#though I could get to the newest lessons now if I could

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jack Howl - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Sports Field]

[tup, tup, tup]

Jack: Pant, pant… I could really feel the burn on those last 20 meters.

Jack: What's my time…? Oh, not bad. I'll have to remember this feeling for next time. Alright, guess it's time to stretch and head back to the dorm.

Riddle: Are you doing solo practice after your club activities once again? You sure are diligent, Jack.

Jack: Oh, Riddle-senpai. When you say "again" like that… did you already know that I always stay behind longer?

Riddle: Well, when the Equestrian Club ends our activities for the day and leave the stable for our respective dormitories, we do pass by the field.

Riddle: I've spotted you running by yourself many times before. Are you training for a meet of some kind?

Jack: Ah, actually, recently my times have been fairly stagnant, so I've been trying to adjust my running form.

Jack: Nothing I was doing was really working… But I think I've really started to figure out what I need.

Jack: For now, I plan on heading back to my dorm and, starting tomorrow, I'll focus on working on my newest running posture.

Riddle: A good decision. It would not do for you to injure yourself by overworking.

Riddle: Besides, a student's priority should be their studies. Passion is well and good, however you would do well to not neglect your studies.

Jack: No need to tell me twice. I don't plan on neglecting my practice nor my studies whatsoever.

Jack: I made it here to Night Raven College, after all. I'll put forth even more effort so I can achieve even more.

Jack: Even if it's the day before my birthday, I'll have to continue doing my best… No, I'll have to do even better than my best.

Riddle: Oh, is your birthday tomorrow?

Riddle: Then I'm sure there's much for you to prepare. It would be rude of me to continue to keep you, so I'll leave you now.

[Riddle walks off]

Jack: Eh…? Oh, sure. Thank you, Riddle-senpai.

Jack: …Did I just say out loud that it's my birthday tomorrow? I hope he doesn't think I'm excited about it, or anything…

Jack: Ughhhh. Nah, it's no good worrying about something that's already done! Time to stretch!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

Jack: Whew… I feel much better after a shower. Guess it's time to finally get to my homework.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

Jack: Guess that's enough of reviewing today's lessons. I gotta put my homework in my bag before I forget, too…

[Roommate A speaks up]

Jack: … Huh? You wanna copy my homework before I put it away? I didn't work on it to help you guys out, why would I show it to you, anyway?

[Roommate B talks back]

Jack: You don't know the answers? Well, that's your fault for not listening during class. Don't come begging me for scraps.

Jack: Ugh, look at 'em, all grumbling over something stupid. Anyway… I guess I just have "that" left to deal with before going to bed.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jack: So they're looking for campus life improvements, huh. Well, there's the fact that some can be irritating just because they're a year or two older…

Jack: But it's not like the academy can really do anything to help improve personal problems. So, I guess…

Jack: I know I'd like it if they could do something about the rule that freshmen must live 4 to a room.

Jack: It's stressful enough having to share a small room with someone else, let alone 3 other people.

Jack: I can't wait for next year. Sophomores live 2 to a room, so it should be way better than right now.

Jack: There'll be more space in the room then… And I'll be able to find more sunlight for my cacti as well.

Jack: Even though I was able to beat the others to the spot that would provide the most light back when I first got here…

Jack: It's still not enough. Compared to the rooms reserved for the upperclassmen, it's still not as bright here, so I have to take extra care of the little guys.

Jack: Cacti are just like humans in that they don't do well if they don't get enough sunlight.

Jack: …That reminds me of back home for some reason. When winter comes, I always see people here and there sunbathing.

Jack: As a kid, I thought they were just lazy, and couldn't figure out why they'd want to just lounge out under the sun…

Jack: When I learned that there were health-related reasons behind it, I was both surprised and impressed.

Jack: It's not like I've been lacking any chances to be out under the sun ever since I've come to Sage's Island…

Jack: But if I could have a room big enough to roll out a rug, it might not be so bad to lay out and sunbathe on it a bit.

Jack: Alright… I've finished filling out the survey, so I guess it's time to sleep.

[roommates chattering]

Jack: Hey! You guys are being way too loud. How long're you gonna be at it?

Jack: You all better go to sleep right at lights out tonight… 10PM is bedtime! Don't keep me awake!

Jack: …Yeah, like those guys'll listen to what I say.

Jack: I should go back to the survey and ask for a canopy bed… Or maybe a partition.

Jack: Sleep is important for me to build my muscles… So I can't have them keeping me up… Yaaawn…

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

[alarm blaring]

Jack: …Mm, is it morning already? Welp, then. First things first after waking up…

Jack: There's no question about it. TIME TO REPLENISH QUICKLY WITH SOME PROTEIN!!

Jack: I need to gain back all the nutrients I lost while sleeping. I'll swing by the kitchen for a protein drink and then head towards the washroom.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Washroom]

[splash, splash]

Jack: Whew… No one's awake at this time, so it's nice and quiet here.

Jack: …Man, no matter how I look at it, my hair is tousled into a real mess. This happens every morning, sure, but…

Jack: Since I have thicker hair, it's so hard to tame the bedhead. Ah, tsk, there's even some pillow marks on my ears.

Jack: Well, I guess I'll just start with wetting the roots of my hair and then use the dryer while pulling the strands back…

[blow-dries hair]

Jack: Once the unruly strands are tamed, I'll comb it… Good, it's more or less better now. If I don't do this first, it ends up taking longer in the end.

Jack: I've tried a bunch of different hair products, but I ended up liking this wax the best.

Jack: Hair gel might be better to keep the shape, but it gets too stiff and takes too long to wash out.

Jack: Only using wax means that my hairstyle starts to lose its hold around evening time, but all I need to do for that is to just fix it up in the afternoon.

Jack: Nice, that looks good. All that's left is to spray it a bit…

[sprays hair]

Jack: Normally I won't use it 'cause I don't like it to get on my ears, but I want to make sure I look spot on today of all days.

Jack: As for makeup… Nah, I'll go without, like usual. I'd like to look good, but I don't want to get all dolled up or anything.

Jack: I'll just use my normal sunscreen. Can't say I really like how it feels on my skin, though…

Jack: But I remember the first time I ever went skiing by myself and the pain I went through when I forgot to apply sunscreen.

Jack: The way I got burned by the sun reflecting on the snow and I had to live with the embarrassment of the goggles leaving that imprint on my face… Augh, I don't even want to think about it again.

Jack: But thanks to that, I finally understand why my parents wouldn't shut up about not forgetting to put on sunscreen.

Jack: Looks like there's a bunch I'm able to understand more as I grow up, like that whole sunbathing thing. Guess that's another reason why it's fun to grow older.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Jack's Room]

Jack: Alright. Now that I look presentable, I think I'll stretch out my muscles to prep for morning practice.

Jack: Phew… This old chair they supplied the room with really comes in handy for stretching.

Jack: Right after we got grouped together, none of us wanted it so we kept trying to shove it onto each other, but that was just a pain to deal with, so I kept it…

Jack: It's hard, sturdy, and it doesn't wobble so easily. Plus, the size is just perfect for someone of my height.

Jack: Next, I'll step onto the seat and… I guess I'll look over my class notes while I stretch, as usual.

Jack: I think we were on this page of the textbook for Magical History…

Jack: "The following year, the ancient incantations that were inscribed on the cave walls were successfully deciphered. The gathered mages then attempted to speak the ancient incantations…"

[Roommate B complains]

Jack: …Huh, what, I'm too loud? My voice woke you up? Well, good timing, the sun's almost up. Get up, already!

[Main Street]

Jack: Urk, is that who I think it is over there…? …Good morning, Riddle-senpai.

Riddle: Good morning, Jack. Have you finished with morning practice already?

Riddle: Happy Birthday. That's all I came here to say.

Jack: …Of course it was about that. Sorry to be a bother about it. I didn't mean to let it slip yesterday…

Riddle: Heh, you're no bother. We may be of different dormitories, however it is the duty of us upperclassmen to support our underclassmen.

Riddle: You should continue to do your utmost. …Of course, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that.

Jack: Yes, sir! I'll keep on improving!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[hugsandchaos]

Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, @lenacraft, @admiralwidow, @fuckingfaraway, @little-apricot-orchard, @sithlordchimchnga, @buymeanewlaptopty, @deeterzz, @jaylaxyart99, @phant0mc1d3, @idiosolcrasy, @dehydrated-bread, @rubber-ducky-your-the-one, @randomenglishmajor, @mushroomymoss, I MADE MORE JUICE!!!

For the past few weeks, Danielle had been staying in the Cave. After explaining the full story to Red Tornado, some of the details unknown to them for some reason, and he spoke with Batman, their friend’s clone had been given permission to live there. As long as she trained and or some sort of education. This was definitely acceptable to both ghosts. Danielle had started training, and not just with Phantom, and her brother would teach her a thing or two when they weren’t training.

Most of his lessons consisted of scenarios where she’d need to try to patch herself up incase she needed to, which she apparently didn’t know as well as he did. It was interesting how similar ectoplasm was to blood when it came to wounds. She wasn’t allowed on missions, though. That should’ve been obvious, but it actually surprised Danielle. It took a bit of arguing and convincing from Phantom to get her to understand, but she reluctantly stayed behind. She was bitter for a while and took her training a little more seriously after that. Overall, she was a great addition to her friend group.

At the moment, it was around 8:02 PM and Danielle was helping Megan cook dinner. Phantom was doing some kind of assignment on the couch with Conner sitting on the opposite end of the couch. Danielle moved around to catch the items and put them on the counter as Megan used her telekinesis to pull them from the fridge and pantry. Danielle nearly missed grabbing the glass jar of sauce, but caught it and placed it down carefully.”And, that’s all we need!” Megan said. She turned around and smiled seeing the ingredients neatly placed on the island counter.”Thanks for your help, Danielle.” She said.

The young ghost smiled.”No sweat off my back. Now how is this one made?” She asked. She enjoyed watching Megan cook, as odd as the Martian thought it was, and she hadn’t seen her use this recipe yet. Megan took another look at the tablet.

She used her telekinesis to open a cabinet and pulled a medium bowl out of it. She set it on the table as she also got a measuring cup.”We need to stir the ricotta cheese, 1/2 cup parmesan cheese, and eggs in this bowl and then set it aside.” She said. Both her and Danielle started on that first step.

On the couch, it was pleasantly quiet. Both boys left each other to their thoughts. Phantom had a notebook in his lap and a textbook set on the arm of the couch. Both the textbook and his handwriting were in a language that Phantom just settled on calling “ghost speak” since he didn’t know what else to call it due to the actual name of the language being surprisingly difficult to translate to English. Megan took a really wild guess and said that it could be a difference between being dead and being alive that made the translation difficult.

Right now, he was focused on that while Conner took the time to think. He had some conflicted feelings about the situation. On one end, he was happy. He had someone to relate to a little better. He saw that there were actually people who had good relationships with their clones, even taking them under their wing. He was more convinced that there was a chance that if his original saw the way they interacted, he might do the same.

On the other hand, however, he was jealous. Conner didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but it was unfortunately true. He couldn’t even relate to Danielle on a level he wished he could because Phantom didn’t practically ignore her existence for her being his clone. It made him feel a little more alone than before. He also didn’t think that letting Superman meet Danielle was a good idea because Phantom was already mad at him because of what he said last time he was there.

He made the room’s temperature drop by around 20 degrees in a matter of seconds and didn’t take his eyes off the league member until he left. It was probably best to avoid both the argument that would undoubtedly happen between them and what he might say to Danielle if he found out she was also a clone.

“Are you okay?” Phantom spoke up. Conner blinked and turned to him.”Are you okay?” The ghost repeated. Conner nodded. This earned a look of suspicion from Phantom.

Oh. Right. The whole “smelling emotions” thing.

Conner briefly glanced back at the two girls chatting away, sharing stories about their experiences on Earth, then leaned in closer.”Are you going to let her meet Superman?” He asked in a hushed tone. Phantom’s gaze hardened.

He shook his head.”Absolutely not. I’d like to avoid it as much as possible.” He whispered. Conner was a little relieved to hear that. He opened his mouth again to tell him that he’d help him do that, but he was cut off.

“Hey, big bro? What happens if Megan eats ectoplasm?” Danielle called.

Phantom immediately shot up from the couch, knocking both his books and his pencil onto the floor.”No!!!” He instinctively shouted. He quickly flew over to Danielle and Megan to see if he needed to snatch anything from them. Megan laughed at him as he checked the counter. Conner couldn’t resist a small smile, either. It was pretty funny.

Danielle also laughed at him as Phantom realized there wasn’t any in the food or in their possession. He crossed his arms.”Ha, ha, very funny.” He said, obviously unimpressed. Danielle calmed down enough to speak.

“I know it’s funny! I wouldn’t actually give her ectoplasm.” She said. Phantom gave her a pretty disapproving look, but her smile didn’t falter.”I just wanted to annoy you.” She said. Phantom’s eyes widened and seemed more irritated than before. Danielle did her best not to laugh at him.

“You have five seconds to start running.” He said. The younger ghost quickly fled the room and Phantom waited, counting down from five out loud. Once he reached one, he went invisible and vanished from Megan’s and Conner’s sight.

Soon enough, they’d hear the pleading screams of a younger sibling being mercilessly chased by their older brother.

[rxmqnova]

Hay:)

Can you write something like Natasha and Reader in high school. Nat having her reputation of course and her friends, which is really important to her while reader is more of the outcast and "an easy target" for Nats friends. Nat does laugh along of course for the sake of her reputation. But the second they're alone Nat gets all submissive almost begging for her girlfriends/readers attention and touch. It's just how they work.

Are you done yet?

NO ONE'S POV Opening her locker to take her books for the next lesson, Y/N doesn't notice the group making her way over to her.

"Well, well, well. Look who's that" Tony's annoying voice rings through the girl's ears, making her roll her eyes and just ignore them.

And it works for a few seconds until her locker gets shut right in front of her face by the youngest and newest memeber of that group, Peter.

Y/N glares at the younger boy, turning around to walk away but locking her eyes with none other than Natasha, her girlfriend.

It's been over a year since the two started dating, yet they still haven't told anyone. While Natasha's the 'popular' one, Y/N is the 'outcast' and those two groups just don't mix, that's the rule.

But it still happened when the two were assigned for a project together last year. They spent a lot of time working on it together and Natasha realized that Y/N is actually a really sweet girl.

Though Natasha still wants to keep her 'reputation', so they haven't told anyone and the group keeps making Y/N's life a living hell. And even though Y/N sees Natasha's point, it just annoys her. Luckily, it's only for the next few months and then they'll be both out of that school.

A pair of strong arms stops the girl from walking away. Turning around she finds another group member… Steve.

"Alright, let's get this over with" She sighs out. "What is it today? Is there anything wrong with my hair? My clothes? My make-up?" She raises an eyebrow, having enough of this. Every single day it's the same and Y/N is so done with it.

"Everything! You look like a clown!" Peter blurts out, desperately trying to fit in.

"Nice. Thanks. Is that all? Can I go?" Y/N questions annoyed.

"No" Tony says, making the girl let out another sigh. Suddenly he just takes Y/N's books, throwing them on the ground on which the entire group laughs, including Natasha who doesn't think that's funny but just laughs along anyway.

"Idiots" Y/N sighs, kneeling down to pick up her books once the group is gone.

———

"Hey" Natasha smiles softly at her girlfriend who only just opened the door for her, standing at the porch of Y/N's house. "Are you okay after this morning?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Your friends are just a bunch of idiots. Come in" Y/N brushes it off, stepping aside, so Natasha could come in.

"I'm sorry they're acting like that to you" Natasha sighs, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and pulling her in for a warm hug.

"It's fine, Nat. Really. I'm used to it. I would have been much happier if you said something, but I know how much you care about your reputation. I'm currently finishing writing my essay, I'll just finish it real quick and get right back to you" Y/N smiles, leading the redhead upstairs to her bedroom.

"How about a movie?" Natasha suggests. She absolutely loves cuddling with her girlfriend, so watching a movie is definitely a great opportunity to get some cuddles.

"Sounds good. You can choose one while I finish the essay" Y/N smiles, pecking Natasha's lips with a kiss before walking over to her desk and sitting down while Natasha takes a seat on bed.

It takes only a few minutes until Natasha has the movie chosen and even switched on the TV. Now she's just sitting on her girlfriend's bed, watching as Y/N's typing some words to her computer.

"Are you nearly done?" Natasha asks impatiently, making her girlfriend chuckle.

"Nearly, just need to write the ending" Y/N shoots her girlfriend a quick smile before turning around and getting back to writing.

Natasha only hums in response, deciding to check up what's new on Instagram while waiting. And once again it doesn't last long.

She sighs, standing up and walking over to her girlfriend, wrapping arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Are you done yet?"

"Gosh, you're like a child" Y/N lets out a chuckle, pressing a kiss to Natasha's hand. "You asked me like 3 minutes ago"

Making Natasha sigh, Y/N gets back to writing once again, though the way Natasha's impatiently waiting and scanning the screen of her laptop is kinda distracting.

"Natty, can you just wait on the bed for me? You're distracting me a bit. I need to concentrate" Y/N says as nicely as possible, receiving a whine from her girlfriend.

"Can't you just finish it later? I want to cuddle with you" Natasha says with a sigh, pulling her girlfriend up.

"It's due tomorrow, Nat. I really need to finish it. I promise it won't take more than 10 minutes" Y/N sighs, gently pushing Natasha to sit on her bed before going back to her previous seat.

"You're so mean" Natasha sighs once again, a pout on her face on which Y/N can't help but laugh a little.

Natasha's growing impatience just doesn't allow her to wait. She asks the same question 'Are you done yet?' nearly every 2 minutes until Y/N finally finishes.

"Finally, can I get my cuddles now?" Natasha questions, her eyebrow raising which makes Y/N chuckle.

"Now you can get as many cuddles as you want"

----------------------

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[kathaynesart]

Okay, so I was absolutely giddy reading the newest post when I thought about something.

I remember in a previous explanation that each brother has their way of communication with Leo. Ninja mind meld with Raph, Donnies big book of codes, and pretty much just wingin' it with Mikey.

With that being said, it makes sense why Mikey was confused here, since Donnie was using, what could be considered complicated codes.

Anyways, I loved it, can't wait for more, and tysm for this amazing series!!!

Hahaha! This is very true in some regards and I'm glad you picked up on it! There will always be a bit of a communication barrier between Donnie and his other brothers when he's not taking the time to give proper context.

I'm sure though Donnie would argue that "Mach Stem Barrier" is not code at all and if his brother knew ANYTHING about bombs then there would have been no confusion.

In which case *puts on nerd glasses* I think a little lesson on bombs is in order (because if I had to study all this stuff for this comic then you get to suffer along with me).

BOMB LESSON

A Mach Stem is basically the huge shockwave of pressure that comes from the blast of a bomb when it merges with its own blast being reflected back up by the ground. It's basically the thing that causes that huge slice of pressure which levels everything around ground zero. This strength of this wave is normally about twice the pressure of the actual blast itself, doubling its destructive power.

It's so powerful you can actually see it with the naked eye: VIDEO

To counteract this and reduce collateral damage Donnie created the shield we see which he calls the "Mach Stem Barrier." It acts as a giant cylinder that contains all that pressure and heat and then releases it high up into the stratosphere, protecting the surrounding area from harm. Luckily the blast is radiation free so no fear of fallout. The attacks works more like a pressure oven, the heat inside reaching up to temperatures of 200 million degrees Fahrenheit (about 100 million degrees Celsius), or about four to five times the temperature at the center of the sun, incinerating anything within its confines, even Krang tech. Crazy stuff and all backed by actual science, just as Donnie would have it! ...Now if Mikey would just get with the program!

[am-i-interrupting]

Hide & Seek | Alastor & Child!Reader— OATSH

Summary: You and Alastor play a game of hide and seek on the way to his cabin in the woods.

For @obvitsclaire

You ran through the woods. Your footsteps and the cracking of the occasional branches were the only things that made noise outside the chitter of animals.

You could feel the mud as it squelched between your toes but it was a familiar feeling. This path was a familiar one. You’d walked it dozens of times before.

You threw a glance over your shoulder and could barely see your dad through the thick foliage. You darted behind a bush.

Your knees got covered in mud as you fell onto them. You placed your arms on the ground as well. Your hands wrapped around your head to further bring you down. You tried to keep yourself as compressed and small as you could.

It didn’t take long before you heard footsteps draw closer. You bit your lip when you heard a groan as someone dropped to the ground. He knew you were close.

“Uh-uh-ah,” your father’s voice said and it was followed by a wince. “Don’t try leaving so soon. I’m not done with you yet.”

You placed one hand over your lips to try and muffle a giggle when you heard your dad start humming to himself. An action he often did when he was preoccupied.

“Now, where did that little girl go?” he asked. His footsteps drew further away from you. “Well, she’s certainly not here.” Your breathing halted when you saw him, his back towards you. “But where could she have—“

He turned towards you. The two of you made eye contact. When his smile widened, you bolted up and tried to dash away, squealing as you did. He was too fast though. His long legs gave him an advantage your short ones didn’t give you.

He scooped you up and spun you around.

“Put me down!” you yelled, banging on his arms. “Daddy, put me down!”

“Oh no, I’ve found myself the fairest maiden in all the lands, I shan’t ever let her go!” he said as he came to a stop.

He brought you closer to his body until you rested on his hip. Your laughter slowly decreased as you placed your head on his shoulder and your hand clutched at the collar of his shirt. You were uncaring of the blood on him.

The two of you simply looked at his newest victim on the forest floor. He looked pathetic. He had already suffered a beating and his skin was beginning to bruise. His hands were all jagged, fingers crooked.

“What’d this one do?” you asked.

“He thought it would be appropriate to try to force himself onto Mrs. Betty,” your father said.

You looked up at him, scandalized. “Mrs. Betty who gives you the cookies?”

“The very same.”

“It’s not illegal,” the man choked out. “She’s my wife.”

“Mmm, yes, well, just because it’s legal doesn’t mean it’s right,” your dad said as he leaned closer to the man.

You did your best to wad up as much saliva in your mouth as you could and spit it at him. Your father laughed.

He kissed you on the forehead before he placed you back on the ground.

You wanted to kick the man but you’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t a good idea when you were bare foot. Instead you stepped on the man’s crooked fingers and he screamed as you jumped on them.

Your father just stood back and watched with a proud smile. When you were done, he placed a hand on your back and bent at the hips to get on your level.

“Why don’t you go ahead to the cabin, wash up, and wait for us then you can sit in on an anatomy lesson, hm?”

You nodded excited before you darted off towards the cabin.

“You’re a fucking psychopath, Alastor, a psychopath,” the man wheezed out as Alastor hoisted him up and started dragging him away.

[magpiepills]

Escritorio

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: after you make a serious mistake at work, Javi decides to help you make it up to the team.

Warnings: SMUT! PIV, smoking Javi, fingering, oral, I can’t remember what else. PWP, you know the drill.

A word from the author: this is a repost! I can’t remember why I wrote this, and it’s not my best work, but I sure was horny over the idea of him smoking while he fingers reader.

It’s Saturday night, eleven PM. You're sitting and stewing in Steve’s desk chair, going over the disastrous day your team had just had. Steve had gone home hours ago, begging off with an excuse about his wife and kid but Javier had stayed to do paperwork and go over maps and statements, planning how to move forward from the complete intelligence disaster you caused. You sighed softly and slumped, tapping your pencil eraser against your lip, feeling it stick slightly to your fading chapstick. No amount of weak office coffee could make your day less of a chore.

As the newest member of the team, you were obligated to stay as long as the last person in the office did. It was some sort of hazing, apparently. Your senior co-worker, agent Javier Peña knew that, and he was happy to continue the tradition. He often worked late anyway since he had trouble sleeping. He figured he may as well accomplish something.

You had thought that the silence between you was comfortable, if not a bit tinged with annoyance on his part at having to scrap so much hard work. You didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with small talk and work was a sore subject, so you just tried to look busy. Now though, Javi looks across the desks at you and frowns, clicking his tongue.

“What’s the matter, baby? You sure had a lot to say earlier. Can’t run your mouth now? If you hadn't been so damn talkative with my CI, maybe they wouldn't have run off on us and maybe weeks of work wouldn't have been for nothing. Maybe you’d be home right now.”

You dropped your forehead into your palm, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew he was right. You’d gotten careless and tipped your hand, spooking a close associate of Escobar’s who’d been nearly ready to talk. You knew all that. Now you’re tired and cranky and this man is pushing your buttons.

“I’m sorry, Javi. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m going to fix it.”

You’re getting aggravated now at having to apologize again for something you’ve already apologized to him and Steve and your boss for already. Multiple times you’d been contrite and you genuinely were sorry to have cost your team valuable time and intel. Javi just couldn’t let it go, though. He couldn’t let you move forward until he felt you’d learned your lesson. He felt that it was his job to make sure you felt enough shame, you guessed. Shame had come and gone, though and now you’re ready to snap. Moments passed and he didn’t say anything else, and the room was quiet once again and you were grateful when his eyes left you and went back to his work. You really didn’t want to argue with someone who had been on the job a lot longer than you. Someone you had to see day in and day out. Someone you might harbor just the tiniest crush on. Even If he pissed you off.

The room was warm and still, if not for the yellow haze and hum of the fluorescent lights you could have fallen asleep, instead you raised your head when you heard Javier’s chair groan and creak as he stood and came to lean against Steve’s desk. He gives you a look that borders on regret and drags you to your feet, pulling you close to him. You gasp at the sudden proximity. Your mind is racing and you can’t find the words or make your limbs move to protest.

All you manage is an exasperated “Javi? What are you d-” before his hands begin roaming your body and he lowers his voice as he rubs his nose against your temple. You can smell the cigarettes and mint of his breath as he speaks softly

“I spent a lot of nights in this office, working my ass off chasing down leads. Time I could have used a lot better. Now I think you owe me. I think you should make it worth it to me.”

Your chest is heaving and flushed at how close he is, how you can feel his mustache on your face and the heat of his hands makes you feel like you’re melting. You feel yourself clench involuntarily as your pussy throbs with need, but you’re incensed at his suggestion that you owe anything to him personally.

“I don’t owe you anything, Javi. I’ve been chewed out. Everyone is pissed at me. I’ve been adequately shamed, alright?”

It didn’t seem like he was listening to you at all, though, he’s got his own ideas of retribution.

Warm, soft kisses are being pressed along your neck, up your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. Wanting him is so easy, and for a moment you let yourself imagine something more. Something soft and domestic, something totally disconnected from your current reality, the reality that abruptly slams you back into the moment.

“Javi!” Your shout only comes out as a gasp as he moves you. He is gentle but firm as he turns you and presses his wide palm between your shoulder blades to bend you over his desk, making you jolt with a firm slap on the ass.

“You’ve done something wrong and you’ve got to be punished. You don’t get to come until you’re on my cock, and you don’t get my cock until you’ve learned your lesson. Do you understand?”

You’re loathe to give him the satisfaction, but your body is responding to your obnoxiously, astoundingly attractive asshole partner whether you like it or not. A pathetic moan escapes you as you squirm under the weight of his hand. If you’re being honest with yourself, you do like it. Maybe you’d have quit trying so hard at your job months ago if you knew that making his life harder would land you ass up on his desk with your panties soaked. Maybe the day could be salvaged after all.

While Javi has you bent over the desk, he’s just leaned back in his chair, keeping your legs spread with his knees, landing a few more heavy smacks to your ass over your skirt. He smooths his hands over the fabric after each swat, squeezing and soothing the sting. When he has had enough, he tugs your skirt up to your hips and slips his middle and index finger under the damp gusset of your underwear and pulls them aside, exposing your cunt. Javi takes his time lavishing attention on your pussy.

He spreads your slick all over your folds, increasing pressure when he slides his thumb over your clit. You writhe with pleasure, desperate for more of his touch, but determined not to beg. This earns you another firm, wet smack to your already reddened cheek.

“Stay still.” Javi’s voice is firm but passive. “You’ll take what I give you until you can behave.”

His hand returns to your pussy and he uses both thumbs to slide against your clit, rolling it between them, making you cry out, but you’re careful to stay still this time. Not letting you get too close, he abandons your clit and slips one thumb and then the other into your clenching hole. He thrusts shallow and slow, gently stretching you open, watching as you drip just for him. He keeps his pace and when you’re whimpering and clenching hard, he pulls his hands away.

“Stand up.”

You groaned at the loss, making him smirk. Always so cocky. If he was anyone else right now, you’d have smacked him and ran. But he’s not anyone, he’s Javi, so you stand and turn to face him, eager to find out what will happen next, but not wanting to show it.

“Take this off. Slowly.” He tugs at the sleeve of your emerald green chiffon blouse and doesn’t try to hide how his glassy eyes wander hungrily over your body as you obey.

You unbutton your blouse and let it fall behind you, then unzip your skirt, pushing it over your hips and stepping out of it with a click of your heels. You lift your foot to pull off one of the pumps- nothing special, modest height and black, a good office shoe, but Javier stopped you.

“Leave them on. I like them.”

His admission was endearing in a way. You stood before him, in your work heels, your basic black bra, and your ruined black panties that didn’t match the bra but you were glad that they were at least the same color. You cursed yourself for being in this position. Nearly naked at work with your coworker, letting him touch you, letting him have his way, doing what he told you, and then regretting that you didn’t wear a prettier lingerie set to work just in case your devastatingly beautiful coworker decided today was the day he would sweep you off your feet? Madness.

“Javi, you could have asked me to dinner. That’s what gentlemen usually do when they want to fuck someone.”

His breath warmed your neck before he kissed you there.

“Guess I’m not a gentleman.”

Javier lit a cigarette, and tilted his head as he took a long, contemplative drag. You waited for him to say anything, but he just looked you over.

“Didn’t say you could stop, cariño. The rest- off.”

It was becoming hard to differentiate between your feelings of annoyance, anger, and lust. You wanted to smack him, to scream at him, and to climb into his lap to fuck yourself on his cock until you were both spent and breathless. You could only imagine what it was like, because while you unclasped your bra and slipped your panties off, he was fully dressed in jeans and a soft white shirt unbuttoned down his chest and exposing only his strong neck and a bit of his impossibly broad and golden shoulders. Javier Pena was a Texan Adonis, with his wide shoulders, slim waist and hips, a head of thick, curly, dark hair, and a curved nose that drove you wild. You could easily imagine him cast in bronze or chiseled from marble, brooding for all eternity.

He ate lunch at his desk some days and you envied whatever fruit he mindlessly devoured, lips, tongue, and teeth sinking into it while the tip of his nose got sticky with sweet juice. He really pissed you off. You pissed yourself off when you realized that you were now standing naked between his spread knees and his desk waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

“Up on the desk for me, querida. Lean back.”

There was no point in fighting it now, you’re naked at work, you’ve had your co-workers hands on your pussy. One leg and then the other were lifted until both your knees were in the air. Javi held your legs open with one big hand on your thigh and the other, with a cigarette between two long fingers held the other gently at the knee. You knew in no time at all the slick that had been gathering would trickle down onto his desk.

No eye contact has been made, no agreements, no declarations of love or admiration, just a series of instructions that you followed without question. He was so leisurely in the way he gazes you you, his eyes roaming over your ankles, knees, thighs, hips, stomach, tits and arms. He tilted his head and released a cloud of smoke over you.

“Do it, Javi. Whatever you’re waiting for, I’m not going to beg you, so just do it. I want to get home.”

He scoffed at that, raised his thick eyebrows in amusement.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be so demanding. Maybe it’s time you learned some patience. It’ll do you good.”

Your head dropped back to the desk with a quiet thud, exasperated and nearly out of energy to pretend you hadn’t wanted to fuck Javier since the day you first saw him. You’d spotted him across from across the street in tight jeans and a tighter black shirt that hugged his biceps, bounding up the stairs outside the embassy two at a time in a macho display that made you roll your eyes and squeeze your thighs together simultaneously. There may as well be a flashing pink neon sign floating above his head that says SEX GOD.

When your resolve broke, you were rewarded with a hot mouth to your cunt. Slow, methodical licks that teased your clit, broad stripes that spread your slick and his saliva over your folds, open mouthed kisses that sucked your folds between his lips, tender kisses to your puffy labia, and finally, his lips covering your clit to suck it and circle it with his tongue.

Your hips jerked and your knees wanted to close around his head, but he kept you open with his strong hands. You felt the hand on your thigh squeeze your soft flesh before sliding down and resting right at the crease between your leg and your pussy for a moment before you felt him at your entrance. First one finger pushed inside, then another, and when combined with the constant movement over your clit, your vision blurred. You barreled toward your orgasm, hungry for relief, and in a flash it was snatched away. His fingers slipped from your tight cunt and came down to smack twice against your cheek.

By the time your eyes refocused, Javier was standing, leaning over you to crush his cigarette into the ashtray by your head. It was all you could do not to cry.

“What are you doing? Why’d you stop?” You asked weakly.

Javi shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re never going to learn, are you? You’re a stubborn girl, you know that?”

A tear leaked from the corner of your eye and disappeared into your hair.

What happened next was an affront to feminism and you’d deny it until the day you died.

“Please, Javi. I’m sorry. You’re right. I was reckless and impatient and I should have asked for your help. Javi, please!”

It was exactly what he was waiting for.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

The condescension had disappeared from his voice and he sounded gentler now, like he was nearly as desperate as you were. It made it easier to beg.

“Fuck me Javi. Now. Please!”

You raised into your elbows and watched as he palmed his cock through his jeans, the thick roll of him unmistakable as it reached across his left hip.

“I think you’ve earned it. You want to come on my cock now? Think you can handle it?”

Thick fingers worked his belt open, followed by the button and zipper, and when his cock was freed, you couldn’t help the way our jaw dropped to your chest.

Javier Peña’s cock was glorious. Thick and long, tan, with a vein along one side that ended just below his smooth foreskin, pulled taut by his throbbing erection, an opalescent bead of precum spilled down over the head.

The sight of him stroking himself before you was at once heavenly and pornographic. It made you want to take up oils and pastels and fill canvases with devoted studies of his turgid member.

“Fuck, Javi. Let me have it, please. Need it.”

Your eyelids feel heavy, your mouth watering at the sight of him. He had reduced you to a simpering mess, and he loved it. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a teasing half smile at the sight of you, so needy for him.

Your folds were slick, swollen, and sensitive. You whined when he slid his heavy cock through them, rubbing over your clit.

“This what you need? Hm? Are you going to come like this, or are you ready to take me now?”

He was teasing, but his voice had a faint waver of desire, telling of his own need. Before you could answer, he was inside you, the thick tip of him stretching you, stilling there for a moment before he worked the rest of his length into the tight grasp of your cunt. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with firm strokes.

“Fuck- so fucking tight, taking me so well.”

Javi moved your ankles to his shoulders and kissed your ankle, it was the most tender he’s been since this little game of his started. The first crack. One rough hand found its way to your breast, squeezing your nipple between two fingers. The sensation of his calloused hand on your smooth skin pushed you closer to your release. You were teetering on the edge, waiting for him to either pull you back or let you go over. You didn’t care which anymore. Everything else was meaningless with Javier inside you.

You bucked your hips up, searching for friction against your clit, Javi’s hand left your tit, trailing it down your stomach, over your mound to rest his palm while his thumb traced circles around your bundle of nerves.

“You look so beautiful, all full of cock.”

Words failed you. You looked at him, eyes glazed and half lidded, only able to moan.

“I like you like this. You can’t be a smart ass. I should have fucked you months ago. Be good for both of us.”

His voice was becoming ragged, his own release begging to be found inside your walls. “Come on, cariño. Come on my cock. Let me feel you. I know you’re close. Come for me.”

His command was the last push you needed. Your orgasm washed over you, rippling out from your core, making you whimper for him. The rhythmic squeeze of your pussy, your blissed out face, your bouncing tits, everything he had been dreaming of since he had first seen you all worked together to make Javi come hard deep in your pussy, pulsing his spend against your cervix. He groaned and held your hips tight against him, utterly wrecked as he came down, eyes bleary and jaw slack.

He eased out of you with a groan, and watched as his cum slowly trickled down the curve of your ass. Neither of you spoke, you laid across his desk, among the crumpled papers and the spilled pencil cup, and he stood holding your legs, gently rubbing up and down your calf, catching your breath and looking at how you’d ruined each other.

When you had the wherewithal to get up and straighten yourself back up, Javi passed you his handkerchief. It would have been chivalrous if you weren’t wiping his cum from your thighs.

He watched you redress as he tucked himself back into his jeans, only bothering to fasten three buttons, then lit a cigarette, offering it to you first. You took it, avoiding his gaze, not knowing what to say to him now. You sat on the desk and inhaled the bitter smoke, then blew it away. You looked down at the glowing end of the cigarette, contemplating the almost certain end of your career when you felt a warm hand on your thigh.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home, it’s late.”

You nodded, and slung your purse over your shoulder, and as you walked out the door, Javi spoke again.

“Don’t worry about the CI. It’s not a big deal, happens to everybody. We’ll get the next one.”

[janeyseymour]

Hey so I was wondering if you could do a fic about a Melissa X daughter reader where we start working at the school and nobody catches on that we are Melissa’s daughter and the keep putting the pieces together until they finally get it. Maybe something like where Janine and Jacob go to Melissa’s house for cooking lessons and we are just like there and that’s how they find out. Or alternative idea where we are Melissa’s daughter and we start dating someone from Abbott like Ava or Janine and how that would play out. Sorry that’s a lot. Thanks

Relatively Related

written in the midst of the week before spring break and hoping that it isn't absolute trash :)

WC: ~2.5k

Growing up with Melissa Schemmenti for a mother, you saw what it was like being a teacher. You grew up hearing the horror stories that came with being a teacher in a center city school in Philadelphia, and you knew the horrors of growing up in a different part of Philly and going to that neighborhood school. While she didn’t much mind what you did with your life, she had always thought you would be a good teacher. And when you decided to go to college for education at West Chester University, she knew Abbott would take you in a heartbeat. It didn’t even matter that you were her daughter and she was quite the accredited teacher- West Chester’s name had enough to secure you a job anywhere in Philly that you wanted. You had vehemently denied working at her home away from home for quite some time, and yet here you were, with a bit of nudging from your mother, interviewing to become the new third grade teacher at Abbott Elementary. 

“C’mon, hun,” she had sighed over dinner a few weeks ago. “I think if you would give it a shot, you would like it… I know Abbott ain’t no suburban school, but it’s a hell of a lot better than some of the places you’ve applied.”

“I just don’t want people thinking I got the job because you’re my mom,” you tell her truthfully through a mouthful of ziti.

“Y/N, if you wanted the job, I could get it for you without an interview.”

“Isn’t that essentially what would happen if I applied and checked off that I have family within the district?”you challenge as you raise a brow.

She rolls her eyes. “You act like they actually look at resumes. Please, they’ll take pretty much anyone who has a pulse and a certification… how you think I got stuck with Darlene as a part of my team?”

“I guess.”

“And besides, you have your father’s last name… how are they gonna know you’re my daughter if you don’t have my last name?”

You have to admit, she’s right. So you send in your resume. And two days later, you receive an email saying that they’d like to see you for an interview. 

Your interview is practically a joke, and you’re offered a job on the spot. That night, Melissa and her work wife Barbara take you out for dinner.

“To Abbott’s newest member of the team,” Barbara makes a toast to you. “May it take you far in life.”

That was three years ago, and since then a lot has changed. A new principal has come in, there’s been a massive turnover in teachers, and you find yourself as a first grade teacher now. The only thing that hasn’t changed? The only one who knows you’re true identity at the school besides you and your mother is that Melissa Schemmenti is your mother. 

This year, a few new teachers start: Jacob Hill as the eighth grade social studies teacher, and Janine Teagues as the other second grade teacher.

And as much as your mother loves to rip on new coworkers of yours, you find yourself quite drawn to both of them. Sure, they’re a little nosey and love to hear all of the new gossip and find all of the deep secrets that are hidden in the walls of this old bomb shelter turned elementary school, but you like them. They haven’t found you out, not that you or Melissa really care, but it’s quite nice to have that little bubble around the two of you. 

They’ve come close though. Like the time that it came about that you share a name with Melissa’s daughter- who at this point they’re starting to believe doesn’t exist with the lack of pictures or stories.

“I’m telling you, I have a daughter,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she taps away at her phone. “I’m texting her right now.”

That is true- she is indeed texting you. Sure, she’s just texting you to tell you that you need to pick up lentils on the way home, but she isn’t lying to them.

“Show us.”

The redhead rolls her eyes, but she shows the two of them your conversation. “See? I’m just telling her she needs to pick up lentils if she wants me to make dinner tonight.”

Jacob’s brow raises as he catches the name at the top of the screen. “That’s odd… your daughter shares the same name with Y/N!”

“Well that would make sense,” your mother sighs, and you know she’s about to just out the two of you.

“It’s not like my name’s uncommon,” you jump in quietly. “I mean… really. Y/N. Not the most unique name in the world.”

Barbara raises a brow in your direction, and you give her a pleading look. “She’s right,” is all your mother’s work wife says. 

That seems to stop the conversation for now, but the adrenaline rushing through your bones doesn’t quit until you safely pull into your driveway that day- lentils in hand.

“I’m home, Ma,” you call as you open the front door. Her head pokes out from the kitchen. “And yes I got the lentils.”

“Good,” is all she says before heading back into the kitchen. You follow in her direction and set them next to her before picking up the glass of wine she’s already poured for you and sipping on it.

“Aye,” she clicks her tongue. “No hello? No ‘how was your day?’”

“I saw your forty minutes ago,” you snort.

“An’ a lot coulda happened in forty minutes,” she replies. When you raise your brow at her, she sighs. “Okay, so in that forty minutes I drove home, changed into my lounge clothes, and started dinner… but I was also thinkin’-”

“That’s dangerous,” you quip. At the look she gives you, you raise your hands in surrender. You might be a grown woman, but Melissa Schemmenti was still your mother. 

“I was thinkin’… you reacted kinda weird when I went to say that you were my daughter.”

You shrug. “I just don’t see why it’s anyone’s business but ours.”

“There’s gotta be more to it than that, hun,” she says as she stirs in the lentils.

“Jus’ don’t want anyone thinkin’ I’m some sorta nepo baby,” you sigh. “I got this job on my own, an’ I don’t need shit from the Abbott crew.”

“They ain’t gonna give you shit, ‘specially once they know you’re mine, and I know a guy,” she laughs,

“Little do they know, half the time, I’m your guy,” you tease her.

“Well, if that’s what it is, that’s fine. I won’t say nothin’.”

“Thanks Ma,” you smile as you kiss her cheek. “I got some grading to do, so if you have anything that needs graded, just put it next to my stack.”

As time goes on, the group starts to catch on a bit more… like:

The fact that you’re just as good a cook as your mother. You’re always bringing in new things in your Tupperware containers- that just so happen to match Melissa’s… because they came from the same house. You quickly cover that one up with a roll of your eyes and a, “So we both shop at Marshalls, the containers ain’t that special.”

Or when you manage to get pink eye from one of your kids, and Janine notices that you have the same emerald eyes as your mother. “Green eyes aren’t as rare as you think, Janine,” you huff as you grab your lunch from the fridge before leaving for the day.

There’s the instance where you’re getting fiercely protective of your students as one of the teachers from Addington makes their way over to flaunt the fact that they have more resources down the street, and you fold your arms over your chest and square up with the woman in true Schemmenti fashion. That time, Gregory takes notice, but he’s new at this point, and you just roll your eyes as you storm away down to your mother’s room to rant. 

But no one ever really finds out. Not until…

“Kid, I’m having some people over for dinner tonight,” your mother tells you. “You joining?”

“Nah, I have some grading and prepping to get done tonight if I can,” you say. “But can you save me a bowl?”

“For a price,” she smirks.

“Hand me your spelling tests I know you’ve been stalling on grading,” you chuckle. She just points to her bag, and you go and pull them out before heading up to your room. “Have fun with your friends tonight. Love you, Ma.”

“Love you too, you little shit,” she calls back lovingly.

You’ve spent hours grading papers, and now you’re pouring over your lesson plans for the next week. You realize that you should probably do a craft that has to do with the upcoming holidays, and you find a few cute ones online. You know that you and your mother have a plethora of crafting supplies in the basement- you just don’t know what of. So, you start to make your way down the steps when you hear two very familiar voices: Jacob’s and Janine’s.

Knowing though that if you don’t go and look in the basement now, you never will and will just end up buying all new supplies and adding to the ridiculous amount of pipe cleaners and glitter glue you have stashed away.

You make your way through the kitchen. The three of them seem to be deep in a cooking lesson while also snacking on a few of the things your mother had already whipped up and don’t have a clue you’re walking through.

“You need any crafting supplies while I head down and see what we have?” you casually ask your mother as you pass.

You stop to watch as your two coworkers’ heads whip around in a near comical unison, mouths dropped in shock.

“Y/N?”

“Hey,” you give a half-committed wave. 

“What are you doing here?” Janine asks.

You furrow a brow and fold your arms over your chest. “I live here?”

“You live with Melissa?” Jacob gasps.

“Yeah? She’s my mom?”

“She’s your-“ Janine points a finger at you before turning around and looking at Melissa. “You’re her-”

“I told you guys I had a daughter, that she wasn’t fake,” your mom smirks. “You believe me now?”

“How did we never know?!” Jacob admonishes.

“Well, for starters: I don’t have the Schemmenti last name. Secondly, who’s business is it to know who my mother is?” you quip. “You know how private the Schemmenti family can be.”

They both look beyond shocked. “Well, why don’t you join us?”

“I really do have to go check for pipe cleaners and paper plates, and I know how to cook,” you laugh. “But I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

You head down the steps, and you hear your mother call, “The big jawns!”

“That’s what I figured, Ma!”

“What the hell?” Jacob whips around to your mother, and you laugh because you know she’s about to get grilled on the fact that you were indeed her ‘secret’ daughter.

You find what you need before heading back up the steps and for your room. “Have a good night y’all!”

The next morning, you’re sitting in the lounge sipping your coffee and sulking over the fact that you forgot your lunch on the counter this morning. Luckily for you, your mother brings it with her when she sees that you left it on the counter. She slips it into the staff fridge before sending you a text that it’s there. She preps her coffee and settles in next to you to grade a few more papers before everyone else stars trickling in to watch the news.

“Uh, hello?” Jacob questions when he walks in and everyone else is here now too. “Are we not going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” you and your mother ask at the same time.

“You two!” He gestures wildly between the two of you. “That you guys are related!”

“You two are related?” Gregory asks with a brow lifted.

“Uh, yeah!” Janine tells him.

“How do you know?”

“She told us last night when she called Melissa ‘Ma’!”

“Why didn’t any of us know this?” Jacob continues on.

“Know what?” Ava asks as she comes waltzing into the lounge to grab a coffee.

“That Melissa is Y/N’s mother!”

“I knew,” Barb states with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, damn! I was starting to think Melissa being a milf was just a rumor. I am happy to find out that it is entirely the truth,” the principal grins. “Greg, grab me a tea bag so I can sip on this tea!”

“There isn’t any tea, Ava,” you roll your eyes. “Yes, Melissa is my mom, but it really ain’t that big a deal.”

“Oh, it definitely is! Why were you so secretive about it?! Hmm?” Jacob asks as he sits next to you.

You shimmy away from him just slightly with a huff. “Because nobody needs to know a Schemmenti’s business except a Schemmenti. And, I didn’t want nobody thinking I got this job because of who I’m related to.”

“Y/N, please. You’re good at what you do, hun! You could get this job without the Schemmenti name, and you did!” Your mother cuts in and jostles you slightly.

“I also didn’t want to hear you-“ you look to Ava. “-calling my mother a milf more than I already do.”

“She is! And now that I see the two of you next to each other, I definitely see where your future is heading too!”

“Ava!” You, your mother, and the rest of the group scold.

The principal just shrugs. “Jus’ sayin’ the truth. Bye, y’all.”

Once she’s gone, you’re bombarded with questions. What’s it like having Melissa for a mother? Is your father really as bad as your mother makes him out to be? What was it like growing up? If you saw the horrors of Abbott, why did you work here? What were you like as a child?

“Enough,” you finally groan. “This is why I didn’t want people knowin’. I may be Melissa’s daughter, but-”

“Isn’t it weird calling your mom by her first name?” Jacob cuts you off.

“I’ve been yelling her first name since I was fourteen and realized she didn’t always respond to Mom or Ma, but always Melissa,” you reveal. “Now: she may be my mom, but I’m still a damn good teacher who got this position on my own volition. And y’all better stop asking these questions, or I know a guy.”

“And I’m the guy,” you mother states proudly, a proud grin on her face.

“No you ain’t. Uncle Vin is my guy.”

“While we’re at it,” Melissa sighs. “Stop asking me to get weed from my guy and just ask Y/N instead. She’s my guy for that.”

[softfeelingsandangstywriting]

my thoughts about how Stanley got into the In-Between in the HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB au :3 bc he's my son and i am in terrible terrible pain. i just got a little silly and neeeeeded to get this out of my brain

@a-scary-lack-of-common-sense i'm lowkey (highkey) sure you didn't want 2 be pinged but here is my offering (ricky, when i catch you ricky. when i catch you ricky. ricky when i catch you ricky. ricky when i catch you ricky--)

uhh word count is ~600, just a little baby drabble

---

Shadows. Gold and red, triangles and hands and overwhelming fear.

Stanley.

Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, the cause for Ford’s own terror, he was with the gold and not the scarlet, but he was not supposed to be there, so close to the screaming dangerdangerdangerdangerdanger.

So far from them, he could see his brother's lips moving, moving fast, no doubt speaking whatever he thought may get him out of the situation.

Good, Ford thought bitterly. The demon was his problem and his problem alone, born of his own foolishness.

He’d be damned if Stanley found his way into its maw because of him. He needed to get up, get going, movemovemove before he lost something so dear to him once more. Fidds had been enough to teach him his lesson right and proper.

(Stanford tried to ignore that he’d almost missed the universe’s cue. That he’d almost continued his work towards the likely end of his species.)

No, no– He was almost stilled by the choking darkness, as though he were moving through a sea of molasses to get to his brother. The great beast’s eye did not move, but he could feel its look upon his skin, boring through flesh and sinew and bone into the very depths of his skull. His struggles had drawn its attention.

Yet still, it did not look as starved as it did trapped.

And its newest victim was its only likely way out.

STANLEY!

His voice, though loud in his ears, rang out exactly nowhere. This damn place, trapping him as a witness. Could he fight it? Could he push against it? Where even was he?? A mindscape? If so, who’s? Stanley’s? Because this was a very depressing mind if so. But it wasn’t his, and he had incredible doubts it was Cipher’s. And that was hinging on the question of if they could enter his or not.

A dream, maybe. He prayed it was a terrible, awful, fever-dream vivid nightmare.

That he was very much consciously thinking about and aware of. He wasn’t one to experience lucid dreams, they’d never come to him as easily as they did–

Right, Stanley. Stanley. How had he forgotten? It was, quite literally, the most important task at hand. He needed to try and do something, fight against the oppressing disgust the place was beginning to cause him and the way it felt as though it was beginning to crawl into his limbs and settle there, weighing him down.

Shit. Keep moving, keep kicking. If he stopped he might not try again to get up and that would leave his twin all on his lonesome.

Red and yellow and white and black black black black black black black black– It was all alarmingly starting to mix together in his swimming head. It was getting to him.

What was getting to him?

Right. Stan. Stan. He had to move. The scarlet was being swallowed up by the grow of the golden glow and that was never a good sign.

Stanley still wasn’t looking at him, he’d hardly moved besides the short, uncomfortable fidgets Ford knew of him (they hadn’t talked in so long. Did he get any back from their childhood, out from under pa’s thumb? Did he lose any? How well did he even still know his brother?) and the occasional glance around when the triangle had moved.

Oh, but now he was hastily backing up. A good idea. Ford was closer, but still not close enough.

Not enough to reach Stanley. Not enough to stop the gilded arm that grabbed at his twin while Ford shrieked.

Up it went, the pyramid breaking its shape to bend backwards and

down

and

down

and

down.

And Stanley was gone.

[neverchecking]

*slams open door*I see requests are open!

May I request something nsfw with one of the chain where reader doesn’t know how to swim?

Reader just randomly brings up one day that she can’t swim and ask the chain for lessons. The chain obviously isn’t gonna give up the opportunity to see her in a swimsuit help their darling

I want to say that the best swimmer amongst the chain would be the one to help her but I’m not sure who that would be?

They don’t want to overwhelm her so they decided on having 1 on 1 lessons with her would be ideal, but they’re all just fighting on who has the better swimming skills/experience

Once someone emerges victorious, whether due to a begrudgingly unanimous decision or reader just going “oh, maybe ____ is the best choice!”, they manage to find a lake separate from the others

While reader enjoys her swimming lessons, no one says the Link giving her the lessons won’t be having wandering hands ;)))

~💚

💚anon!

Last time I told someone I couldn't swim, I did not live them down. I still have not lived it down.

Slight! NSFW So Minors stay away anyway?

You didn't say if you wanted Sage or not, but I added him anyway bc I love him <3

CW: sage is a big of a perv. but c'mon. We knew that.

"C'mon in, Y/N, the waters great!"

Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes-

"I'm okay for now." Your smile was as gentle as it was luminescent. Curving just enough to have the apples of your cheeks warming, but not enough to make your eyes crinkle in that positively adorable way. "Thank you for the offer though."

Re-emerging from the water, Hyrule shook his hair free of water before pushing it back. "Why not, love bug? Don't you wanna cool down?"

Staying out there meant staying out of their reach. Staying out there meant risking yourself in the elements. Staying out there put you at risk, didn't you see that?! You could get heat stroke, or sun burnt, or attacked by a rabid deer who's being chased by a feral bear. There were an unlimited number of possibilities that spelled nothing but disaster for you. And he couldn't handle losing you like that. Not in a million years.

Cherry red dusted your ears as they twitched and lowered, the tips touching your now hunched shoulders. You avoided their gazes, fiddling with the hem of your tunic. Why weren't you looking at them? Why weren't your eyes on them? WHY WEREN'T THEY THE CENTER OF YOUR UNIVERSE IN THE SAME WAY YOU WERE THEIRS?!

You mumbled something, which made their ears twitch only for it be in vein. A few glances around showed no once else had caught that either.

"Mind repeating that, dove?" Sky asked, still on shore with his own tunics half-off.

"I can't...swim." You grumbled, looking a tad more frustrated then before.

Silence.

"Well, why didn't you just say so, sunshine, I'd be thrilled to teach you." Arms wrapped around your mid-section, toned and muscled. Dark ink caught the peripheral of your vision. He all but purred into your ear before sharp canines caught the shell, gently pinching it before releasing.

"Sage-" You startled, arms flying out.

"You learned to swim with Sharks. Why the fuck would we trust you to teach them?" Hyrule snipped, eyes narrowed on their newest member. Hyrule had seen a lot in his time, don't get it twisted, but Sage was something new. A whole different creature. He was feral at best, down right savage at worst; with teeth sharper than some of their knives and a moral compass more broken than any villain he's ever faced off of. So in , what world would he trust that fucking loose canon with the most precious thing in his life?

"Because I still learned in clear waters. Not toxic dumps." Sage snapped back, those same teeth on display

"Knock it off." Time barked at the duo, glaring down Sage for his glare of disobedience before turning to his precious star shine, voice must softer than it previously was. "Have you just not wanted to learn? Or do you not have the opportunity?"

You shuffled a bit in Sage's arms. "I just- My old town was landlocked. Any lakes we had were used for fishing in the summer and frozen in the summer." You admitted. Which is a totally reasonable excuse. And not silly. And totally valid. And learning to swim is stupid and dumb anyway. >:(

The arms wrapped around your waist moved so hands could brush against your hips. Somewhere in the lake, there was a shout from Wind before a loud splash, someone throwing the poor boy deeper down stream.

"Offer still stands, I'd love to teach you, sunshine." Sage purrs, feeling your cheeks burn from where he was nuzzling into them. You hum at the offer, thinking for a second.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll take you up on that offer."

Sage grinned something sharp and malicious, redirecting you away from the others with a look over his shoulder.

"I'll bring 'em back when they've learned to swim. That may take all night however." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the glares directed at him.

Maybe one day they'd get to his level.

He doubted it though.

<><><><>

"That's it, sunshine, you're doing great."

"This is dumb-"

"No, you're doing so well. Just like that," His arms were spread beside him as he remained in front of you.

"Sage-"

"Shh, do you not trust me, my love?" Sage's smirk never left his face as he instead swept in closer. His one hand moved from treading water to brush up against your side. "Just like that."

Your blush deepened as he swayed his body effortlessly, laying underneath of you as he brought yours to lay over his.

"I've got you, don't you worry sunshine." His hand raised so his thumb pulled down you bottom lip. "Though, I do feel I've earned some sort of compensation. Maybe a little incentive to keep this lesson going?"

You swallowed.

"I mean...if only to continue the lessons I guess." You swallowed.

His smirk didn't ease your worries, but how could you think when all you could focus on was the blond's lips against yours?

You didn't even realized you were floating effortlessly.

Or the eyes watching your presumable private lesson, fuming in pure, red hot, anger.

[jacksprostate]

For a moment, my world is a single concussive blast, shattering my skull and sending my soul straight to hell. Direct flight. Short enough, there's no single serving refreshments to match the minty white hot incineration of my mouth.

When I open my eyes, cavern the size of Kansas blown through my last good cheek, the afterimage light of the bullet inflicted on the world — it's with the distinct sense that I fucked up.

I had told Marla, I wasn't killing myself. I was killing Tyler. But doesn't anyone with a gun in their mouth want to die?

I try speaking, and it works about as well as one would expect. I wave them away. Even Marla. Strangely enough, they listen. Or maybe they go to find a paramedic. No one ever told them to staunch the massive source of blood flow first. That's alright.

This is time to think. Solo reflection before group therapy.

I am alone, and Tyler is nowhere in sight.

Maybe it really was a murder suicide. Both victims, Tyler Durden. Cause of death, his stupid, stupid creator stopped wanting him. I realize this puts me in the stance of God, and I shudder. Tyler is not one of millions axeing themselves because daddy dearest and holy didn't love them enough.

And yet, I'm standing in his paraffin iconography. His pointless tomb.

Tyler says, "That's not quite nice, you know."

Tyler.

Cortisol receptors, burnt, back on fire.

Houston, we have a problem.

Tyler.

Tyler says, "Did you really think that would work? Tied it up in your head with a little bow, metaphorical gravestone marked with my name?"

Tyler says, "Didn't think you had it in you, psycho boy."

I stumble. I fall onto the ground and my head should ricochet and get scrambled like hens who've just met the fox. I fall on the ground, and my head falls into Tyler's lap. He looms over me, eyes crinkled like when he kissed me and introduced me to lye.

Tyler.

He cards his fingers through my hair. Supports my head with his palm. Turns it this way and that, tsking, humming.

Tyler says, "You did quite the number on yourself, psycho boy."

It feels like he could crack my skull open, pour out the contents like it's egg drop soup. There is sweetness to how he handles me.

"I told you," he says. "We won't really die."

Did Tyler move the tip of the gun? Did Tyler save my life?

"No. You fucked up killing yourself all on your own," Tyler says.

I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wanted to kill Tyler.

"Same thing," Tyler says, and my eyes water.

He lets his fingers slip close to the mangled chops of my cheeks. It is something that should probably hurt, but when he sticks his fingers in my face, I feel nothing. I can't tell if it's because it's not real and I don't have the energy for Tyler to use my hands, or if it's because my pain has become the ultimate white ball of healing light.

Two of his fingers slip into the gash of my old scar. It's been open since I learned about Patrick Madden. He fingers my mouth, traces the bitten chunk of my tongue. Tyler chides me. How could I ever expect fight club to release me from myself, now? It loves us too much.

"Not just Tyler Durden," he says.

Tyler says, "You might be my shadow, but they love you, too. They see you."

Be still my beating heart.

Why paraffin, Tyler?

Why not blow up the building. Doesn't this mean anything?

I thought it was my secret will to live. Tyler had come to me, perfectly handsome and an angel in his everything-blond way. My will to live tried to commit suicide, sure, but maybe he didn't. Did Tyler add the paraffin, just like how he tipped the gun?

"I told you," Tyler says. "I didn't tip the gun."

I didn't though. I wanted to die.

Why paraffin?

Tyler says, "Look at what you are now. What you've come to accept. In the best operas, the best stories, you don't really die. You learn a lesson. You up the stakes."

He pulls at my newest wound, stretching the skin tight. It gushes blood direct into my throat. Tyler opens me like a chip bag, and now I have no corners to my mouth but the ones all the way back at my ears. I've got four nice chops, ready to be pared.

Dragon of avarice.

Rough cut of beef. Pork. Good enough for stew, maybe.

I can hear the police helicopters, closer, closer. The impending doom of my discovered resurrection.

Tyler says, "You've been here since the start. I wouldn't be here in the first place if you didn't want me."

Trying to kill myself would never kill Tyler. I love him too much. It's the experience of being me I want to let go of. I stopped wanting to wake up.

That means I'm the hallucination.

Tyler says, "Think of it as metamorphosis."

Tyler is a sculptor. Carver. He is slicing the unneeded and unwanted parts of me away. This is just the largest cut of his knife. I think of little soap bears made by Boy Scouts. I am his self portrait.

Tyler says, "This is only the first step."

The helicopters land. There's stitches on every single officer.

[twinksrepository]

A Photography Class that gets you more than a few shots

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Asmodeus X F!Reader

CW: NSFW, fluff and smut, Penis in Vagina sex, making out, embarrassment, safe sex, condom use, modern AU, Oral sex female receiving, Vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, Big dick, partially nude photography

Word count: Roughly 6K

A/N: You like taking photos and decided to sign up for a ten week workshop in the evenings after work. You wanted to get better at meeting new people and learning more about taking photos. You just hadn't expected to end up with such a good looking instructor.

And here is the Asmodeus one. Between this and the Satan one both were fun little brain worms to write.

Images belong to Solmare.

When you had decided all those weeks ago to take a photography class that was offered by the local university in the evenings you never thought you’d end up in a situation like this. 

Leaning across the curved portion of a yoga chair with your calf resting on your instructor's shoulder while he pistoned his cock in and out of your pussy like a machine and all you can do is gasp from the pleasure roaring through your head. 

Yea. 

That was a possibility that had never entered your mind as you followed the posted arrows toward the classroom that was meant to hold an introduction to photography worksop. Swallowing a little as you enter the room already a buzz with conversation, you’re very much out of your comfort zone but you’ve been interested in photography for a while.

It’d be nice to have some formal training instead of just taking photos like you’re used to doing now. If you had a better idea of what you were doing instead of just pointing and clicking maybe you could use it as a side hustle for some extra income. 

Taking a seat away from some of the others who seem to have already formed a bit of a rapport. You were falling at the other reason you had signed up for these classes though. 

Meeting new people.

People also told you how you were outgoing but it took you a while to warm up to people, and you almost never sought out new people yourself. Back when you were in school, it was usually someone taking you to meet other people. Now it was just the people from your office that you talked to. 

“Good evening all my lovelies.” Your head flicks to the door as what your brain can only comprehend as the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walk in. Heck, you aren’t even sure if this walking beauty is a male or a female. “I’m one of the professors here at the university and seeing as none of you are in any of my classes you may call me Asmodeus.” Yeah even with their name that doesn’t help you at all, feeling your watch vibrate you look down and swallow. Your heart rate just jumped to 168 beats per minute. 

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “So who wants to go first and show me their camera?” That little giggle Asmodeus makes has you feeling even warmer, it’s like a wind chime. This is a really bad idea.

By the end of the class, you realize it wasn’t a bad idea. At first, it was when it turned out you were the only person who thought to bring their camera with them to the class. Feeling nervous as you explained the model and its functions just like the feminine man had asked, by focusing on the camera itself you had managed to stumble through it. 

“Excellent! A key to Photography is understanding your equipment and what it’s capable of. You have a good one there, Hon, it’s what I used before I got the newest model two years ago.” A wink sent your way before he launches into an explanation about different shooting styles and lighting systems. 

By the end of the hour-long period, you feel pretty good about the lesson and your homework. Taking photos using the concepts explained in the lesson on still objects, and everyone else was reminded to bring their cameras for next week.

“These are just wonderful!” Flipping through the printed images you handed Asmodeus before the start of class, his eyes roaming across the image behind the rims of his glasses. “You have a keen eye for detail, at this rate I’m not sure why you’re even taking this class.” 

Shaking your head at his compliment with a small laugh. “I swear I wasn’t this good before the classes started. I’ve learned a lot from you so far.” 

“Then you should find tonight's lesson very interesting.” Handing you back the printed images before pulling his glasses back up his nose. “Some of my students need to practice drawing live figures, so we’ll be using them as examples of lighting changing the composition and tone of an image.” 

“Real people?” That makes you feel a little nervous, so far all of your photos have been of either plants or animals. “Do they know we’re going to be taking photos of them?” There’s a cold sweat forming along your spine.

“Of course Hon. I wouldn’t let you use my precious students for practice if they weren’t ok with having their photos taken. Or my brother who agreed to model for them.” That helps you somewhat, but there’s no denying the sweat lining your palms through this lesson. Or how much your hands are shaking as you try to take several images. 

Asmodeus takes notice, and as everyone but the model for his students are packing up to leave and heading out the door he calls your name stopping you. “Yes?” 

“Come here, Hon.” Curious you tilt your head as you approach him. “Take out your camera.” 

“Um.” You have no idea what’s going on but you do just that. Handing it to him as he goes through the images and shakes his head clearly not happy with the quality he’s used to seeing from you. 

“Mams, sweetie?” Calling out to the model starting to pack up. “Can you stay for a few more minutes?” 

“Sure.” 

“Now come here.” Guiding you back towards the platform the model had been standing on, watching the man from earlier strike a pose again. As you step closer you’re even more nervous as Asmodeus slips your camera back into your hands and slides in behind you. 

“Asmode-us?” There’s a stammer in your voice as he slips his hands over yours and lifts your camera up to your face with the screen on so you can both see the image instead of looking through the sight. 

“Just relax.” His voice whispers right next to your ear, making you swallow. “I know you get nervous around people.” 

“Wha-” 

“Hush.” Using his foot to get you to spread your legs a little wider by tapping the toe of his boot against your heel so you have a better stance. “I’ve seen your work, you never have people in your images. It’s not that hard to figure out. Now just breathe.” 

You try to do just that, breathing in your nose as you try to focus on the screen. “I just, don’t want to upset people.” It’s true and some small part of your brain when you’re out taking photos tells you people don’t want you to take their photo. 

“Trust me, Hon, Mammon here would be more upset if you didn’t want to take his photo. A feeling I share, I love having my photo taken.” With that, you feel his hand slide from the camera and along your arm, guiding it to a better position. “Now just breathe and click like you do for every other image you’ve ever taken.” 

You swallow, trying to focus on that instead of the feeling of his chest against your back, the rise and fall of it a gentle pressure against you. Or of the warmth sinking into your skin from where his hands are on your, or the way his breath fans out along the shell of your ear. 

It’s hard but you do just that, looking at the image through the screen and breathing. This man wants you to take his photo, you can do this. Another breath and your hands are far steadier than they were for the entire class as you make a few small adjustments so the lighting is perfect as you press the button to close the shutter and capture that moment in time in a still image. 

“Now that.” Whispering against your ear like he’s proud of you Asmodeus lets out a small laugh. “Is what I expect from my skilled little photographer, and those fine details you capture that have the power to make and break an image.” 

“If you say so.” Shaking your head a little as the feeling of his body enveloping yours leaves your heart thundering inside your chest. 

“At some point, you’ll just have to accept that I’m right. I know what beauty looks like.” The way he says it makes your face warm, fully unsure how to take that compliment.

As the end of the tenth week and the final class comes to an end you find you’re all smiles talking with some of the other students before leaving. Hanging back a little to thank Asmodeus for more than just the lessons. You still have a long way to go with talking to strangers, but you don’t feel the anxiety building in you like before. And the extra time he spent with you in the evenings. After the lesson with the live model, he started getting you to hang back, and to get you to practise taking more images of people. You still couldn’t take an image of a stranger but you could take photos of those that gave you permission. 

“Asmodeus!” 

“Ah! There’s my favorite photographer, it seems our times together are at an end.” Letting out one of those little giggles of his that makes you grin while he pretends to be swooning. 

“We are. I wanted to tell you just how thankful I am for everything you’ve taught me, I learned so much in the last few weeks. You’ve given me an amazing opportunity.” Smiling at him as you give a little bow. “It’s been one of the best times I’ve ever had.” Ignoring the little flutter in your chest.

Letting out a hum you watch as he places a hand against the side of his face, tilting his head as he watches you for a moment. “Speaking of opportunities, how would you like to help me with something? I’ve been working on a project with some different poses but I just can’t get the images the way I want them.” You’re confused but you nod as he keeps talking. “Would you like to help me with it?” 

Wait? Is he offering you a chance to work on a project with him. You’re floored from the offer and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you try to get the words out. “Yes.” It’s half choked as you get your mouth to catch up to your brain. “Yes, of course. I’d love to.” 

“Perfect.” Leaning over his desk to write something on a note before handing it to you. “I’ll also text you the details in case something happens to this one.” 

“Awesome, I’ll see you in a few days then.” Grinning as you slip it inside your bag, lifting your head as he calls your name as you’re closer to the door. 

“Oh, and Hon? It’s a partially nude project.” 

And you’re right back to feeling like taking this class was a terrible idea.

Looking at the address on your phone again you’re back to feeling nervous as you look at the number on the outside of a warehouse in the industrial district. This seems more like the place to get murdered than do a photoshoot. Rolling back and forth on your feet before you press the buzzer beside the door next to the numbers that match. 

Thankfully you don’t have to wait long before the door swings open and a sense of relief floods through you at Asmodeus standing there in a robe with one of those Cheshire cat grins of his firmly in place. “I’m glad you didn’t get lost.” A quick wink flashed at your face before he moved to the side to allow you in. “Welcome to my studio.” 

It’s like night and day, while the outside of the building gives murder vibes the inside is awash in bright colors, muted displays, and monochromatic furniture. Heck, there’s even a bed. Several backdrops hanging from the ceiling in different places and a few tables filled with printing and cutting equipment. A small enclosed space that you wonder if it’s for film printing since the bathroom is marked by a light above the door. 

“It’s not what I was expecting.” That’s an understatement. 

“I get that a lot.” Giving another laugh as he passes you heading toward what looks like a yoga chaise longue with a few bouquets of vibrant flowers nearby. “But the rent is affordable and I don’t need to worry about a lack of space since I can leave working areas set up without having to move things depending on what I’m doing.” 

“Makes sense. So I guess we’re waiting for the model?” Closer to the area you notice a camera on a tripod, a camera with a similar look to the one in the bag hanging from your shoulder. Immediately drawn to it and remembered how Asmodeus had told you he had the newer model of yours. Seeing the countdown setting is engaged you swallow. 

“Nope.” Your eyes follow a cable and see a button to work the shutter lying on the floor right next to the couch. You already have a good idea what he’s about to say and the sweat at the nape of your neck starts to form and your stomach feels queasy. “I’m the model.” 

Well double shit. “You were trying to take the images yourself?” 

“I was, and none of them turned out anywhere near the way I wanted.” Striding closer you watch as those well manicured hands of his work the connection to remove the button and cable before coiling it up. “You look a little nervous. You can back out if you want.” 

Shit. Your palms are slick and you rub them against the hem of your skirt. “No. I um. You said partially nude right?” If Asmodeus wants you to help him with this project you well and truly want to try your best. It’s the least you can do. 

“That’s right.” Nodding he moves the robe to the side and you’re thankful to see he has a pair of underwear on. Mind you. It’s underwear that doesn’t hide that fact he’s packing which does little to help with how nervous you are. “Once I get into position I have a sheet to drape across my body to help with the composition. The theme I’m going for in this project is petals, hence the flowers.” 

“Ok.” Nodding more to yourself than to the beautiful man that is asking you to take semi nude photos of him with flowers and just gave you an idea he should have been a porn star instead of an art teacher. You can do this. You can do this. Repeating it over and over in your head as you wipe your hands again. “Do you want me to use your camera or mine since yours is set up on the tripod already?” 

“You can use mine, this other cable has it connected to my laptop over there so it sends the images as soon as you take them.” Surprised when he slips his hand down into yours and gives it a squeeze. “Just remember, you’re doing me a favor so if you get too nervous just let me know and we can stop.” Another one of his playful winks and he saunters over with a sway of his hips towards the couch. 

Rolling your shoulders as you move behind the tripod while Asmodeus gets set up himself, and for some reason as soon as the sheet falls across his hips you find you’re able to focus more on the directions he’s providing on what he’s trying to accomplish. 

While the first few images are not your best, the moment you realize in every shot you can focus more on the flowers instead of his skin it’s like a new ball game. Sure you’re treating Asmodeus like he’s just the background for the images while keeping him in focus but it’s certainly taken the edge off. 

So much so that you lose track of time as Asmodeus takes his different poses and you snap an unknown number of images. Blinking when he calls out to stop and you both head over to his laptop to review what you’ve taken. 

“Wow.” Clicking on another image, this one of a rose pressed to his lips and obscuring part of his face so his eyes are visible above the petals. It’s like he’s staring right into your soul and knows every secret. “You’ve done an amazing job with these Hon.” 

“I mean, I doubt they’d have turned out so well if it wasn’t you in the images.” Laughing as you try to deflect his praise away from you. 

“Well, I do agree these images are beautiful because I’m in them, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t amazing.” Turning towards you with a look that you aren’t sure how to decipher. “You need to learn to get better at accepting praise.” Leaning closer so part of his robe is brushing against your arm, this close you think you can smell the hint of cologne on him. 

“Maybe.” Giving your head another little shake. “You just tell me so often I feel like it’s a teacher just trying to encourage his student.” 

“Oh, Hon.” Lifting his hand to your jaw and tilting your head to look up at him where he’s leaning over with you sitting in the chair in front of his laptop. “I don’t give out my praise so easily.”

Shit. With the way he’s watching you and the sweeping of his fingers across your chin, you find the room suddenly way too hot as you swallow. That queasy feeling is back in your stomach and your skin feels moist as you start to sweat. He’s still as attractive as when you first met him, but damn, he’s never pulled a move like that on you before. “I um.” Scrambling to try and say something that doesn’t make you sound like an idiot. 

“You are just too adorable when you’re all flustered.” Laughing a little he dips his head down and grazes his lips over yours. “I could get used to seeing that hue on your cheeks more often.” A little hum with his lips at the corner of your mouth. “With nothing else on.” 

Your brain goes blank. 

Like whatever electrical impulses that process what you hear and see just freeze as if overloaded like a computer and needs to be restarted. Opening and closing your mouth as no words come out for several seconds while he starts to giggle in that wind chime way of his again. 

“I’m your student.” It’s the first thing your brain comes up with and you wince at how sad and pathetic it sounds. A low whine accompanies the words as the rest of your body and brain screams screw it because if he’s coming on to you to go for it. 

“You were.” Leaning back as if to give you some space but he keeps his hand on your face, trailing it upwards to cup your cheek. “Now we’re two consenting adults and I’m tired of having to dance around how much I wanna see you cum for me.” If it was physically possible you think there might be steam coming out of your ears from how hot your face feels. Like there’s an inferno trying to burst past the skin and engulf you whole. “So…” Trailing off as he lowers his face so you’re eye level. “Wanna have sex?” 

You’re doing that fish thing again with your mouth as your brain rushes to process the words he just spoke. 

“Yes.” You blurt out that one word so quickly you aren’t sure you said it. 

That doubt leaves you the moment Asmodeus spins the chair and slots into the space between your legs and presses his lips to yours like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the only water around. If you had the brain power for it you might have responded to that first kiss. This man just left you spinning with how quickly he moved and did things, including one of his hands in your hair to tilt your head just the way he wants as he kisses you senseless. 

When your brain finally comes back, Asmodeus starts to blaze a trail along the edge of your jaw, peppering the skin with soft kisses as he moves. Your hands flying to his hair, so your nails can drag along his scalp as you try to get him to return to your lips. He might keep taking you by surprise but you want to show him you aren’t there to just be a bump on the log so to speak. 

“Oh? Does my cute little photographer wanna play now?” Whispering against the hollow of your throat before sucking harshly, making you cry out for him with your hips jolting upward against his firm body between your legs. Pulling away from your neck with a wet pop before blowing on the wet skin to make you shiver.

“Asmodeus” Whining his name as he ignores the light insistence of your fingers trying to get him to move him. 

“Asmo.” Licking a strip along the front portion of your neck that has you arching with a sigh. “Call me Asmo.” 

“Asmo~” A breathy exhale as you say his name and he seems to finally be willing to give you what you want. Gliding those soft lips of his across yours before nipping at your bottom lip, the tease. 

You aren’t going to just sit there this time, parting your lips and flicking your tongue against his top lip before tracing it with the tip of your tongue while you let out an airy mewl. Trailing your hands along the crown of his head and hooking your legs under the chair to pull yourself forward so your chest can touch his instead of being wedged against the backing. 

Hearing his moan in return has your body warming, your core clenching as your panties grow moist and start to cling to your skin. Tilting your head to gain better access to his mouth as his tongue playfully slides against yours, engaging more into the kiss. You want more. More of him. Trailing a hand down his neck until your fingers brush the soft robe wrapped around his form. Using the edge as a guide to find the sash holding it in place and tugging it undone so you trail your hand along the skin of his chest. 

You spent most of the last few hours watching his body, you knew he was lithe and flexible with some of the positions he put himself into, you just weren’t expecting him to be so firm under your palm. That discovery has your other hand reaching down so you can push more of the fabric off his shoulders while your tongues are busy exploring each other. 

Distracted by his wiry muscles you gasp when one of his fingers graze along the material of your underwear, a soft caress to the damp cloth as he traces your sex through it. Using your moment of distraction to press his advantage and shove his tongue more into your mouth with a fervor that makes your head spin as your heart pounds away inside of your chest. 

You know for a fact you’ve never had a kiss this intense before. 

The fact it’s from a man who a few nights ago was your instructor and a few weeks longer a stranger just seems to make your body respond even more rapidly as you feel the beads of perspiration start to trail down your neck. 

Jolting as the bare pad of his finger pushes the sodden fabric aside to trace your folds before sliding along your opening. Making a noise that almost sounds like dissatisfaction before breaking the kiss. 

“You’re nowhere near wet enough for me Sweetie.” Pecking the side of your mouth while leaning back and pulling his hand from under your skirt and sticking out his tongue to lick at the long digit. Humming as his eyes close and he seems to savor the taste of you, curling his lips around it as removing his finger with a pop. “I think I’d like a taste from the source.” 

“Asm-oo” Dragging out the O at the end of his name as he licks a strip with the flat of his tongue along the length of your opening. He’s quick, having dropped to the floor and lifted your skirt just enough to get his head under the fabric and move your underwear to the side. It gives new meaning to the phrase seeing stars, since you’re throwing your head back and gasping as he undulates the tip of his tongue just inside your moist core. 

“Fu-ck” There’s a tightness forming in your stomach, your fingers scrambling to push the rest of your skirt away so you can at least see his pink champagne hair. Letting out another whine when he switches to sucking on your clit and pumping one of his fingers into you. When he hums the vibrations against your clit almost send you over the edge, grabbing his hair while your hips roll. 

You want more. 

Just more. 

 More of the fire building inside you. More of his touch. More friction against your pussy as you shift more and more to the increased speed of his tongue. More of his body pressed to yours as a roaring blares in your ears.

All of the tension leaves you as you tumble over that edge with a low moan and slump back in the chair while Asmo keeps lapping at your core drinking down your release and dragging out the pleasure flooding through your body. 

He doesn’t relent until you let out a noise of discomfort. “Aw, is my pretty photographer all done after one orgasm?” Barely opening your eyes as he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I need” Blinking you rub at your face trying to collect your thoughts. “A minute.” 

“Oh, you really are adorable.” Laughing as he turns and starts rooting around in his desk for something. 

“You keep saying that.” Finally feeling more aware but relaxed you fully open your eyes, just in time to watch him drop his underwear to the floor. “Right, you are a lot bigger than earlier.” Deadpanning as you keep watching him, blowing you a kiss as he uses his teeth to rip the edge of the condom package open. 

If these past few weeks have taught you anything he’s a tease. Making a show of sliding the latex along his shaft before trailing his painted fingers through the light dusting of hair that’s immaculately kept. “That tends to happen when you’re horny Hon.” Another wink as he saunters closer with that monster swaying between his legs. “Now.” Bending at the waist and ghosting his lips over yours. “Ready for round two?” 

“In this chair?” 

“No.” Standing with his soft hands wrapped around your wrists and tugging you upwards before guiding you to the yoga chaise lounge he had been using as part of the photo shoot. “Somewhere I can really make you scream my name.” Giggling as he slides his hands to the edge of your shirt and starts to pull it upwards and over your head. 

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow am I?” Reaching your hands back to undo the clasp for your bra before dropping it to the floor. 

“Oh, Hon. I’m planning to make it so neither of us can walk tomorrow.” Starting to work your skirt off only to have his hand stop you. “Just the underwear. I like the skirt.” Well, if he likes it after that orgasm you aren’t going to tell him no. Slipping the drenched material from your legs and letting it drop to the floor just like your bra. With that wet flop, Asmo has his hands on your hips guiding you toward the lounge and getting you to lay back against it. 

“Does that mean we’re staying here tonight?” Feeling a little braver as his hands sweep along your sides making you shiver while your core throbs. 

“If you can handle it, Hon.” Using his hand to push your chest back against the curved higher end. “Just don’t expect to get much sleep.” Sliding the tip of his cock between your folds, tapping the head against your clit making you let out a soft mewling noise. He has your skirt lifted just enough to watch what he’s doing, his eyes glued to your slick skin while he teases you. 

“Asmo!” Whining again as you reach out to touch the hand on your hip keeping you in place and your skirt out of the way. “Please, I don’t wanna be teased.” Sliding your fingers through his and rubbing his knuckles. “Just fuck me.” 

“Oh, you want me to fuck you, Sweetie?” Your stomach clenches at the edge to his voice as he lifts his head and you swear there’s a mad gleam in his eyes behind his glasses. Shit. “Of course you do.” His cock isn’t sliding between your folds anymore, you can feel the pressure of the wrapped head nudged against your opening. “But I want to hear why you want me to fuck you.” 

That edge is still there and you swallow. This might be a mistake but you have enough of an idea exactly what he wants to hear you say, and it has nothing to do with the fact you had zero idea that he was even interested in you like that before tonight. “Because Asmo.” Adding a purr to your voice as you use your abdomen to pull yourself upwards so you can look into his eyes, it's your turn to make a show as you lick your lips. “I want the most beautiful man that I’ve seen to fucking ruin me with his cock.” 

That gets you the desired result as you let out a cross between a scream and a moan as he slams his dick balls deep into your pussy with enough force you feel his balls slap against your skin. Panting like you’ve run a race as the muscles of your inner walls spasm, even with an orgasm having already racked your system the stretch has a fire spreading along your lower back. “I’ll ruin you so all you can think about is my beauty when someone tries to fuck you as good as me.” Dragging his cock back out to the tip before slamming forward again. 

“Asmo!” Screaming his name as your body rocks with his motions, the size of him with the steady pace has you quickly approaching the edge of an orgasm again. You have no idea what to do with your hands, torn between touching him which you can barely do back against the curve of the couch, and wanting to just grip something to try and focus on that. Curling your fingers under the edge of the couch and panting his name like a prayer. 

“That’s right Sweetie, cum on my cock.” Cooing the words as his fingers rub at your clit in a tender caress. A long drawn out moan rings around the room as you do just that, clenching around him as your back spasms. “Such a pretty sight, all blissed out because of my beautiful body.” Asmo isn’t moving this time as you orgasm, watching you as you swallow while your cunt squeezes around him. You’re a lovely sight to him and the way you grip him has him feeling giddy, wondering if after tonight he can come up with another project to get you into his studio again. You’re far from his first partner, he likes having a good time be it with him giving or receiving, but the way you respond to him? That has him wanting to keep you around longer. 

“Shit.” Your fingers hurt as you loosen your grip on the wooden frame under the smooth fabric covering the yoga couch. “Damn Asmo, you really will ruin me.” Whispering the words as you try to sit up. 

“And I will.” Gripping your hands in his and helping to slide you more to the top of the hump while keeping his throbbing cock deep inside your walls. “I want this pretty pussy to be all mine.” Damnit. He has your face burning again, you shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed like this by his words after he ate you and gave you a second orgasm all in the last ten minutes. 

“You’re a menace.” Shaking your head with a grin as you wrap your arms around his neck to go in for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his lips from earlier, it’s easy enough to ignore the bitter fluid when his tongue sweeps out to coil around yours. Humming as your fingers toy with the fine hairs along the back of his neck, rolling your hips a little so you slide along his shaft. 

“Says the needy girl ready for another orgasm.” Chuckling with a sweep of his fingers along your jaw. “And you’re lucky enough for me to be just as greedy.” Gripping one of your thighs with a squeeze that makes you arch your back.  

“And Lucky enough to have someone as beautiful as you interested in me.” Fluttering your lashes as he lets out a real laugh that makes your stomach clench for a different reason. Shit, you could get used to that.

His hand doesn’t stay at your thigh for long, sliding lower so he can grip your calf while his other hand slides along your hip to adjust your legs. Gasping a little at the new angle, at least before you start to pant when he throws your ankle against his shoulder. You feel like you’re being split open by his cock and damn, do you enjoy the burn. “Now it’s time to start the real fun.” Blowing you a kiss with his free hand. 

What does he mean real fun? 

Before you can part your lips to ask your neck arches back, moaning as your inner walls spasm around his dick as he rocks into you at a blistering pace, you can feel every inch of him hammering in and out of your walls while the muscles of your stomach seize up. 

You’re quickly spiraling towards an orgasm as your lungs burn, panting as you try to suck in air to get your racing heart to slow. You’re starting to wonder if Asmo isn’t some kind of sex god, he certainly has the stamina for it. Letting out another whine as the tip of his cock drags along the upper muscles hitting a bundle of nerves your fingers would have never found. Feeling the sweat that drips from his face land on your leg as he keeps his eyes where you’re joined, a blistering pace now as he slams himself home. “You’re so tight.” His voice sounds strained, doing your best to keep yourself steady as you lift your gaze from where his cock keeps disappearing inside your walls. 

His chest is flushed, the skin slick with sweat. A visible sign he’s putting every effort into fucking you as hard as he can. Licking your lips and wishing you could get closer to lap at the beads dotting his chest. Lifting your eyes higher and trying to keep your eyes open as he seems to redouble his efforts, an audible slap of wet skin echoing around the space, laced with the occasional moan or mewl from one of you. That same flush is visible on his neck, the tendons flexing under the hammering of his heart, made more prominent by the longer strands of his hair stuck to his skin. 

“Asmo~” Panting his name again as you fumble for his shoulder, his slick skin makes it hard to get a good hold as you fingers slide off. 

“Just relax Hon, I’ve got you.” Still positioning his cock inside of you as the fire burns inside you like it’s going to consume you. A choked off sob as you bite your lip, you want this one to last, to drag it out. Squeezing the walls of your cunt as tightly as you can to try and keep Asmo from moving. The moan he lets out has your head swimming. “Sweetie, are you trying to push me over the edge with you?” Moaning through his teeth as his eyes meet yours. 

Those almost pink orbs seem even more vibrant in his flushed skin. A quirk of his lip upwards that makes your heart squeeze painfully inside your chest. Something you shove down and focus on his dick plunging into your core and you finally give in, letting your orgasm rip through as you scream his name at the top of your lungs. 

Sliding forward your blood rushes through your ears, missing Asmo calling your name as he slams home. Pushing your leg from his shoulder so he can slump over your body, guiding both of you along the curve of the couch and dropping his face into the crook of your neck as he breaths in deeply. 

It's nice, feeling the weight of his trim body pressing you down into the curve of the couch, his exhale cooling along the damp skin of your neck. Lifting a hand to play with his light colored hair. “I didn’t see this happening a few weeks ago.” Voicing your thoughts as the strands cling to your fingers.

“Funny. I did.” Huh? Rolling his head to nuzzle into your neck. “After you stayed behind to take photos of my brother I started fantasizing about you.” Giggling and shifting his hips. “You’re even better than I thought.” 

“I’d complain but I feel too good.” Mumbling as you sink down more into the material. “Plus you’ve been great for my confidence.” 

“Good. My sweet little photographer.” Lifting his head to peck your neck. “Now give me a few minutes and we can get ready for another round.” 

When your phone goes off in the morning you can’t move, wrapped in his embrace and lost in a haze with your limbs heavy. That class had definitely been worth it, and you hope you can come up with an excuse to repeat the last twelve hours again soon.

Obey me Masterlist

[newtonsheffield]

the newest pumped up chapter makes me want an AU where Mary gets to be Anthony's coach from earlier in his career 🥲

Mmmk

An AU where Anthony is a multiple grand slam champion, he’s world number 3 right now, still at the end of his career but if Mary Sharma knows how to do one thing: It’s craft a champion.

He hasn’t seen Mary’s daughter in ages though. Not since she was about 6. And all of a sudden one day there’s an incredibly beautiful woman standing at the practice court. Maybe a little a little too young for him a there’s something familiar about her that he can’t place. But he also can’t help himself from leaning in close to her until she’s nearly pressed again the fence.

“Can I ah… help you with something? Water? Tennis lesson? Sneaky tongue fuck?”

The woman’s mouth dropped open in surprise before she smirked, “a tongue fuck would be pretty nice when we’re done here.”

“Anthony, you’ve met Kate I see. She’s agreed to fill in as your hitter today.”

And that’s when it hits him. That’s who this is. Mary’s daughter: Kate Sharma. Rising star in her own right. And honestly, he could have died.

[underdark-dreams]

Incredibly excited to finally start releasing this into the wild!!

After my 2-part Rolan x Tav fic Good Night For Company, I really wanted to write a longer continuation of their story set in Act 3. And at last, here is the first chapter--multiple others planned! (With more romance soon to follow)

Note: this chapter explores darker themes than my usual work. I encourage you to check the AO3 tags if you have any doubts. They will be updated regularly 🖤

A Strand to Climb - Ch.1

Two very different heroes find themselves in Baldur's Gate at last. All Tav can think about is seeing a certain apprentice wizard again, but Rolan finds himself trying to push her away.

Tags: Angst, Physical Abuse, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 2,840 [Read on AO3]

Lorroakan liked to make Rolan wait. 

He was a man who enjoyed toying with people, and Rolan found himself the newest and current favorite toy in the archwizard’s collection. He tipped his head back to gaze up at the criss-crossing arches in the high ceiling of Ramazith’s Tower, trying to occupy his mind away from the fatigue pooling in the soles of his feet. 

Tonight’s lesson should have begun half an hour ago. He knew better than to move from his usual spot on the fine carpet, however.

Whatever Cal or Lia might think, Rolan was no blind idiot. 

He hadn't gotten this far in life without a bitter skepticism about human nature. He'd filed away every rumor he heard about Lorroakan on the road from Elturel, though he hadn’t given them any weight at the time.

The revelation that the man was even worse than what he'd heard was…a disappointment, to be sure. And a complication. 

But it did nothing to change his path or his determination to succeed. Apprenticeships with archwizards didn't drop out of the sky, even with ones as worthless and vapid as Lorroakan. Especially not to a student with Infernal blood.

And Rolan could be very patient when he put his mind to it. He’d waited many years to find himself standing here in Ramazith’s Tower, hadn’t he? He could survive another year or two as Lorroakan’s apprentice. 

Rolan gathered the thoughts around him like armor where he stood in the center of the cavernous room, awaiting the arrival of his master. 

As if on cue, the rushing portal sounded behind him as Lorroakan himself swept into the room.

“I understand my apprentice has been pawing through the merchandise.”

Entering rooms with a full sentence was another of Lorroakan’s favorite tactics. Though he expected it by now, Rolan still found himself thrown off balance by the words for a moment—no doubt their intended purpose. His mind raced to grasp what he was being accused of before he looked to his master.

Lorroakan stood on the step before him with lips drawn into the hint of a smile, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. The man was angry.

Rolan kept his voice calm and careful. “Master Lorroakan, I should have explained. Two of Aradin’s men managed to get past the guards several nights ago, raiding for valuables. It took some time to salvage the scrolls they damaged in the process.”

“I see. And as a result, you took it upon yourself to give Klank a little upgrade, did you?”

Performing magic in the shop outside of Lorroakan’s direct orders—a mistake. “Yes, Master,” Rolan replied reluctantly.

“How clever,” said Lorroakan above him. But he didn’t sound like he thought it was clever at all.

“I know what a nuisance they’ve been to you, Master Lorroakan.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy—”

As he spoke, Rolan felt a foreign presence prodding at the corners of his mind. There were few spells Lorroakan had demonstrated complete mastery of thus far—but the ritual for detecting thoughts was certainly among them. 

Rolan knew he would face a far worse punishment than whatever was coming if he resisted. Instead, fighting all his natural instincts, he let his mind’s defenses go slack.

Lorroakan’s consciousness pierced through his own, rough and careless. It rapidly shoved through his thoughts then withdrew just as abruptly. Rolan held back a wince of discomfort at the treatment.

His master’s eyes narrowed at him, that placid smile still on his lips. 

"On your knees," Lorroakan instructed silkily.

As his body obeyed in silence, Rolan felt churning bile and indignant pride rise in his throat. If Lorroakan hoped all these trials would break Rolan's spirit, he'd find they were having the opposite effect.

Lorroakan’s voice was dangerously even. "Although I’ve expressly forbidden it, you decided to avail yourself of a bit of private study from the scroll stock while you were at it. Outside my wishes."

Though Rolan kept his eyes down on the carpet below, he heard the rustle of Lorroakan’s robes as he began to circle him. Like a cat with a mouse.

“Forgive me, Master,” Rolan said down to the floor. “I only reviewed the spells you’ve seen fit to instruct me in.” 

A second mistake.

“Oh?” Lorroakan’s voice dripped with fresh venom. “And is my instruction insufficient?”

Yes. Completely fucking useless. “No, Master Lorroakan. I only know how short your time is with more important matters…locating the Nightsong. I hoped to perfect what you’ve taught me, to arrive better prepared for your lessons.”

Surely that was sufficient for his ego? Rolan dared to hope so as Lorroakan’s steps came to a halt in his periphery.

Without warning, the red wizard's palm connected with the soft dip of his temple.

Defenses still down from his earlier mental invasion, Rolan's body jerked sideways; he caught himself with sharp nails into the carpet. The blow rang deafening and shrill between his ears.

"—suffer insolence, boy," Lorroakan was warning somewhere above him as Rolan's hearing returned. "And put those filthy claws away. Are you a man or a beast?"

"Yes, Master," Rolan gasped, hardly knowing whether he should agree or say no. The pain in his skull overwhelmed his senses in a way that must have translated as meekness. 

Lorroakan sighed, the way one might at a dear but misbehaving pet.

"Young Rolan," he tutted. "Still so willful. So much yet to learn from my wealth of knowledge. And I am generous…"

As he spoke, his polished boots moved closer into Rolan’s downturned field of vision, and Rolan felt the archmage's soft fingers under his chin guiding his gaze upwards.

This was always the very worst part. Rolan would willingly take a dozen more blows if he could avoid what came after. 

Instead, he witnessed the gleam of satisfaction in Lorroakan's eyes as he examined his past weeks' handiwork on his apprentice's face—as if the sight brought him a deep pleasure that verged on carnal. Rolan's insides turned over in disgust.

"Yet even my favorite apprentice must be trained, must be disciplined." Lorroakan's words were silky soft, but his thumb and forefinger gripped into Rolan's chin with bruising force. "You'll stay to reorganize the abjuration wing tonight, alphabetically by subject."

Rolan nodded mutely, as much as Lorroakan's grip allowed. He had just finished reordering them all by title a few days ago. But what did it matter anymore?

At least his penance appeared to have cut the evening short. Lorroakan released him without a backwards glance. 

As the archmage swept away toward the portal to take his leave, Rolan got to his feet as slowly as he could manage. He ran hands down his robes, hoping the scuffs on his knees would come out with some careful spellwork. This was the only set he had.

By the time he raised his eyes to look around, Lorroakan was gone. One of the metal Myrmidons shuffled aimlessly near the railing, quite harmless without its master's direction. Lorroakan controlled them, but he hadn’t created them; Rolan had gathered that early. 

Alone again, Rolan let out a pent-up breath. Then he turned toward the towering case of books and scrolls on abjuration. 

He'd be able to touch them, he knew, but turning a single page would result in a painful rebuke. The nerves in his right hand smarted in memory of the first and last time he'd been stupid enough to try.

Of the vast wealth of texts contained in his tower—how many of their spines had Lorroakan actually cracked open? For an archmage, he was profoundly lacking in a desire for learning, among many other qualities. The wealth of this place was wasted on one like him.

A memory came back to Rolan from the Druid's Grove, a time and place that felt several lifetimes ago now. Gale, her erudite wizard, asking him to repeat Lorroakan's name. Making those insinuations that got Rolan's hackles up in defense for his new master—and for his own judgment. 

Rolan should have listened to the words from an older and clearly wiser mind.

Would it have changed anything in the end? He'd reverently carried Lorroakan's invitation with him all the way from Elturel. No matter what he heard, there was never a chance he might have walked away from the offer. 

But he might feel like less of a fool.

Hot shame rose in Rolan’s throat. If only Tav and her wizard could see him now, he thought bitterly. The fresh bruise forming at his temple throbbed as if to punctuate the idea. Rolan pushed up the sleeves of his robe and set to work.

—

Though it was only her first morning in Baldur’s Gate proper, Tav found that her list of urgent tasks had grown longer than ever.

There was the spate of gruesome murders, the rival thieves’ guilds warring in the underground, the freshly ordained archduke and his formidable army of Steel Watchers. Not to mention the little problem of a godlike Elder Brain that had begun to test its weakened chains. 

Tav had always thought of herself as a patient person. But these past few days, her companions all seemed to be tugging her in opposite directions. Everyone was irritable and on edge, herself included.

After Lae’zel and Astarion had nearly drawn on each other over the campfire last night—a row over what to do with the cambion’s latest offer of a deal—Tav snapped. She made the executive decision that they all needed a day away from each other to clear their heads.

Yet rather than pursue any of her many important leads, here she was loitering alone in front of the message board outside Basilisk Gate.

A good bit of it was taken up with Enver Gortash’s face, looking every bit the messiah he was definitely not. There were other notices: Flaming Fist enlistment posters, a few hand-written notes for missing persons. More likely unfortunate victims in the city’s recent murder spree. 

She found her eye uselessly searching for another name altogether. It was probably stupid—did wizards usually announce their new apprentices to the public?

Just as she’d made up her mind to move on, Lorroakan’s own name caught her eye. Tav tore the pamphlet down from the board.

‘Seeking Information About the Nightsong! Report Findings to Archwizard Lorroakan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City, Famed and Illustrious Mage of the Sword Coast.’

Unease bloomed in her stomach. What did an archwizard want with Dame Aylin? 

She turned the paper over, looking for anything besides vague details. Nothing on the notice said anything about capture or forcible delivery, but there was a reward printed in large type at the bottom of the page.

Her brows descended at the figure. Something about the size of it only increased her sense of foreboding.

Though she’d planned to make her way to Ramazith’s Tower to see Rolan as soon as she possibly could, perhaps now she had another reason to pay it a visit.

“Hey, Tav!”

She looked around at the sound of her name. Lia stood on the top step from the Basilisk Gate barracks, a slim scroll in her hand. She followed Tav's eyes to the parchment.

“Enlistment papers,” she explained, tucking them in her belt as she descended the stairs. “They’re no Hellriders, but it’s a decent job. Plus I heard some mad cult is planning to march an army down on our heads. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Lia added with a wry smile.

Somehow Tav was relieved to hear Lia could joke about it. It lightened some of the weariness in her own chest. She hastily pocketed the reward pamphlet—though she thought Lia’s eyes followed the motion. Then she rounded to return the smile.

“Gods, is it good to see a friend,” she admitted. “How are you, Lia?”

“You mean besides the constant threat of murder and war, and the stupid comments about my horns? Alright, considering,” Lia chuckled.

Tav felt a prickle of anger. She supposed that was a common experience for Tieflings, but that only made it worse somehow.

Lia caught her mood. “Don’t worry about it. We certainly don’t. Besides, it’s loads better here than it ever was back home.”

Tav moved the conversation along. She asked after Cal—trying to avoid immediately turning the subject to Rolan. Even though her heart ached to know how he was. Rolan and his siblings had taken the direct path from Moonrise to the Lower City, no doubt reaching it weeks before her own party had made their winding way toward the gates.

Lia was clever enough to realize what she was doing. Tav’s close relationship with Lia’s older brother was anything but a secret at this point, after all. But the younger woman played along politely for the moment.

When they were all out of other topics to catch up on, Tav did her best to sound as casual as possible. “How’s our brilliant apprentice getting along?”

Lia’s face changed at the question. Her brow flew into a scowl, and the muscle in her jaw tightened. 

“I don't talk to him about it anymore,” she snapped.

Tav blinked in surprise, but the feeling was quickly replaced by concern. “What is it?”

Lia looked around for a moment, as if worried someone might be listening to overhear. She moved down a few steps to stand with arms crossed beside Tav.

“Look…Rolan’s proud,” she said in a low voice. “You know that well as I do. He won't ever give me or Cal a straight answer about it. But Tav, seriously? I'm not sure he's been taught a damn thing yet. Rolan always gets upset when me or Cal come by the Sundries. Like he’s scared of someone seeing us there. And every time I’ve been in, Lorroakan’s got him working the stupid counter instead of studying. And his—”

Tav was hanging on every word by the time Lia abruptly cut herself off. The two of them shared a long look.

“I don't think he’s treating Rolan well,” Lia told her. Her nails dug into the fabric of her sleeves. “I know he isn't.”

“Not treating him well how?” The concern had grown to a snake of worry coiling through Tav’s insides. 

Lia’s hands continued fidgeting over her arms. She glanced away behind the curtain of her hair, as if regretting how much she'd said. 

“Listen, just—just go talk to Rolan. Please? You should hear it from him. If he won't listen to us, maybe he’ll listen to you. Don't think he could ever tell you no,” Lia added with a weak smile, an expression that was more pained than anything.

An ominous feeling swirled around in Tav’s brain, muddling the tail end of their conversation. Her head nodded along automatically as Lia gave an invitation to her and Cal’s flat in Heapside Strands, but her ears barely caught the street name. 

Once Lia had given her a quick one-armed hug and departed, Tav stood hardly knowing where she was. A Flaming Fist jostled past her shoulder from the barracks with a backwards comment about loitering in byways. 

She hardly heard the man. Her mind was filled with images of Rolan; proud, hopeful, excited for his future. Had this Lorroakan done something to spoil the dream he’d fought so hard to achieve?

As Tav’s hand brushed against the reward pamphlet in her pocket, the fingers there clenched into a fist. The other closed tight around the hilt of the longsword resting in her scabbard.

Whatever it was, something was wrong here. Very wrong. She was tempted to march straight into Sorcerous Sundries, find Rolan, and demand the truth out of him. And if he put on his stubborn act, she could think of a few very pleasant ways to get honest answers from his lips.

But what if he was somehow in danger from this archwizard?

That thought brought her up short. Lia’s voice before had held a hint of fear; not an emotion she’d know Lia to express lightly. Perhaps rushing into the situation blind would risk causing Rolan more harm than good.

Tav felt her pulse pound at the thought of putting him in danger. She let out a breath, trying to clear her head of the tangle of emotions. None of them would help her make a sound decision. As much as she might want to, she shouldn’t go racing off straight to Ramazith’s Tower.

And she shouldn’t go alone. If some kind of trouble was waiting there—increasingly likely when she considered Lorroakan’s cryptic interest in the Nightsong—she would need her companions with her. And they were currently spread out gods-knew-where across the city. 

Though her heart fought against it, the logical choice was clear. The wisest course would be to leave this for tomorrow.

In the morning, they would pay a visit to Ramazith’s Tower…and Tav would finally get the measure of this archwizard for herself.

[pagesfromthevoid]

A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 4

Astarion x fem!tav

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mildly suggestive themes. Nudity, almost sex, talking about consent and insecurities

Author’s Note: I promise I didn’t give up on this I just got distracted by the fuckin wizard

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

It wasn’t that they didn’t have a lot of alone time in the following days since Tav confessed her desire for Astarion. It was just that she had decided to let Astarion make whatever move he wanted first –if he ever made one. 

While he admitted he found her attractive the other night, he told her that she “smelt like a wet dog” and couldn’t bear the idea of bedding her like that. Tav had rolled her eyes at his dismissal, chalking it up to him putting up the walls she had managed to break down. But she didn’t push him, and simply thanked him again for letting her use his tent and bedroll for the night.

“I suppose we could share until you get your own,” he had offered dismissively, waving his hand as he reopened his book. 

And thus started a strange co-living situation that was a step above what they had already been doing. They had plenty of alone time in camp, with her sharing his tent each night. But Astarion either didn’t want to make a move or didn’t know he could —both of which made Tav’s heartache one way or another. 

Following a particularly nasty fight against a couple of death Shepard (truly, could they catch a break?), Tav's magic had taken a rather chaotic turn, ensnaring everyone and anything that stepped too close to her. Karlach and Gale had gotten away just fine, though Astarion had briefly slashed at the roots to free himself. Even she was stuck in the vines that had appeared after a particularly powerful spell, preventing her from being able to help further than casting a fire bolt here and there. 

“We could just leave her here,” Astarion suggested, standing right at the edge of the vines that tangled her up now. 

“Astarion, you ass —,” she started, but was cut off by a vine jabbing itself into her calf and causing her to curse angrily. 

“And risk you biting one of us, instead?” Karlach chuckled, hacking away at the vines. “C’mon, soldier. Simmer down so we can get you out.”

“If it was that easy,” Tav huffed in frustration, throwing her hands up. “I damn well wouldn’t be here.”

“Perhaps if you knew how to control yourself,” Astarion offered unhelpfully. “We wouldn’t be picking you from the bushes.”

“You are not helping, Astarion!” 

“You have to remember that the power is within you,” Gale reminded her, smiling that know-it-all smile of his that Tav really didn’t want to see at the moment, even though she knew he meant well. “Your powers come from ancient forces of chaos. They churn within you —waiting to burst free at any time. You just need to take a deep breath and —,”

“I do not need a lesson in magic right now!” She snapped at him, only worsening the vines that wrapped around her. She held her breath for a moment, looking at the wizard. “Gale, I do not need to be reminded of what my magic does. I am painfully aware. You can teach me later.”

Then she heaved another sigh, looking to Karlach now as the tiefling broke through the original set of vines. Tav was able to shake loose the newest round, stepping clumsily out of the disaster. 

Clumsily being the key word, as the moment she thought she was free, another root wrapped around her ankle. She yelped as she fell face first, but Gale was there in a beat, catching her before she hit the ground. The vine disappeared, leaving her clutching onto the front of Gale’s robes with his hands on her waist. 

“Careful there, Tav,” he chuckled, helping her stand up right again. His hands sat just below her waist, firmly grounding her. “Can’t have you losing your balance now of all times.”

His hands lingered a bit longer than they needed on her waist —long enough that when she did pull herself away, she saw the annoyance on Asterion's face. She wanted to scold the vampire —he couldn’t be jealous or annoyed that someone else was willing to touch her if he didn’t do it himself. Or when he was being an absolute menace towards her instead of helping. But instead she stood up straight and ignored him and Gale entirely, pushing forward to the monastery. 

“We should probably make camp,” Gale suggested as she and Karlach pressed on. “We need to rest if we’re going to get into the crèche without issue.”

“I hate it when he’s right,” Karlach snickered, elbowing Tav. 

The sorceress gasped some at the singeing of her robes, looking up at her companion for a moment. Karlach looked sorrowful, apologizing frantically. But Tav broke out into an easy smile. 

“Now I know how Astarion felt when I lit him on fire,” she laughed, looking at the burn hole in her side. “Hells, I guess we do need to set up —I can’t fight with this.”

“You certainly cannot compare your light burn to actually lighting me on fire,” Astarion sneered as he appeared at her side, eyeing the hole in her robes. 

“Well, I can. And I did.”

*****

“I’m not fixing that for you,” Astarion stated as he entered the tent that evening. 

Tav sat in her night clothes —something loose fitting and breezy, but easy to fight in if needed —with a needle and thread in her hand. She squinted with her good eye —the other having been stupidly (but voluntarily) replaced by the one Volo had when he tried to remove the parasite and thus felt too foreign to use still. 

“Why would you?”  She asked, threading the needle carefully. Her tone was curious, though her eyes were fixed on her task at hand. “Can you even sew?”

“Of course I can sew,” he sneered as he dropped down beside her, yanking the tool from her hand. “Unlike you.”

“Astarion, I don’t —,”

“Oh, be quiet.”

Tav grudgingly complied with his request, her irritation evident as she watched him work. However, as she observed Astarion's nimble fingers expertly maneuvering the needle, her annoyance gradually gave way to curiosity. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and leaning in closer, intrigued by his unexpected skill. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself impressed by the effortless way he patched up the hole in her robes. There was a certain finesse to his movements, a hint of a life she couldn't quite grasp. It was as if he had once been accustomed to having others cater to his every need, yet now he was here, performing a task with a dexterity that surprised her.

“Where did you learn to sew?” She asked, watching curiously as his hands moved carefully but quickly around her clothes. 

“When you’re a slave for two hundred years, you learn a thing or two.”

She blanched, words caught in her throat at his comment. Of course he had to know how to take care of himself and his things; she hadn’t even considered that in her little judgmental tirade.

“Hells, I’m sorry —I shouldn’t have —I’m an idiot.” 

“You don’t need to apologize for something you weren’t even alive for,” he amended, though his eyes were fixed on her garments and he refused to look at her. “There’s plenty else for you to apologize for.”

Tav's brows furrowed as she mulled over Astarion's cryptic remark. Before she could press for clarification, he spoke again, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Though I must admit, it's quite the spectacle witnessing you and Gale, so cozy and chummy. Almost makes one wonder if there's more to your partnership than meets the eye. Or perhaps you're just practicing your innocent act for when you're not knee-deep in trouble," he quipped, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he finally glanced up to meet her gaze.

“Sweet hells,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. Tav's irritation flared at Astarion's insinuation, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze head-on. "You know very well, Astarion, there's nothing between Gale and me," she retorted, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I've made it abundantly clear who I want in this camp, and it's not some imaginary love affair with Gale."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering why Astarion insisted on needling her about nonexistent romances when the truth of her feelings was plain for anyone with eyes to see. Yet, despite her frustration, she couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his posture, the way his gaze flickered away before returning to hers with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability.

“I told you the other night –it’s you,” she reminded him, taking the needle and clothes from his hands, forcing him to focus on her and her alone. “Whatever you want, whatever you decide —I promised you that –but you haven’t decided anything. You feed on me every night, we share your tent, you’re fixing my damn clothes –but you cannot be jealous of Gale putting his hands on me when you won’t.”

Something dangerous flashed in Astarion’s eyes at her scolding, and suddenly she was being shoved to the floor of the tent. She was pinned beneath Astarion, whose thighs caged her legs in while his arms trapped her from above. His face was close to hers, close enough that their noses barely brushed against one another. 

All the blood rushed straight between her thighs, heart racing against her rib cage as if trying to escape. For the first time since she met Astarion, she was seeing the spawn he was. 

And it was all too alluring. 

“Do you know why I haven’t touched you, Tav?” He asked, leaning in closer now. Baiting her, goading her into making the first move. But she shook her head, pressing herself further into the ground. “Because if I do, I will not stop.”

Clenching her thighs together, Tav couldn’t help the sound that escaped her lips –an almost lewd hum of desperation. Asterion's eyes were locked on hers, keeping her gaze from straying from the rubies that made up his irises. 

“What if,” she managed to breathe out, tentatively reaching up to touch his cheek. The danger that Astarion presented melted just barely at her touch, softened the edges of his eyes, as she finished, “I don’t want you to stop?”

It was a heartbeat later, if even, that his mouth was on hers, tongue parting her lips to taste her. Tav moaned into his mouth, her hands reaching up to pull at his silver hair and tug him even closer. She tried to part her legs, to wrap them around him, but he still caged her in and he wouldn’t budge as he pulled away from her mouth to trail his lips over her jaw. Across her cheek, under her ear, then down her throat —right over the only spot he had touched her in weeks: the bruised bite marks on her throat. 

Asterion's teeth grazed the spot, though he did not break the skin as she writhed under him. Her hands still had purchase in his hair as his tongue trailed down the column of her throat. 

“Astarion, please,” she sighed dreamily.

“Please, what, darling?” He asked, voice muffled slightly by the skin of her throat. “Use your words for me.”

“Just —touch me, please. Anywhere —everywhere —Gods, please.”

Finally, one of his hands pulled her leg out from between his thighs, spreading her so he could fit there instead. Without hesitation, she hiked her leg over his hip, pulling him closer to get whatever friction against her core that she could. The feeling of him pressed against her forced a hiss from her throat again. 

The hand that had pulled away was trailing up her leg now, over her knee and up her thigh. So close to where she wanted —where she needed him to touch. But instead, he continued upwards until his nails tugged at the laces of her pants and loosened them. She didn’t question the movement, instead lifting her hips and untangling herself briefly from him to shimmy her pants down and off.

“Eager little pup, aren’t we?” He teased as she finally let go of his hair to reach for his pants next. Astarion stopped her however, swatting her hand away. “Unfortunately, I want you bare before me first.” 

She huffed in frustration, but it was replaced by another sigh as he slipped his hand under her shirt, cold fingers brushing over her heated skin until he was pinching her taut nipple. Gods, she was thankful for the fact that she stopped wearing her undergarments to bed (entirely in case of a moment like this, if she was perfectly honest). 

But if he wanted her bare, then he would get just that —anything to get him to touch her more. And so she reached back down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, throwing it to the side. 

“Wait,” she breathed out, fingers stilling along the waistline of his pants. 

Astarion pulled back slightly, eyes darting between her hands and her face, frowning deeply. One of her hands reached up, resting against the pale skin of his chest. 

“I just —I need to know that you actually want this, Astarion,” she admitted, dropping her hand from his waistline, as if to show him she wasn’t moving forward without him. “I know that’s ridiculous and I’m already naked and you’re literally on top of me but —,”

She let out a surprised yelp when he kissed her again —but it was softer than before; careful. He didn’t deepen it, though, and instead pulled away just enough to look down at her once more. 

“How is it you care so much about what I want when you’re getting exactly what you want?” He whispered, nudging her nose with his.

“I told you, I want —,”

“Yes, yes —you want what I want —but do you know how annoyingly sweet you are? How you just…you ruined my plans and now you’re stopping me from giving you what you want because you care so damn much about what I want —,”

“Wait, what? What plans?” She interrupted, pushing herself away from him some, grabbing her shirt to try to cover herself up as she stared at him. 

Astarion sat back on his knees, pursing his lips some as he realized that he had given away more than he meant to. 

“I just —,” he hesitated a moment, looking down at his hands for a moment before shaking his head. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan  —seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was easy —instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you.”

“Astarion, what are —,”

“Shush,” he scolded, narrowing his eyes down at her as she sat up. “This is…this is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. Tav…you’re incredible. And you deserve something real.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Tav clutching her shirt to her chest as she processed Asterion's confession. What it sounded like he was saying was that whatever this was —whatever was happening between them —wasn’t real. And that realization squeezed her heart tight in her chest as she started to put her clothes back on. 

The tent was suddenly too small; too cramped. She was overwhelmed and naive, just like he had thought weeks ago when they met. And she needed to get away from him as she tried to stand and hurry out. 

“I’m sorry, Astarion. I should have —I didn’t —,”

But he grabbed her wrist, quick to stand and pulled her back to him. 

“Tav, stop,” he demanded, though he didn’t sound all that convincing. “You deserve something real —I want us to be something real.”

Asterion's fingers flexed against her wrist, before he finally pulled her back into his embrace. Tentatively —almost timidly —he wrapped his arms around her waist and back, looking down at her with soft, crimson eyes. 

“I…I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what comes next, or what to do. And the idea of…intimacy or sex, I don’t…I don’t know how to separate the good and the bad. But I know that…I want you. All of you.”

Tav's touch mirrored his, reaching up to run the back of her hand against his cheek. He melted into her touch, leaning into it as he closed his eyes. He was so vulnerable in this moment; the walls he had spent so long hiding behind were breaking down and Tav’s heart ached at the thought that he was scared of her —of her rejection, of her feelings. 

“I want you too, Astarion,” she promised, pressing her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and guiding him closer. Her nose brushed against his as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t need to sleep with you to know I care about you. Whatever you need —however long you need —I can wait for you.”

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to catch a lie. While it hurt, not knowing if he truly believed her, she understood the fear. After everything he’d been through, there was more reason to assume the worst than not. 

“You are more than what your body can do,” she promised him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“I…,” he paused, swallowing down whatever he was going to say, before pulling away. “I’m afraid I may have ruined the mood, darling.”

She waved off his concern, laughing at the idea. “The only mood I’m in is for a cuddle. How does that sound?”

Astarion smiled —a real, soft smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes —and he nodded. “A cuddle…sounds nice, actually.”

Tav grinned up at him before pulling away from his embrace –not enough to stop touching him; her fingers trailed down his arm until they latched onto his fingers –so she could take over his spot on the pillows he’d piled up. Although hesitant, Astarion slowly joined her in the mess of pillows, about to lay back when she pulled him into her arms. He seemed surprised by the notion that she would be holding him and not the other way around, but he didn’t argue as she wound one arm around him and held him close to her chest. The other found his hair, running her nails over his scalp and she swore he purred at the touch. She’d keep that in mind.

Melting into her embrace, Asterion's arms wrapped around her middle, holding her tight against him as if she would disappear. What she would give to be able to read his thoughts in this moment; to know if he felt safe like this; if he felt loved like this. Because that's what she wanted –to give him that safety, that love that he so desperately wanted; that he deserved.

Perhaps he heard her thoughts himself, because as she drifted off into a restful sleep, she heard him murmur into her skin,

“Thank you.”

[muraae]

i’m sorry (but also really not) but this the vaultghoul poto au has me in a chokehold- and i don’t know if i’ll ever write or if someone else wants the challenge, but here are my thoughts on what the au could be.

a vaultghoul phantom of the opera au where cooper is the phantom and lucy is christine.

would have elements from both the book, musical, and the show.

cooper obviously looks like how he is in the show for his disfigurement, and wears a black half mask to cover the upper half of his- also kudos for this because coop does look exactly like erik (the phantom) in the book.

debating if cooper will be born deformed or someone or something causes him to be disfigured.

i personally like the latter more just to play with the idea of cooper once being a famous star within the opera house who befell a terrible incident that ruined his life and is now embittered and angry, wishing to exact vengeance against those that ruined his life.

only a slightish change, but ‘the ghoul’ is added along with ‘the phantom’ and ‘the opera ghost’ as his other aliases.

lucy is a ballet dancer in the opera, the daughter of the famous soprano, rose maclean. i’m not certain where hank would be for this au, but he’s not exactly in the family picture, but i would want him to cause some kind of conflict in the future.

slow down there abbie, we don’t have time to write a full story- let’s just stick to the basics.

lucy and norm come to live and work at the opera house under the care of moldaver (madame giry) after the death of their mother- lucy in the ballet corps. and norm with the stagehands.

lucy had always been a talented singer until she hears a voice in the halls, vents, and the grand stage she visits late at night, and starts starts teaching her that the managers begin to take notice.

cooper takes notice of lucy whenever she walls the grand stage late at night singing to herself. he becomes intrigued by her.

so cooper watches lucy from afar and doesn’t make himself known to her as the ‘voice’ until he finds her crying in the opera chapel, grieving for her mother after a long, trying day.

mother said, "When i'm in heaven, child, i will send the angel of music to you."

cooper commends her voice, but tells lucy it needs training. he offers her voice lessons, promising to help lucy become the greatest singer the world has seen- does it come at a cost later on for his own purposes- that it is for all to decide if lucy is a means to an end but ends up wrecking his plans by becoming more.

fuck i’m getting sidetracked again-

over the years the two develop a bond that extends the bounds of teacher and student, cooper’s infatuation with lucy becoming deeper.

steph is lucy’s roommate and friend- sharing the role of meg with norm- and she and norm are the only two who can put up with lucy’s disappearances and odd hours, though are concerned by the strange behavior.

cooper continues to reign the opera house as his domain, demanding the managers to follow his instructions on how the opera should run, and causes ‘accidents’ if anything doesn’t go his way.

on the night of the gala, lucy finds herself replacing the prima donna when the former falls ill. she is an overnight sensation and ensnares the hearts of half the city, and much to cooper’s jealous chagrin, catches the eye of the opera’s newest patron.

i’m tempted to make maximus raoul, however, monty would fit a little better- so we’re going with monty because i want this vicomte and his intentions towards the new starlet to be sinister. because fuck monty.

lucy is at first flattered by monty’s attention, but becomes soon after uncomfortable by his advances.

and though she is charmed by the young detective (maximus) that was hired by the managers to prove there is no opera ghost, she is still drawn to the mysterious voice.

on the night of her triumph, cooper reveals himself and takes lucy into the vast underground tunnels of the opera house. it is here where lucy becomes enamored by the man who has given her so much, but is confused why he wears the mask. Surely a face would match a voice as beautiful and deep as his.

it only takes removing a mask to change the course of a relationship and for the two of them to cross the point of no return.

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (PART EIGHT)

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 5.5 - 6 - 7 - 8

notes: i feel that this chapter is very underwhelming bc i wrote it at work 🫡 so sorry

y/ndevils00

liked by siegenthaler34, nicohischier, and 32,542 others

y/ndevils00 hi people! thank you for tuning into tonight’s (brief) postgame recap! this is a very sad night for my favorite boys, as we lost 6-1 to the winnipeg jets.

we had a meager three penalties tonight!

starting off with erik, who has banned me from making any more name puns (boring!). erik got a penalty for tripping, bringing him up to an astounding 47 penalty minutes this season!

next, i’d like to bring your attention to jack’s picture. nothing special, i just like it.

and then, of course, we have my boyfriend again; chewing on his glove like a rabid little chihuahua <3

the next penalty was from siegs at the very end of the 1st period for high sticking! i had dawson do my dirty work for me and give him a very stern talking to during intermission!

next up, we have hershey bar looking very displeased, and i can’t say i blame him!

we got a little over halfway through 3rd period before we got the final penalty from the newest swiss, timo for holding! he took a lesson from my very rude boyfriend and hid behind the stanchion. i very much did not like that.

however, our lone goal came with SECONDS left in the game, scored by the captain himself! who still looked very disappointed to say the least.

and lastly, bff number 1 says i should apologize to bff number 2 for dissing him last night 😒 so we have a picture of marinara and i’m supposed to tell him that i’m proud of him (i’m not sure what for though? he didn’t do anything 🤷‍♀️)

tagged ehaula, jackhughes, siegenthaler34, nicohischier, tmeier96 and john.marino97

ehaula i know i asked you to stop but now it feels weird without the name puns

y/ndevils00 so….

ehaula so you can do the puns

y/ndevils00 OH THANK GOD! do you realize how hard it was to withhold from them?! it was torture!

ehaula it’s been one post

user18 i’ve become so used to the “haula” puns that i forgot who erik was for a second

siegenthaler34 i made my y/n post debut!

y/ndevils00 it could’ve been for a better reason…

nicohischier you weren’t even there but you still got 2 horrible photos of me

y/ndevils00 i have spies everywhere

nicohischier what does that even mean?

y/ndevils00 guess you’ll never know

jackhughes why?

y/ndevils00 why what? why do i praise you when you don’t appreciate it? i don’t know, you would think i would’ve learned by now

jackhughes no. why the 2nd picture? why do you like it? why call me a chihuahua?

y/ndevils00 i like it. your eyes are so pretty and blue. because you’re small and scrappy and chew on everything.

jackhughes i’m 5’11

y/ndevils00 sure you are honey

dougieham if you went just based off y/n’s posts and comments, i don’t think anyone would ever guess that her and marino are genuinely best friends

y/ndevils00 it’s called tough love <3

john.marino97 she’s evil

trevorzegras i’m forever grateful that i’m a duck so i’ll never be subjected to the torture you put these guys through

y/ndevils00 there’s always next trade szn 😈

trevorzegras the ducks would never trade me

y/ndevils00 i have friends in high places… watch your back zegras

tmeier96 hughesy told me to sit there before i went into the box. he didn’t tell me why but i guess now i know

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes do you not love me? do you not want to see me happy? this is why luke is my favorite

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 luke is your WHAT?

lhughes_06 @/y/ndevils00 i feel so special! thank you y/n/n!

john.marino97 i have multiple questions. starting with: why is DAWSON bff number 1? and i didn’t get a penalty so you could be proud of me for that???

y/ndevils00 i like him better. and that’s very true, however you didn’t get a goal or an assist either so….

dawson1417 translation: y/n holds you to a higher standard because she knows how well you play. she knows you can do better but she’s proud of you regardless.

john.marino97 @/dawson1417 well why doesn’t she say it like that? that’s kinda sweet!

y/ndevils00 emotions are for the weak

john.marino97 @/jackhughes i think your girlfriend is broken

jackhughes she just likes to seem tough on the internet. watch this 👀

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 i love you so much sweet girl ❤️ i can’t wait to get home

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes i love you too, now come home!

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 aww you miss me?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes sure, but also you lost your game which means you lost the bet and you have to give LSH her bath <3