#which is even more of a sign it needs cut off

[kiddotarot]

Why you are your future spouse made for each other

Explanation = We only brings our personality ( Ascendant) and 7H according to our past life karma and this is why you and your partner made for each other to balanced the complete you . Check your Ascendant and sign sitting to your 7h . Thank you jay for jay ( astroid) regarding too much help and teaching and learning from his vedios .

Aries = Libra

Aries = person are more related to themselves. " me" is a perfect word to describe them cause this associate with ego , level of growing, what can you do to yourself. If you ask this person to do charities and donations they may be not intrested in this but if you ask them to help in surgeries and body related help they surely going to help for example = Salman khan do a lot of donations for operation and also donate is born marrow for a child. So this thay have opposite sign libra in there chart because you alway think about yourself and focus on only you with your future spouse you going to learn how to work in a partnership and work for others and manage things and resources in a relationship you can fi d ot difficult but it is the basic rule which god decided to teach you .

Libra = you are a person who always focused on relationship and how to satisfy everyone need . You can always find yourself stuck in a web of relationship from your family and friends and society because you think you need to make good relations with everyone . And with libra ascendant you have gain house leo (11H) so you want popularity from there but you need to understand that you are slowly loosing yourself in this that's why you have Aries as a partner which can show you how and what you can do to yourself always doing for others not always give you acceptance. They can show you to take desion for yourself too first look at yourself then others.

Taurus = scorpio

Taurus = you are more focused on external things family, society and recourse and outher validation . You always work for them or always think about them and of by chance your ascendant in afflicted then sure you going yo have problem from speaking for yourself your own people can insult you but you are not able to answer back. You always pit more focus on those things like you want your name mention in a donations if you do charity . That's why you have scorpio in you 7h because sure you future spouse going to teach you to go silent and why you need to be alone and cut out from others. Because god want you to learn internal expension. And these people spouse stand up for them and speak no matter if your family stand against you . If they have strong moon and venus as scorpio ascendant they going to be a obsessive lover. I am sure your sleep cycle is disturbed now for sure but after marriage it going to be improve.

Scorpio = you are a reserved person and sure rigid also . You have a bigger world in your innerself than outer world . Very private person you always cut off from society and peoples it make you feel you are enough alone but that's not it we are humans the social animals we need to do coperative with each other so your 7H Taurus person going to show you how to put efforts in a family after marriage because familys runs from both side and efforts they will sure bring you out of your zone and make you a coperative person . Because your partner know how to deal with enemies and diseases and coperative situation these three things going to add in your life for sure.

Gemini = sagittarius

Gemini = you are immature by subconscious mind like a kid so this is a little baby Mercury house which is not mature enough do your nature is like that . You either take desion very fast or always stay confused in your life even in your career. And your 2H rule by moon regarless its position in chart you always dpeak by your emotions and you less you mind in speaking caure you are pure heart like a child can be emotional speaker. Always take random action. Thats why you have sagittarius in your 7H according to me it is best placement cause your future spouse is really mature and knowledgeable going to tach you a lot of thing and act like a guide throughout the life they are the best person to take advice in life. Your luck can be rise after marriage cause they are supportive towards your desion are correct them . If you have bad 7h still check your partner jupiter it can still give good effect in some cases.

Sagittarius = you are always lucky and ethical and most of the time right in tyiur life but its make you a person who never be so experimental and may be find it difficult to accept chsnges. Its a jupiter ruled sign and no other planets is exalted here so we can say you never listen to others. You can have habit of procrastination in trying new things and experience. That's why you have Gemini in your 7h your partner is going to shake your world . They going to teach you how to be more changable and accept it. They going to teach you who be easy going on life and chill and be curious sure you going to have a hard time for that but they will be bright and open up your world.

Cancer = capricorn

Cancer = you are very emotional person and carying people often take advantage of it. And you may be get ashamed up for showing your emotions and you learn how to keep thing to you only not share them. That's why your house have capricorn 7h your spouse belives in more taking action and karma. They really don't have any filter when it comes to speak of fight for what's right in there eyes. And if Saturn placed goid your spouse can take stand for you always no matter what throughout your life.

Capricorn = you are always rigid and can have not do good experience in your life. Which can make or developed your mind set in a way thst you believe thst if i want something i need to do work hard and neglected your own emotions. You never forgive a person and aldo not forget what they do you believe in punishment that's why you have cancer in your 7H your person going to show you do not be hard on yourself and others . And you can believe in uour emotional side and not to shut it . They make you believe that innocence and purity still exists. You can work for others without selfishness.

Leo = Aquarius

Leo = you are wtical and may be main attraction in your own group . You carries a king qualities and believe in doing justice but on the negative side it can give you too much overconfidence and rudeness you are not ready to surrender in front of someone thsts why you have 7H Aquarius your future spouse going to make you humble and grounded cause Aquarius is mixture of rahu + saturan so its make a eclipse situation to a leo person but don't worry you are blessed by god only ehy this person can control you by his duality and expension. You sometimes you can't understand or can't handle there duality because they are always two step ahead from you.

Aquarius = you are a person who is deciplined but also have a great social contact you are like mass personality which is just expanding. And if your saturan placed bad i am sure you are not ethical. You can have a low immunity system and that's why you always fall sick fast and have some mysterious decease. That's why you have 7H leo your person going to show you how to be more ethical and justice. Because god give solution not punishment so your spouse is solution they ga e great immunity or they can creat a environment that can help you to stay healthy. Like tsking care of you routine and food a lot of good stuuf included a great person.

Virgo = pisces

Virgo = you are always more technical in your life because you always deal with enemies and problems so your mindset is developed yo use a strategy often and may be you get succeed most of the time and jave a thought that i am god or i am enough that's why you have pisces in 7H because your partner is a perso who never think. They will teach you how to get free from your active defence system and urge to controll everything they hsve a very flowing energy which make you to leave yourself in life flow. And everything is not logical something are out of our mind and in god hands.

Pisces = you are a person who believe in spirituality and often judt dream about things . You mostly not use your mind and think its all god wish but god is busy so thats why you have virgo in 7H your partner going to teach you a lot about how to work logical mostly in matters of enemies and life. They going to teach you its ok to make plans and give your hundred percent because as a human atleast we can do what's in our hands.

©️ kiddotarot

[jogetsobsessed]

One Night - Paul Lahote x reader

She's backkkkk! I know this isn't what you want, however, this survived the great laptop crash of 2024 (unlike the half-finished prophecy pt2 doc). This however is cutie in my opinion and I would be open to writing a part 2 (if anyone wants it). Also, I'm almost to 200 followers which is so crazy? Thank you for all the love!

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

“No, no, no, no”, you wailed as you looked at your hands. They were shaking as you clutched the plastic, the plus sign clear as day. Your body slumped down the wall of the bathroom, your body curling into itself as you hit the ground. 

What are you going to do? 

You were young, too young in your life to start thinking about starting a family. It's not even like you were seeing anyone. This whole situation came about after you had a bad day and just wanted to forget. To forget life and all your problems. 

You let yourself have fun, with someone you only kind of knew.  At the time that had seemed like the best plan. You knew of him and had met a few times through your friend Emily. It was better than prowling on some meaningless app that you would just delete the next morning. He was nice to look at, extremely cocky, kind of an asshole to everyone else, but always kind to you. 

The few times you had met Paul Lahote before your night of fun he had never gone out of his way to talk to you but that was okay with you. All the other boys that hung around Emily’s house could be way too much. Just dropping her off after work would lead to you being pulled into a two-hour conversation because none of them knew when to shut up. Paul however would always hover on the porch or somewhere else in your eyeline. He never came up to join the conversation but never left his spot of isolation either. 

So after a bad day at the clinic, Emily invited you back to her place for a drink and you accepted. Emily was your friend, one of the only actual friends you had made since moving to the Forks area six months prior. But you haven't spent much time together outside of work, except for riding to and from the clinic. 

But this shift had been so rough on both of you that you needed to vent to each other and get something in your system to make you forget a little. Cut to hours later neither of you notice her fiance and his friends walking in the house to you and Emily losing it on the couch, clutching your sides from how hard you were laughing. 

It wasn't even the alcohol necessarily, the two of you had split a bottle of wine but that wasn't enough to get you messed up to the point of uncontrollable laughter. No, it was finally being able to relax in good company, let loose and enjoy yourself. 

The boys had just snickered at the two of you, Emily’s fiance ushering them back into the kitchen to give the two of you some space. However, at some point, hunger struck and the kitchen was calling your name. 

Emily had declared nachos as the snack of choice and you couldn't agree more. She had charged through the sea of testosterone while you decided to timidly hug the doorframe, not knowing where to place yourself down. The kitchen was full of Sam’s friends and there wasn't a place to sit. You were thinking of slipping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Emily assembled plates of goodness.

That was until a particular tanned-skin boy stood up and very subtly gestured towards the chair. A sudden confidence had taken over you, and you certainly can blame that on the wine. Crossing the room in just a few paces you lower yourself onto the previously occupied seat and join the rowdy group at the table. 

Looking up you gave him a silent look of thanks as he stood, leaning his back against the countertop. He reciprocated a small smirk before returning his attention to the intense game of spoons that the other boys were trying to rope you into. 

After that, the night was a blur. You had played a few rounds of the card game, Emily eventually joining with heaping plates of nachos, placing herself in her fiance's lap. Paul had disappeared momentarily, reappearing with an old wooden stool, sitting directly to your left. 

You tried to focus on everything happening, but it was no use. All you could think about was that simple gesture of kindness. The act of chivalry that no doubt was gonna earn him some teasing from his buddies, which is what made it and him so much more attractive. 

Thoughts of the beautiful man plagued your mind the whole night and when he offered to drive you back home at the end of the night you accepted. He blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't feel right if he let you drive home after drinking, even if it was just a few glasses of wine and that had been hours ago. 

Even though you felt completely sober at this point as it had been hours and you had eaten your fair share of nachos you obliged, how could you pass up the opportunity for one of the most attractive men you had laid eyes on in a long time to drive you home? 

Attractive and chivalrous, two things he had going for him. 

The ride home was nice, the windows rolled down, and your hair flowed in the breeze. He drove smoothly and slowly, taking the winding corners with ease. A song that occupied the radio 24/7 played, and you were in such a state of comfort that you allowed yourself to sing along softly. 

It was weird, you barely knew this man, yet you felt so comfortable around him. Being in his presence was easy. 

Once your headlights illuminated the front of your modest home you felt your heart sink. This was it, your night of bliss was going to end. He threw the truck in park, turning to face where you sat. He opened his mouth, to say what you have no idea because you cut him off before he got the chance to speak. 

“Do you wanna come in?”. 

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

That night had been six weeks ago. And since then you hadn't seen or heard from him once. Not that you had reached out much. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward and complicated with a friend of a friend. 

Only now things were gonna have to be awkward and complicated, it was sorta unavoidable. 

Time paused as you sat there on the bathroom floor. Staring at the pinked-capped stick. Part of you wished you hadn't taken the test, even if that would have just avoided the inevitable for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks. 

Your head was reeling as you attempted to comprehend the news. On one hand, you had always wanted to be a mom and had dreamed of it. However part of the dream was a perfect house, a perfect job, and a perfect husband. Someone that loved you and supported you. Having a baby daddy that you hardly knew wasn't exactly in the picture. 

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

At some point your body went on autopilot, you picked yourself off the ground and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. You didn't know what you were getting ready to do, you had already called out after you had woken up before the sun to empty your stomach of last night's dinner. 

The brain fog seemed to slightly lift once you were closing your car door, clutching the steering wheel as your life preserver. The pregnancy test in your pocket feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds. 

You felt insane. 

Who were you to go to this man who you barely knew and just throw this information at him, even if he deserved to know? Because this was his burden too. This wasn't an instance of immaculate conception, it took both of you to get into this situation. 

Recalling an earlier conversation with Emily where you had not so subtly asked what Paul did for work you remembered her mentioning the name of the garage. 

Since today simply could not get more insane you decided to embrace the insanity and started the drive towards the reservation. 

You practiced what you were gonna say over and over, but nothing sounded right. 

“Hey, remember me? I'm the girl you slept with once and ghosted, well I'm pregnant”. 

“Paul, remember me? Y/N, yeah so you kinda got me pregnant”. 

“Hey so remember when I told you that you didn't need a condom, well I say dumb things I don't mean when I’m around pretty people”. 

You were so screwed. 

----------

The parking lot was practically empty because of course, it was. Of course, there wouldn't be enough cars for you to blend in and hide for a little bit to gather your confidence. No besides your car there were only three others, and since you knew that Paul's truck was one of them there was a decent chance that the other two were also employees. The large bay doors of the shop were opening, one of the bays occupied with an old Volvo on the lift. 

Crossing the parking lot, the man of the hour caught your attention. Paul was alone in the garage. Grease and oil covered his hands and forearms as his attention was focused on the car above him. Patting your jacket pocket you made sure your proof was still there. You had only made it about halfway once he spotted you. He did a double take, a minor look of confusion showing. I mean why wouldn't he be confused, you weren't friends and here you were just randomly showing up at his place of business. 

Deciding to pull whatever last shred of confidence you had buried deep down you didn't turn chicken and run back to your car. No, you carried on walking, right up to the edge of his behemoth of a toolbox, slightly leaning on it to gain some support. The nerves make your whole body feel unstable. 

The wrench was abandoned, clattering inside said toolbox and he found a discarded towel that was so dirty it looked like it was only gonna make his hands worse. You couldn't help but study the way his body moved, how he looked in his work clothes, and how his muscles were contracting as he attempted to clean off the grime. Jesus Christ you need to get a hold of yourself, you thought. 

What you didn't notice was he was doing the same to you, looking you up and down searching for a reason as to why you were here. It wasn't until a breeze blew through the garage, that he realized he didn't only smell the dense forest and the various scents of the garage. It carried a faint smell of vanilla and lavender. But it wasn't just that, it was mixed with pine and rosemary. He bristled at the realization, the unique combination meant one thing and one thing only. It had been weeks since he last saw you there’s no way his scent would hang out on you that long unless…

Suddenly nothing else mattered except what you had to say. He wanted to help, to try and make the situation better. So he started to speak, to try and break this ice. But just like you had done weeks prior you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m pregnant”. 

The visible look of relief caused him to calm down, the last thing he wanted in this situation was for you to be stressed out. And the thought of you being so scared to talk to him broke his heart a little bit if he was being honest. 

“Is it mine?”. 

Paul could have ended it all in that moment. Why was he like this? 

He knew it was his, he had definitive proof, and he chose to play the idiot and make the woman who was carrying his child feel worse than she already did. 

“What the hell are you suggesting Paul? Yes it's yours, I wouldn't be telling you if it wasn't”. You crossed your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. The confidence meter has fully run out. 

“Yeah no yeah. That um makes sense, I’m sorry. That was a real jackass thing to say. Of course you wouldn't tell me if it wasn't mine”. Paul rubbed the back of his neck as he rambled, avoiding eye contact with you. The magic inside of him was screaming at him, his instincts to protect almost taking over what little composure he held. 

He hadn't planned on telling you about the bond you shared. At least not for a while. 

You were still kinda new to town, and it wasn't fair to derail your life because you had decided to be a kind person and drop Emily off just a few weeks after you had moved. The bond had set in that day, as he was leaving Emily’s house and heading out to his truck. His eyes had darted up upon hearing Em’s voice and what he hadn't expected was to almost fall flat on his face. 

Because for a split second, the two of you made eye contact, it was fleeting and you had returned your eyes to your friend immediately. It had meant nothing to you and everything to him. 

Since that day he vowed to protect you but also to not act selfish and to allow you to make your own decisions.  Which is why he couldn't help but feel horrible. He had ruined your life. 

Paul thinks back to that night, running his mind over every minute, had you been drunk? He had only used that as an excuse to drive you home. But if you had been too intoxicated to make coherent decisions he would never forgive himself. 

“Yeah that was a real jackass thing to say”, you sniffled proud of yourself for not bursting out into heavy sobs. Because in all honesty while it felt like a physical blow hearing him question your morals he was handling the situation better than you would have if you were in his position. It was a fair question, you had only slept together once. 

The next few minutes seemed to pass slowly. After standing there basking in the awkward silence he told you to wait a second and walked into the attached office. You did as he said, too nervous to take the opportunity and leave. He returned a few moments later with much cleaner hands and a small smile graced his face. God, how you were growing to love that smile. 

“Boss told me to head out for the day, don't worry I only told him that I need to take a certain pretty girl out to lunch”, he sent you a wink as he slammed the lid on the toolbox down. Your cheeks grew warm at the compliment, even with how pg it was. I mean this man got you pregnant but him calling you pretty had your chest hammering. 

His hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked, ushering you out of the garage so he could lower the bay door. Once it was down he turned to face you with a smirk replacing the kind smile from earlier. 

“Come on doll, looks like I gotta feed my baby mama”. He howled with laughter as the small tinge of red on your cheeks turned into your whole face going crimson. “Oh this is gonna be fun”, he said through his laughs. 

His warmth on your skin brought you back to that state of peace that you remembered so fondly. You let him lead you towards his truck, thanking him as he shut your door. 

As Paul jogged to the driver's side a smile fought against the smirk. This wasn't how he pictured everything going but he wasn't mad. It wasn't like he got some random girl pregnant, no he got you pregnant. And while you may believe that you were just a random girl to him that was not how he felt. But he wasn't going to tell you that, at least not right now. The last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more than you already were. 

So he was going to wait. 

He could learn to be content with you being in his life as a girlfriend, or even just the mother of his child. And when the time was right he would tell you.

But for now, he could wait.

[l-in-the-light]

Why is Law more stressed, more serious and often grumpy and annoyed in Wano? Thought he would be relieved after Luffy defeated Deflamingo 🤔he couldn't even relax at the banquet 😑

Broody Law is actually my favourite Law, which means I enjoyed him so much in Wano ❤ But why is he delivering behaving like that, indeed? Let's summarize the Wano experience from his side, shall we?

his alliance with Strawhats gets sidetracked because Luffy went to Big Mom to retrieve Sanji. He barely avoided a conflict (not really)

he's stuck at Wano, worrying his ass off for Luffy, hoping he's not left with half of Strawhats crew to take care for forever now

everyone is dying of hunger and getting sick in Wano, because they can't stop drinking water from the polluted river

Luffy finally arrives, Bepo gets sick, Luffy in the meantime does The Worst Thing Possible and Law's efforts to patch up the situation do not work out

Luffy snaps and runs off to fight Kaido

Kaido bombs away Strawhats and Hearts crews while Luffy and Law are already near town and can't do shit about it

he fails to stop Luffy from fighting Kaido

he fails to stop Kaido from putting Luffy in prison

freaking Hawkins getting in his way

crews turn out to be fine, but freaking Kinemon soon leaves to find remaining Akazaya samurais. Now the whole raid plan and making sure it's not exposed is Law's job. On top of that, he needs to take care not only of his Heart Pirates, but also Strawhats, because their captain is in jail. Two crews, a raid plan and the weight of 20 years of revenge is all hanging on Law's neck.

freaking Germa (he's a Sora follower, ok)

he almost throws it all away when Hearts get put in prison

he's got accussed that his crew is crap and he should just kill them off, all that coming from his very own allies he's been taking care of for last couple of weeks!

freaking Hawkins again

getting tortured (just another monday morning amirite)

finding traitor and making sure the raid doesn't fail in the process. Is Luffy finally out of that prison, what is he doing there? Or maybe, that's for the best, he can't make the situation even worse...

Luffy arrives late to the raid and late to the rooftop battle

Luffy brought freaking Eustass Kid to the raid

Luffy is ordering him around in front of freaking Eustass Kid

Luffy tells him to get along with freaking Eustass Kid

Zoro-ya almost died on his watch

Kurashi-ya (literally) caught him in a middle of an embarrassing blunder

Eustass Kid is behaving like a newborn baby and Law has to babysit him

LUFFY BROUGHT FREAKING BIG MOM TOGETHER WITH HIM

now it's Law's job to fight Big Mom. He didn't sign up for this!

Luffy nearly drowned in the sea while fighting Kaido

Luffy lost and died while fighting Kaido

Luffy got revived and won against Kaido

Law had to make bigass room, bigger than anything he made in Dressrosa, probably cutting down on his lifespan in the process

Law has to take care of stuff no one cares about after the raid succeeds, which is taking care of the ships, searching for the poneglyphs (no one but him cared for that in the middle of the raid!) and probably patching many, many people up

he ends up stranded with Robin in some moldy underground chamber for hours, while being seriously exhausted, sleep deprived and in the middle of recovery from his injuries

he doesn't join in the banquet out of spite (no one told him about Jimbei joining the Strawhats. Is Law a joke to them?!), besides just in case a certain Luffy would assault him there, make him go all night long eating and playing around and celebrating, all the while probably bugging him to become a 100% part of the Strawhat crew or at least extend their alliance to together forever status.

And that's just the major things listed! I'm sure I missed some details here and there.

Overall, I think he was stressed and exhausted, because he was carrying a lot of responsibility (and the stakes were extremely high!), at certain points almost the whole raid plan's success was depending solely on him, while others merrily ignored the dangers. He also had two crews to take care of for the whole arc, constantly worried himself over Luffy, got pissed at Eustass Kid and had to cooperate with him (he hates that dude!), and at the end of it his world got almost turned upside down in worst possible way (Luffy dying and raid failing as the result, and the vision of all of them dying flashed before his eyes).

As Bepo reveals to us in the midst of Winner Island escape, Law wants to stay behind with his crew even if it kills him and needs to be reassured that no one is dying there. That suggests Law doesn't deal well with people close to him dying, which shouldn't surprise us after what happened in Flevance and later also to Cora-san. I'm sure Wano hit Law harder than we expect, because there he was, finally believing in people again (Luffy), only for Luffy to die on him as well. Old issues must have resurfaced and his fear of losing people worsened as the result.

I think we should cut him some slack, shouldn't we? Wano was definitely not a walk in the park for Law, especially psychologically-wise. Though to be fair, he could relax and laze around a bit, we see it happen, right before Strawhat Luffy waltzes into the country. That was the last time we saw him actually calm and resting, so I guess that alone gives us another answer to your question as well ;)

And then his alliance ended, and we know Law doesn't like dramatic things, which also means overly emotional goodbyes. It was probably pretty difficult for him to part ways and maybe he thought it would be easier if he avoided Luffy for most of the time after the raid finished. And then Chopper went and almost blew all his efforts up with his warm send-off! Law owes a lot to Strawhats and his debt is only getting bigger, but it won't change his withholding personality.

Did Law find peace after Mingo was defeated? Not exactly, because I don't believe Doflamingo was Law's end goal. Just take a look at his reaction when Luffy finally wins:

Everyone is crying and celebrating, but Law's face looks like this instead. Does this look like a face of a person who finally got rid of his demons and is set free? What about Flevance, are we forgetting that? Law has a lot on his plate, Mingo was simply one of the obstacles in his way (but an important one!). If you want to know more about what I think about Law's end goals, I wrote about it here: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/761556630027616256 (the topic starts somewhere around the second picture). That's why I don't think he is at peace or that his revenge is over and we shouldn't expect him to completely "move on" or reach perfect closure just because Mingo is now out of the picture.

There's one exception though. I do believe Law is showing his emotions more openly after Dressrosa. And I think it's actually a sign of him healing and partially moving on.

Because just look at this. Law was always annoyed with his beloved Cora-san as well, and yet we never doubt he loved him dearly. In Wano Law is acting the same way towards the Strawhats, openly showing when he's annoyed and angry. That's how he shows affection and worry. Compare it to Punk Hazard, when he's always holding back, stoic and cold, keeping his comments and reactions to bare minimum. Dressrosa changed everything in Law's emotional department. And the result is that he did open up to his allies.

Also I feel like it's my duty to remind the world about this, often overlooked, fact: so far Law celebrated in the feast exactly one time, in Dressrosa. He didn't join in on Punk Hazard, Zou or Wano. So it's not really a "Wano thing", but more like Law almost always choosing other things over feasting ;) personally, I think it's because of that "30 minutes on festival" rule he had in his household as a child. He's probably not used to just playing around for hours. Besides, we should never underestimate Law's pettiness. Not joining the celebration might have been as well just a petty payback of his, for every offense that happened to him in Wano, lol.

I'm not sure if you liked my answer, anon, but I hope you at least smiled a bit when I tried to mimick Law's grumpiness in this post :D

[a-b-riddle]

Part 2

Can't stop thinking about reader finally cutting them loose.

For three days there was nothing but radio silence. In those three days you had told yourself that it was a grace period. Time for Simon to cool off and realize how much of a bastard he was for saying all those things he obviously didn't mean. Johnny coming back over with a bouquet of flowers and endless apologies and cuddles.

Simon didn't apologize for his harsh words.

Johnny didn't call you later, as promised.

For three days you jumped at every single notification, silently hoping it was one of them. Any of them.

But it wasn't.

And you, unfortunately, got the answer to the question you had been asking yourself for months.

Did they still want this?

The answer was clear.

You didn't let their unofficial dismissal get to you. You still had shit to do. A life to get on to. A book signing to go to.

Jesus.

A book signing. A book you wrote. A book that was being published and released the day of the expo. You weren't expecting a huge line because this was your debut novel, but with the help of some ARC readers who had took to social media, there had been a bit of a storm brewing.

You had listened to John when he had mentioned writing under an alias. Don't know how crazy people are out there. They'd do anything to get close to you, Dove. Just better to protect yourself where you can. You almost hated yourself for listening to him now. Now you would just have to keep writing under your pen name.

You were getting ready to close up shop early when your phone finally pinged.

Kyle.

Fuck.

Of course it was Kyle. The one who hadn't treated you like you were constantly bothering him. Not the one who made you feel guilty for agreeing to your arrangement. Nor was he the one who fucked you and left you. No. He was just the one who just wasn't there.

Maybe that was just as bad.

What are you up to today?

That was it. Almost two weeks of radio silence and that's all he had to say? It just added more evidence that you were making the right call in ending this now. It had already carried on for too long.

You had two things on your to-do list and you wouldn't let Kyle's sudden reappearance deter you.

E-mail the publisher back.

Change the locks.

You didn't have the strength to face them again. If they groveled, it would be too easy to take them back. One against four wasn't much of a fair fight. And if they didn't care to fight for you... you don't know if you could survive it. Coming face-to-face with the proof that it didn't bother them to give you up even though it was killing you.

No. Cutting it off completely was the best thing to do.

So you didn't respond.

You left Kyle's text unanswered as you e-mailed the publisher back that everything was set for your flight on tomorrow morning. You would spend Thursday adjusting to the time difference and Friday you would rest up before the expo this weekend. She assured you that you would need to rest up your writing hand. Whatever that means.

You left Kyle read as you closed up shop several hours earlier than usual. You needed to drop off the bank deposit before you started on task number two.

You didn't bothering responding to Johnny when he had texted you when you were leaving the hardware store, purchase in hand. Asking if you were free Friday. Promising dinner. 'In or out. Your choice.'

It was almost second nature when you got home to pull up your phone. Ready to text one of them to see which one of them could come over and help.

Fixing a leaky sink? Nothing Johnny hasn't seen before. Need help moving furniture? John won't mind when you change your several times on what should go where. Kyle would always come in with take out the moment you mentioned you were hungry and whenever you felt like going for a walk when it was a bit too late in the evening, Simon was the first to volunteer as your personal guard dog.

But asking them to come and change the very lock you planned on using to keep them out seemed... counter productive, if not downright petty.

You were almost done with the lock when your phone sounded off. Only this time it wasn't a text. Someone was calling you.

You almost faltered when John's name came on your screen.

Fuck.

That almost got you.

You almost answered it.

Almost.

You clicked on the 'Sorry, I can't talk right now. Options, before finishing up your work.

And just like that, you were done. No help needed. You had changed the lock. Even adding on a deadbolt. Replacing the flimsy chain Simon had taunted you about. If someone wanted to get in here, that wouldn't stop them.

Well, now you didn't need to hear it anymore.

Not that you would really hear it again...

Your flight was in twelve hours. Although that seemed an ample amount of time you hadn't even begun to pack. You had luckily narrowed your outfits down, but now was the task of folding it nicely into your suitcase rather than just stuffing it in there.

On my way. We need to talk.

It was too late for talking. Three days too late. Several months too late.

The last message sent was four weeks ago. A new Thai place had opened up close to your apartment that you were wanting to try. All of them had given you excuses.

Not my taste, Dove.

Cannae do it tonight. Next weekend? Next weekend didn't happen either.

I can do tomorrow. Kyle ended up bailing. You forget the excuse he used.

Simon hadn't even bothered to reply.

The final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Almost two years wasted with nothing, but a broken heart to show for it. And the worst part is, they had all chipped away at your heart, leaving you to deal with the final blow that would shatter it.

Im sorry. I can’t do this with you anymore. wish you all the best.

Your fingers made quick work in blocking their numbers. It was best. If they wanted to reach you, they couldn't. On the other side of the coin, if they didn't care to reply, you wouldn't spend countless hours crying over the fact that none of them had been affected the same way you had.

You would deal with getting them their belongings that they had left behind another time. You had big things, great things happening for you. You were cutting your loses. You were cutting them loose.

You just hoped you didn’t regret it.

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[gremlingottoosilly]

College Student!Reader that has no clue how to pay back their debt after borrowing money to pay for tuition and basic needs X Mafia!Konig

The economy got so bad, local students are forced to become wives of crime lords, more at 11. No, but literally. You had no idea how to pay it back - you went into college with a dream and a somewhat normal understanding of the job market. Then AI crushed everything down, made you suffer through 3 years of unpaid internships for companies that cut their staff in half, and you graduated with student debt and a useless CV. Oh, and mobsters on your tail, ready to sell your liver for a high profit unless you could pay everything back with interest...which you obviously couldn't. Konig, honestly, is way too busy to deal with every poor student who got money from him. They are usually pretty compliant, signing another contract to work for him for 80+ years or sell their organs and their bodies for either prostitution or drug runs - but Horangi told him this one was kinda cute, and they all remembered the shitshow that was his latest lover. Girl got so invested in his business that she decided to overthrow it - so, no mafia-connected pussies for him now. Only pure, innocent civilians or uncaring sex workers. But, heavens, you really are cute. Cute, and willing to keep your pretty mouth shut so he can kiss it. You're too desperate to get rid of your debts to actually question why he chose you out of all options - you're simply along for the ride, letting him take care of all your needs in exchange of your soft body warming up his bed. Konig would never tell you that his deep-seeted insecurities will never allow him to date an actual model or an idol, but he is all to ready to get a normal girl and worship her like a goddess in his weird domestic fantasy. You can make him burnt breakfast one morning, and he will forgive half of your debt immediately. Being his sugar baby is kinda nice, as long as you don't mind his face pressed in your stomach every time he gets a nightmare, and the way he'd take you with him to a fancy mafia club, and then will spend all evening never talking to anyone and making you host all social interactions...but at least the sex with him in the middle of VIP section is great. The way he pours whiskey down your tits and sucks it off your nipples is a bit weird, but you'd take anything before he stuffs you with his monster cock and makes you forget all about the degree you got. What was it again? Cocksucking scienes? Introduction to dickometry?

[propertyofwicked]

YOUR NECKLACE - LN

no warnings just fluff + some SMAU <3 (one mention of sick, no specific detail)

-> lemme know ur thoughts! my inbox is open!! <3

masterlist the playlist

after successfully keeping their relationship secret for 9 months, lando truly believed it was time for him to properly introduce his girlfriend to the world of motorsport. she’d attended races before but always under general admission, usually alone, but sometimes accompanied by the likes of max and p. and it wasn’t as if the fans didn’t know who she was, they just knew her as ‘y/n who works with quadrant’, ‘y/n that reset the cones in the driving video’, ‘y/n that keeps her social media private’ - never once being considered lando’s girlfriend, which worked well for the two.

the panic had set in that morning as she dressed for the day, her hands constantly running over her outfit, checking the way she looked in the mirror from every angle - she wanted to believe that no one would care, or even notice that she was there, but deep down she knew that making the jump from general admission to paddock would gain some chatter on twitter.

“you look perfect,” lando had whispered in her ear from behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he tugged her away from the mirror.

“maybe they’ll just think im helping with a quadrant project,” she said absentmindedly, more trying to convince herself than actually respond to him.

“maybe,” he nodded along with her, mulling over his next words, “we can walk in separately if you want? they might not assume anything if they don’t see us together?”

“it’s not that i dont want us to be seen together,” she told him as she moved to the floor, tying her shoelaces up, “i just hate to think what’ll be said about me if they do.”

“i know, angel,” he reassured her, offering out a hand to pull her up, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead when she returned to his level.

the journey to the track was a quiet one, the two of them engaging in light conversation, eventually deciding they’d just walk in together, keep PDA to the minimum and ‘run and hide at the first sign of trouble’ y/n had joked.

lando paced up and down his drivers room, the sleeves of his racing overalls swinging with every step, from where they sat around his hips. he was getting into the right mindset, music playing, and yet his mind raced with every fear of the looming race.

“sit in the garage,” he asked her, halting his pacing to turn and face her.

“what?” she replied, half unsure she’d misheard him.

“watch from the garage - please,” he repeated moving to take steps towards her, noticing the way her fingers twisted at the rings that adorned them.

“are you sure?” she checked, as he grabbed her wrists to stop her anxious fiddling.

“never been more sure in my life,” he told her, using her arms to pull himself closer, joining the two of them in a sweet kiss.

“ok, ill be there,” y/n responded against him, parting only for a moment before connecting their lips again. the kiss was short and sweet, cut off by oscar knocking telling him it was time to go.

she stood in the garage, smiling at a few engineers she recognised before finding herself a seat. the nerves were washing over her again, but now they were for lando. y/n always worried during races, scared on his crashing, worried he wouldn’t perform as well as everyone knew he could. her hand reached up to her chest, instinctively searching for her necklace - lando had bought it for her before they were even together, knowing from the moment she smiled at it and looked up to thank him that this was it for him, she was his future. but the necklace wasn’t there, the girl panicked slightly, fearing she had lost it or it had fallen off before concluding that in her distraction this morning she had simply forgotten to put it on.

that’s ok, you’re a grown woman who can control her nerves. you don’t need a necklace to calm yourself down - you’re not even the one racing she told herself, letting out a deep sigh as she tried to believe herself. no one else in the garage seemed to notice her, a fact she was fairly happy about, hoping that the same would be said for the hundreds of news and tv stations priming their cameras for the race.

but someone had noticed her, recognising the look on her face as the same one she had been wearing all morning. only lando could decipher what her expression meant - she was nervous, of course, scared for him, but also filled with a small buzz of excitement - he couldn’t quite understand how one person could feel so much all at the same time, and not combust on the spot. nevertheless he jogged over to her.

“lando? aren’t you supposed to be like, getting your helmet on?” she asked him, shocked slightly at his sudden appearance. he looked at her, his hand tugging at the top of his fireproofs and pulling his own necklace from where it was trapped behind the fabric.

“forgot to take this off,” he told her, hands moving behind his neck to unclasp the metal, “will you look after it for me?”

she nodded up at him, her outstretched hands halted as he stood close, hands moving the metal around her own neck and clasping it. the metal dropped against her skin, the warmth from him wearing it transferring to her.

“thanks, love you,” he told her, a rushed kiss planted on her lips before he jogged away from her again.

his face carried a smirk as he left her, knowing he hadn’t truly forgotten to take the piece of jewellery off. in actual fact, he’d noticed her missing necklace the moment they’d arrived at the track and made it his mission to have his own hung around her neck, almost as a badge of honour. the two had agreed to keep their relationship private from the public, somewhat of a secret - but now she sat in his garage, wearing his necklace. it was the bare minimum display of the love they shared, but it was enough for him, and it was enough for her.

oscar quirked his eyebrow at his teammates smirk, receiving a quick tell you later before the two pulled their balaclavas down.

the gesture was so simply and so subtle and the girl was oblivious to the moment being caught on camera. the moment a yellow flag was called, the sky tv cameras filled the wait time by zooming in on the faces of loved ones sitting in each drivers garage. however, y/n remained oblivious to the lens focusing closely on her, the camera closely capturing the way she fiddled at the necklace before dropping it as normal lap conditions resumed.

"good day then?" y/n asked him softly, her head resting on his bare chest as she listened to his heart beat - lando felt the way her cool fingers fiddled with the necklace around his neck. that godforsaken necklace, quite frankly the only necklace to ever cause so much uproar online.

"soft launched on live tv and p3? i wouldn't have it any other way," lando replied softly, chucking lightly as his hand brushed through her hair.

“that checks out, mr nowins,” she teased, tilting her head to grin at him.

"being with you is a win in itself," he replied, taking the nickname in his stride.

"gross," the girl responded, pretending to vomit at his attempt at being cute.

“i am sorry though - i should’ve known that would happen, i should’ve checked with you before hanging the “lando’s girlfriend” sign around your neck,” he replied with a sigh, his head dropping to press a kiss to her forehead, his cheek resting on her head as they spoke.

“it’s ok lan, i knew there was a possibility of something like this happening,” she replied.

“and it was fairly subtle - we could probably play it off for a little longer,” lando suggested, knowing that neither of them were quite ready to expose the extent of their relationship just yet. at least this had given them the opportunity to be a little more careless with their efforts to hide from the public. they were private, not secret, and lando couldn’t be happier to preserve this part of his personal life for a little longer.

“im just glad we no longer have the responsibility of a big announcement,” she laughed, “god knows we’re both too lazy for that.”

“who’s we?” he grumbled jokingly, “im the one with the public account. besides, im more than hard launched on your page.”

“ah the joys of an ordinary life,” y/n joked, her arms stretching out in feigned bliss, “however i feel like i should steer clear of twitter for a while.”

“that’s probably for the best,” he agreed, his tone saddening slightly at the memory of things he’d seen posted about not only his ex girlfriend, but some of the claims people had already began making about the girl lying below him.

“hey!” she started noticing his change in mood, and pushing her body weight back to look at him, “none of that. today is a good day. trust me, ill take any excuse to get my screentime down.”

“i love you,” he told her, grabbing at her body to pull her back into his embrace, “more than you could imagine.”

liked by maxfewtrell, team_quadrant and 111,230 others

landonorris soft launching on live tv wasn't enough, time to promote her to the gram

comments on this post have been limited.

maxfewtrell so glad i dont have to worry about slipping up on stream anymore

-> maxfewtrell chat aren't ready for what i have to say.

maxfewtrell 2nd photo is a violationnn - ynpng, pietra.pilao u gonna let this slide?

-> ynpng am i fuck. pietra.pilao we ride at dawn.

-> pietra.pilao omw queen.

-> maxfewtrell run landonorris whilst u still can

-> pietra.pilao you told me you deleted that photo maxfewtrell - sleep with one eye open xx

ynpng hate u with every fibre of my being rn <3

-> landonorris nuh uh

-> ynpng gonna unprivate my acc and let the world see the video of you falling down the stairs

-> landonorris might accidentally leak the video of you and the shoe incident

-> ynpng you wouldn't dare.

-> landonorris you wanna bet?

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity. 

DING DING DING 

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium. 

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf. 

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!” 

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.  

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it. 

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe. 

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.  

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you. 

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.  

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.  

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching: 

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!” 

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy” 

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss. 

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.” 

“Then why is this happening?” 

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.  

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice. 

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.  

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily. 

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life. 

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest. 

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect. 

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished. 

“Hm? Who’re you?” 

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.” 

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this. 

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly. 

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you. 

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked. 

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist. 

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.” 

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.  

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.” 

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.” 

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?” 

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours. 

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.  

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.  

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this. 

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear. 

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.” 

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response. 

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.  

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.  

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring. 

“Wriothesley! Times up.”  He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you. 

“Two minutes.” 

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.  

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.  

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe. 

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line. 

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads. 

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette. 

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand. 

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.” 

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you. 

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand. 

 “No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy. 

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.” 

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.  

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.” 

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him. 

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze. 

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips. 

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips. 

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction. 

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl. 

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile. 

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence. 

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair. 

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone. 

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle. 

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant. 

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face. 

“Why are you being annoying-” 

“Who were you talking to” he chides.  

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.” 

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.  

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.” 

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.” 

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel. 

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word. 

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners. 

 Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course. 

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone. 

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face. 

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you. 

He promised. 

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address. 

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again. 

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.  

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly. 

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse. 

“What? I don’t know.”  “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”  

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response. 

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.  

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy. 

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-” 

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-” 

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab. 

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-” 

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”  

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes. 

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-” 

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.  

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there. 

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts. 

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.  

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds. 

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside. 

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.  

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask. 

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid. 

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face. 

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:  

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”  

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body. 

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology. 

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.  

“So, um.” 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably. 

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts. 

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes. 

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.  

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you. 

“Sorry. For what I said.” 

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit. 

“You know I didn’t do it, right?” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“I know.” you reassure.  

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention. 

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy. 

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours. 

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house. 

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw. 

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge. 

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness. 

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.  

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.  

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “ 

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.  

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.  

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.  

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks. 

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance. 

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can. 

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest. 

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.  

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.  

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?”  he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.” 

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.” 

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

[tired-teacher-blog]

On the off chance that Aizawa manages to get you mad at him for whatever reason, your initial reaction would be to let him know, because as quick witted as he is, things like that can easily go over his head if not pointed out clearly.

Surely he hates upsetting you, so when it happens it's usually no more than a misunderstanding, but it's also not in his nature to flat out apologize or ask for forgiveness, that's why he'd do his utmost to lighten the mood and win you back in other ways, and it's a sight to behold.

First he would simply invade your personal space, taking a seat by your side while making sure to bump his knee or shoulder against yours and see if you're willing to have him near.

Obviously you do not react to his advances, but wouldn't push him away either– too intrigued by your own curiosity to dismiss him just yet, so you sit back and enjoy the view of him struggling internally.

He then carefully leans some of his weight on you, will probably even rest his head against yours or place a hand on your thigh, depending on the mood, to which you still say and do nothing.

That's when his patience starts running thin, or rather, when he realizes that he has truly messed up and needs to swallow his pride and apologize properly, and so he does.

_ "I'm sorry I was out of line, but it won't happen again I promise." his voice would be small and anxious as he cautiously takes your hand in his big calloused ones, fiddling with your fingers while gazing at you with a tinge of worry, and that's the only thing he seems capable of doing at the moment.

You immediately give in to a smile that's been threatening to creep across your face this whole time, because in reality, you were never actually upset with him, you were just relishing a side of your boyfriend that you rarely get to witness, but maybe you should cut him some slack already?

_ "It's okay Shouta, let's just forget about it." and you jump in his arms without a warning, giving him no time to react while moving to straddle his waist and watch as his stunned expression slowly switches to an amused one.

_ "Done," he nods in agreement, wrapping his arms around you before nuzzling your cheek to whisper seductively, "now kiss me."

And it doesn't stop there, not with a kiss, never with just a kiss, and his greed for you starts to show when he shamelessly slides his hands lower and lower until reaching your butt cheeks, squeezing your flesh teasingly as a sign of what awaits you, and if that's not enough to tell his intentions, then the smirk curving his lips as they mold perfectly with yours, sure is.

[roseddraws]

Oh my god wait. What if the blessings of the gods manifested physically? Like if a god takes an interest in you, EVERYONE is going to see it, for better or worse. And if you lose their favour? Everyone can see that, too

Jason with a peacock tail and feather-crest, both of which go faded and limp when he turns on Medea, so that they drag on the floor and get in the way

Pollux with eagle wings instead of arms, so Castor acts as his hands and that’s why they’re inseparable. When Castor dies and Pollux splits his immortality with him, they each get one arm and one wing, so one can’t fly without the other

Odysseus with a forked tongue and fangs—a subtle feature that he can hide when he needs to. When Athena feels like being helpful (like when she disguises him as a beggar) she’ll cast an illusion over it, but Penelope immediately recognises him by his lisp

When Athena gives Diomedes the blessing of seeing through the gods’ disguises, he also gets owl eyes and the ability to turn his head 180 degrees. This helps when Odysseus tries to stab him in the back on the Palladium heist

HERACLES WITH BULL HORNS. I have nothing to add I just think that sounds sick as hell

Helen grows beautiful golden feathers instead of hair. Nothing useful, just an obvious sign of her heritage that adds to her appeal to the suitors: whoever wins her hand gets to walk around with a physical symbol of Zeus’s favour

Atalanta with antlers that snap when she gets married, leaving jagged shards behind that won’t go blunt and can’t be sharpened down. She can have her husband, but he can’t touch her head without risking badly cutting himself. This can either be one final blessing or a curse depending on how consensual you interpret the marriage

Hector has pristine white raven wings, making him even more terrifying to the Achaeans, flying into battle like divine intervention, and a symbol of hope for the Trojans. Achilles plucks the feathers off his corpse, but they won’t stop growing back. Still, Achilles has a cloak made from them and wears it into battle, turning Troy’s symbol against them

Paris gets dove wings, but he tells everyone they’re too small to fly with because he’s a coward and doesn’t want to have the same responsibilities as Hector. Then he flies away from the duel with Menelaus in front of the entire army, and that’s when Troy finally loses what’s left of their respect for him

[nervoussagittarius]

which triplet is most likely to ft. matts girlfriend y/n!

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt invites his girlfriend to a car video with nostalgic vibes

warnings: none :)

you were sitting in the passenger seat of the minivan, you're normal spot when you were driving with the triplets. this time though, a camera sat in front of you on the dash of their car.

being home with the boys in boston was still something you were getting used to. your boyfriend matt had spent a big part of the day taking you around all the iconic spots in the city. the boys had asked you earlier in the if you wanted to participate in a video. you, of course, said yes.

your relationship was no secret to the world. you guys have been together for a couple years, and you had been featured in many og videos.

"gotta turn the world into a dance floor" chris sang, as matt got into the car. he pointed at you to finish the lyric

with a roll of your eyes, "determinate d-determinate" you sang back.

matt and nick looked at the both of you. one in anticipation of you guys to keep singing, and the other in anticipation of starting the video.

nick cut all of you off quickly to intro the video. "hey guys! welcome back to the fridays video"

"today we have a very special guest, drumroll please, my girlfriend y/n" matt said as he looked at you with a stupid smile on his face.

"hi guys! im back" you replied looking at the camera.

chris started from the backseat, "if you're new here, y/n has been in a bunch of our old videos, and were bringing her back to see her take on 'who's most likely to'"

"we've done this before but we figured y/n could give you guys an outside perspective” matt said as he looked at the camera.

“i’m giving y’all the dirt. we’re getting deep… i- okay” the boys laughed at you while nick pulled up the first question.

“okay, which triplet is most likely to get mad at another for chewing to loud?” nick asked as you immediately looked between the camera and matt.

“we already know the answer because the viewers have seen this happen multiple times”

“yeah, i have to say it’s matt. i’m so sorry for coming at you first honey” you said in between giggles as matt rolled his eyes.

“i disagree. i don’t think i’m most likely to do that”

“matt! we’ve witnessed it bro. you can’t say it’s not you when it is. either way it’s a who’s most likely to question not who’s actually doing it! but you’re actually doing it. good god” nick exclaimed.

the car was packed with laughter as nick went in his tangent. you all calmed down as nick asked the next question.

“who’s most likely to not be able to sleep alone”

“all of you.”

“what!?” “no way!” “that’s not even true”

“no it’s so true” you responded to there complaints. “let me explain. nick is probably the least likely. he’s okay sleeping alone i just feel like people come to him the most to sleep with him so he’s used to sleeping with other people.”

“that’s very true. people are always in my bed” nick said giving the camera a little wink.

“matt and chris need to have someone with them at all times. chris can’t sleep in the same place for more then a night. he’s always sleeping everywhere but his own bed. and matt texts me at least once a week that i need to come over and sleep in his bed with him because he can’t fall asleep.”

“let me just clarify,” matt started, “i can sleep alone. i would rather have my girlfriend with me though. and that’s okay. that’s fine”

“yeah and i just don’t like being alone.” chris defended.

a few more questions were answered before you guys decided to call it quits for the night.

matt grabbed the camera off the dash pointing it at you. you smiled and put up a peace sign.

“look at how cute she is” matt said as he put his hand on your cheek.

“alright matt, end the video”

matt screamed in the camera quickly ending the video.

comments:

i can’t get over how beautiful matt and y/n are together

i need someone to look at me the way matt looks at y/n

i love nostalgic boston videos

petition to bring y/n back on the channel more.

an: this kinda sucks because half of it was deleted when i tried to save it to my drafts and i don’t really like it but y’all wanted a matt fic. first part of the matt series will hopefully be up soon🤍

[wyniepooh]

Protect

Logan protects you, in the only way he knows how.

bodyguard!logan x reader. just assume that reader is some high profile public figure lol. mentions of smoking. use of the nickname ‘kid’.

you could no longer feel the expression on your face.

It was only when you passed by a window— an awfully tall glass panel with an elaborate gilded frame— did you notice that the pleasant smile that had donned your face for the entire evening was finally beginning to falter.

a flash and click of a camera went off behind you, and through the reflection of the window, you could see a reporter walking eagerly towards you. you quickly swiveled in the opposite direction, hands grasped onto the front of your long gown as your feet guided your body towards a dark and isolated corridor.

but, you weren’t scared or alarmed in the slightest at the empty and unexplored room you were entering. because you knew that wherever you went, he was right behind.

after endless fidgeting with the hatch on a pair of doors, you could only sigh in relief when it finally opened. you stepped out into the balcony, sighing as you felt the abundance of fresh air fall over you.

your silent lonesome didn’t last. before long— just like you had suspected— a quiet, but familiar pair of footsteps trailed out from behind.

“I’m fine, logan. I just needed some air,” you turned your head slightly to the side. “you don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

he aligned himself beside you, arms clasped together behind his back. “Actually, I do. according to the contract I signed with your father, you require 24-hour supervision-“

“Please, enough,” you cut off, head fully turned to face him as you felt a warm teardrop drip down your cheek. you could see the rapid rise of your own chest, the consistent motion getting faster and more panicked by the second. you gripped the metal railing of the balcony and closed your eyes, hoping the cold sting would distract from the embarrassment.

when you opened your eyes again, logan seemed to be standing closer than before. his previous— and usual— stern expression was long gone, replaced by one of genuine empathy.

His softened brows twitched. you watched as his hand slowly reached up towards your face, arm pausing for just a second before a pointer finger extended gently to your cheek. You looked away as the wetness spread across your flushed face, and when you heard the parting of his lips, you turned your head and swatted his wrist away.

you spun towards the sky, looking at no star in particular, but focused on the scattered beads in the nightfall regardless. All was completely silent and still for a minute, which provided just enough time for you to slow your breathing and dab away at the mascara you were sure had traveled down your face.

You had just made a decision in your head to leave and return to the spectacle when you heard the muted click of a lighter. you smelled the tobacco before you saw it, and when you did, nothing but a scoff could escape you.

“I- I don’t think you’re allowed to do that here.”

he shrugged, and simply took an experienced drag of the cigar in response. He leaned a little closer to you, supporting his weight on the balcony railing as he raised the lit object up to your face. “who’s here to stop me? Or you, for that matter?”

You laughed dryly, crossing your arms as you asked, “are you seriously offering me a cigar? I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

He bounced his arm in suggestion of the cuban again and muttered, “kid, this is me protecting you.”

your smile faded away as you took in his words, and after a long second, your hand came up to reach for the cigar. but before your fingers could hook around the shaft, Logan opened his mouth and moved his arm away.

“ah— slow down. i still have a job to do. It’s my obligation to at least teach you how to smoke it first, so you don’t puke all over the prime minister or something. Plus,” he bent his head in, lips angled towards your ear, “if you’re not holding it and you get caught, you can talk your way out of it.”

he retracted his head, raising his eyebrows as he took one last puff and switched the direction of the cigar to face you. “Don’t be shy, kid. Just put your mouth around it.”

You followed his instruction with skepticism, delicately wrapping your lips around the brown paper of the cigar with your eyes down. With a mouthful of tobacco smoke, you looked up from your downward gaze, and as your eyes connected with his hazel glare, logan’s proud smirk seemed to falter for just a second; the corners of his mouth dropped, and his lips parted for a minute too long before he spoke.

“Just… don’t inhale into your lungs like you would a cheap cigarette,” he whispers, “you’re meant to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, clearing your throat as you watched the smoke dissipate into the dark background of the sky. “enjoy what?”

You notice the hesitancy in his response, his arm pausing half-way to his face as his eyes flicker to the imprint of your lipstick on the stick. finally, he puts his mouth on top of the red stain, takes a puff, and breathes, “the taste.”

The moonlight reflected off of his slicked back hair, and it looked like a star or two were dancing around in his eye. It was only now did you see the prominence of his wrinkles and the grey in his beard that you had never noticed before.

you don’t know why you stayed silent. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything to talk about— your very recent breakdown provided obvious proof that you needed to talk. And if there was anyone you could and wanted to talk to, it had to be logan.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take this job anyways?”

he chuckled. “Honestly, I’d like to say some sappy bullshit like ‘i love helping others’ but,” he purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’d find the real reason quite selfish,” he responds.

You laugh. “So, for the money?”

“Something like that.”

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’d know exactly what to do when I’m freaking out, even if it’s by giving me a cigar at an event where reporters are swarming everywhere.”

He smiles, a lopsided one that only further emphasizes his wrinkles hidden within his beard. “I’m glad you consider me as a friend.”

You remained quiet. After a windy moment, you stepped closer to where he was leaning against the metal railing. You grabbed his wrist which contained the still-lit cigar, and turned your back towards his chest to take a hit. You look back to him, blowing the smoke into his face.

“a friend, right.”

now it was his turn to be silent, eyes frantically scanning over your face before lowering down to the hand around his wrist. His gaze jumps back to your eyes, a fog of something indistinguishable knitted between his brows.

“you know, I don’t really taste anything special. Just smokey.” you turned, pressing your chest against his as a casual hand toyed with the edge of his shirt collar. There was no space between the two of you, and yet there was no resistance, from either side, to step back and separate. “What’s it supposed to taste like?”

He tilted his head. “a little earthy. nutty,” his unoccupied hand fell upon the small of your back. “sweet.”

you couldn’t tell if he had more to say, but if he did, his words were all swallowed up by your lips on his. The hand on your waist tightly squeezed, pulling you flush onto him until the two of you were on the edge of practically falling over the balcony. both of your hands curled tightly around his gelled hair, tugging harshly as you silently gasped against his mouth.

the desperate roughness of his teeth scraped against your lip, and your respective chests rose up and down in synch with one another before he pulled back, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your hair.

“I’m supposed to protect you, kid,” he panted.

your fingers lingered over his chin, nails scratching at his overgrown stubble. You pleaded, “Logan, please, i’ve never felt so safe.”

you felt a sudden rush of coldness as Logan turns his head away. “I lied, you know. I didn’t exactly take this job just for the money. Your dad pays well, of course, but, that’s not why I stayed.”

He turns back, the star-splattered sparkle still twinkling in his eye as he mumbles, “you’re the selfish reason, sweetheart. you always have been.”

you pulled his forehead to yours, arms crossed around his neck to bring his warmth even closer. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

“Logan,” was all you muttered, and it was all it took before a low growl escaped through his chest and he drew your face in firmly by your chin.

You heard the faint drop of the half-gone cigar on the ground, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You tasted the sweetness on his tongue, just fine.

-

a/n: logan was canonically a bodyguard and I feel like we writers need to take more advantage of that fact

[ajortga]

love at first glance

pairing: tara carpenter x bass guitarist!fem reader

word count: 5.5k+

summary: in which tara admires your bass skills, then admires you even more.

author's note: please bear with me, i don't know what i'm doing but i'm just hoping these scrambled words just go well. tv girl mentioned!

-

based off request!

tara carpenter x masc! fem reader and reader is in a band, maybe like lead guitarist or bass? but like tara goes to a concert with all of the core 4 (+anika cuz i miss her) and like is mesmerized by reader. maybe they make eye contact during a song or sum? they leave the concert and tara is still thinking about reader and reader is still thinking about tara. cut to like later maybe at a party or a bar and they bump into each other and chop it up, but reader is like awkward-ish?

-

You’ve always had a love for anything that was related to music. Your parents made you take singing lessons ever since you were little. 

At first, you hated it. Singing Mary Had a Little Lamb in different keys was not entertaining. But as you grew older and probably didn’t need to sing that song every practice, you began to use your house’s grand piano that was left untouched for years. And then, being able to sing and knowing your keys inside and out wasn’t so bad after all. 

You spent countless times in the living room, the echo of your voice lingering against your house as you learned your favorite songs.

You wrote songs and composed as you experimented with your voice and the keys. It was almost never surprising when your parents caught you up late at night under your pillow, pencil scratching notes across lined pieces of paper. In every single talent show, audition, or musical, your name would be signed. Everyone in your family knew that one day, you’d grow to be a musician. 

People would even begin to see you whenever they were at warehouses and you’d be playing a piano. At every gathering, your relatives would ask, “Where is that little Y/N?” And your parents would look at each other with a knowing glance, both saying confidently, “Probably in the living room with that damn piano.”

You loved listening to music, making music, playing music, feeling your emotions in music, god, every time you’d go out, your earphones would be in your pockets.

So when you were gifted an acoustic guitar for your 12th birthday, to say the least, you were fucking thrilled. Instead of playing the piano 7 days a week, you’d play guitar for half those days. Gosh, was it hard learning a string instrument after playing piano for half your life? Maybe. But you loved it. 

You’d practice and practice, gradually getting better, then you’d play the electric and bass. And was the bass guitar a hell of a sound, you loved it. 

Then, the best thing ever happened to you. You had grouped up with your friends and quickly became a band with all your talents combined. Slowly but surely, did you begin to realize how far you had gone. Because in a blink of an eye, you were at concerts, fingers pressing down on your strings as it electrified through stadiums and arenas while people cheered. 

Cheered for you. That’s something you’ll never regret in your entire life.

-

You turn your bass’s machine head, plucking each string as you tune them before your concert. Nights like this never get old, you’d always be left with the adrenaline from every concert, like your body was refreshed when you slept under your hotel room’s covers.

As your hair and makeup stylist’s makeup brush dabs across your cheeks, you trace the outline of your bass guitar and look at yourself in the mirror. Layered hair, a black tank top over your toned arms, hidden beneath a red leather jacket. Your favorite part would probably be your nails painted red to compliment your hands. You had to keep them short though.

What would this night bring you? Everytime you close your eyes and listen, you can hear the faint echo of your bass vibrating through, lights swaying into the crowd, a smile forming on your face.

Every night had something different, there were different people, a different crowd, it makes you feel different every time. Yet you still feel the thrill and pride swell against your chest.

Junia, one of your closest friends that plays the drums, pops her head in. “You look hot,” she grins, “Jess said she’d come to pick us up at 40. You’re going to kill it, Bass.”

Bass. What an original nickname, you lean your chin into your palm as you raise your eyebrows, “You know it, June.” 

7:45.

-

Tara looks at herself in the mirror, Mindy and Chad screaming at each other while playing Jenga in the background. She pushes a stubborn strand of hair away from her eyelashes while she curls them. 

“CHEATER!-” Mindy yells, making the brunette flinch and breathe in frustration. She was not going to get her eyelashes pulled out.

After Tara was done with a cropped graphic tee, a jean skirt, and a cute little white bow in her hair, she walked through the hallway and into the living room, still adjusting her gold hoops.

There, Anika and her sister seemed the sanest out of them all. On the other hand, the twins were fighting over the remote. 

“Babies,” Sam mutters, pushing her dark brown hair back.

Anika pulls the remote out of both of their hands easily while Chad mutters ‘what the fuck’ under his breath. 

It was like being in a daycare. Tara ate a cookie while watching Anika throw the remote onto the sofa, wearing a lace tank top with jeans, “Mindss, why don’t we just leave the remote and find something else. Your hair is getting all poofy.” 

“And a little dingussy,” Chad adds.

Mindy smacks him, “Don’t ever use ‘dingussy’ to describe something. It sounds sexual.”

Before they could say furthermore, Tara jumps in, mentally begging them to shut up for a moment, “You have the keys, Sam?”

Sam pulls them out of the pocket in her jeans. 

Tara gives a small nod, looking a little over Sam, “Anika, tickets?”

“Yep, 5 of them,” she says, pulling out each ticket one by one with one hand and smoothing out Mindy’s hair with the other. When it was 5:30PM, they were all off, crawling into Sam’s car. Tara immediately sat in the passenger seat. 

I’m not sacrificing my hair by sitting in the middle seat, she thinks as she looks back at Anika, who was basically separating the two twins that were probably yelling in her ear at this point.

“You guys will love them. Jess has always been one of the most talented people I know in music. I have no doubt her band will be the best on stage.”

When Anika had first mentioned when she won a giveaway for a concert. It was for a barricade, but it was stated that they were allowed to be in the front row, the tickets she won had granted her that. Tara wasn’t very interested. Music just wasn’t something she always listened to on a daily basis. But there were 5, and no way would she miss out. 

So she listened to a song, played it on Spotify while walking to class. 

The scene shifts to a local coffee shop in Woodsboro.

“Let me tell you, the bass was fucking amazing! Brilliant!” Tara yaps excitedly to the four people in front of her. She loved how well the drums, electric, lyrics, and bass sounded. The bass blessed her ears. She had immediately added it to her favorites. 

“Bass, huh?” Anika smiles while drinking her coffee. “I think that’s one of the leads, Y/N. Jess always talks about how good she sounds, she usually comes up with all the riffs and lines.”

Y/N. It was unique, Tara made a note to remember it. Yet, she forgot about that conversation no less than 2 days after.

-

They all stepped out once they could see people lining up and buying the light up sticks that were controlled throughout the concert. Tara found it cool that the sticks had stars on them, in fact, the lights were one of the parts that made a concert a concert. 

Mindy was yelling happily and doing a little dance once their tickets got scanned and they all ran to the front row. 

Anika gave a cocky grin, “Maybe they’ll notice us because we’re in the front!”

It was thirty minutes until the background music came to a stop and the lights slowly started to dim. People were screaming, Tara’s heart was pounding against her chest. It was dead silent, whispers and occasional excited screams echoed.

“Oh my god, it’s happening,” Mindy whispers loudly, holding onto Anika as they look at the curtains.

They wait a moment, then two, and by the third one, drums begin to echo. ‘Tsst’ being echoed, before it follows with a loud 16th beat of drums. Then, the curtains open as Tara’s eyes widen.

Are you sick of me?

Would you like to be?

I'm trying to tell you something,

Something that I already said

The drums softly fill Tara’s ears, as she watches them play, she finally notices you. Perfect layered hair, messy in all the right ways. The bass girl. Something about the way the warmth of the light danced across your face in all the right ways captivated her. The way your deep red leather jacket hung over your shoulder, exposing your defined collar bones and toned arms while you pressed on strings.

Oh god, it felt as if a new story line with different love interests began to change for Tara. She could see the veins against your slim hands as they traveled across your guitar with ease. You mouthed the lyrics, enjoying yourself as you close your eyes and sway softly to the beat. 

You like a pretty boy,

With a pretty voice

Who is trying to sell you something,

Something that you already have

The drums left Tara’s thoughts, now hearing you and the way that your bass adds on to the magic of it all. You’re just standing there, your bangs swiping across your features as you tuck it to your sides, smiling to yourself as you scan the crowd for a moment then look back down to your strings.

Maybe it was the way you looked like you were the right person for this part–to be on stage like you were meant for it. Or maybe it was the way your gaze flickered to the front row and landed on Tara’s wide ones. She could see the way you tilted your head and gave her a curious, wondering look, before giving her a small smile. 

Oh my god, your smile was so cute. If she could describe it, it’s like the kind of smile that made her all giggly and was so contagious that she felt herself slowly smile.

The lights shine over your face, making everything about you glow. You pluck at the strings as you mouth the chorus to Tara. Her eyes searched all over your face. You don’t break eye contact with her.

But if you're too drunk to drive,

And the music is right

She might let you stay,

But just for the night

“And if she grabs for your hand, and drags you along,” Tara mouths back in time with the song.

One of your eyebrows raise as the light shines onto you once again, god, she can almost hear your soft, breathy voice teasingly singing, “She might want a kiss before the end of this song..”

Anika screams, jumping up and down and hyping everyone up, waving her heart stick in beat with the song. 

Because love can burn like a cigarette…

-

By the end of the concert, Tara was love struck. Very very love struck. It was late when her and the four of her friends walked out, the stars shining just a little brighter. She couldn’t get you out of her head. She might have grown gray hairs. How could you be more than any other celebrity crush?

She prayed to the universe that it would align you both together. Just like each star was in the night sky.

It’s bad, Loving Machine is playing and she can only think about you strumming your guitar.

Here she comes walking down the street,

Maddie Klein and her fabulous loving machine-

“Earth to Tara, hello?” Anika pauses the music, waving her hand into the girl’s face. It was almost like a record scratch moment as Tara blinked and looked around. “Oh, sorry, what?”

“Did you like the concert?” She asks, holding onto her star light up as the red light makes the glitter under her eyes sparkle. Anika was now in the middle, the car a little quieter since Chad was now in the passenger seat.

“Oh yeah, I loved it.” Tara answers, half of her attention slipping away. She starts to see you from a camera, lighting cast against your tan skin, a TV effect on you, making your movements jerky. 

The rest of the people are fading away, their voices, so loud and eager. Blah blah blah blah… Y/N.. Bassist. Love of her life.

Dreamy sigh.

Blah.. Blah.. “Yeah the bassist was hot.” Mindy’s voice suddenly being processed.

“What?” Tara immediately turns away from the window and looks at Mindy on the opposite side. Oh god, now she was going to have to fight for you? "No! Go find someone else to admire!” She grumbles, before immediately looking away.

The whole car shakes as they all laugh, playfully hitting Tara. “See? She was literally summoned, baby!” Anika giggles, talking to Mindy. “She wasn’t giving any shits when we were talking, and as soon as we talked about Senorita Y/N, she was like poof!”

Sam looks from the rearview mirror, an eyebrow raised, “Already? One concert that lasted two hours and she’s already wrapped you around her little finger?”

Little fingers, those veiny hands that played so smoothly across the-

Chad turns around excitedly, like a child peeking at surprise presents, “She was literally captivated the whole damn concert! You should’ve seen her, a love sick puppy!”

Her sister cackles, the car moving as she keeps snorting, “Gotta admit though, she’s fine wine.”

“Sam!” Tara rubs her cheeks, she seriously hoped she wasn’t going to have to battle till death for you.

“Chill!” Sam coaxes, putting one hand up in the air, “I would totally go for her if you weren’t interested. Didn’t think you had a thing for ‘Sam accepted’ girls.”

The freckled cheek girl couldn’t help but sigh, the thought of you still lingering in her mind. Like a twinkling little Melody who’s lyrics couldn’t get out of her mind, even when she slept.

-

It had been a week. Tara says that she doesn’t think of you too often, but every single time she hears your band’s song, you end up in her mind for the whole day. Every time she steps into a coffee shop, she wonders if you’d be the person to give a free concert. 

She wonders if you’re as sweet as your name sounds. She wonders if you’d hold doors for others or walk old ladies down the street. She wonders if your hand would fit hers. She wonders if you had even thought of her after the curtains closed.

She wonders if you smell good, if you’d smell like a musky, sweet, fruity vanilla-y scent with leather undertones. She sure hoped so.

To say the least, you’ve thought about the brunette just as much. You were having fun, strumming your guitar and feeling the beat radiate off your skin. Until you lay eyes on her. She had wide, brown doe eyes that made your knees buckle. 

She was heaven-sent. You could even make out her tan freckled cheeks. And you were almost in denial when she was looking at you. It was always who was singing that people looked at, heck, you did too. But you were looking at her. And she was looking at you.

Plenty of people might have looked at you, but she was different. Like she was mesmerized by how you played. Like she was a moth to your flame. 

In fact, you don’t know if anyone has ever looked at you with that much admiration.

The girl was so beautifully written, you wished you knew who she was. Instead, she was one out of 8 billion people out there, in a blink of an eye, a close of a curtain, she was off.

-

Tara looked at herself in the mirror, standing there like.. She didn’t even know, her serious eyes trailing down to what she was wearing, before turning to Anika slowly.

“Anika, I look like a hot dog.” She cries, looking at the way the costume swallowed her whole in the fitting room.

“That’s because you’re wearing a hot dog costume, Tar. But you look like a steaming hot hot dog!” Anika shakes her head, her head only visible since she was basically a whole mustard bottle. 

Mindy waddles through the living room, a red ketchup bottle, a red dangling earring complimenting her poofy hair. “Has anyone seen my earring? I can’t find it! It was in my purse and I thought if it looked good, I’d totally buy this.”

Chad walks in the girl’s fitting room, slightly peeking as Sam walks out of her dressing room, a serious expression on their face, a cookie and milk costume. 

Tara wants to laugh, but no way in hell was she going to wear this at a costume party, at least not at a serious one.

-

After actually taking it seriously, Tara decides on a pirate outfit, tying up her bandana. 

She can almost hear the music blasting from her apartment, which is filled with laughter and chatting from her ‘family.’

Her eyes skim over her board, looking for her calendar that was usually meant for school, roaming around the small photos of you and a heart drawn over your face. She traces over it, before getting ready to leave, not even looking at the calendar. 

Maybe the calendar was just an excuse.

After 5 songs and a half of your band’s music, the core five, including sweet Anika, open the door. A heavy scent of booze fills their senses, sweat, and a mix of perfumes all lingered. Not to mention, it was stuffy.

“Ugh, do they ever think about AC?” Sam grumbles, clearly not a party person as she gets whacked across the face from a toilet plumber that belonged to a person who was wearing a damn toilet costume. Mindy cackled, before tripping and almost crashing into them, luckily her girlfriend tugged her back.

They pushed against cowboy hats and random inflatable dinosaurs, across the dance floor, and to the drinks station.

Tara did not leave empty handed, her mouth gulping down the bubbly bitterness of alcohol. 

She was buzzed, a few drinks here and she was flushed and giggling, so she made sure to think about her intake. As she parted from the other four to find a trash can, scanning the groups of people. Sometimes she found people she knew at school, cute boys, just people she’s seen.

Tara took a different route back to her friends, the music growing louder in her ears when she got near the dance floor, slivering through bodies. It was almost inevitable that her nose would scrunch, too strong of a perfume, or just sweat.. It made her nauseous. 

Where was she going? She didn’t know, she stood on her tippy toes, her ruffled blouse crinkling as she searched for her friends.

Her face smacked right into someone, her hand automatically being placed on their chest. She opened her mouth, about to apologize and prepare for a scolding until her nose twitched. A fruity and sweet vanilla-y smell, and a light leathery contrast.. No?..

“Shoot,” you look down, your drink almost spilling on yourself as you look at the shorter person as you smooth out their hair. Did you ruin it? “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Tara looks at her outfit, perfectly fine, no stains. Hearing your soft, breathy voice, it was unrecognizable to her at first.

“No, it’s totally fine, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Tara says, immediately looking up and seeing your big curious eyes.

Oh my god.

Your eyes search hers, like you’re scanning her. Like you feel you’ve seen her before. No, you know you have. But where? The trace of her nose, doe eyes, oh! Tara almost puts a hand over her mouth because she can almost see the swirling sense of recognition in your eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe to ask about the concert, but you closed it. You don’t even know if she noticed you, maybe she was spacing out and was not acknowledging you during your concert a few weeks ago.

When it came to people, especially ones you crushed on, you were all stuttering words and pink cheeks.

The shorter girl sees the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and she registers what you’re wearing as her eyes trail down. And fuck, you looked angellic. Seriously.

A halo over your head and wings enveloping your sides. A black corset and ruffled skirt that showed a little of your legs, which were covered with tights. God, she thinks she can see the muscles as you cross one leg over the other.

It immediately makes you think she’s judging you. This costume was not your cup of tea, but your friends invited you to match with them, all angels in different colors.

The little pirate instead gives you a genuine look, “I like your costume,” she says, focusing a little too much on your toned arms and slightly flushed cheeks.

“I um.. Thank you..?” You bite your tongue, not knowing her name. In what chance do you get to meet the girl that made you think soulmates were real once again? At least a 1 in 300 chance. 

“Tara,” she answers for you, pretending she didn’t already have your name embedded in the back of her head. 

“I’m Y/N,” you bite a smile, she probably didn’t recognize you. You take a small sip from your drink, nose scrunching at the taste.

“You’re good at the bass,” she says nonchalantly, and you almost choke on your drink. 

You didn’t think she’d recognize you, but now knowing that, you tilt your head. “Thank you. It comes from years of practice. What did you think?” You were genuinely curious.

“I think you’re just so good at the bass..” She mumbles, again, trailing off, before clearing her throat. “I mean, the bass always makes the songs so much better! You know? It’s like realizing how amazing something really is when you notice it-”

“I appreciate it,” you say, now aware of your surroundings because instead of where you two just bumped into each other, you were sitting at a table. You turn your head, looking at where you were, probably near the back. 

Tara took the opportunity to notice your damn jawline, so perfect and sleek and defined-

“I like your freckles,” you admit, voice breathy. You turn back to look at her while batting your eyelashes, Tara’s eyes trained on how your hands.. Veiny hands lifted the cup to your lips.

The compliment almost catches her off guard, because with all the compliments she might get, freckles were usually not on the list. It used to make her insecure, but the way you said it and looked said otherwise. The alcohol was definitely taking a toll on you, because you were staring at her with no shame whatsoever.

Wide, searching eyes, it looked as if you were trying to memorize every detail. 

The flutters in Tara’s stomach would’ve lasted longer. Except her eyes teared away from yours as she could see a very familiar ketchup and mustard costume and two other people behind them.

“Oh my god!” She groans quietly, covering her face as she scoots deeper into the booth.

She completely forgot that she slithered away from them, getting side tracked.

The brunette could die from embarrassment. You on the other hand.. Just prettily sitting there with a curious look on your face, the small warmth of the lamp casting a glow onto your face.

You bite your lip, trying to fight back a small giggle as you peek at the costumes that you can almost kind of guess who they are to Tara.

-

“SHE’S LOOKING THIS WAY!” Mindy hollers, tugging the mustard bottle next to her as Chad scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Tara’s literally hiding from us.”

“Hold it up!”

-

They’re screaming at each other. You can’t hear it from all the music and party chatter, but you can definitely figure it out from their expressions. For a moment, they turn away from you, so you can’t see them.

You slip on a leather jacket that was in your bag.

A hiding Tara is in the corner of the booth, you raise your eyebrows at her.

It doesn’t take long before the four people across the room slowly turn to you in synchronization. 

“Um, I don’t-” You start, feeling a little awkward.

They hold up a paper, and you can’t even see what the words are saying. It’s at least the size of a penny. And from here, you can’t even make out the words.

-

“Dingus,” Mindy shouts to her twin, noticing the confused expression on your face as you try to understand what the paper is saying. She finally turns the paper around after holding it up. “It’s too small, that’s why!”

-

One of the four holds up a finger, signaling you to give them a moment as they adjust, before turning around.

‘Give her your numbar’ The sign says, you still don’t get it. Oh, number. You grab a tissue from the booth, and take out a sharpie from your pocket. Sharpies were always needed whenever you went out. To write down something on your hand, to sign autographs..

You slip the paper to Tara, giving her a small smile. She was definitely embarrassed. She didn’t even notice you slipping it to her, because after 5 seconds of you sliding it to her again, she still was clueless! The girl, instead, turned around to look out, immediately still seeing her stupid friends.

You sigh, putting the paper into your pocket. You feel a little bad for her.

Party lights fill the empty crevices of the room while you scoot out of the booth and stand up, pretending you didn’t notice the four people who were staring into the back of your skull.

“I think my friends are playing some Uno, you wanna come?” You offer, guiding her out of the booth as you look down at her.

“Sure.”

-

As the game went on, the last two players in the center still battling it out, Tara could see you were all fuzzy and flushed. 

You were definitely drunk. Too drunk to drive.

Your knees were nudged against hers, a little closer than expected, cuddled into her, but she didn’t mind. God no she definitely didn’t.

She was talking a lot, and you were always open ears and one of the best listeners. And then you would ramble and Tara would listen. It made you both feel heard and understood.

After a moment, you remember something. 

“Can I borrow your phone real quick? Uh, my phone is dead right now and I have to text a friend where I’m at.” You lie, your words slightly mushed together.

“Sure,” Tara says, unlocking her phone and handing it to you, a little drunk. You try to ignore the fact that the wallpaper is you from the concert she attended weeks ago.

You slip into the contacts, adding your contact and changing the name to; y/n, the bass guitarist ♡.

She didn’t even notice for the rest of the night.

As the sun slept at night, Tara stared at the ceiling, her vinyl spinning while a crackled “Say Yes to Heaven” reverberated around her bedroom.

She wished she could’ve stayed so much longer, but her friends had to leave, and there was no way she was taking an Uber or driving when tipsy.

Tara wanted to ask for your number, but because you never asked, maybe you didn’t because this didn’t mean as much as it did to her.

Curiosity was getting the best of her as she checked the messages on her phone, wondering how you typed like to your friends. But to her surprise, there were no messages to a number she didn’t recognize. The last number was just to Sam.

Her nose wrinkled, swiping to check the apps recently opened as she clicked the recent one. 

Dimples creased against her cheeks as she saw your name with a little heart. She immediately clicked to message you. But to her surprise, you had already done so.

 y/n, the bass guitarist ♡: whatcha doing? i hope ur not asleep yet>:(

tara ☆🧭: thankfully not yet, i’m in bed. u know, i was going to be a little sad than i’d like to admit if i didn’t get your number. 

 y/n, the bass guitarist ♡: i did hand you a paper, but you were hiding in the corner of the booth and i thought it would be easier this way

It took her a moment to think of what to say, before she thought of something she never thought she’d do late at night.

tara ☆🧭: do u wanna call? maybe just talk to each other till one of us falls asleep.

You usually weren't the person to connect over facetimes and calls, sometimes you didn't know what to say in the moment. You don't know..

She doesn’t get a response for a minute, before her phone vibrates in her hand and she swipes to answer.

Your hair was let down loose, in an oversized tee that even then she could still see your collarbones. You give a sleepy smile.

“Tara,” you say softly, and something in Tara thumps because you look so happy to see her. She grins back, shifting so she could see you better.

“I’ve never really done one of these,” your quiet voice says, a warmer tone casting over your face. “Do you want to say hi to Cinnamon? He’s my puppy.” You say, pushing your hair back.

The brunette nods, “Puppies are so cute, my sister isn’t very fond though. They sometimes make her sneeze.”

“Oh, allergies you could get a poodle breed or something, Cinnamon doesn’t shed much,” you agree, your camera slightly shaking as she can slightly hear you call your dog's name in a cute voice. “Come here, boy!”

Seconds later, you bring out your puppy, which lolls outs his tongue as you press a kiss to his head. Tara can see your red nails as you mess up his hair.

“Tell me about yourself,” Tara says, looking at you through the screen with pure curiosity.

“I-” You pause, thinking for a moment before shaking your head. “I think you should tell me about yourself first. It’s late and I want to listen to you. As much as I’d try to stay up, I’d fall asleep if you went second.” You murmur, cuddling with Cinnamon.

What you said made Tara feel something she doesn’t feel often. Appreciated? Well, she always wants to listen to others when calling, then she might go second, but when you brought up her going first? That made her feel fireworks.

“Okay, what do you want to know first?”

“What’s your favorite memory and why?”

-

As an hour, then two passes, you begin to tell Tara about yourself. She’s never felt so heard before. Both your lamps are off, now the only light from each others screens.

She can tell you’re beginning to doze off. The way you’re pausing and blinking sleepily before murmuring a little too softly. 

“What is something that you hate?”

You don’t say anything for a moment, your light breaths heard on the other end as you shift slightly and prop up your phone.

“Peppercorns..” You yawn, keeping your eyes half open. “They’re fine for seasoning, but when I bite into them, god.. It tastes so bad..”

You pause again, eyes heavy as you blink. “When you feel like you have to change for other people to like you. When you have to be someone you’re not because of people that don’t make you feel like you can be yourself.”

Tara nods, rubbing her eyes as she admires your defined features, even from the darkness. She could see the softness too. If she looked enough.

“I think those people make me feel the worst. Not wanting to be the one laughed at so you change to the one that’s laughing. Or when people talk down on the things you love. It hurts. And that’s something that I hope no one goes through.”

Wow, something about that makes her get to know the kind of person you are by a landslide.

“That’s a good response. What about your favorite fruit?”

“Mmm.. Watermelon. The sweet ones.. It’s so refreshing and…” You trail off, your eyes closing as your breathing evens out. Your lips were slightly parted, your puppy making a small whimper as he snuggles into you.

It’s silent, except for the faint white noise from Tara’s ceiling fan. You looked like a dream. Everything you talked about made Tara see nothing but good. And knowing that makes her feel like she should start seeing things the way you do.

A car passes by, the softest lyrics playing, it lulls Tara to bed.

We were listening to lovers rock

In her bedroom

You both fall asleep on call, maybe people were meant for each other.

[inkskinned]

you have to be sexy but you have to be sexy in a way that's kind of bloody. you learn this early because you are wearing a ruffled skirt and the snow around your ankles kicks little sand particles against your calves. baby's first catcall. welcome to sexiness! welcome to the eyesore of your own body!

you have to be sexy like high heels. like sculpted eyebrows. like lean stomach and highly treated hair. you have to be sexy like youth is sexy, which means you have to be sexy like boxtox and plastic. a 30 year old can be sexy but she's not going to be bloody, and they like the bloodiness of it. a 30 year old is sexy when she is a whiskey glass and a wooden desk.

but you need to be sexy like an open mouth. you need to be sexy like a bitten apple. like plucked skin and white-knuckling the waxing kit.

so sex is a performance, not an enjoyment. for a while, you just assumed everyone else was also in on the joke - nobody actually likes sex that much, right? like, some men probably do, but why would you? it is like a gender - your gender is sexy. your gender is the performance of sex. you are thigh highs and garter belts. which, to be fair, do make you feel sexy.

part of what does make sex good is that you can tell that other people want you, which means the performance of sexiness is both bloody and wanted, which is good, which means you are winning at having a body. being wanted is the prize. being wanted is the thing you are searching for, not hope. you think you are looking for a soft grave in easy loam, but that is bloody but not sexy. to be sexy you must be bloody like a red open sign. bloody like a handprint. this will make you wanted.

any wanted or unwanted body is subject to supply and demand, which is to say that the more demand, the better you are valued. you must be highly demanded to be valued. this is stated in matter-of-fact by some men. sometimes it is a priest that says it, and sometimes it is a podcaster, and sometimes it is the 45th president of the united states of america.

(if you do not have any experience with being told your value, i want you to grab the nearest bird to you and i want you to crush it into a thin paste in your hand. spit into the center, and then hold your fingers closed tight around it for days and days, long after the rot has set in. feel bones itch inside of your fist. this is only a fraction of what it actually feels like, but it will suffice for a moment.)

good sex feels like you have earned their desperation. you have earned your own value. for a while you operated under the understanding that everyone knew about the power structure, even him. that their desire to take you - the violence of it - means that you must desire to be caught. little prince, guardian fox - you would rather have cut your own arm off. you liked the secret, cunning little voice you keep tucked into a box. you think you are fucking me. i am not even here right now. you are fucking what i conned you into perceiving. this is a painting, not a person. dominion over the body before all things.

so you bend your body like a wheat shaft and learn the steps so perfectly that it almost seems graceful. (if you do not have experience faking your own connection to your body and sexuality, cut each of your articles of clothing just a little bit incorrectly. pour fishbones into each of your meals. this way, you will experience the average noon on a tuesday.)

you have to be sexy like light spilled over a desk, but not desperate. not a noose. you can't be sexy like an electric guitar, you are the acoustic. you have to be on top of the bull but you can't have control over the animal.

okay, okay. the little rabbit of your heart went to sleep so long ago that winter has ravaged your concept of the human soul. there's something very-bad inside you, something that has taken over, a little fetid and rabid animal, angry and hurting and willing to bite first.

oh but even that's a pain that's sexy. open your mouth. be careful not to let the canines show.

[babygorewhore]

Daddy issues

After your dad is arrested, you try and beg for his job back. But Rafe Cameron decides another way for you to help your father. And his arrangement is different than you imagine.

Warnings! Daddy kink! Talks of violence! Slight reference to abuse! Choking! Blow job! Rough unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Virginity loss! Dirty talk!

You didnt know if you were more angry or surprised when you got the call from the officer that your dad was arrested and currently in jail for assault. You were finished working your late shift at the restaurant when your phone rang.

You screamed in your car on the way to the station. Your dad was a dead beat. An asshole who didn’t know how to fucking control his temper. Daddy dearest also liked to get loud with you, throw things when he didn’t get his way and one time he slapped you in the face.

You slapped him back and threatened to slash his tires. But the threat was empty considering he needed to work, which you had no idea how he kept his job at the docks while working for Rafe Cameron. It used to be his father Ward until his suicide. You’d met him often while picking your dad up, given you had to share a car.

He was…polite you could say. But he was also scary. He glared at everyone and he was short tempered. You usually heard him snapping or yelling if something wasn’t done right. Your dad complained about how strict he was.

But his status and wealth made everyone obey him and intimidated you. His attractiveness however was on another level. His height made you feel small and his blue eyes cut through people.

You slammed the door at the station and went to the desk. After signing in, you tapped your foot impatiently as an officer came up to you.

“Are you…?”

“My dad is here. He just got arrested.” You ground out. You hated being here. She nodded and looked at paperwork in front of her.

“Are you here to post bail?”

“I’m here to see if there’s any way we can clear this up as a misunderstanding.” You tried to plead but she shook her head.

“Ma’am, he attacked a man at a stoplight. He beat him up to the point he lost one of his teeth.”

You pressed your head against your hand. Jesus Christ it was worse than you thought. “How much is bail?”

She looked again at the paperwork. “Looks like we’re at 6,000 dollars.”

“What? I thought the bail was lower than that!” You shrieked.

“Ma’am. He also had multiple charges. Public intoxication, disturbance and assault. He caused a lot of trouble. I suggest you alert his job tomorrow. But until then, he’s going to spend at least 60 days in jail.”

You started crying. You couldn’t help it. It hurt so much. You couldn’t get a break. And now you’d have to face Rafe Cameron and face the humiliation of your dad being in jail.

You cried on and off the next day as you had to switch your schedule to the evening and make the phone call to your dads manager about his current situation. It was immediate termination and you broke down even harder in your bedroom. You refused to take his phone call, afraid you’d explode on him.

As you got ready for another dreaded work shift, your phone started ringing to a number you didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Your dads in jail, huh?” You immediately froze. It was Rafe’s voice. How did he-well he was capable of finding anything out.

“I-um. Yes. And he can’t work for you anymore. But if you’ll please reconsider. I know he’s a piece of shit but this is the only job he’s lasted out and we desperately need the money. I’m trying to get a car and we have to share one. I know this is probably pointless but I can’t help but try. So please, please take him back.” More tears came and you felt like a total cry baby but you pushed through.

You expected him to laugh but instead silence met you.

You bit your lip hard enough it bled.

“Meet me at my house. I’ll text you the address. I have a proposition for you.”

“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?” Your stomach tightened.

“Do you want me to help you or not?”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Good girl.”

You set the phone down but seconds later his address came through in a text and your breath stopped short. He wanted to see you after work.

Five minutes before closing and after you finished cleaning, the drive to Rafe’s house wasn’t that far and now you knocked on his door. When he answered, you tried not to reveal how much you found him attractive. His hair was in his face and his eyes were glazed as he looked down at you. His fingers twitched and you imagined what he was doing with that hand…

Rafe gestured with his head for you to come in and you followed him inside the massive penthouse. He had everything you imagined. Expensive furniture, floors and lights.

You followed him to the kitchen where he pointed to the bar stool. “Have a seat.” He muttered.

You obeyed and watched as he circled the island in the center of the room. “So. You wanna save your dads job?”

“Yes. I’m willing to do anything-“ You stopped short when a smirk fell on his face.

“Anything?” Rafe challenged. “It looked like you hated him whenever I saw you talk to him.”

“It’s complicated.” You replied and his smirk grew into a cruel smile.

“Looks like someone has daddy issues.” Rafe countered and you crossed your arms.

“I-well when you put it that way-“

“I’m just bringing up what you’re telling me. Your dad beats the shit out of someone. He went to jail-and now you’re doing anything you can to fix it. Tell me if I missed anything.” Rafe’s voice was low and you hated that he was right.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I’m just in a tight spot.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re in a…tight spot.” His meaning was clear and you swallowed.

That was the exchange.

“Look at you. Being a little smart girl and figuring it out. I’m gonna get to the point. You want me to take him back? Bail him out? I get to fuck you. Anywhere. Anytime. And anyplace I want. No condoms. No hidden birth control. No. I wanna see my cum leak out of that desperate pussy.”

Your mouth opened and closed. “I can’t just fuck a stranger. And no birth control? I can’t fucking get pregnant.”

“I’m a selfish whore, baby. And I can afford one. And those are my terms. Either that. Or your dad rots.”

You bit your lip. You weren’t in a position to say no. You needed the money. And Rafe was hot. There were worse guys. Rafe got closer, his big hands reaching to cup the side of your neck.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Slowly, you nodded.

Rafe crooked a finger, signaling you to come closer. You stepped down and approached him gingerly and looked into his gaze. Rafe then latched his hand around your throat. His grip was so strong your feet almost lifted in the air and your eyes widened as he crushed his lips to yours.

His lips devoured you as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t experienced. Sure, you’d touched yourself and made out with people.

But actual fucking? You’d never done that. And you knew that was about to change.

“You want me to take care of you, don’t you?” Rafe loosened his hold on your neck and pressed you against the island counter, “need someone to be your daddy?”

Your hands flew to his chest as you brought him impossibly closer, his lips sucked your skin with bruising force. You opened your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside.

“Suck.” He commanded and you listened. Spit gathering on your lips as he kneed your legs apart and lifted you up on the counter.

“Need daddy to help you? Fill you up with my cum?” His dirty words made your cunt twitch as he started toying the end of your skirt. Your thighs dampened as he trailed his thick fingers along your flesh, his fingers grazing the wet patch of your underwear.

You started grinding to give any friction against your arousal as he apparently changed his mind and threw you to the ground by underneath your arms. Rafe gestured to the crotch of his pants. “Consider this your first payment, baby. You ever done this before?”

You shakily remained silent as he huffed an amused laugh.

“Really? A girl who’s such a perv that she’s willing to fuck someone giving her money? Never would have guessed. I guess I’ll be nice and help you.”

Rafe undressed his lower half, his cock leaked with precum and he took your hand. “Swipe it with your thumb, get it all wet.” His massive hand compared to yours was almost comical as he grabbed the back of your head.

“Open your mouth, princess. And remember to breathe through your nose.”

After that, he silenced whatever worries you had by shoving his dick forward. You run your tongue along the thick underside, lessening some of the heavy weight by massaging with your hand. You took the tip through your mouth, shoving down any nerves as you sucked. Rafe bobbed your head up and down as he pushed you further, your head bouncing as your eyes squeezed shut.

“No, no, open your slutty eyes and look at me.” He growled. He leaned over the arch of the space between the counter and where you sank on your knees. The skin of his cock was supple as you continued aiding with your hand. It was hot to the touch.

“Good fucking girl. Maybe I’ll reward you by fucking your pussy.” He started thrusting and hitting the back of your throat. “Breathe. Breathe through your nose.” He wiped a few tears away with his thumb as you listened to him.

You knew he was getting closer as he stopped talking, his breathing heavier as he moved your head. His cum spilled inside your mouth, as he released you and you coughed.

“Not bad for your first time. We’re gonna practice some more.” Rafe smirked as his face was flushed and his fist flexed.

He moved on top of you on the floor, hiking up your skirt and ripping off your panties. He spread apart your wet cunt and dipped his middle finger inside your clenching entrance. “You’re such a whore. Never done any of this and you’re already gonna cum. Should have known you’d be daddy’s cum slut.”

Rafe yanked your legs apart, and spit on your pussy. “Not that it needed it, but I’m gonna be a little more kind to you.” You shrieked as he grabbed your jaw.

“Are you on birth control?”

“No.” You quickly answered. “Never-never needed-“

“Good. And you’re not going to. Got it?” Rafe moaned as he pushed his tip in your pussy, “fuck you’re so tight.”

You winced from discomfort but then his knuckles hit your clit, aiding to relieve your tension as he circled them. “Gonna make you mine. Take you away from all that shit.” He grunted as he pushed further.

Rafe let you wrap your arms around his neck as he thrusted.

“Tell daddy you like it.”

“I like it.” You sobbed as he moved harder. “I like it, daddy.”

It was slightly shameful how quickly you came all over him and spilled onto your legs. Rafe also came again and you felt it inside you. He was serious about no protection.

He stayed for a few seconds before getting up. And pulling his pants back on. He extended his hand and pulled you up. You knew you were a sight to be seen, fucked out eyes and messy hair. You just lost your virginity to Rafe Cameron.

You cleared your throat and watched him sweep his eyes over your face. “So. My dad?”

He shrugged. “He’s already out.”

You paled. “What?”

“I posted bail a few minutes before you got here. But as for his job, you’re gonna have to work harder than that. I have conditions.”

“But I already said-“

“More than just fucking you, baby girl. I own you now. You are mine and no one gets to even think about fucking you. I will cross any line you make to keep me away. And if you try, I will punish you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You whimpered as he loomed over you.

“And?” He mocked. “You already agreed. You need me. Don’t you?” He cupped your jaw. Tightly but not as harsh.

“Yeah.” You leaned in to his touch. Your defenses are completely down. You needed care. You were always working. Always cleaning up after someone’s mess. And now…he was going to take care of you.

And either make your daddy issues better.

Or worse.

@xxhellfirebunnyxx @imyourdaninow @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @slvt4jamesmarch @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @scene-and-dandylover @emsgoodthinkin

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

Hi I love ur “imgonnagethimback” and I was wondering if I could request a enemies to lovers kind of thing like in that story, the fem slytherin reader and Mattheo riddle secretly love each other, they don’t show it but are flirty to each other and they start fake dating to make one of their ex’s jealous and end up daiting for real in the end like a happy ending

obsessed with ur ex // mattheo riddle x fem slytherin reader

playlist : obsessed - olivia rodrigo

summary : you and mattheo constantly have forced proximity being in the same friendgroup , which you hated just as much as you hate him. so its kinda weird the boy that hates you was so eager to help make your ex boyfriend jealous?

y/n used , slytherin fem reader , swearing, not proof read

thank you for the request! i did my best to fit the whole plot into one part i hope you like it

masterlist

"blaise are you nearly done with the potions book , everyone else needs to read it too?!" pansy asked impatiently , sitting across from an unbothered blaise in the library.

your whole group had decided to study together in the library , including mattheo -sadly- , meaning the arguements over books and copying eachothers work had been going on for about an hour now.

"no , im not done. pansy." blaise said plainly , knowing it would only annoy the imaptient girl more.

"blaise!-" she started shouting before being cut off by you grabbing her arm and sliding a book towards her.

"panse...we had another copy the whole time." you said quietly , not wanting to recieve her wrath.

"well why didnt you tell me that 5 minutes ago!" pansy seethed as you avoided eye contact .

"yeah y/n , it such a shame you brain isnt as high quality as your looks." mattheo winked at you from across the table as you sneered at him , quickly replacing pansys anger with your own.

"shut up riddle , i am currently holding a very heavy book and i dont think your brain would like if it came hurtling at your head!" you rambled out quickly in anger , only amusing mattheo more as he grinned at you.

you let out a defeated sigh and slouched into your chair , looking away from the boy and at the table across the library that was emtpy a few minutes ago. but not anymore. now two people sat at it - your ex boyfriend cedric and-...CHO?!

you bolted up from your chair upon seeing them , sitting forward and staring with a shocked expression.

"whats wrong baby , you look like youve seen a ghost!" mattheo laughed at you until pansy shot him a glare and put a hand on your shoulder , having seen cedric and cho aswell.

"y/n just ignore him , he was always a shitty guy-was that not obvious?" pansy tried to comfort you , eventhough it had no effect on your shattered heart.

you and cedric broke up last week , and he was already cuddling with cho in the library?! you didnt think it was even possible to move on that fast.

by this point mattheo had turned to peer at what you stared at to , spotting cedric and scowling.

"dickhead." he muttered to himself , lorenzo having heard it smirked at him.

"i-..." you started , "i want to be sad about it but i....still like cedric."

the whole group gaped at you , shocked by your sudden confessions as theodore broke the silence, "how can you still like that thing?! he broke your heart y/n."

"we were together for ages theo , its not something i can get over in a week." you replied , arguing for your emotions.

"yeah well he clearly didnt show any signs of struggle," mattheo scoffed as you glared at him, firey-eyed.

"fuck you riddle! read the room!" you said quickly with anger before getting up out of your seat , scraping it harshly along the floor before running out of the library.

"way to go mattheo mate," lorenzo said , rolling his eyes.

"they were together for 6 months not a fucking century , shes just being dramatic." mattheo argued back with a shrug.

"its different for girls mate." blaise added , suprisingly deciding to defend you rather than joining in on the teasing.

"very different , remember in second year when you cried for weeks over you 2 day ravenclaw boyfriend panse-?" draco started before being cut off by a flushed pansy.

"shut up draco!" she exclaimed as the whole group laughed at her , asides from mattheo who had long since got up and left the library.

----

"sorry." mattheo said quietly to your curled up frame once he found you in an empty corridor , sat on the floor with you head hung low.

"piss off riddle im not in the mood." you muttered , your voice breaking slightly.

there was a short break of silence as mattheo searched his thoughts for what to do in order to help you.

"lets date." mattheo said confindantly , breaking the heavy silence.

you head snapped up at this , allowing him to see your tear stained face and shocked expression look up at him.

"what?!"

"lets date." mattheo said before panicking , "not-not real date! lets fake date make-.....cedric....jealous"

the bitter way he said cedrics name made you cringe as you replayed his words in your head , "youd...do that for me-?"

"yes!" he cut you off with zero hesititation.

you slowly got up from the ground , dusting off your uniform and walking towards an increasingly nervous mattheo riddle, "thank you mattheo. id love to fake date you"

mattheos whole body heated up as you said his name , he was so used to being called 'riddle' , you saying his name felt like a blessing from the great divine.

"y-youre...youre welcome" he stuttered out as you smiled at the boy , a genuine smile.

"wait outside my dorm tomorrow morning , we can walk to breakfast together!" you grinned happily , deciding not to question your own excitement.

-----

"hi mattheo!" you said happily as you stepped out of your dorm , finding the boy nervously stood outside the door.

"hi," he said quietly , avoiding your eye until you grabbed his face and forced him to look at you.

"you need to look at me if you want people to believe us, babe." you said with a smirk as mattheo turned bright red clearing his throat and pulling your hand off his face.

"right - youre right. lets go." he said before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away from you.

"stop!" you called out to him as he sighed and turned back around , waiting as you walked towards him.

once you were finally infront of him, you placed your bag from your shoulder to his , "boyfriends carry their girlfriends bags".

he scoffed , ready to argue back before you grabbed his wrist and pulled a green bracelet out of your pocket , along with a hair tie.

"and they wear matching bracelets!" you grinned as you slipped the accessories onto his wrist and help up your own wrist , showing him the purple bracelet that you also wore , the same as his but just a different colour.

mattheo blushed deeply , staring down at the bracelet and hair tie , "did-..was this cedrics?"

you looked at him , confused and slightly offended , "no? of course not! i made these last night!"

you pointed at your bracelet that had a letter M charm on it , shining brightly and making mattheos icy persona melt to a poodle of chilling love.

"oh-..thanks." he said awkwardly , holding back a smile.

"dont mention it! lets go." you said before intertweining your hand with his and dragging a flustered mattheo down the corridor and towards the great hall.

---

you whole journey to the great hall had been accompanied by whisperes and points towards the two of you , people gasping at your hand in mattheos and your bag on his shoulder.

"i wonder if cedric will notice." you whispered to mattheo as you walked through the doors of the great hall.

you didnt realise that mattheos grip on your hand had tightened after hearing your words , his body stiffening at the sudden memory of what all this was for. you didnt actually like him. and he hated that.

or atleast he didnt think you liked him.

---

"i still can believe it." pansy said as you both laid on your beds , gossiping in your dorm.

its been two weeks of you 'fake dating' mattheo and it had been going well , cedric seems to be acknowledging you more and your whole group had noticed the increased amount of times mattheo smiled a day. and it had increased a lot.

"panse , whats so hard to believe , he offered a way to get cedric jealous and i took it!" you said , matter of factly.

"yeah but why mattheo! i thought you would reject him and do it with like - enzo instead!" pansy rambeled as you turned and looked at her , laughing.

"pansy it isnt that serious!"

"are you sure about that...seriously y/n i never seen you two so happy before..." pansy said softly , confronting you.

you couldnt deny that you were happy ,so happy that it made you realise it was never cedric you deeply cared about. you accepeted mattheos offer because it was mattheo. but you just werent ready to admit that to him yet.

"i-...i think i like mattheo. theres no use denying it to you - you can read me like a book."

"yay! im so glad youve admmited it , now go confess!" pansy squealed , getting up to try and drag you off your bed.

"pansy im in my pajamas and its 11:50pm , it can wait!" you laughed as pansy sighed and let go off your legs , stumbling back to her bed.

"okay fair enough. but you need to confess soon lover girlll!" pansy teased as you giggled and threw a pillow at her.

----

"i like you y/n."

okay a little bit of context.

you were just sat at your table in the great hall ,resting your head on mattheos shoulder when a deep voice from behind you interupted the group. and thats how we got here! with cedric diggory stood infront of you confessing he 'likes you' in front of all your gobsmacked friends. not to mention your furious boyfr- fake. boyfriend..

"what-" you started before being cut off by mattheos lips on yours.

all of your friends gasped loudly as you froze completely , he continued to kiss you softly , giving you time before you eventually kissed back.

it felt like forever had passed by before panys tense voice cut you and mattheo apart, "guys hes gone please - PLEASE STOP!"

you both quickly moved back , your eyes awkwardly scanning you friends, landing on pansy who covered her eyes and looked down with disgust.

"well thats put me off my food." draco stated , dropping his fork with frustration as you turned bright red.

you turned to mattheo , who only looked at you, searching your expression for a single glimpse of happiness about the kiss. just when he thought he wouldnt find it you abtruptly stood from the table and ran out of the hall , to the nearest abandoned corridor.

you paced back and forth replaying what had happened until the loud sound of running distracted you , mattheo running to stand infront of you and stop your pace.

"y/n-" he started before you cut ihm off , finally making eye contact.

"why would you do that mattheo?!" you asked in pure confusion.

"i know i know- the whole point was to get diggory to like you and i blew it - im so sorry-" he stuttered.

"i love you!" you shouted over him.

the long break of silence that followed nearly made you burst into tears of humiliation.

your realisation for the love you held for mattheo came on the night you talked with pansy , you asumed he liked you back but the tense atmosphere you currently stood in made you heart break with every passing minute.

"i love you too...i-i love you so much and i have for ages-" he started before being cut off by your lips harshly on his again, the kiss holding more passion and meaning than the last.

after a while you pulled away and wrapped your arm around his neck ,smiling up at the flushed boy.

"it was never really about diggory , i was upset sure; but i only accepted your offer because i- i wanted to date you" you whispered with hot cheeks as mattheo smiled down at you adoringly.

"good because im yours," you both laughed lightly as he brushed a hand through your hair, "be my real girlfriends y/n y/l/n?"

"i thought youd never ask!"

a/n : this is lowkey kinda ass sorry LMAO