha who had ever treated Erik with respect.

That, Erik thought wryly, was probably why his knot was the only one that Erik had ever wanted. 

twenty four hours from tulsa by intentation

After having self-emancipated (aka run away), Erik's been holing up in a shitty motel while he figures out his next step. When Charles Xavier moves into the room just down the hall, Erik discovers his new favorite pastime: sex.

To Have and To Hold by ikeracity

The wedding hasn't even started and Charles is already bored. When he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, he doesn't expect to find a gorgeous, stern-faced man having a quiet freak out at his reflection. He doesn't expect said gorgeous, stern-faced man to turn around and start climbing him like a tree. And he certainly doesn't expect to discover only after they've got their clothes back on that the man he just had glorious sex with is the groom.

A Force to Be Reckoned With by firstlightofeos

“No, no, no!” Erik exclaims, slamming his glass forcefully back down onto the bar. “Telepathy is impressive in theory, but realistically, no one’s powerful enough, or has enough control, to make you forget yourself or to get you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You sound very sure about that,” his companion says, taking a sip of his scotch. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “I wonder if you’ve ever really met a telepath before.”

Taking Bets and Making Wagers by windchijmes

Erik is difficult and stubborn. Charles has a saintly level of persistence (and cunning). And neither of them can come to an agreement about who should bottom for their first time. So they have a bet. If Charles can make Erik beg for it, he wins.

And he gets to top.

When the Kids Are Away by dedkake

Charles and Erik have a free moment to themselves, but they're both tired and sore. Erik isn't going to let that get in his way.

Burger Queen by widgenstain

After seeing James in his "stylish" baseball cap that makes him look like a pasty truck-driver, I've decided that there has to be a fic with Charles driving a semi through the country and Erik as a lot lizard (= a hooker working the truck stops).

Rotten Rules by ellenchain

On Erik's first day, he can already tell that prison is indeed not a pony farm. Still, he can't help sticking his nose into dark machinations going on in the depths of the prison. He quickly learns that there is only one rule: eat or be eaten. In addition to all the rumors about dangerous inmates and a corrupt director, a charismatic man from block C in particular does not let him get a good night's sleep. But he too seems to have more secrets than he makes Erik believe ...

a traditional courtship by Helenish

Maybe it’s even a game between them; he catches Charles often enough, watching him, curious, bemused. He lets it go further than he would, otherwise.

[may--hawk]

second chances (ineffable remix)

all of my heroes sit up straight / they stare at the ground; they radiate

There’s a statue of Aziraphale in the British Museum.

It’s been there for some time: centuries, in fact, one of the first pieces of the collection. It was a donation from a wealthy lord whose ancestors had gotten it from Greece somehow, and where it had, apparently, sat in their dingy hall, staring up at the painted ceiling above as if longing for the skies. Crowley had seen it at a house party and had put a little temptation in the lord’s ear to donate it to the British Museum, praying on his sense of pride, his desire to be lauded. The statue didn’t belong there in that dark and damp hall in the north of Wales; it belonged somewhere open and bright, surrounded by other beautiful works of art.1

The statue, to those uninitiated, is merely another Greek statue of an angel, entirely nude, with a massive set of wings and a flaming sword. It’s done in a smooth milky marble, done skillfully enough that the skin looks touchable, looks smooth and warm, although of course it isn’t. Crowley would know. The angel stands contrapposto, its shoulders delightfully broad, its wings seamlessly erupting from its back, perfectly natural, in fact, rather the way theirs do. Crowley wonders, sometimes, if Aziraphale had gotten his wings out to show Pygmalion. Now look here, he’d have said, this really won’t do at all, if you’re going to do something, best to do it right -

Aziraphale always sniffs when he sees it. “Not a very good likeness,” he says, but Crowley, oh, he thinks it’s perfect. It’s got the little softness between Aziraphale’s chin and neck, the breadth of his slightly rounded shoulders, the strength in his thighs that Crowley has seen oh too few times back when short tunics had been popular. The statue is a bit too slim, perhaps, but Pygmalion had worked in, at Crowley’s insistence, the very slightest suggestion of a roll on its back, barely suggested by its posture. The wings are too small, of course, as are certain other features,2 but the hair is perfect, every curl exactly right, a veritable halo. Although the angel’s pose is that of a warrior, sword raised in one hand, head tilted to the heavens, as if hearing a call, the eyes sparkle with mischief; the mouth curves, very slightly, under a perfectly upturned nose. Pygmalion had wanted to paint it but Crowley couldn’t bear the thought of it; the statue was perfect, was so like Aziraphale that he didn’t think he could handle the eyes in blue, the skin painted pink - “leave it,” he’d said roughly to Pygmalion. “It’s fine as it is.”

And it was.

The statue is ancient, thousands of years old. Crowley would know. He was there when it had been carved, had, in fact, just been popping over to Pygmalion’s to see if he’d wanted to nip out for a quick drink and there Aziraphale was: posing for a clay model, naked in the hot Aegean day, the faintest sheen of sweat on his chest, his back, his face. Of course his wings hadn’t been out. “Crowley,” he’d said, and stammered a bit, and then, “Gosh, fancy seeing you here, you getting done too?”

I wish, was what Crowley had wanted to say, but he hadn’t, because he’d just barely got the angel drinking, and perhaps innuendo was a bit much at this stage in the game, so instead he had lurked in the back of Pygmalion’s studio where it was dark, back against the statue of the ivory girl Pygmalion was working on, the one he kept draped when anyone else was around, the one he didn’t think anyone knew about. Crowley had watched Aziraphale intently. The angel had lost his nervousness over time, turning at Pygmalion’s commands - left - right - chin up - leg out - “Like this?” he’d said. “Like this, like this?” Would he ask that in bed as he touched Crowley, would he have that shy little smile, as if not quite believing he’d got it right? Crowley thinks he would. Thank Someone for dark glasses, Crowley had thought, because Aziraphale couldn’t see him staring,3 couldn’t see the way Crowley’s eyes had traced him like a sculptor’s hands on clay, until he knew every inch of Aziraphale, every inch he could see from the outside, anyway. Finally, finally, when Pygmalion had stretched, and yawned, and said he was done, and really needed to get back to things, and threw the statue Crowley was leaning against a few not very inconspicuous looks, Crowley had tempted Aziraphale into going out to drink with him, and then back to Aziraphale’s little oikos, and they had gotten drunk enough they’d sprawled on the stone terrace and stared up at the stars and listened to the sea, but all Crowley could see in his mind’s eye was Aziraphale from before, Aziraphale standing perfectly still, no movement except his chest rising and falling, the little dart of his eyes at Crowley, as if to see if he was looking.

Crowley used to come to Pygmalion’s studio and stare at the statue as they got absolutely piss-drunk, until Pygmalion would start going on about that girl-statue of his and eventually fall asleep. And Crowley knows all about wanting something you can’t have, doesn’t he, something you can’t touch, something smooth and white and perfect, so he’d enchanted the girl-statue for Pygmalion, had brought her to life, her flesh soft and warm under Pygmalion’s hands, her eyes tender. He figured the poor blighter deserved it. They’d been a perfect match too, hadn’t they? Crowley and Aziraphale had even gone to the wedding. “Where did he meet her, do you think…?” Aziraphale had asked and Crowley had just shrugged and said “Some studio, I imagine,” because Pygmalion’s secrets weren’t his to tell, and Aziraphale had watched them, how their eyes never left each other, how their hands never fell away from each other, as if remaking each other anew, and had sighed, wistfully.

The statue - Aziraphale’s statue - is almost miraculously intact for its age. However, it’s not absolutely perfect. (It is, it is). There’s a little chip missing out of the back of its right calf, there since 1895 when a crew of clumsy movers had moved it into the Antiquities wing and someone had dropped it. When Crowley had woke up from his sulking slumber - thirty-some years - and had discovered it, he had made certain they had cause to regret it. There’s a few feathers missing too, for the same reason, and the end of the sword is blunted, as if by use, although Crowley knows it’s just age. Most telling, though, is a dirty spot on the back of the angel’s left hand, the one not holding the sword. The marble there is darkened, stained enough to be almost the exact color of Aziraphale’s skin. A good reminder for Crowley. A warning. A longing. A mark in the exact shape of a demon’s fingers passing over it for millennia. Once, he catches Aziraphale looking at it, his head cocked. “How curious,” Aziraphale says. “I’m certain this spot is getting worse.”

“People feeling you up, angel?” Crowley jeers. “Would’ve thought you’d gotten used to that in the third century.”

“Yes,” says Aziraphale, making a face, “but it’s so regular, almost as if-” he trails off, doesn’t finish what he’s thinking.

“Lunch?” says Crowley, a bit desperately. “Still owe you one. Promised to take you to that sushi spot-”

Aziraphale acquiesces, and they go to lunch, then, and nothing further is mentioned about the museum, but he swears the angel looks at his hands when he reaches across the table for more wine. Aziraphale’s gaze lingers, brushing along the back of Crowley’s hand and over his fingers, like he’s memorizing it. Or like he’s just figured something out. Crowley pulls his hand back, balls his fist up in his lap, under the table. If he didn’t know better, he’d say a small sigh escapes Aziraphale’s mouth. That his shoulders, normally so firm, so strong, so set in stone, slump just a little, become touchable, become very nearly human.

1. Crowley had contemplated making off with it for centuries. He had just the place in his flat, but he hadn’t, because - well, the statue didn’t belong in a demon’s den of sin, didn’t deserve to be sullied by lust and rage and despair. back

2. He hadn’t been able to convince Pygmalion to do otherwise. back

3. He could. back

If you liked the sort of thing going on here, check out feasts of strange delight.

Check out the rest of the mixtape on AO3.

[yellow-yarrow]

Music, mathematics and the Pale

This turned out to be a long post, but it started with thinking about the sound of sleigh bells that appear at different parts in the book.

We know they come from Ulv playing music and reading the pale, but what if they are part of one of Émile de Pérouse-Mittrecie's dodecaphonic works, that was remixed by Theo van Kok (or maybe by some other musician)? because it's hard to imagine electronic dance music having that instrument, and while the comte's concert scene only mentions a string section, there is classical music that uses bells.

I think it would tie in well with Rodionov saying "your music will reach us from the true end, even further beyond there, where all matter is but memory. So sounds the white light that shines into every darkroom, turning all revelations into nothingness.”

But that could also refer to Zigi listening to the track titled "Grave" when he is in the airship, or how even during the end of the world the radios play his music. And at one point the Lund girl's voices are compared to the bells, plus we could say that the Ignus Nilsen Waltz (a track from the game's OST) also has some kind of bells.

to my understanding, dodecaphonic works are composed according to some mathematical logic (I'm not smart enough to understand any of this, but for further reading for those who are interested [this artilce] plus the wikipedia pages) and the person who likes the comte's music the most is Rodionov, a mathematician

I'll get back to the bells but speaking of mathematics and the pale

Joyce -"The further into pale you travel, the steeper the degree of suspension. Right down to the mathematical -- *numbers* stop working. No one has yet passed the number barrier. It may be impossible." Abandoned Lorry - It looks like an article ripped out from a radio-enthusiast magazine. Complex mathematical equations explain the basics of something called 'the ULAN frequency system'.

"A pale latitude compressor is used to sort of... make the pale more manageable. With a lot of these, you can force a radio signal grid on the pale -- literally crunch the distance across it." (..) It's meant for forcing dimensions on something that doesn't *have* them. Needless to say, the frequencies used are... out of this world. "At the upper limit is the large prime number generator station. It's used specifically for pale latitude compression. That's why you may be hearing some numbers.

“It’s maths, right?” Jesper is sitting with his hands under his head. “Some mathematical rule explains this [the killer wave]?” “ (..) but the same non-linear effect also explains the pale. They use it in entroponetics. This is how the pale behaves when it sweeps over the world.”

Recording and playing the swallow in the church causes the building to shake, it's described as a tidal wave approaching that gives Egghead "the worst high he has ever been on". (waves and water often symbolize the pale) Soona says: "It was mathematical information -- from the anomaly -- presented as a waveform. That's what it was *technically*"

My point is, I think the comte's music doesn't just simply play as some kind of background music to the end times, he accidentally composed something that can be used to do something to the pale.

Jesper says "That’s right, [Ulv] talks with the dead. They’ll come if he plays them some Van Eyck and old Rietveld. That’s why he’s alone like that. No, dear, apparently he doesn’t tolerate Fakkengaf.” He doesn't mention Theo van Kok so maybe it's not the Theo van Kok / comte remix that has the bells, but maybe those were just a few examples that he plays? Theo van Kok was very influential for him after all.

When Harry looks at Arno van Eyck flyers, there are these checks:

Shivers - A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST Inland Empire - And so all our lives become but a faded memory, an ephemeral vision of a Van Eyck concert flyer... blink or you'll miss it.

This could be a reference to the fact that his songs can be used to access memories in the pale?

Back to the comte remix, it's actually the remix of "one of the old overtures" and Ulv says: “Please… do not ruin… my intro,” "This is the most important… part.” as Tereesz and Khan step into his room, Maybe the intro is a remix of the comte's overture? or it's just literally the intro of Ulv's remix.

Which is the same thing Kras Mazov and the revolutionary lovers hear as the black and white memory of their deaths turn colorful. These scenes are similar to when it's mentioned that Ann-Margret Lund's hair turned grey overnight, and that "She hears music in her sleep; light from the kitchen window floods her hair and, for a moment, it looks golden again."

These remind me of the "your music will reach us from the true end, even further beyond there, where all matter is but memory. So sounds the white light that shines into every darkroom" quote.

As Nadia jumps into the water there is a mention of sleigh bells, and then above the water:

"Everything is yet to come—piccolo flutes, her favourite instruments, and brisk fanfare, what a splendid sound! The rolling thunder of the timpani, the sound of water in Nadia’s ears is like a furor, life, ovations, and warm, warm tributes"

which is very similar to

"The sun rises from the pale. The comte thrusts his hands towards the sky and the incomparable noise of time engulfs him. It’s louder still than the wind, louder than the masses of ice rubbing against each other. The man’s mouth sputters with drool, howling his favourite cadence. It’s written by him. And the voice in the pale in front of him sounds like applause, standing ovations, the stamping of tens of thousands of feet, and whistles, deafening whistles like those of fireworks, an atom that will someday be split in Revachol. The only thing in this world more beautiful than his own music is applause."

Another comparison to the pale:

"The waves of Perouse-Mittrecie are beautiful to listen to, like the ocean, mm…grave."

In conclusion: sound and mathematics definitely have some effect on the pale. The bells could be a part of the comte's music but there isn't solid proof, it's just a theory. I think Rodionov loves Perouse-Mittreice's music so much for pale related reasons.

[janeyseymour]

Dancing On My Own (Tiesto Remix)- pt 2

After some pushback from the first, I knew I had to write a second part, and quick. this should placate most of you.

Summary: the aftermath.

Part 1.

WC: 2.25k

tags: @lakita-fisher @weeeeeeeeee3 @lilsmeaux @@morgana-larkin

You somehow make it home unscathed- you could barely see as you drove through your tears, your breakup playlist on full blast. You guess you’re officially done. With Melissa already having a new woman, you wonder just how much you ever even meant to her.

As soon as you’re pulling into your spot, the waterworks hit in full- as if they weren’t already. You rip off the jersey and hat that you wore out, not caring where they land as you throw them into your front room. You had bought a bottle of wine to share with the redhead that you fell madly in love with to celebrate getting back together, and hopefully a big win, but now that seems wrong to drink on your own. You reach for the vodka instead.

You don’t show to school the next day, calling out claiming that you’re sick. And you are. Your heart hurts more than you ever thought possible, and your hangover is killer. You spend the morning laying in bed, eyes rimmed red. The redness won’t be going away any time soon.

Melissa saunters into the school, happy that she hasn’t seen your car in the parking lot, and doing a little dance because her team won. She’s also quite happy that she was able to rebound with last night- even if she didn’t particularly enjoy the woman that she spent her time with. She much rather would’ve spent time with you, but… you were… are a Cowboys fan.

“Someone’s happy,” Barbara chuckles. She thinks she knows why. “Did you have a good night at the game?”

“I did!” Melissa grins. “I took this girl I met at the bar, and-”

The kindergarten teacher’s face drops. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to let the ticket I had for Y/N go to waste,” the redhead shrugs. “So I asked Lena if she wanted to go with me to heckle the Cowgirls fans.”

“Oh no,” Barbara whispers. “Oh, no. no. no.”

“What? I figured after Y/N and I, I should get myself back out there.”

“No,” Barbara states again with fire. “Oh good god.”

“What?! What, Barb?”

“I- I have to go make a call,” the kindergarten teacher grabs her coffee mug and heads out quickly. She closes her classroom door as she dials your number.

Your phone starts ringing far too loudly, and you groan. You glance at it and see Barbara’s contact picture light up.

“Hello?” you groan into the phone, just barely sitting up. Your voice is rough, both from the tears and the fact that you haven’t spoken since last night.

“Sweetheart,” your coworker whispers to you. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Home,” you grumble. “Sick.”

The kindergarten teacher frowns. “Sick? Lovesick?”

“Heartbroken,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly. “She was there with someone else. You knew, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, dear,” Barb sighs quietly. “If I had known that she was talking to someone else, I never would’ve told you to go for it. In fact, when she came in dancing today I thought it was because the two of you got back together.”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. “She had her tongue down someone else’s throat.”

“Honey, I am so sorry,” the woman tells you softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell her genuinely. “You didn’t do anything wrong but try to help me.”

“Can I do anything else for you?” Barbara asks.

You sigh. “Just… when I come back to work tomorrow, pretend I was sick? I don’t feel like having Janine jump down my throat.”

“I can do that,” the kindergarten teacher says softly. “And please know that even though the two of you aren’t involved anymore, we are all still on your side. You’re still a part of our-”

“It’s okay,” you sigh sadly. “I know that you’re all Melissa’s friends, and I don’t want to put any of you in an awkward position having to pick sides. She’s been here longer; it’s all hers.”

“Sweetheart,” Barbara breathes.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay, Barb. Thank you for trying to help me,” you mumble before hanging up.

By the time you hang up with her, the students will begin trickling in, so Barbara doesn’t have time to go speak with Melissa about the situation at hand.

But at lunch, Barbara simply grabs her lunch and picks up the redhead’s that is already out on the table.

“Barb,” Melissa gasps.

“My room. Now,” is all the kindergarten teacher has to say to get her friend to follow her out of the staff room and down the hall, head hung like a child being escorted to the principal’s office.

When they get there, Barbara sets down their lunches at her desk and pulls a chair up for Melissa.

“Barb, c’mon,” your… ex-girlfriend groans. “What gives?”

“What the hell were you doing out with another woman?”

The second grade teacher immediately gets defensive. “Y/N and I-”

“Y/N went to the game last night… dressed in Eagles gear and ready to cheer for your team because she loves you,” the older teacher says sternly. “And you threw it in her face that you were done with her and already moved on.”

“She- what?”

“She spent close to a thousand dollars on sports gear last week to try to win you back. She wore Phillies gear, she wore Flyers apparel, she wore a Sixers sweatshirt, she even wore a jersey from the Union, and on Friday, she wore Kelly green to show you that she’s in Philly now.”

“Didn’t show up in a Hurts or Kelce jersey though,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

“Because she was saving that for last night when she was going to win you back with the ticket that she managed to get next to you!”

Melissa’s face drops. “She- fuck.”

“She’s not sick. She’s heartbroken right now.”

The redhead bites her lip. “I fucked up takin’ Lena, didn’t I?”

Barbara nods. “She was crying when I called, and she told me she was heartbroken to see you with some other girl’s tongue down your throat.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” the kindergarten teacher nods. “That word.”

Melissa breathes out heavily. “Do you…” she shakes her head. “She’s still a Cowboys fan.”

“Melissa Ann, you love her. She loves you. She’s perfect aside from that one fact, and when she tried explaining herself to you at school, you wouldn’t let her get a word out. Hear her out, and even then… if she does love the Cowboys, are you really going to let something as trivial as a sports team rivalry come between you and the one person that you love?”

“I…” the redhead bites her lip. “Do you think I have a chance at winning her back?”

At that, the kindergarten teacher shrugs. “You’ll never know if you don’t try… although, I would end things with this new woman you were making out with last night.”

The end of the day could not come sooner for the second grade teacher. She’s debated texting you or calling you, but she feels this is something that she has to do in person.

So as soon as she’s finished for the day, she runs out. She leaves her lunch bag in the staff room, doesn’t wait for her work wife; she just books it. She’s tearing out of the school parking lot in the direction of your apartment complex.

The entire drive over, she’s preparing what she’s going to say to you, but once she’s standing on the door mat that you have sitting outside your front door, it all leaves her brain. She knocks a few times before stepping back.

Who the hell is at your door? Could it be Barbara checking on you? Or maybe she said something to Janine or Jacob, and they’re here to make sure that you’re okay? With a groan, you sit up and stand from the couch. You’ve been sitting there for so long wallowing in your self pity that you leave an indent in the cushions. You check the peephole, and… why is Melissa standing at your door?

You open the door, not caring how you look right now.

The sight of you hurts her heart. Your hair is messily tied up, you haven’t changed out of your pajamas, your eyes are still rimmed red… you just look so heartbroken right now.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” you try sound angry, but it just comes out pathetic.

“No,” she says softly. “Hun, I’m-”

“Here to break up with me?” you sigh. “You made it pretty clear we were done.”

“Can I come in?” she asks quietly. The woman sounds so unlike herself.

You shrug and leave the door open as you walk away. She follows you in. “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh as you curl back into your mountain of blankets. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be civil the rest of the school year, I’ll leave you and your friends alone, and then I’ll find another school in the area to work at.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to work with your ex-girlfriend,” you sigh. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out.”

“Y/N,” Melissa says so softly, and she has her eyes trained on you. They’re filled with sadness. “I don’t want to break up.”

“I thought we already did,” you spit out. “And if we didn’t, I know you had your tongue down another woman’s throat last night anyway, so if you don’t break up with me, I’ll do it for you. Then you can make me the bad guy when you-”

“Barb told me what you were trying to do,” the redhead admits softly.

“If you would’ve just listened to me, you would know that I didn’t necessarily have a choice in who I rooted for when it came to football. My father, who is my idol and best friend so don’t you dare say a single bad thing about him, loves the Cowboys. He insisted on buying me the Prescott jersey despite the fact that I didn’t want him spending that money on me to begin with.”

“I should’ve known with you growing up near Dallas,” she sighs.

“But I’m here now,” you continue. “And once I talked to him and he told me that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. So I did. I bought all of this Philly stuff, bought a ticket to the game and showed up in a hat and Hurts jersey, only to see you with someone else. So… it’ doesn’t matter.”

“Hun, I never wanted her.”

“Well, you got her.”

“The whole time, I was wishing it was you.”

You rub your temples.

“Barb told me she helped you,” the second grade teacher admits. “If I had known… I would’ve been-”

“Any time they brought me up, you shut them down,” you fire out. “You wouldn’t let me speak to you at all.”

“You avoided me too!”

“I was trying to give you space, and when I did try to talk to you, you shut me down and told me you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl.”

“How can I fix this?” Melissa asks as she comes to sit down next to you. “I’ll do- I’ll do anything.”

“I thought you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl,” you taunt her. “And you have your new girl now.”

“She isn’t my girl,” the redhead tells you sternly. “You’re my girl. She’s some random girl I picked up at a bar while I was trying to distract myself from missing you. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you- I didn’t even sleep with her. She was throwing herself at me, but I couldn’t.”

“So what are you saying?”

“And then today when you didn’t show up to school, Barbara told me what you did and how she helped you… she talked some sense into me; asked me if I was really going to let a stupid sports rivalry get in the way of loving the one person I truly adore. The answer is no. I was… an idiot. An absolute idiot.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “You were.”

“So… I’m here, begging you to take me back. Please, Y/N,” Melissa tears up. “Please. Please don’t walk away.”

“Melissa, you hurt me more than you know,” you whisper.

“And I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” she promises you. “Please.”

You take a deep breath for huffing it out. Secretly, you were hoping she would come back to you. And the opportunity is right here in front of you. “It’s… it’s going to take a bit for me to fully forgive you.”

“And I understand that entirely. I was a real jackass. I’ll make it up to you however I can.” She pulls you into her arms and kisses your temple gently. “However I can.”

That ‘however’ is by having her take you to another Eagles game- with the entire Abbott crew. You wear your Hurts jersey, hanging off of her the entire night, and you cheer for your new team.

The other ‘however’ is by getting her to take you to a Phillies RedOctober game at Lincoln Financial field. When they play their celebratory song after clinching a spot in the World Series as NLC champions, you know that you’re no longer dancing on your own (tiesto remix). You have Melissa by your side.