#hefty for a meal on a normal day but today it’s perfect

[jxwuff]

HORROR PROMPT: “This was not how it was supposed to go.”

Language, smol violence.

HORROR PROMPT: “This was not how it was supposed to go.” 

Everything was going according to plan and I was going to get a hefty chunk of cash. Hell, I think it might be time for a little vacation. A treat for myself, you know? I was a hard worker.

My client said the woman knew too much, that she had snooped on his phone and computers when he wasn’t home. They had a spat and she left. She knew too much about his organization and she could no longer be trusted. She was an asset and now she needed to be dispatched discreetly. 

It was simple. I tailed her for two weeks, checking work schedules and personal appointments as they argued on the phone here and there. She didn’t seem to have much of a social life, spending most of her time on walks or getting new books from the library. I had begun to think that she didn’t know anything.

After all, if she had found out about his illegalities, any normal person would have gone to the police by now. But that wasn’t why I was here. Sooner or later she would snitch. Maybe she was just holding out for blackmail and that would be eventual. My mission wouldn’t change if it were today or next week. Her locks were easy to defeat. In fact, there were several windows to her house that she didn’t even keep locked. 

Honestly, the audacity of some people to think that they’re safe. Actually even if they were locked, it was only a bit of wood and drywall - maybe a thick pane of glass - that formed their safety. Not so danger proof. 

So on a Friday evening, I sat waiting for her to return from work. No one would miss her for at least nine? Ten days? Her calendar indicated she had requested a week off. This was laughable. I would have plenty of time to dispose of her and maybe have some extra fun. I hadn’t been given any limitations as long as she disappeared. 

5:47pm. Any second now. 

She would pull up, walk in, set her bag and keys down, grab a glass of water. She would then go into her room, change into something comfortable, and set about making dinner. It was like that every weekday. She would always plate it up, set it on the table, and then go retrieve her laptop. That would be my cue. And then I could enjoy the meal before getting to the messy part. Perfect. 

Speaking of, there were the sounds of her keys at the door. I shut the coat closet and leaned up against the frame, hearing her footsteps in the kitchen for the water and then moving to the bedroom. Pristine routine. 

She came back out and I heard the soft suction of the fridge door, the rustle of ingredients, and the adjustment of stove knobs. There was some plastic wrap being torn and my mind wandered to what my reward would be. 

And then a knock on the door made my heart skip. 

Who the fuck was at the door? There were no appointments in her calendar. I checked when I got in. Everything was in her calendar. Always. Even her library trips were marked so she would never return books late. What the hell?

A muffled male voice came my way. Was he… delivering something? Yes that must be it. Just a package. The plan would still be fine. 

I was able to hear her tell him to please bring the package in. Huh. Must be something rather large and heavy. I heard it thump onto the ground, and she said her thank you and goodbye. Her front door shut and clicked and I brought my hand to the door, ear smashed to it trying to hear her. 

Nothing out of the ordinary now, just the sound of her cutting tape. Some more sounds of rustling plastic and more movement. It sounded like she pulled a chair over, maybe she was sitting down to inspect the contents. After not even two minutes of unpackaging sounds, she returned to the kitchen. 

Great. I felt my shoulders relax.

Back to dinner. The delicious smell of searing meat flooded my small hiding place, and then came the garlic, butter, and herbs. My mouth was watering. This was going to be a great night. Steak dinner, some nice wine I had spotted earlier, and a contract completed. I smiled. 

She moved back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table a few times, probably setting the table. I was getting hungry. 

Then footsteps again, and I could hear the sound of her dragging the box from earlier. I adjusted myself, ready to pounce as soon as she passed me but all I heard was the slow dragging. She was taking too long and I wanted that damn steak. 

Step, drag, step, drag. 

I put my hand on the doorknob. Just a few more steps and she would be past me, and prime for the taking. 

Step.

Drag.

Step. 

Drag. 

Just a few more steps and I could fling the door open. 

Step. 

Drag. 

I turned the knob slowly, ready to time it with her. 

Step.

I readied myself for a tackle, and twisted the knob, tensed to spring  - the door started to open forward and–

Clunk. 

My face hit the door and I whipped my neck back. What the fuck?

I forced the door again in confusion. It was definitely opening, but it was stuck. Something was wedged under the knob and against the opposite of the hall. I slammed it forward, backward, flung myself into it. but there was barely an inch of light that would come through the opening each time. 

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck. I rammed my shoulder into the door again to no avail. This fucking bitch. How did she know?

Wait. 

She hadn’t said a damn thing. I froze. She wasn’t running or screaming or yelling. She was standing just outside the closet. The next thing I knew, she pointed something at me through the crack in the door and a spray of burning mist hit me square in the face. I’ll be honest, not my finest moment. The burning went straight into my eyes and raced up my nose. Before I could wipe anything off, I heard the click and felt the sting. Everything got even more blurry as I spit and gagged, bumping into every wall of that damned closet.

And the next thing I knew I was waking up in a chair, eyes still stinging and snot running down my chin. I took a breath in and coughed some more. Are you kidding me? 

I went to wipe my face but to my horror my arms were strapped down - and my ankles too. 

Where the fuck was I? It was an empty room, maybe the size of a small office. A hidden bunker? I was in the dead center. 

“Hey!!!” I yelled. There could still be negotiation. There was always negotiation. 

I coughed a few times, spitting out more gunk. 

“Hello? Can we talk about this?” I yelled up toward the ceiling. The door must have been behind me but it hurt to turn too far. She probably dragged me around and boy would I feel that for days. She was going to pay. 

I started to rock back and forth, trying to get some sort of leverage and maybe slip a foot free. 

The door clicked open and I tried to sit up straighter. 

She walked slowly, like she was a fancy villain or some shit. As she came into view, she had a crooked smile that I wanted to rip off her face. 

“Finally. Can we talk?” I tried to sound convincing. Charisma was never really my strong suit, hence my field of work. Quiet, stealthy, and clean. I had been complacent and now I had to get myself out of this shit show. 

“About?” she asked, taking small steps and circling me. 

“Look, your boyfriend? He set you up to disappear. Clearly there’s a lot more to you than a pair of snooping eyes. Let’s make a deal.” I tried to smile. “I ain’t loyal to nobody. Let’s say you disappear and leave him alone and I’ll give you a cut. Pretend this never happened.”

She paused in front of me. I wanted so badly to know who she was and what her deal was but this wasn’t the time. I needed to get her to play along and then I would find her later, get my payment back in full. Extra work, but now I wanted revenge. She wasn’t going to embarrass me.

She was staring straight at me still with that stupid smile.

“I get a cut?” she drawled. I didn’t like her tone. Talkin to me like a kid. But I had to suck up my pride and not show that she was under my skin. 

“Yeah. And then we can all forget about this. How about it?”

She leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “Okay. I get a cut.”

A sharp piercing pain slid across the top of my shoulder. 

I yelled out a string of curses. 

“Hey what the fuck you bitch?” I gritted my teeth and growled in pain. 

“Don’t call her names. You’re our bitch now.”

I twisted my head around trying to look at the new voice and there stood my client, closing the door behind him and locking it with a key. 

Fuck…

This was not how it was supposed to go.

#writing prompt #horror #short story

[scarletooyoroi]

Mona walked up to Thoma, an excited look on her face. Almost impossible to contain her excitement. ❝ Look! Look! Safe to say that I will be able to afford tons more books this month! ❞ she said, as she jiggled the mora-filled pouch in front of her. She had travel far and wide for the commission she took on, but it paid handsomely. ❝ Not only that, but considering what you do for me. I will treat you to a meal. Now, let's go! I'm starving! ❞

Business day found itself booming as usual. A vast, multi-layered web of connections, conversations and actions all falling into the pocket of responsibility for Inazuma’s fixer. Once again his name found itself the talk of the streets, settled in hush whispers, fearful croaks to positively delighted yells of recognition. Thoma himself didn’t mind too much as due to today, another bountiful gathering of resources and closed deals offers a lofty premise for the Yashiro Commissions ebb and flow. It was days like these often spent apart from normal companionship, leading to him being harder to spot in the later hours of the evening.

To think there would be such exciting news awaiting him. He was found within one of the mini halls of the Kamisato Estate, a crimson whirlwind of movement as walls, tables and knick knacks found themselves cleansed to minute perfection. There was a calm flow to the movements, practiced ease that stirred from a genuine hobby that somehow matched the meticulous and patience filled methods of his other hobbies. As a jolly tune is gently hummed, that is quickly and welcoming in terms of being interrupted. The Old Duster within his hand pauses, scurrying away the last of the filth before recognition is noted in his expression.

Watching their approach, from the royal blues and pretty black bow of that tall hat, there was a sense of zest within their motions that had him a touch excited for the news. If there was one thing that’s been learned, it’s that her hard working nature lent itself to thriving amidst her struggles.

“Ah, Mona! Where’s the fire at here-- where’s, oh!” Understanding blooms once that hefty sack of humanity’s ultimate language is revealed. So this explains where the passing days had swept her away.

No doubt it’s work about her profession? If not that, he’s privy now to the great strength that’s vested within her being through heart work and a strong heart. Yet right now, the exclamation of returning to her indulge draws a hearty laugh from him, beaming with pride. “Incredible work! Now that I mention it.. You did say that one of the older stores in town had some considerably rare tomes?” As always, the first thought is how she could bask in her victory. That said, what hadn’t been among the anticipated was.. an offer to him?

Not that he doubts her air of kindness. It’s just that his efforts never stirred from a realm of needing any kind of compensation. Similar to the gracious hands that helped him at tougher spots in his life, he too aspired to be a similar warm strength.

..So maybe, that’s where this is coming from?

Being tackled in how this offer is laced more as a command instantly causes a bout of laughter to escape from him. It almost feels as if getting time in her natural element forged a hidden key to get her back in action.  Hands raised in a form of surrender as the duster is balanced, there’s certainly no complaint here. “Well if it’s the warpath to a celebration at foot here. Who am I to deny being whisked away to these front lines? Very well! But only, and only if we go to the store to shop soon after. I’ve busied up with one of my connection to get this channel opened for you, ancient scrolls about people who worked with the stars.”

“So, how about Uyuu Resturant as her strategic point of attack? They’ve been working with a fresh batch of fresh caught seafood!”

After a thoughtful pause, he knows that it doesn’t need to be heard, yet, her upbeat mood simply got the better of him.

“Incredible work out there, Mona. I couldn’t agree more that it’s time to make the best of it.”

@stellarismegistus

#stellarismegistus #| Tucked Letters #D'aw that energy is what he's talking about! #Since from the days they first met #It's certainly been steps up for their misadventures #Gotta make sure some extra rewards are in tow

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

#kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon #bts smut #bts fics #namjoon smut #out of my league #knj #knj smut #rap monster smut #JOOOOOOOOOONie

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Valentine’s Day with Ateez

Ateez Masterlist                            Group Masterlist

Hongjoong:

“Don’t look, don’t look!” You said, shielding your jacket from his eyes. “How am I supposed to not look when you’re sitting directly across from me? Besides you keep peeking over here too!” Hongjoong laughed, gesturing to how you were sat. Maybe this was a better idea in theory, but it didn’t matter you were having fun. 

Valentine’s day had come and you and Hongjoong didn’t really feel like doing anything extravagent. But you still wanted to do something and well, this was just perfect. Painting jackets for eachother, it was something Hongjoong had been wanting to do for you anyways and it was just really fun. 

“Oh -Joong I can’t give this to you. it looks horrible.” You laughed at your crooked lines over the denim. “I’ll love anything you make me.” Hongjoong said, total concentration as he traced over his lines with pink paint. He looked up with a smile at you once he finished.

“Because I love you.” 

Seonghwa:

It was Valentine’s day and you and Seonghwa hadn’t left the bed... but not because of what you might think. This was exactly what you both wanted, to just hang out, relax and catch up with eachother. It was nice to be lazy every once in a while and what better day than Valentine’s day. 

“We can still go out if you want?” Seonghwa said, looking at the clock. However he knew it would be impossible to get a table at a restaraunt this late on Valentine’s day. “No, no. I’m perfectly fine like this.” You said, placing your drink back on your nightstand to rest your head on his chest. His hands instinctively found your hair to play with it as you lazily watched tv. You meant it, this was nice alone time with him. 

He kissed your forehead, a few times in a row before pulling you even closer. Seonghwa couldn’t help himself, he was just incredibly happy to be able to have someone to do this with. Just be lazy. 

“Happy lazy little Valentine’s day. NExt year let’s get all dressed up and go somewhere really fancy.” 

Yunho: 

Your dates with Yunho had always been majorly laid back, always. For that very reason, Yunho wanted to do something completely different, he had borrowed a suit from the stylists and had told you to dress up. He wanted to do something special. 

So when he picked you up, in a suit with his hair slicked back slightly and a peek of forehead showing you were very surprised. “Now, I know our dates are always quite laid back and i don’t want that to change. But you were saying that you wanted to dress up again. I thought, we could go to an arcade completely dressed up after a nice dinner.” He proposed, cocking his eyebrow in your direction. 

It was an amazing idea, going to a fancy dinner to act like adult for a few hours and then be total kids while being all dressed up. It was the perfect date and the thought put into it was even better. You grabbed Yunho’s hand, “We should go get ice cream afterwards too.” You said and he smiled even wider. 

“This is why I love you.” 

Yeosang: 

“Is this what normal couples do on Valentine’s day?” You asked, enjoying the feeling of Yeosang’s fingers placing the mask on your face. He was always the best at applying sheet masks. “I’m not sure. But I’m having a good time.” Yeosang said and smoothed out the mask before sitting back down on the ground. “So am I.” You said and looked at him, laughing because of the panda design on his sheet mask. 

“Can you hand me a chocolate?” You asked, gesturing to the heart shaped box of chocolates. He grabbed one from the box and handed it to you before hitting play again on your movie. It was a relaxed day, having bought some Valentine’s chocolates to share and sheet masks for a little spa day.

“I feel like we should’ve gone out or something.” He said pausing the movie and looked at you. “Would you have liked to go out?” You asked and he furrowed his brows, mask wrinkling while he did so. “No, not really. I really like this.” Yeosang said and you smiled. Leaning forward you kissed his lips quickly through the masks. “Then this is perfect. I love this.” You agreed and he nodded, pressing play on your movie again. 

“I love you.” 

San: 

Rain or shine, holiday or not, if it was comeback season, there was practice. Which you understood and San had apologized multiple times for not being able to take the day off to be with you.  So you decided to do something for him instead. 

With a bouquet of roses, a small cat plush and a box of chocolate, you set off to the practice room. Peeking in, San caught glimpse of your head and smiled. “What are you doing here!” He asked happily and you revealed yourself fully. Your gifts for him in now fully visible to him and the other’s. “Surprise.” You smiled and watched San’s face light up. You could hear some of the other member’s awe but that wasn’t important. 

“You couldn’t spend Valentine’s with me so I thought I’d bring it to you.” You explained, handing him your small gifts. San nearly dropped them all to hug you and kiss you softly. 

“I wasn’t expecting anything today and was really bummed that I couldn’t do anything with you today. This is so sweet.” 

Mingi: 

There was just something about completely dressing up for a night on the town. Maybe it was cliché to go out for dinner and drinks on Valentine’s day but sometimes cliché was good. He had picked you up with your favorite flower’s in his arms and a huge smile on his face. Mingi was ready for a good night. 

“This was really nice and this dessert menu is huge.” You said, looking through the menu at the hefty list of desserts to choose from. Mingi reached across the table, grabbing your hand. “Your mom’s restaraunt is still open right?” You asked and he nodded with a confused expression. “We should bring her a nice dessert too.”

Mingi smiled at your words, loving your kind heart even when the date was for you two. “She’d love that.” He said and placed his menu down. Mingi leaned over the table for a moment and smiled at you. 

“Can I have a kiss from my beautiful Valentine?”

Wooyoung: 

When Wooyoung was reminded that Valentine’s day was around the corner, he knew exactly what he wanted to do for you. He wanted to cook a romantic dinner for you both and have a good night drinking wine and spending time together. 

He couldn’t help but find it cute as you stood next to him, helping him chop veggies in your pink apron covered in hearts that he had gotten you as a gag gift. “I can’t believe you convinced me to wear this thing.” You sighed, putting the knife down and looking at him. “I dressed up for this evening.” Wooyoung turned to look at you with a laugh. “I know and I’m trying to protect your outfit.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and returned back to his pot in front of him. 

You wrapped your arms around his waist and he wrapped an arm around you. “What’s up?” He asked, tilting your chin up slightly. “Nothing, I just love you... Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wooyoung smiled and turned his attention back to his meal. 

“I love you too, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Jongho: 

You just wanted to something cute for Valentine’s Day. You didn’t want to any gifts or anything like that but you did want to go out and have a fun time. So when you found out that there was an old school styled diner that had made cute milkshakes, you had been wanting to go. 

“This is so cute.” Jongho smiled as you tugged him further into the diner. “Right? I thought it was perfect for Valentine’s day. Not too fancy, but also not sitting at home. I thought it was just right.” You said and sat down in a booth with him. “It is just right. Thank you for bringing me here.” Jongho smiled, grabbing your hand as you waited for a waiter. 

His thumb stroked over hand gently, giving you undivided attention as you talked about which flavor milkshake to get. Maybe strawberry, or chocolate, maybe even oreo but he was just entirely focussed on how happy you were, making this his favorite Valentine’s day ever. 

“Thank you for making this a really fun day. Happy Valentine’s day.”

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone! I hope everyone has a good day filled with love in all sorts, not just romantic. ♥♥

#ateez #ateez reaction #ateez scenario #hongjoong #hongjoong reaction #seonghwa #seonghwa reaction #yunho #yunho reaction #yeosang #yeosang reaction #san #san reaction #mingi #mingi reaction #wooyoung #wooyoung reaction #jongho #jongho reaction

[thatslikely]

Monster - R.L.

Monster- (Young) Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: descriptions of blood and violence

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I don’t normally write for the Marauders, but this was a special request for my best friend Ocean, who has stood by my side for as long as I can remember. I love you Ocean <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, and thoughts/flashbacks are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @probably-peeves @anchoeritic @theweasleytwinsgirl

if you want to be added to my general or character-specific taglist, send me a dm or an ask!

----

Remus Lupin was a monster; a hideous beast deserving of nothing but a depressing life. A creature doomed to an eternity of rightfully earned misery and isolation. He was nothing more than a savage, barbaric werewolf.

Y/N, Y/L/N was a gorgeous and effervescent girl, who seemingly had the whole world rooting for her. She was exceptionally astute, a skilled and hallowed prefect, and unimaginably beautiful in every sense of the word. Someone who deserved nothing but the best.

While Remus would never believe it, he was the exact antithesis of a monster. To his friends, and to his great surprise, you, he was an altruistic, solicitous, and perceptive boy. A boy who you loved with every fiber of your being. A boy who needed to learn to love himself.

No matter what actions you took or words you sang, Remus sat in denial of your true feelings for him.

“But… why would you love someone like me? You already figured out that I’m a werewolf. I’m a monster, Y/N. You deserve so more than I could ever give to you,” Remus stated somberly. His eyes glistened with tears and were distinctly tinged with self-loathing. His normally soft, caramel locks were disheveled, and his worn Gryffindor uniform was wrinkled.

“Moony,” you started, Remus flinching at the nickname spilling from your lips, “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf. You’re breathtaking to me all the time, full moon or not. You have to understand, you’re not a monster! You’re someone I love. Someone I can’t live without.”

With the last sentence escaping your mouth with a plea, the tears that had been brewing in Remus’ eyes finally dripped down his face freely. He looked so broken, all the concrete walls that he had built up for so long crumbling under your acceptance and love. He was completely and utterly vulnerable.

He couldn’t be bothered to smudge away the translucent tears staining his cheeks, instead his arms instinctively reached to you like an infant, for a tight hug. He clung to your body like a lifeline; your soft and delicate skin drenched with a well-kept cardigan pressed into his aching chest. You felt so comforting in his arms, he could’ve held you forever. 

“Y/N… I love you.”  

The Great Hall was packed to the rafters with students adorned in varicolored robes, laughs and conversations dancing in one ear and out the other. The ancient, wooden tables were enveloped with pearly plates of every size, each supporting sky-scraping mounds of delicious house elf-made food. You promptly took the vacant seat next to Remus, reserved courtesy of himself, excited to see him after an endless day of droning professors.

James and Sirius were already plotting some sort of devious scheme, probably directed at their fierce rival, a raven-haired fellow fifth year named Severus Snape. You and Remus never became involved with the dastardly pranks, however, instead opting for unbiased pacifism. While a beady-eyed Peter was eagerly lapping up James’ and Sirius’ plans like ice-cold water in a desert, your stunning eyes lovingly locked with Remus’ handsome, mahogany ones.

You were quick to notice that Remus’ loaded plate of food remained untouched all dinner, contrasting the hefty meal residing in your own stomach. The full moon was approaching quickly, and there was no doubt he was worried out of his wits. You subtly motioned for him to pick at his plate, to no avail. 

If only he would allow you to comfort him about his monthly transformations. He had always been quick to shut down discussion of anything related to the lupine side of him, no matter how much you begged on your hands and knees for him to open up. 

“Remus, you really should eat. It’ll make you feel better, I promise,” you said with a concerned smile. The already troubled expression he wore fell even lower.

“I’m not hungry,” he said softly with strict finality. His face was painted with worry and guilt, a familiar but unpleasant sight. Once he noticed your gaze remained locked on him, he hastily covered up his unhappy expression with a small pseudo-smile.  

“Can you at least have a bite of chocolate?” you asked, grabbing a small chuck of delicious candy from a wrapper in your robe pocket. You extended your sugar-filled hand to him expectantly, and he obliged, grabbing the cracked square with annoyance. Once he started chewing on the sweet chocolate, however, his nerves relaxed and his demeanor softened.  

“Where’d you get this stuff, darling? Tastes quite good,” he asked, his words barely distinguishable thanks to the silky chocolate that filled his scarred cheeks. The nervous look that previously resided on his face was completely erased, a goofy grin triumphantly taking over.

“I’ll tell you, only if you swear to eat at least a little bit of your dinner,” you said motherly, gesturing your hands towards his plate of cold food. He emitted a sarcastic grumble before spooning some cold mashed potatoes into his mouth. He tried, and failed, to hide his gagging at the taste of the cold mush on his tongue, but he persevered, swallowing a few bites. 

“I believe I owe you some chocolate,” you said satisfied, this time removing the whole bar from your inky black cloak pocket. You ensured the bar was wrapped nicely before gingerly giving it to a giddy Remus.

“Now, where can I get myself some of this? They don’t sell it at Honeydukes, do they?” he questioned, before breaking off a bit of the milky chocolate, promptly popping it into his mouth. He kindly shared some extra squares with the other three Marauders, ‘thanks’ repeatedly passed his way.

“It’s homemade, straight from Mum’s kitchen. I get sent some just about every Sunday, so it looks like I’m your only source. Bummer.”

“Oh well. I suppose it’s worth it.” Remus rolled his eyes jokingly, sending a thankful squeeze to your interlocked fingers.  

The rest of dinner flowed along effortlessly.

----

Your droopy eyes languidly peeled open, revealing the lazy golden rays of light dancing across the stone walls of your cluttered dorm. The repulsive taste of mucus lingered at the back of your throat, an unwelcome side effect of your restless sleep.

Tonight was the night of the dreaded full moon.

Violent images of a bloody and wounded Remus flashed through your brain, causing a pained whimper to escape your throat. It always shattered your heart to see Remus returning back from a transformation, beaten, limping and broken. 

He made every effort to conceal himself returning in that state, cautiously darting to the Hospital wing, not wanting you to see, and subsequently pity him. But unknown to him, the tucked-away broom closet parallel to Madam Pomfrey’s provided a miniscule glance of his disheveled self every dangerously moonlit night.

You sluggishly got up from your bed, a bone-creaking stretch of your arms coupling with a sloth-like yawn following suit. You trudged through quicksand to the bathroom, quickly brushing your teeth to rid your mouth of the unpleasant morning taste that coated your tastebuds. 

Not long after, you threw on a comfortable outfit, one of Remus’ worn and oversized t-shirts and some sweatpants. If wearing his clothes could bring him a little joy today, it was worth it. 

“I like your shirt today. Looks quite dashing,” you said in a joking tone to the boy sprawled on the crimson-dressed bed below you. Remus was donning a holey, earth-toned t-shirt, topped with a matching unbuttoned, cocoa-colored flannel which complimented his messy mop of hair.

He sat up with an innocent smirk, saying, “It’d look pretty ‘dashing’ on you, too.” Remus’ cheeks gained heat at his bold comment, his mind imagining you wrapped in his clothes. Your goofy smile added to his favorite shirt would be near perfect.

“Wanna test your theory?” you casually asked, tiny droplets of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were always a bit flustered around Remus, but the prospect of his shirt was too alluring to pass up. 

His face morphed into a slightly mischievous grin, and his hands quickly tore off the flannel overshirt that complimented the coveted top underneath. “Turn around for a second.”

You cocked your eyebrow in surprise before complying, pivoting your body away from the changing Remus. You envisioned his bare torso, dotted with sore scars. The exciting ruffling of clothes played behind you in a whisper.

Your eyes begged to sneak a peek, but they listened to Remus’ request, remaining clamped shut until he signaled, “Okay, you can look now.”

The prized brown shirt laid scrunched-up in his lap, his hands busily buttoning the few top buttons of his flannel, which was now stretched across his whole chest. After the flannel was fitted to his satisfaction, he tossed you the shirt with an amused smile.  

You promptly slipped it over your head, the familiar and angelic smell of Remus brushing your nostrils. The shirt fit like a potato sack on your body, but to him, you looked ethereal. 

Remus wasn’t seen all day, for he was locked up in his dorm, rotting away with anxiety. James, Sirius, and Peter all attempted to get him out of the cage he laid trapped in, but nothing, even the most enticing offers, would make him budge.

He finally emerged from his cave to the common room late into the afternoon, wearing puffy, red eyes with heavy purple bags underneath. You immediately ran to him, arms wrapping tightly around his stiff chest. He released a sigh before reciprocating the hug, a tiny, tired smile, resting on his face.  

“Good afternoon to you, too,” he breathily muttered in your ear. Your whole body sprang up with goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath hitting your skin.

“I’ve been worried sick about you.” Your soft, relieved voice rang through his ears, guilt panging his heart.

“Don’t ever worry about me, honey. I’ll always be okay, and here for you.”

After stepping back from the solacing embrace, the other Marauders were quick to check on him. You stood away from their tight circle by the fire, simply admiring the laugh escaping Remus’ lips at one of James’ jokes. 

He’ll be okay, you comfortably told yourself, He’ll always be okay.

However, you failed to consider your own safety.

----

The pale strips of moonlight that shone through the window illuminated your glassy, saucer eyes, accompanied by your heart rapidly banging in your chest like a fast-tempoed timpani. Your arms vibrated with fear, and your ears remained steadily perked, listening for any stray howls reverberating from the Shrieking Shack.

You had tried your best to think positively: at least after tonight, he won’t worry for a while, but the images of a currently suffering Remus swam in your head, swiftly extinguishing your optimism.

Lupine-esque whimpers echoed through your brain, accompanying the ghastly memories of a bloodied Remus, causing your stomach to churn like the sea in a thunderstorm. You were plagued with such intense worry and guilt that you refused to remain idle in your dorm any longer.

If he remained abandoned by you every full moon, the scars that accented his skin would come back even more profound than last month. His chest would be drenched in his own blood, a familiar but nauseating sight. His leg would wobble to class every day just as badly, his knee sore and rigid. You couldn’t just sit and watch him break and heal again every month. Remus needed help.

You stuffed your feather-filled pillows under the duvet of your four-poster in the rough shape of a human body, hopefully convincing as your own. Then, you proceeded to noiselessly creep through your tranquil dorm, the minute tapping of your slippers on the hardwood blending seamlessly with the regular humming of the ancient castle. 

After safely out of the dorms and lifeless common room, you dashed to the Gryffindor tower, careful to avoid the observant eyes of patrolling professors. You softly muttered the password to the half-asleep Fat Lady, who you were well acquainted with thanks to the Marauder’s frequent antics.

You tip-toed up the cold, stone steps to the boy dormitories, promptly arriving at the fifth year dorms. You gave the sturdy, wooden door a light rap, crossing your fingers that the notorious night-owls would open up.

Your desperate wish was soon granted, a worried James peeling open the door, revealing the rest of the Marauders sitting in a circle on the rug behind him. “What’s up?” He whispered, a glint of mischief still present in his eyes, “you worried about Moony, too?”

“N- well yes, but I’m not here for a group therapy session. I need your cloak. The invisible one,” you quietly stated, confident and determined.

“What could you possibly be up to? Something tells me it’s not just a trip to the kitchens.” James looked considerably more suspicious, his knuckles’ grip tightening on the door. Sirius got up from his spot on the floor, approaching the door frame. 

“Er- just give me the cloak, please? I can’t sit around knowing he’s suffering alone out there. Not anymore.” Your eyes threatened to fill with tears, but you successfully fought to keep them under control.

“Y/N, is this really the best idea? I know you two are ‘in love or whatever’ but is it worth dying for? You and I both know the danger of his condition.” You winced at James’ words before stubbornly nodding, determined to leave with the cloak.  

“At least let us go with you. I don’t think Moony would want his girlfriend dying, especially if it was his fault.” Sirius snatched his wand and coat from the nightstand, ready to accompany you to the lupine love of your life.

“I’m sure that there’s no way in hell I could stop you guys, but, please, don’t worry about me. I’m a perfectly capable witch, believe it or not.”

James uneasily handed you the cloak while Sirius gave you a comforting pat on the back. You turned away from the dorm, your mind set on the Shrieking Shack. 

----

The fierce wind howled through the towering, spiky trees, not soothing your jittery nerves in the slightest. The previously clear, starry sky was now blanketed with inky storm clouds. The ground occasionally rattled with booming thunder, making your tingly legs shake even more.

Your wand was out and eager to spew spells at any unusual sights or sounds, despite knowing that the only real threat, Remus, resided exclusively in the shack. You gradually inched closer to the Whomping Willow, not exhibiting any Gryffindor-ish traits as you did so. 

When you were finally within range of it’s murderous branches, you skillfully levitated a rock to perfectly rest on the trunk’s secret pressure-point, paralyzing its wooden limbs without a sweat. You ducked under it’s ancient roots, running towards the demonic barks that echoed in the distance.

You tore the transparent hood off of your shoulders, dropping it on the porch of the dilapidated house. Your vision blurred with fearful tears, but regardless, you pushed the peeling door of the shack open, scared to see what lay inside.

Musty, forgone furniture was haphazardly thrown around what was presumably the den; deep and fresh claw marks mangled the grimy plush of chairs. Moldy tabletops were smashed in, opaque glass windows were shattered into millions of pieces, and there were unsettlingly large paw prints dotting the rotting floor.  

“Remus?” you squeaked, your throat tense and withdrawn. Low, animalistic growls could be heard from the second floor, and with a gulp, you slowly ascended the creaky stairs which groaned under your every movement.

“Remus…?” you repeated at the top of the desolate stairs, this time barely audible. “Moony?”

The level was eerily quiet, making you regret your decisions a hundred times over. You scampered forward, the small beam of white light emitted from the tip of your wand growing shaky with fear. He’s up here, somewhere. Thoughts of a suffering Remus drove you to peer through every room, fearfully expecting to find a helpless, balled up werewolf sitting in the corner.

Each battered bedroom lay devoid of life, disregarding the infestation of cockroaches that resided in the decaying walls. Your legs felt numb and uncontrollable as you stepped to the final bedroom at the end of the hallway. Remus must be in here.

You rolled your wrist around, making sure it was pliant in preparation for the spells that would likely need casting. You pushed the unhinged door to the side, ready to face your lupine boyfriend.

Barbaric, unintelligible noises tickled your ears at a low frequency. You walked silently into the room, the quivering grip on your wand increasing. You stepped further and further into the room, towards the bed that lay broken in the center.

A thunderous snarl from the closet jolted you around, invisible tears pouring down your face. “Remus? Remus, come out, it’s m-me.” 

Bloodied claws, sharp as daggers, dug into the aged wood, slowly approaching you like a predator sneaking up on its prey. “Remus, its Y/N. Don’t worry. It’s okay, I’m here.”

Inhuman, savage eyes pierced into your own soaked ones. Not an ounce of your boyfriend was left in the shadowy wolf; the way he slinked towards you viciously, the way bubbly drool fell from his twisted snout, the open wounds that characterized his back. 

His demeanor showed no signs of recognition, only ferine instincts ruled his primitive mind. “Remus… it's me…” Your voice cracked with heartbreak, a sob escaping afterwards. Silence, save for the deep, drawn out growls from the werewolf.

“REMUS! REMUS, TELL ME YOU REMEMBER ME? PLEASE, REMUS, PLEASE,” you wailed. Maybe you were yelling to get through to him, or maybe just to hear your own voice over your booming heart that drowned out your thoughts. 

Remus left you no time to think, let alone act, as your whittled wand thudded to the floor, and the vicious werewolf’s jaw sunk into your delicate collarbone. Sanguine blood splattered extravagantly across the decrepit room, its hauntingly intricate patterns tainting the rickety bed behind you, turning its dusty white sheets a sickly crimson.

A hoarse shriek rattled through your teeth as the feral canines dug deeper into your shredded flesh. Your vision went blurry, not from the tortured tears spilling from your eyes, but from mind-numbing exhaustion. The last thing you saw before collapsing onto the floor with a groan, your mouth contorted open in pain, was a quick flash of black and brown.

----

“Y/N… I’m so sorry.” Your chest vibrated from the lugubrious sobs escaping Remus’ nauseated throat. His lips and chin was crusted with a rusty red waterfall sourced from his now human teeth, his tousled, sweat-drenched hair rested on your heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“I’m a monster.”

Your dried, bloodshot eyes peeled open, taking in the confusing sight that surrounded you. You were crumpled on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, held by a sobbing, gory Remus. A melancholy James, Sirius, and Peter stood further back, taking in the depressing sight before them. 

Languid morning rays shone through the opaque glass of the window, the beams perfectly highlighting the slick trails of blood that dried all over your body. Your shirt was torn to shreds, the collar being the most mangled. Your shoulder stung with the pain of a thousand Crucio-curses.

“Remus… what happened?” you croaked, your throat unwilling to cooperate, its texture like sandpaper. His drenched, brown eyes looked up to you in shock, tears falling down his scarred checks even faster. Last night was nothing but a hazy black blur which made your head pound even thinking about it.

“What happened to me, Remus?”

“I turned you. You’re a monster like me now.”

“I-I don’t think I understand…”

“You came to the Shrieking Shack last night to comfort Remus, and well, he bit you. You’re a werewolf now,” Sirius solemnly said, his gaze pointed to his black Doc Martens. Remus soon ran out of tears to cry, his eyes instead spacing out, his mind drowning out your words and touches.

“I turned you into a werewolf. I’ve sentenced you to the same hell that I live. I’m so sorry, there’s nothing we can do. I’m a monster!” Remus shouted, his shaky voice the most depressing thing that’s ever graced your ears. You sat on the floor, wrapped in Remus’ sorrowful embrace, shocked silence filling the mournful room. Tears subconsciously coated your burning cheeks and chin, fusing with the rust-colored, crusted blood, creating a sickly pink waterfall down your face.

“Remus, it’s okay-”

“No, it's not. Not this time, Y/N. It's all my fault,” he cried, “I swore that I would protect you, protect you from that monstrous side of me, and now look. We’re one and the same. Except that I’m a truly vile being deep down. I should be gone.”

“Being a werewolf isn’t some cool superpower or something; it's a disease! It's a ravaging, dangerous, violent disease; it taints everything, it’s inescapable. A disease that the person that matters the most to me now has, and it’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have come to this school in the first place. I don’t deserve any of this. I deserve to die.”

“Remus John Lupin, don’t you dare say that you deserve anything even remotely close to death! I know being a werewolf is going to be difficult, painful, everything, but at least I have someone to help me! At least I have someone who isn’t just going to leave me on the streets and have me fend for myself. I trust you more than anyone, I know it’s going to be okay, okay? You’re far from a monster, Moony. You’re someone I love,” you choked out, your voice fading with pain.

Remus’ eyes found crystalline tears once again, and you held his bloodied head to your chest, allowing his ears to hear your slow heartbeat, cooing, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I love you. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I’ll survive, we’ll survive, together.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus angst #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin reader insert #the marauders #marauders x reader #young marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harrypotter #harry potter fic #hp #young remus x reader #young remus lupin #young remus imagine

[thatsamericano]

Confidant by Accident

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano, Lithuania POV.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, only for cursing. No warnings other than mild angst.

Word Count: 1838

Summary: After America rejects Romano’s offer of leftover lasagna in favor of a chocolate bar, Romano needs to vent to someone. Lithuania ends up being the perfect sounding board.

A/N: Takes place right after this week’s episode/Chapter 72 of Hetalia World Stars. Will be up on AO3 soon.

Lithuania was too busy helping America move heavy cardboard boxes to say anything when Romano appeared in the doorway. He could only glance over as he was setting down a box and wonder why Savino wouldn’t just walk into the room instead of barely letting his head peek in through the doorway. He was acting shy, which wasn’t like him at all.

But then it started to make sense. Savino was worried about Alfred working too much, though he hid his concern by bragging about his two-hour lunch break. (Which was frankly excessive, in Tolys’s opinion. Not that anyone had asked him.) When America admitted he hadn’t really sat down for lunch in a long time, Romano offered him homemade lasagna. Making that particular meal took a while, and Lithuania was a little surprised Romano would spontaneously offer it to America. Even if it was leftovers that he couldn’t finish himself.

America was surprised too, and Romano misinterpreted his reaction. By this time, Tolys was moving another box, but he didn’t have to see Savino’s face to hear how his voice got quieter and how he almost sounded hurt, as if America had rejected something more important than leftovers. Lithuania frowned as he set the box down and glanced back and forth between them.

Alfred thanked Savino for his offer, but he didn’t seem to pick up on how bothered Savino was. It wasn’t out of any ill intent. Tolys had been living with Alfred with a while, and if he had learned one thing about his employer, it was that he often seemed to miss the social intricacies that seemed so clear to others, especially when he was focused on something else.

Right now, he was focused on brandishing a chocolate bar. He pulled the chocolate bar seemingly out of nowhere, winked, then chomped into it in a way that was strangely… flirtatious? It was almost like he was trying to impress Savino, either with the mere fact he had a chocolate bar or the overdramatic way that he ate it. Lithuania didn’t understand how either of those things could be impressive, but it seemed to be working on Romano.

Savino was enraptured by Alfred’s odd display. His eyes were wide, his lips were parted, and, most tellingly of all, a reddish blush formed on his cheeks. But by the time America was looking at him again, Romano’s mask was back in place. He smiled weakly at America as he left the room, and once he was gone, America sighed fondly.

“Vinny worries way too much, doesn’t he?” He went back to his “multi-tasking,” which was clearly just trying to do too much at once. Currently it involved talking on the phone, doing paperwork, and attempting to eat a chocolate bar all at the same time.

Lithuania continued the single task America had assigned him. He grunted as he lifted a particularly hefty box. “About you especially.”

Alfred hummed in agreement, and Tolys caught a glimpse of his face as he passed by with the box. America’s expression was inexplicable but not something Lithuania had never seen before. Despite the person currently berating him on the phone and the mountain of paperwork he had to complete, Alfred seemed almost blissful. He’d seemed blissful a few weeks ago, on a much slower day, when Lithuania had caught him sitting next to the couch, where Romano was taking his customary afternoon nap. His hand was inching towards Romano’s hair, but when he heard Lithuania’s footsteps, America whirled around with a panicked expression on his face and insisted that he’d only been checking to make sure Savino was breathing, since he’d gone awfully still for a second. He wasn’t watching Savino sleep or considering playing with his hair, because that would’ve been creepy and weird, and Alfred wasn’t a creepy weirdo, okay, Tolys?

Back then, all Tolys had been able to do was nod even if he knew Alfred had been lying. Now, all he could do was puzzle over America’s odd behavior as he kept helping him move boxes.

Tolys stretched his stiff, aching muscles after he’d placed the last box. “I’m done moving the boxes, Al.”

“Really? Thank you, that was very helpful.” America was working his way through a large stack of paperwork, but he managed to look up and give Lithuania a sincere smile. “You can take a break for a while now if you want. You’ve earned it.”

“What about you?”

The phone rang again, and Alfred shrugged before he picked it up and answered with a cheerful voice that belied how exhausted he must truly be. Lithuania knew America couldn’t be convinced, so he left the room and made his way towards the kitchen.

Romano was at the stove, scraping lasagna out of the pan and muttering to himself. When he got closer, he could hear that he was ranting about America. “Fucking idiot, won’t even let me take care of him. Then he has the nerve to wink at me and eat his mass-produced, shitty chocolate, which is not even half as nutritious as my lasagna.”

Lithuania grimaced. “Hey, Romano.”

“Hey.” Savino cast him a tired glance. “You want something?”

“I, uh, know I wasn’t the person you actually offered leftovers, but I think America’s gonna be chained to his desk all day. I figured you wouldn’t want all that food to go to waste.”

Savino snorted. “There’s enough here for two Americas. Get yourself something to drink, and I’ll fix you a normal-sized plate.”

“Thanks.” Lithuania poured himself a glass of wine, which was what Romano usually took with his lunch, and yawned. “Man, I’m beat.”

“You guys have been really busy today, huh?”

Lithuania smiled faintly at the tinge of concern in Romano’s voice. “Yeah. Alfred’s been way more swamped than me. He can’t even end a phone call without someone else calling him five seconds later.”

“He should have put me on the phone, so I could tell them to fuck off and leave him alone.” Romano got a fork out of the drawer, set it on the plate, and handed the lasagna to Lithuania.

Lithuania chuckled as he walked towards the kitchen table with his glass and plate. Romano followed him. “I don’t think that would lead to good business relations,” he teased.

Romano huffed in annoyance. “It might lead that idiota to eat an actual goddamn lunch for once in his life. He can’t subsist on fumes and chocolate bars forever.” Lithuania sat down at the table, and Romano sat across from him.

He took a bite, chewed it slowly, then swallowed. “Romano, Alfred… he wasn’t trying to insult you. He loves your food. I’m sure, if he wasn’t so busy—”

“That’s not the fucking problem, okay?”

“Okay.” Tolys knew that, especially with Savino, sometimes it was better not to push. Forcing the issue would only make him more defensive. For the next several minutes, he only heard the scrape of his fork across the plate, his own chewing, and wine sloshing in the glass as he sipped it between bites. The silence was awkward, but Lithuania could endure it.

Eventually, Savino broke. He put his elbows on the table, gripped his hair in his fists, and started talking. “Sometimes, Fredo frustrates the hell out of me. I can’t hate him, but I hate the shit he does.”

Obviously, he didn’t hate Alfred if he was giving him a nickname and offering him leftover lasagna, but Lithuania wasn’t tactless enough to point that particular absurdity out. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “What does Alfred do that bothers you?”

“It’s what he doesn’t do. He looks at me, but he never really sees me. Ever. I’m around the guy practically 24/7, and somehow he’s too oblivious to pick up on the fact I fucking—” Romano paused, then shot Lithuania a look that communicated everything his fear refused to let him voice out loud. “That I care about him.”

Lithuania thought over everything that had happened today, and everything else he’d noticed since Romano moved into America’s house. “I think Alfred cares about you. But sometimes, he cares about you so much that he can’t see you caring about him too. Like today, with the chocolate bar. He would’ve probably preferred the lasagna, but he had something else to eat, and he didn’t want to make you go out of your way for him.” Or the fact that in his own clumsy, bizarre way, Alfred had been trying to flirt with Savino when he winked at him and bit into that chocolate bar. The fond gleam in America’s eyes as soon as Romano left the room, that was often there when Savino wasn’t looking directly at him. The way Alfred instinctively pulled Savino closer if they were walking through a dark, narrow street after spending the evening at a speakeasy. The fact that he would’ve sat beside the couch, gently running his fingers through Savino’s hair and watching him sleep if Tolys hadn’t walked into the living room at the exact wrong moment.

Care didn’t cover how America felt, and even love, that word Romano refused to say, paled in comparison. Devotion was the closest term, and it was growing steadily every day. But that devotion was concealed and unspoken, and it wasn’t Lithuania’s place to say anything for America. Even if today had made it abundantly clear that Savino reciprocated those feelings, despite his occasionally prickly demeanor.

Gradually, Romano loosened his grip on his hair. He put his hands down in front of the table and sighed.

“Why the hell did he whip out the chocolate bar, bite it, and pose afterwards? Showy asshole.” Romano was blushing again and avoiding Lithuania’s eyes, but he didn’t seem quite as troubled as before. He didn’t sound particularly irritated either.

Tolys shrugged. “You’d have to ask him. I can’t read Alfred’s mind.” He could put the clues together, and the clues all added up to one conclusion. But that conclusion, inconveniently, wasn’t his secret to share.

Lithuania finished his meal, and he carried his empty plate, fork, and wine glass to the sink. “Thanks for fixing lasagna for lunch. It was delicious, and it was a nice thing for you to do.”

Romano had gotten up at the same time he had, and now, he was standing near the broom he’d left by the pantry door. “Thanks for talking to me about stuff,” he said quietly. Savino was clearly embarrassed by their conversation, and by what he’d nearly confessed. Lithuania knew he couldn’t make a big deal out of it. Forcing the issue would only make things worse, not better.

“No problem.”

Savino smiled genuinely, if not joyfully, when he carried his broom out of the room to sweep elsewhere. Tolys cleaned the dishes and fork he’d used, and he resolved to put this matter out of his mind until Savino (or perhaps Alfred, at some point in the future) needed him to be a confidant once again.

#hetalia #romerica #roaring 20s trio #charleston trio #jazz age trio #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #hws lithuania #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #aph lithuania #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

[mustyrosewater]

𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒔

𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅, 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑹 18+

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : 6,159

if somebody were to say that a brothel was only a place for people to submit to their desires and fuck pretty girls, they would only be half right. in westeros, brothels were so much more than that. if the walls could talk, they would be spinning tales for all to hear, whispering secrets that not even kings could tell with confidence, secrets that some would rather keep secret than out in the open for all to see. secrets that people would be willing to hand over countless riches in order to be kept within the walls. brothels held the darkest truths, truths that could bring a man to his knee’s if one would so desire. dorne was arguably the most perfect place that one could own such an establishment, a popular trading hub among westeros, men traveled in and out of its waters everyday, men who had been all across westeros, who met with many notable figures, and thus, also carried many secrets. in the comfort of a woman’s arms, a man could let anything slip out, in the comfort of a woman’s arms they felt safe. little did they know that the presence of a whore was just as dangerous as having a sword held to their throats, perhaps even more so. when drunk on dornish wine, they were even more likely to allow their secrets to be spilled and let their hidden truths unfold, all into the ears of the woman who held them. you had learnt from a very young age, that to traverse anywhere in this world, secrets were more precious than gold, more powerful than the tallest castles walls, and more dangerous than a dragon. by the time of your thirteenth name day, you had already stacked up a deadly armada of secrets, through listening to men talk or forgotten letters making their way into your possession. by the age of seventeen, you’d brought men to their knees with these secrets. making friends with the whores that they would forget about within minutes, doing them favors in exchange for the secrets they held. it was not surprising how many men were willing to pay a hefty price to keep their hidden ‘habits’ from making their way into the light. saving the riches that they would give you, you soon had lords and ladies from all over westeros sending you shares of their wealth in exchange for keeping their secrets. all under a carefully disguised alias, they had never discovered who you truly were, and they never would so long as you wanted to. it had taken several years of your life, but eventually, you had come into possession of your own brothel. you had not an exact memory as you how it ended up in your care, perhaps a particularly friendly lord’s version of payment or left to you by a previous owner. how it came into your possession was a memory you held little care for. the girls, your girls, your little doves, they were the only thing in this cruel world you held any true care towards. your little doves were the ones who collected your secrets now, in exchange for the secrets they would give you, you gave them protection, a home, warm meals and anything else they may want to ask for. though that was not usually a large tax for you, most you had recruited from the street, others would hear of you themselves and come to you from broken homes. they were never forced into their profession, never deceived; so many men had attempted to deceive you so many times throughout your life, you would be a fool to repeat their behavior yourself. their duties were made clear to them, you explained the things that they may have to do, but always reassured them that if this was not what they wanted, they would be free to leave, but would not receive anything from you. nobody had ever been successful in this world by giving away their services for free, thus you would not give your charity to those who did not work for it. that was what you taught your girls, their hard work was the reason they had a place to sleep and a belly full of food. you had not had the luxury of being born into nobility, made obvious by the word sand at the end of your name rather than that of any noble house throughout westeros, you were a bastard, you gained nothing in pretending that you weren’t. the knowledge of your parents was virtually unknown to you, you knew nothing of your father and very little of your mother. all you knew was that she was the source of your dornish heritage and a prostitute. you were born in a brothel, it was where you grew up and where you learnt your first ever secret, one you held closely to this day, one that you would never tell, after all, it would no longer be a secret then. knowledge of your establishment and its reputation grew quickly, receiving high praise from your several donors being an added benfit, and thus you quickly gained more high profile clients, even lords from the south began to make their way through your doors, eager to experience a night with one of your girls. one of those clients was one of dornish royalty, your own homeland. prince oberyn was no stranger to your establishment, in fact, he had been on your very first nobleman. you could remember him saying that there was not a brothel in dorne that he was unaware of. as far as you knew he seemed to be impressed, as he quickly became a regular, often bringing visiting lords with him to experience one of his favorite establishments in his homeland, often telling them that a dornish brothel was unlike anything they had experienced. you were unsure if he was aware of the source of your wealth, he never asked. of course, you never expected him to. there were several different stories that strangers had strung together over the years, some claimed that you were descended from a lost line of kings that had left you their riches, others claimed that you were a witch who used blood magic in order to stay young and seduce men into handing over their coin. you always found particular amusement in that one. these rumors and stories did nothing to deter your customers. if anything, it only brought more in. men would come all the way from the north to experience your girls, some even hoped to have you for themselves. they would be sorely disappointed every single time however. today has begun like any other, you had awoken to the sound of birdsong, along with the hustle and bustle of the markets outside, the same as every morning. you’d quickly gotten out of your large bed, not before untangling yourself from the mix of golden and maroon bedding that you woke up eveloped in. the silks were soft against your skin and always left your hair in a pleasant mop of messy curls that you never bothered to untangle. placing a fresh layer of kohl around your eyes, you smudged with your fingers before leaving your room and knocking on all of the girls rooms, waking them up at the same time as always, a routine that they were all used to by now. unlike other brothels around dorne, you did not open at any particular time, the brothel opened when you wanted it to, or more accurately, when you finally awoke after a night of indulging in exotic fruits and wine, often with all your girls enjoying it with you after long day of work. your dark maroon dress held itself loosely over your body and flowed as you walked through the halls and towards the entrance, your golden earrings dangled playfully with every step you took, and your golden bangles clinked together softly as your arms swayed back and fourth. your steps made little noise, mainly due to the fact that you had an absence of shoes. wearing shoes inside was something that you considered distasteful and thus, your customers would discard their shoes at the entrance, a golden rule that they always followed. what you hadn’t counted on happening on this morning, was you walked to the entrance and unlocking the doors, only to hear a swift knocking ring out just as you had began to walk away. this was somewhat normal, you were popular, people had been known to wait at the entrance. what had left you ever so slightly surprised was opening the door and seeing oberyn standing there. you knew the prince to enjoy his mornings and it was almost unheard for him to be out and about this early, especially at a brothel, that did not normally happen until later in the day and even then, he would have a posse of other men with him, eager to show your girls off. there was only two other men with him this time, men you didn’t recognize. judging by their finely stitched robes of emerald green and brown, they were almost certainly highborn, tyrells if the roses stitched into their sleeves was anything to go by. “prince oberyn, this is a pleasant surprise.” you drawled, not caring to hide the still slightly tired tone in your voice, if they couldn’t already tell you had just awoken judging by the fact that you were squinting slightly from the bright sunlight suddenly flooding onto your face. “i see you have brought some friends.” you continued, letting your eyes travel up and down the two men who, quite frankly, looked terrified. whether it was of your or their surroundings you didn’t know and you didn’t care to ask. “i just thought i could show off my favorite establishment to my visitors from highgarden.” you were right, definitely tyrells. leaning against the door frame and gesturing to the two men, you ignored the princes blatant flattery and only let a sly smile cross your features. you tilted your head, pretending to deliberate whether or not to let them in as your eyes traveled back over to the two men. you made eye contact with one of them, a face full of freckles and strawberry blond hair, paired with brown eyes, a rather striking combination, especially seeing as the tyrells were known for their fiery red heads. “my girls do love their redheads.” she smirked as you spoke, practically leering at the man who could have been any older than twenty five, he quickly blushed and broke eye contact with you, suddenly deciding that the ground was very, very interesting. how adorable. “i suppose i can make an exception for my prince.” you bowed dramatically, making a show of letting the three men inside. “i’ll just go an get my little doves, they do enjoy their beauty sleep.” you smiled and quickly turned your back, leaving the three men in the entrance as you walked up the small set of stairs quickly.   rousing your girls from their rest was easier than one may think, you had already awoken them earlier, it was only a matter of telling them to come downstairs and to bring food and drink for the lords that had come to visit. before long, you returned with your girls in tow, three of which were now carrying trays of exotic fruits followed by wine made from grapes grown right here in dorne. guiding the three lords to an area with several couches, you gestured to the girls to put the food down in front of them. within seconds the girls were already all over the two tyrells, who seemed to be soaking up the attention like spounges, stupid grins befalling their faces as your girls sat on their laps and played with their hair. “should my lords need anything else, you need only ask.” you bowed, the smile never leaving your face the entire time. something that you’d noticed right away, was oberyn’s outright rejection of your girls attention. did he not feel like it today? had something changed? maybe he preffered the company of a male today? you were unsure. “actually, there are a few things i wish to discuss with you.” he spoke up, standing from his spot on the couch “with your permission of course.” this was odd. you’d had pleasant small talk with oberyn in the past, but the way he’d worded this made it sound as if there was a problem, you didn’t like problems, problems were bad for business. nodding slowly, you turned your head back to your girls and smiled once more. “look after them while i’m away little doves.” they all smiled and waved goodbye as you walked up the stairs, oberyn following closely behind you. even as you walked in front of him, you could feel his eyes drilling into the back of your head, the intense stare of the red viper was one that could be felt across rooms, much less when he was meters behind you. that paired with the anticipation of what he wanted to discuss with you was causing your heart rate to speed up ever so slightly, enough that it was noticeable. as soon as you reached the door to your chambers, you swung it open with little hesitation and stepped inside, walking straight towards a small table that had been set up with fruit and wine, no doubt by one of your girls. while pouring two goblets for yourself and oberyn, you hear the door shut behind you and take an intake of breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. being alone in a room with oberyn suddenly feels so much more intense when you know there are things he wants to discuss. you turn with the two goblets in your hands and offer him one, which he takes with a kind smile. you knew better than to take a smile as a sign to let your guard down, there had been several men who came and went, men who hid behind a smile, you knew better. you return his smile with little apprehension on your face and sit down, gesturing for him to sit across to you. taking a sip of your wine, you silently hope that it may help to strengthen your nerves. you weren’t one that was known to cower in the presence of many men, you had even kicked a fair few onto the street for hurting your girls. oberyn was not many men, he was not a man, he was the red viper, if he so wanted to, he could kill you right here and now and nobody would even hear you scream. out of pure habit, you let your hand briefly glide over the dagger strapped to your side, a gift from one of your past donors that never left your side. you watched with narrowed eyes and oberyn sat across from you, taking a few drinks from his goblet before placing it back on the table. “what did you wish to discuss? i do hope you haven’t grown bored of us my prince.” you had to play coy, whatever reason he’d called you up to the privacy of your own chambers, you intended to stay one step ahead of him the entire time, that was the way you’d survived in this life and that was the way you were going to keep surviving. “i would not dream of it.” he began, his eye’s never breaking contact with yours as he spoke “i am simply curious as to what you plan to present to me next, i have been a loyal customer for years have i not?” you forced yourself not to furrow your brows in confusion, instead nodding in agreement. “of course.” you paused, only for a moment. the air was tense, but not in a threatening way, it felt tense for an entirely different reason that you couldn’t put your finger on. “i’m not sure what else i could offer you that i haven’t already, you know my little doves are always willing to serve.” you stood when you finished, taking your goblet with you and walking to your large window, looking out onto the view you had of dorne. from where you stood, you could see the docks and wooden boats travelling in and out of port, no doubt carrying goods to be sailed off to kings landing. the sun shone down brightly onto the crystal blue waters and beaches of dorne. your home. you had hardly known anywhere else your entire life and you wouldn’t have it any other way, the people you’d met, the things you’d done, all in your home. the shit infested streets of kings landing held little interest to you, the freezing winds of the north were undesireable in your eyes, here, in dorne, lied the true beauty that westeros had to offer. beyond the sea lay a child on the iron throne, a targaryen girl in the east with three dragons and winterfell in ruins. something big was coming to the seven kingdoms, you could feel it in your bones, something cold, something unfeeling, more bloodthirsty than any king that had come before as dangerous as thousands of armies. the seven kingdoms were going to be shaken. it didn’t take very long before you felt oberyns presence behind you. he was so close that you could practically feel his breath on the back of your neck, you were able to smell his scent, sandalwood and musk, it was practically an aphrodisiac to some. before long, his breath had traveled from your neck to the back of your ear, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from you as you quickly realized he had you trapped in your window sill, breathing on your ear and practically pressed up against you, he had you exactly where you imagined he wanted you. “none of your little doves are appealing to me anymore.” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, only loud enough so that the two of you could hear. his whispers sent a shiver running down your spine, resulting in your eyes fluttering closed. you could physically feel your heart rate transitioning into a faster speed, his presence behind you was having an affect it had never had you before, an effect that neither man nor woman had given you for a long while. you could practically feel the lust radiating off of him. “and what is it that appeals to you now my prince?” you asked, your head turning to the side slightly so that the breath that was once on your ear is now against your cheek, his lips are ghosting over your cheekbone, though your eyes are still shut. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t physically showing the effect he was having on you. your breathing had grown ragged already, your cheeks were turning a soft pink and you were shivering, it was obvious. the prince chose not to answer you, instead, he gripped your hips tightly and brought your bodies together, pressing his face against your cheek, breathing in deep breathes of your scent. you gasped softly, fighting back the small sound of surprise the threatened to leave you. his chest pressed tightly against your back, his hardness grinding against the back of your thigh. “oberyn…” you breathed out, only now opening your eyes which immediately landed on his own, a deep dark brown filled with lust. and secrets. before you could say anything else he leaned down, planning to capture your lips in his own, his eyes beginning to shut as he leaned his head further down. your hand shot up form your side, gripping his chin tightly just as his lips barely ghosted over your own, so close that you were able to feel the soft breaths coming from his mouth on your lips. you stared at each other in silence, your tight chin on his chin never once leaving, so much so that you were fairly certain you were going to leave marks. pushing his face away from your own, you let go harshly and turned suddenly, gripping the golden collar of his tunic roughly and shoving him backwards. the prince did not seem to mind your roughness in the slightest, in fact, he seemed to be enjoying it. shoving him down on one of the chairs, you placed your hand flat on his chest. it wasn’t placed there to keep him sitting, you knew that if he wanted to take back control, he could in seconds, the only reason you were given control was because he allowed it, he could easily overpower you if he chose to. your fingers curled against his chest, digging into the golden fabric as you bit your bottom lip, staring down into his eyes intensely. this was all about power, whoever had the most power was the one who was going to lead, and that person would you, you were going to be sure of that. “you are in control to often for my tastes.” you finally spoke, your voice low as you moved forward, eventually gripping onto his shoulders and gripping his shoulders, straddling his lap, all while making sure to make every single one of your movements painfully slow, only letting yourself graze over his crotch where you could now see a notable tent in his dark orange pants. part of you swelled with pride at the thought that this was the effect you’d had on the prince, the other part of you was still on high alert, you were still unsure why he’d taken such a sudden interest in you, it could have been for any reason. “by all means my dove, take the lead.” the nickname for you that he’d settled on only filled you with more stubbornness to stay in control, the way he lightly patronized you made you want him to submit to you, mind, body and soul. showing little hesitation, you reached up with one hand and placed it on his cheek, letting your fingers scratch through his facial hair softly. you felt his hands run over your hands and quickly gripped his wrists tightly, placing them back on the arms of the chair, with a soft thud. “patience my prince.” you practically purred, tilting your head and smirking softly. the idea of not touching did not seem to bother oberyn, if anything, he seemed eager to see how long he could last. returning you hand to his cheek, you continued to stroke his beard, eventually sliding your hand down to meet his throat, using your index finger to trace around the ball of his throat before travelling further down to where his tunic had been left open, exposing the tan skin of his chest. you slid your fingers across his soft skin and let your eyes travel back up to his face once more, checking to see how he was faring against your light touches. his face remained stoic, barely showing any sign of being bothered by what you were doing. though you supposed it was silly to think he was not inept as showing as little emotion as possible, he had after all, met several lords and ladies over the years, he was obviously very skilled at the game of thrones. you continued to let your hands travel as if they had a mind of their own, gliding over the silk fabrics of his tunic until you reached the lather belt snugly fit around his hips. curling your fingers around the material, you unbuckled it slowly, slow enough so that he could hear every little sound it made, feel every movement. you wanted it to be pure torture for him and pure bliss for you. the prince continued to stare at you as you began to undo the strings of his pants. you could have sworn he was even smirking. he wasn’t taking you seriously in the slightest. this filled you with determination, determination to catch him off guard, even if it were the smallest little bit. you wanted to stay one step ahead at all times, and that the moment, prince oberyn martell was in the lead. deciding to opt for a change of pace, you quickly let your hands slip into his pants, wrapping your hand around his half hard member and squeezing lightly. while doing so, you leaned forward and let his lips grow closer to yours, but you did not kiss him, you refused to give him that satisfaction. his sharp intake of breath told you all that you needed to know, this was how you had managed to catch him off guard, now, you were back in the race. beginning to pump him slowly, you breathed onto his lips, making sure that he could feel how close you were to him. you could see his lips beginning to form into a thin line, it was getting easier and easier to tell that he was having difficulty holding back, the more and more you pumped his cock, the harder it was getting for him to remain as stoic as he was mere minutes ago. continuing to rub him, you let your lips meet his jaw, still not touching his lips, and began to kiss along his jawline until you reached his neck. you latched onto the skin of his neck, sucking and biting every where you could. before long, you’d left behind a plethora of small bruises along his neck and chest. it was then that he finally, finally let out a noise. it was quiet as a mouse, but you heard it, a small grunt, the one sign you needed to tell you all you needed to know. a smile crept along your lips as you lifted your head back up to face him once more. “not so stoic now are we my prince?” you tilted your head, smirking at him. it was then in that moment that the prince let out a sound you were not prepared to hear, it wasn’t a grunt, it wasn’t a groan. the sound that the prince let out came from deep in his throat, it was a low growl, resembling that of a wild animal. as he growled, the prince leaned forward quickly, intending to capture your lips in his own. unluckily for him, you quickly turned your head to the side and leaned back, still unwilling to let him kiss you. quickly withdrawing your hand from his now fully erect cock, you stood and walked back to the table where your wine sat and picked it up, taking a rather long sip from your own golden goblet. your back was now facing where the prince was still sitting, a dangerous move you could admit, but you honestly didn’t care. you were finished with your session of teasing the prince, you were going to let him take you. or at least that was what you wanted him to think. it didn’t take long for the prince to be behind you again, practically grinding his crotch into your backside as his hands came around you, one curling around your waist in order to pull you further against him, the other wrapped gingerly around your throat, causing you to tilt your head back and allow him access to latch his lips to your neck, where he wasted no time in leaving marks of his own. you continued to sip your wine as he left love bites along your skin. the hand that was around your waist glided up to your chest where he groped at your breasts hungrily, his other hand that had been previously around your neck flowing down to do the same, resulting in him with both of his hands on your breasts, palming them aggressively and growling obscene things in your ear. “i need to be inside you.” he grunted, taking extra care to grind against you when those words left his mouth, resulting in a pleasant hum on your part. finally finishing the wine in your goblet, you slowly put it back down on the wooden table. the moment it hit the wood, oberyn wasted little time in letting one of his hands travel to your back, quickly reaching in between your shoulder blades only to push you down harshly, resulting in your chest being pressed into the table and your thighs digging into its edge. you smirked as you laid your head down on the table, bracing yourself with your hands as he kicked your legs apart hastily, obviously having no patience at for you or your teasing. he showed little hesitation in hiking up your maroon dress, letting on ring covered hand glide up the supple skin of your thigh, before finally reaching your soaked folds, which he quickly ran his hand across gathering your wetness along his fingers, letting out a satisfied hum as he did. he leaned forward so that his chest was pressed against your back and his mouth was against your ear, breathing heavily against it. “i certainly hope your wet enough to take my cock little dove.” his words were obscene, though you expected nothing less from the prince, only letting your smile grow in response, a response which he took as his confirmation to continue. as he began to pull down his own pants, your mind wandered for the briefest of moments. you never saw yourself as the type to sleep with nobility; you’d had your fair share of both men and women, several experiences that would make a sept crumble to its bare foundations. and yet, this was never something you pictured to be in the cards for you, preparing yourself to be taken by the red viper, the prince of dorne, who desired you just as much as you desired him in that moment. being distracted by your own thoughts, you were only brought back into reality when you felt his sinking his cock inside you with little to no remorse, not even waiting before setting a pace that was absolutely brutal. you let out a loud cry and let your mouth hang open as you shut your eyes, letting out sounds that you were fairly certain could be heard in every room of the brothel, though you knew nobody would interrupt you, they knew better than you risk getting either you or the prince upset. his hips rolled against yours, emitting sounds of flesh slapping against flesh as he fucked you harder than any man had before. it didn’t take long for the two of you to establish a rhythm, though you were having trouble keeping up due to the sheer force in his thrusts. unexpectedly, you felt one of his hands reach the back of your head, where he quickly wrapped his fingers around a bunch of your thick curly hair, wrapping it around his knuckles and tugging harshly, causing you to arch your back and grip the wooden table, which was now creaking and shuffling along the stone floor, causing even more sounds to emit which would alert anybody in range as to what the two of you were doing up in your chambers, not that anybody would need to wonder in the first place. his chest was once again pressed against your back, though this time, he buried his head into the crook of your neck, grunting and growling against your skin, some poor attempts to silence the sounds coming out of him as he fucked you like tomorrow was not going arrive, like the sun was not going to rise the next day. your arm reached behind you to run your fingers through his back hair as you let out your own set of whimpers and cries. “oberyn…please don’t stop..” you were able to cry about between your moans and whimpers, your words only seeming to egg the prince on as he began to go harder and faster if that were even possible. “my little dove, your pussy takes my cock so well..” he rasped into your ear, his words getting more and more muddled towards the end of his sentence. you practically mewled as you felt your walls beginning to tighten around the princes cock, he filled you so much, you were hardly even sure if you were actually managing to take all of him at once. the hand that wasn’t still currently wrapped in your hair and pulling it harshly reached down to your clit, beginning to rub it in fast pace circles that only made the coil that was slowly winding in your stomach begin to tighten, threatening to release at any moment. “my p-prince, i’m going to-” you began, only to be cut off by another growl in your ear. “yes my little dove, come around your prince’s cock.” that was all the insentive that was required for you to feel your walls tighten around his hard cock and begin to convulse as the slapping sounds of him fucking you quickly became wetter with the moisture of your release flooding around his still hard cock. it was another few moments of thrusting before oberyn suddenly pulled out of your warmth and began pumping himself with his hands, letting out several grunts and groans until finally, with a rather loud groan and hushed whispers of your name leaving his lips did you feel him releasing onto your backside and thighs. those next few moments were spent in almost silence, the only sound that filled the room was the sound of the two of you panting heavily as you simultaneously came down from the pure euphoria was was the mind shatterign orgasms that you’d shared with one another. with little to no care for his own garments, oberyn quickly reached for the discarded top half of his tunic which he’d stripped himself from at some point and used it to wipe up the remnants of his release from your skin. he didn’t seem to care for getting his own clothes dirty, no doubt he sent them somewhere to be washed each day or otherwise had new ones made, he was a prince after all. slowly standing up straight, you felt your joints cracking softly as you stretched, raising your arms above your head with a loud sigh. it wasn’t long before you felt oberyns presence behind you once more, his hands stroked your upper arms slowly as he leaned down to kiss your shoulders, moving your messed up hair out of the way to gain access to and kiss your neck softly. letting out a happy hum, you turned slowly until your were facing him, leaning back against the wooden table and looking up at him. he placed either hands at your sides against the tables and leaned his head down, tilting his head slightly, his lips getting closer and closer to yours until they stopped just as they grazed together. this time, you didn’t stop him, in fact, you leaned your head up and captured his lips in your own softly, slowly enjoying your first time kissing prince oberyn, relishing in the feel of his lips on your own. finally pulling away purely for the purpose of air, you couldn’t hide the smile as you stared at one another. there were no words exchanged but you didn’t have to, words were not necessary when you could communicate through expressions and movements. reaching to your side, you picked a grape from the golden plate and held it up to his face, tilting your head in question. the prince replied by leaning forward and opening his mouth, letting you place it between his lips and use your index finger to push it inside his mouth. he happily accepted and chewed on the fruit, humming happily as he tasted its juices. without saying anything else, oberyn rested his hands at your hips and guided you away from the table, moving towards your large bed and placing you down on the golden sheets, hastily climbing on top of you. “are you not finished with me yet my prince?” you asked, feigning ignorance as you looked up at him. “there are still several other things i would like to do to you my little dove.” he whispered, letting his hand reach down until it once again found itself inbetween your legs and caressing your now drenched folds, sliding his fingers around. he pulled his fingers from your core and brought them to his own mouth, never breaking eye contact with you nor blinking once as he sucked your own wetness off of his fingers, humming in a mix of delight and satisfaction. releasing his fingers from his mouth with a satisfying 'pop’ sound, he smirked down at you and leaned in closer, whispering softly in your ear. “better than the sweetest of fruits my little dove.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn #prince oberyn #the red viper #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #game of thrones smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x read #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #oberynmartell

[general-mahamatra]

Consider It Tied (1)

Pairing: Spalbert

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, High School AU

TW: N/A

Wordcount: 4124

Albert rested his chin in his hand, pursing his lips as he trailed his fork along the tray of food. The loud voices of hundreds of students filled the large room, bouncing off the walls in a jumble of echoes that bled together. It was a regular occurrence for anyone who found themselves sitting in the school cafeteria. Whether it was a regular day or one of the many horrendous events the school put on, it was noisy.

Like today.

One of the events the school liked to put on every month was what they liked to call “Meet and Greet Luncheon” or M.A.G.L. for short. It was new that year. Some special function made to try and get students to be “more social”. 

For the most part, it worked. Pretty well, actually. For the majority of the time, students were lucky and got placed with mutuals and acquaintances. They were able to chat throughout lunch without a care in the world. Usually, Albert was that lucky.

Unfortunately, not this time.

Instead of getting placed with people he knew, Albert was thrown into a table with a bunch of underclassmen. It made him feel awkward. A more athletic and older senior forced to sit with freshmen and sophomores. 

Not an ideal choice, but one Albert could live with.

For the most part.

Today he was stuck with 7 other kids, all smaller in stature and far more “clique-y” than he ever was.

Three of them appeared to be friends, easily babbling on and stealing each other’s food. Two more were prissy girls—probably freshmen—taking selfies and scrolling through what sounded like TikTok. One more was a quiet girl reading a book, slowly flipping the pages as she occasionally pushed her ill-fitting glasses up her nose.

The last person was one of the most annoying people Albert had ever met. He was some crazy sophomore that he vaguely recognized from his business class who had a bit too much fun doing stupid shit.

That kid was adamant about trying to get Albert to talk.

Somewhere in his idiotic brain, the sophomore must’ve thought that since they shared a class, they would be able to talk to each other like friends. Wherever the boy got that idea, Albert didn’t know.

It made him want to rip his hair out.

The noise got to the point Albert couldn’t take it. He had done everything he could to try and show his disinterest. Barely commenting, grumbled responses… everything. Nothing he tried seemed to work. So, eventually, he shot the kid a hefty scowl before scrounging through his backpack for earbuds.

The boy fell silent immediately.

He found them in a jumbled mess, shoved into one of the sidepockets. They weren’t too difficult to untangle, but it cost him precious time that could allow the boy to start talking any second.

Albert may not be a huge fan of music, but by God was he thankful to have Spotify.

With the current hits blasting in his ears, he pushed his food along the tray. He had no interest in eating the rice. The stuff tasted nothing like it should, exuding the dreadful taste of wet cardboard. So much as a single bite would make Albert gag. Nothing should ever be that chewy; rice should never taste like a mix of slop and garbage. 

Whatever the school called “rice” was the opposite of edible. Hell, nothing was edible in this place.

He huffed, staring down at the food before him. Time couldn’t go any slower.

He wanted lunch to end. He wanted to be over with the meal so he could get on with passing to the next period and actually say hi to his friends. But, of course, there was a fun little catch to days like this.

They weren’t allowed to get up from their tables unless they were tossing their food. No stopping to talk to friends, no mingling with other students, nothing. They were forced to sit together in weird groups for the entirety of a half an hour where they barely even talked.

Well…

Given the racket of the massive room, that was a false claim. Many students found a way to be social at this time, most getting lucky enough to have friends with them. Usually, Albert was that lucky.

And dear God, he was so close this time.

Just one table over sat one of his best friends: Jorgelino Josephino “JoJo” De La Guerra. He was one of the few friends Albert had during his lunch, all the others being split off into other periods. It was annoying just how close they were despite being so far away. With just a couple switched names, they would’ve been sitting together.

What hurt more was how easy JoJo was able to talk to those placed at his table. Then again, it was a given for a guy who did tennis, golf, and band. The guy had so many friends that it put Albert to shame. Even then, it was a mild surprise.

No one would look at JoJo and say “Yes, he is the popular guy with a bunch of friends.” No, they would make comments about how he dresses; they would talk about how shy and cute he seemed but never about how talkative he truly was. It was a detail that constantly went unnoticed.

To Albert, though, the brunette had one of the most infectious smiles he had ever seen. It was sweet and calm and welcoming, even the smallest quirk in the mouth was so genuine... Albert would never trade it for the world.

It was part of why he refused to let their friendship fade away. After so many years of being arm in arm, it was impossible to see them ever drifting apart. 

So many things Albert did, JoJo was there for. Whenever the group of Albert, JoJo, Race, and Finch would head out to watch a movie, it was JoJo who offered rides and meals. He always took the time out of his day to be nice to the rest of them.

And honestly, Albert felt kind of bad for taking advantage of it.

Not that it really was taking advantage. It was more like a twisted form of reality in his own mind, spiraling through until it wrapped around and dug its claws in. Every time he accepted one of JoJo’s offers, he felt horrible. No person in their right mind would willingly let someone give up their time or money for them.

He could never get out of doubt’s grasp.

Their friendship was what made Albert despise the distance between them. Despite only being ten feet apart, it was too far. He just wanted someone to talk to instead of having to sit and suffer through the playlist he pulled up.

None of the music was his taste but it wasn’t like he could find anything else. He was already trying to get his focus off the annoying sophomore next to him, he didn’t need to deal with the hassle of getting “perfect” music.

It really didn’t help that he didn’t have a proper interest in the stuff.

Everything he normally listened to was from the early 2010s. The typical pop songs one would hear on the radio as their parents drove them to work. It was nice, just not what he was stuck listening to now.

He knew most of the words to a majority of the songs despite never taking a true liking in music. It all stemmed from every morning that he woke up to the radio as a kid. The radio would blast in his ears, blaring with the turn of the clock to 7:00 A.M.

From his dad, too, as he drove Albert and his older brothers to school.

Every inch of his being had been ingrained with it. 

But, now that Albert was able to drive himself, he never really listened to music. It was pointless to him. It was only a twenty minute drive, give or take, which meant he could listen to YouTube videos or part of a podcast.

Maybe that made him sound like a dad.

Which Albert is certainly not.

He’s 17, not a parent.

God, that would be weird.

Imagine teen pregnancy and him.

He couldn’t flirt with girls as it was, he could only imagine if it somehow got that far.

But that’s besides the point. What mattered was how painfully slow the world seemed to be moving now that he was stuck at the table. With a quick glance at his phone screen, he came to the consoling realization that it was five minutes until the bell.

Only five more minutes and he could actually talk to people. Fuck yeah.

Though the world was deceitful. It made careful not to not warn Albert about the people approaching from behind.

Sitting with his back to the main walkway towards the trash cans was nothing short of a curse. He barely paid attention to who came or went. Really, anyone could stand right behind him and he would be completely oblivious. Which, added to the lack of focus around him, was exactly what he was.

If the world had been kind, it would’ve told him to turn around.

But, alas, it didn’t.

The sting of a flick nailed the back of his head. The thwack of the nail rang through his ears, only amplified by the earbuds blocking out the rest of the world. 

Immediately, Albert’s hand shot to the back of his head, pressing against the spot where he;d been hit. At the same time, he spun around, his eyes flicking across the cafeteria to find the culprit.

Everywhere he looked, he was at a loss. So many people were getting up to toss their food now that lunch was almost over that whoever it had been was lost to the crowd.

At least, they were for a moment.

It wasn’t until his eyes locked with a short, stocky senior that he realized why he couldn’t find the guy sooner.

Brown eyes bore into his, a hint of malice glinting beneath the fluorescent lights. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he realized Albert was looking and he gave the ginger a two-fingered salute. He walked backwards a few paces before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

Bright red wasn’t a color Albert would consider to blend in. He found it hideous, always poking through to catch your eye in the heat of the moment. And yet, the familiar red jacket fell out of view.

Sean. Fucking. Conlon.

Or Spot, for that matter.

Albert fumed as the brunette disappeared. Heat rose to his cheeks, spreading along the skin with an infamous shade of crimson that followed him wherever he went. Left and right he was haunted by the color and no matter what he did, it was everywhere.

All because of that shit-face Spot.

Albert hated it.

He hated how cocky the bastard was. He hated how much the guy loved to hang his status over Albert’s head like a little toy for a dog. He hated how Spot expected him to chase it.

He hated that Spot was right. That he would chase it.

It had been Albert’s dream since first stepping foot into the game to get the position of quarterback on the high school team. Ever since middle school, he did what he could to push for the spot. Training, practicing… and yet it was all for nothing in the end.

Because Spot was the one who got it.

And boy, did Spot know how much it meant to Albert.

The day they found out who got the position, the shorter boy had gone straight to him. There wasn’t a single pat on the back or consolation. Nothing to try and show Spot was there for a healthy competition or cared about his teammates. No, the boy had rubbed it in his face and shoved it down his throat.

Every single time he came across Spot, the brunette would harass him for it.

“Hey, Albert, guess what position I got?” “Hey, DaSilva, what’d you get?”

“Ha, look at that bitch. Thought he could beat me at my own game.”

“Did you really think you’d ever get the spot? You’re terrible.”

They were downright degrading.

Never before did Albert think a guy like Spot could possibly look down his nose at someone taller than him. After all, the guy was the shortest on the team. Yet, here they were.

If Albert had anything to say about it all, he’d say it’s pitiful.

But he was having none of it. He had none of it.

It was the second time Spot had tried to go after Albert that something snapped. It didn’t take long at all for the ginger to go off on a whim.

All it took was a simple comment.

“Hey, DaSilva, ready to watch me carry the team?”

The sheer attitude in Spot’s voice was enough to get Albert to tense up. His hands were clenched around the shirt he had just taken off, knuckles turning white as he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to stay discrete and keep from reacting.

The wet slap of skin on skin rang throughout the locker room as a sharp jolt of pain raced up his bare arm.

Albert lurched forward, eyes shooting open as he gasped. With a quick glance down at his arm, he came across a pale red hand print. The edges of the fingers already began to flare barely seconds after the initial contact.

The dull buzz of unhappy nerves was all Albert could think about, barely able to process what had just happened. He failed to properly register the words that soon came after.

“Come on gingie, gimmie an answer!” Spot exclaimed.

Albert pressed his lips into a flat line, once again closing his eyes. If he could stay calm, nothing bad would happen. They could carry on living and just get to practice without so much as struggle. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight he knew he would lose.

Spot’s voice breached Albert’s brief attempt at faux serenity. The shorter boy’s hot breath stung his face, washing over him in a way that made him want to gag.

He could practically feel Spot’s presence only inches away from his body. Standing there, hovering as he tried to assert himself. Albert didn’t need to open his eyes to know they were face-to-face.

“Don’t ‘cha got somethin’ to say? You know you can’t leave me hanging.”

A hard prod to his chest swiftly followed, a disgustingly sticky finger pressing against Albert’s skin. His nose scrunched a bit at the feeling but only for a split second.

Because it was what sent him over the edge.

Albert slapped the hand away, eyes now wide and furious. Heat raged in his gaze as he glared down at the shorter man. He watched as Spot’s expression shifted to a sneer, seemingly pleased with where it was going.

“Oh? Finally being feisty, eh?” Spot narrowed his eyes. “Come on, hit me. You know you wanna.”

Oh, he wanted to.

So he did.

Albert swung without a moment’s hesitation. Within milliseconds, bone hit bone with a solid thud as his fist connected with the brunette’s jaw. A muted throb radiated up from his hand; the repercussion for such an action.

He watched as Spot stumbled back, cupping his cheek as he tried to recover. He opened his mouth, stretching it out as if to test the pain. Letting out a grimace, he dropped his hand so he could glare at Albert. Then, he snarled, “You asked for it, DaSilva.”

Time slowed down in that moment, as did his reflexes, leaving him to  helplessly watch the incoming fist.

A sickening crunch was all Albert could hear as his head jerked to the side. Hot pain coursed across his senses, blinding him in every way imaginable. With a short lapse of consciousness Albert crumpled against the lockers, hands slamming against them with a metallic twang as he tried to stop himself.

His vision spun with the world around him. Dark spots washed over his vision, dancing around with swirls of colors and his fuzzy surroundings.

His face ached.

Hot, sticky liquid oozed from his nose as he wheezed. He managed to choke out a couple swears, colorful language falling from his mouth as his hands shot to his face. The moment he touched his nose, he whimpered.

Agony raced through him, forcing him to run around so his back was to the lockers. It was the only way he could keep himself up.

The faint sound of the rest of the team talking reached his ears, but that was it.

They were muffled, drowned by the ringing in his ears and the buzz of convoluted, wordless thoughts in his head.

“...pathetic. It’s almost like..”

“No… ...what about…”

“...watch him cry.”

The snippets he managed to make out rang around in his head. Bouncing off the walls of his mind, the jeering voices grew louder. Each part repeated, tumbling one after another until his brain filled in missing pieces.

They were making him a laughing stock.

Yet all he could hear, all he could think, was pain.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide from the vertigo that assaulted his senses and force nausea down.

His breathing was ragged as he hissed. So much as a single touched burned, sending unwanted sparks spiraling away.

Those sparse touches were what let Albert to the horrifying truth:

His nose was shattered.

It was on that day his seething hatred for Spot Conlon blossomed.

That was why when the bell rang to dismiss lunch, Albert bolted to his feet and rushed to dump his tray.

He was sick and tired of dancing around with Spot and his stupid games. He was sick of how the brunette knew where to poke at him; how he knew what buttons to push and which nerves to slither under.

He was sick of how Spot could play him like a fiddle.

Ever since that incident, Albert was unable to keep from retaliating. Every snarky remark was returned with a retort. Every swing with one of his own. He refused to back down from a fight, not after the one he lost so horribly.

As he returned to the table, he grabbed his back and slung it across his shoulders before taking his earbuds out.. Now that lunch was over, he was free to move on to math.

Even though it was his least favorite subject.

A gentle hand on his shoulder got Albert to look up. What greeted him was the familiar beaming smile of none other than JoJo himself. 

The tension that had wound its way around every muscle in Albert’s body slipped away. 

“You seem pissed,” JoJo commented. He then tilted his head. “You get stuck with a shitty group?”

Albert barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just some annoying kid from one of my classes.” JoJo chuckled along with him. It was a nice sound, one that could calm Albert down no matter the situation. “I’m sorry man. These special lunches are stupid anyway.”

“You could say that again,” Albert muttered, shrugging his friend off.

JoJo hummed in response and the two fell silent.

It wasn’t an awkward silence. Both were distracted; Albert with his phone and JoJo with the students around them. It was a common occurrence and neither really cared. After all, they weren’t headed to the same place.

They parted ways without a single goodbye at one of the intersecting hallways, JoJo turning left and Albert continuing on.

He always hated math. Both as a subject and a class. It always made him feel like an idiot and gave him the worst headache whenever he tried too hard. His inherent need for a calculator only made it worse, being a primary reason he was stuck in a regular level math class rather than honors.

At this rate, honors was the normal class.

His need for a calculator became a crutch. It became unbearable during tests and quizzes, even at home or work. It was part of why he refused to become a cashier if it was the last thing he’d do.

Because he sucked at mental math.

He was the guy who still needed to count on his fingers or mumble the numbers under his breath during a test. He had to count slow and orderly and multiple times over before he could be convinced he had the right answer.

And for the love of God, he could not add numbers like 18 and 19 without having to think for far too long.

But there was another reason he hated math. His current class to be specific.

Being a senior was… interesting to say the least. It left him with so many opportunities to take different classes. Each and every option was unique in some way.

Nearly one hundred classes in the entire course catalog.

And yet he had to be in Albert’s math class.

Albert trudged through the door, nodding to the teacher as she greeted him.

She was a nice woman, always dressing a peaceful mix of bright and conservative. It was rare to see her without a skirt of some sort or her hair tied up into a neat bun on the top of her head. Her glasses seemed to change every week, often switching frames and colors to match her outfits.

Ms. Lane—or Hannah as she preferred to be called—was one of Albert’s favorite teachers. Too bad she had to teach his most hated class.

He was, by far, not the first student in the room. He wasn’t the last either, he rarely was. It just took him forever to walk across the entire building. Not that he cared.

Tugging  his bag off, he let it fall to the floor next to his single desk before sliding into his chair. Immediately, his hands were propping his head up and his eyes were half-lidded. A bored expression sat content on his face, portraying a sense of tiredness never seen outside the room.

He did his best to ignore Spot as the guy walked in, avoiding eye contact as he instead focused on the bell ringer. It wasn’t a new problem, but one that made his brain churn to try and process.

It was written out on the whiteboard in sprawling cursive, neat and tidy like one would expect of a teacher.

His slur of unintelligible and tired thoughts were silenced by Hannah when she finally addressed the class. He perked up a bit, only enough to acknowledge he was listening.

“I know I’m starting a bit early, but it’s going to be important for the lesson these next few days,” she began, crossing the front of the room. “Because we all know you hate taking my tests, I’ve come up with a better idea. Instead-” the bell rang. She paused for a moment, letting the shrill sound pass before continuing. “So, instead of taking mine, you’re going to make your own for this chapter!”

The class groaned.

“Ah ah!” She smiled at them all before pointing at them, sweeping the gesture across the entire room. “I know you hate working alone, which is why I’m giving you groups.”

Somehow, that only made the class worse. A couple of Albert’s classmates murmured to each other while others gave overdramatic sighs. Nobody was happy, but at least they weren’t working alone.

Hannah moved to the projector in the middle of the room, tapping the desk it sat on with her nails. The clicking was the only sound in the room for a couple seconds before she grabbed the bright pink cup just to the side. The rattle of wooden sticks was a dead giveaway for what lay inside.

“You’re gonna be in pairs. That way the work can be split evenly without a worry.” 

Albert was far from thrilled. He didn’t have any friends in the class.

She began to go through names, randomly pulling out sticks and calling the students. Some pairs were excited, others were neutral. It was a game of chance that benefited very few.

He tuned her voice out. There was no way he was going to pay attention unless his name was called. He had no interest in what was going on.

“Albert and Sean.”

Albert choked on absolutely nothing, stuttering forward a bit at the sound of their names together.

Fuck.

This was gonna be hell.

#Newsies #newsies fic #spot conlon #albert dasilva #spot conlon x albert dasilva #spalbert #jojo newsies #hannah newsies #enemies to lovers #slow burn #prince's writing

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

Part 5

<<Prev | Next>>

Like every day, Angel woke up to an alarm at noon. And, like every day, he considered sleeping in. But he'd established that his Instagram stories started updating at 12:30, and he refused to break that routine. 

He dragged himself out of bed and over to the kitchen. He was in a bulking phase, which meant that at least he got to eat a lot of calories, but even then he had to check the notebook he kept next to the fridge to make sure he was hitting his macros. Breakfast wound up being oats made with peanut butter, greek yogurt, and protein powder. It was ugly to look at and nearly as bland, since there was no sugar to liven up the flavors. That was the sacrifice that he had to make for the sake of his physique - giving up basically everything that tasted good and living on a diet of peanut butter, chicken, and brown rice. 

After he finished choking down his breakfast, he had to take a minute to search his apartment for his wireless earbuds. He popped them in his ears, grabbed his phone, perched himself on the window sill, and proceeded to take a dozen selfies, all with slight variations, until he got the perfect one of himself turned just slightly towards the window, his earbuds clearly showing, the street outside visible but artistically blurry. It took him a few more minutes in Facetune to edit out the puffiness under his eyes and a blemish that was forming on his chin, not to mention lighten his skin and up the saturation of the blue dye in his hair. He needed a dye touch-up, but no one on Instagram needed to know that. 

It took him a few more minutes to craft his story post, carefully weighing the benefits of a filter that gave him dog ears and deciding how many emojis he wanted to use. 

Then of course there was the matter of what to say in the story. His first post of every day was a 'song of the day' post. It took him a minute to think of what song to use. Ultimately, he wound up writing: 'Listening to Bad Guy today! Love Billie Eilish!' and then took another minute to choose the exact font style, color, and positioning. 

He hadn't actually been listening to Billie Eilish. He liked her music, sure, but lately he had been on a nostalgic kick, listening to nu metal. But it wasn't #relatable to post about listening to Coal Chamber. How many people even remembered that the band existed? Certainly none of the e-boys that followed Angel's account. 

No, Angel's brand didn't work with a maligned, forgotten genre from the late 90s. He'd made a name for himself as goth-lite. Not really goth, but not an e-boy either. Rather, he was just a touch edgy, but still firmly in the mainstream gay community. 

All the more reason to keep Bacchus to himself. It was totally against his brand to go to shows with mosh pits. 

'Tell me what song you wanna see me pole dance to!' He added to the post, making a comment field for people to respond. Within seconds, answers started to pour in, mostly Top 40 sex jams. 

He spent a little longer scrolling through Instagram, commenting on videos from other dancers. Every comment was upbeat and encouraging, even if he thought their dancing was a bit shit. There was no room to be critical on social media. He had to treat everyone as if they were his best friend, even if he didn't know them. He was still building his following, and any drama could ruin that. 

His DMs were full, as usual. Most of them were thirst-DMs, a couple were shady sounding guys offering to be his manager. Nothing interesting enough to respond to. 

A notification popped up at the top of his screen from Grindr. He automatically tapped it to go to the app, only to be greeted with a blurry dick pic. He wasn't against dick pics, but they had to have a bit of effort put into them. This one was just lazy. The guy didn't even look like he was hard. 

He tapped the back button to look at the rest of his messages. A lot were dick pics. Some were asking for a hookup. One was a message from a guy he'd hooked up with a few days ago, saying that he had a nice time and asking if he wanted to get together again. 

The guy had been alright. A nice enough bodybuilder who had been surprisingly gentle and considerate during sex. But his personality had been as bland as the meal-prepped chicken sitting in Angel's fridge. Angel knew he could do better. But it never hurt to have the guy on-call as backup if he felt the need to get laid right away, so he snapped a selfie and sent it to him, with a short note that simply said, 'I had fun!' 

With that, he'd had enough social media, and it was almost time for his workout, anyways. 

Thirty minutes later, he met with his personal trainer. He paid a hefty fine for one of the best trainers in the city, someone he trusted to help him sculpt his physique without making comments about trying plastic surgery. His trainer was cute, nice, and painfully straight, which was something Angel had specifically looked for. He didn't want to be distracted by a guy who may or may not be interested in fucking. 

Like always, working out kicked his ass, and like always, he took a sweaty selfie in the locker room mirror with his shirt lifted to show his abs and posted it on his Instagram story. 

His day was far from over, though. He had to stop by the smoothie shop and take a photo of his smoothie - milk, whey powder, greens, banana, and peanut butter - and then go out and take photos around town until he found something that made it look like he was doing something interesting that day. He eventually found a corner of a building that had been tagged with a dozen Mothman stickers and snapped a selfie in front of it, captioned it 'Hanging out with my fellow spooky kids!' and posting it to his main Instagram. 

And then the boredom set in. He didn't really have anything planned for the day, and he still had plenty of time before he had to go to work. Sure, he could go home and put on some makeup and take artful thirst-trap selfies, but he'd done that so recently. He didn't want to make his Instagram nothing but thirst-traps - he had to make sure he was attractive to multiple types of brands if he ever wanted a sponsorship. 

The thing was, trying to be an Instagram star was lonely. He had friends, but they were either work colleagues - and thus rivals - or other micro-influencers. All their conversations were about collabs and SEO and ways to boost engagement. To outsiders he no doubt looked like he lived a lavish and incredibly fun lifestyle as a stripper, but they didn't see the day-to-day boredom or the awkwardness behind running into people who knew him from the club out in broad daylight. 

He wanted someone to talk to who wasn't a part of all that bullshit. 

Of course, as soon as he had that thought, he realized that he wanted to talk to Demie again. 

He wasn't sure if he should. He'd just called him that morning, after all. 

It wasn't that he was worried about coming off as desperate, but more that he was worried about scaring Demie off. He was absolutely certain that Demie was gay, but he was also sure that Demie was a country boy, and country gays were different from city gays. Country boys had such an endearing gee-shucks quality about them, like they were trying so hard to be beer-drinkin', truck-drivin' bros, but they were just a little too soft-spoken and shy for that. 

Demie - from what Angel could tell - was a guy who wanted to be cool to other men but who was also painfully nervous around them. 

It was absolutely adorable, and Angel wanted so badly to get him into bed. 

But getting that kind of guy into bed was a challenge. It was like hunting a deer. Move too fast or too loudly, and he'd run off into the woods. 

Or so Angel assumed. He'd never actually gone hunting. That was too much a white person thing to do. 

Fuck it, he decided. Demie was the first real connection he'd made in a long time. And it wasn't like he was asking for a hookup. He just wanted to talk. 

He settled onto a bench where he could still see the Mothman stickers and dialed Demie's number. The phone rang with no answer. No shit, it was a Monday afternoon. People with normal 9 to 5s worked at that time. 

Well, at least he could leave a message and give Demie his number. He realized he'd never actually told Demie how to contact him. 

Eventually the answering machine picked up. "You've reached Demie and Elaine," Demie's voice said. "If you're trying to sell us something we don't fucking want it. If you're trying to get on our property, we have guns and we're not afraid to fucking use them. Bye." 

"Wow, your answering machine is pretty aggro," Angel said. "This is Angel, but the way. I realized I didn't give you my number. So, y'know, just in case you want to get in touch…" 

He left his number and hung up. He sat staring at the Mothman stickers a little longer. He kind of wanted to send a picture of them to Demie, since Demie in a way reminded him of a cryptid - shy and kind of elusive. But of course, he couldn't, since Demie didn't have a cellphone. Still, he took a non-selfie picture of them anyways. Just in case he got to hang out with Demie sometime.

#writers on tumblr #writing #original fiction #original characters #lgbt fiction #gay fiction #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

[josephjohnblogs]

“During bad circumstances, which is the human inheritance, you must decide not to be reduced. You have your humanity, and you must not allow anything to reduce that. We are obliged to know we are global citizens. Disasters remind us we are world citizens, whether we like it or not.” —Maya Angelou now did you find a hope ? Do you know the definition of hope? What is hope for you? And what does mean to you?

meaning of expectation can contrast contingent upon the individual doing the talking. At the point when individuals talk about expectation in an otherworldly setting, it may mean accepting beneficial things will occur with confidence in a higher force. They may coordinate their expectations outward in petition. For other people, it may mean continually looking on the brilliant side and considering difficulties to be openings. At the end of the day, continually "seeking after the best. According to " Merriam-Webster's definition makes "trust" appear near "wish": "to value a craving with expectation: to need something to occur or be valid." Whatever the subtleties, trust when all is said in done methods a longing for things to improve, and to need that better circumstance without question.

And why is it important to have hope as individual? Because hope is the only way for us people to unite as one , we need hope for humanity, and it's essential because To have hope for humanity is to need an result that creates your life way better in a few way. It not as it were can offer assistance make a intense show circumstance more tolerable but moreover can inevitably

improve our lives since envisioning an improved future propels you to require the steps to form it happen. Whether we think approximately it or not, trust may be a portion of everyone’s life. Everybody trusts for something. It’s an inborn portion of being a human being. Trust makes a difference us characterize what we need in our prospects and is portion of the self-narrative around our lives we all have running interior our minds.

If there's a hope, there should be humanity, a humankind that simply define as quality of being a human, Humankind can be characterized as nature of being human; the impossible to miss nature of man, by which he is recognized from different creatures. Being human doesn't imply that an individual has humankind. In the event that you need to comprehend the nature of humankind in an individual observe what he accomplishes for individuals who give noticing back consequently to the kindness they have advertised.

what is humanity by the way, Humanity means, whenever and wherever possible, caring for and helping others. Humanity means helping people when they need the most support, and humanity means ignoring our selfish interests when others need our support. Humanity implies that unconditional love is extended to any living person on earth.

Humanity is an individual attribute which is provided to one by nature and by which one is differentiated from other beings. Being human does not mean that humanity is possessed by a person. In a person, the standard of humanity takes note of what he does for people who give back notes in return for the favor they gave. Mother Teresa brilliantly depicted extra-ordinary compassion in a human being as she created a magnificent example of humanity around the globe and particularly in india, humanity for them means caring for and helping others whenever wherever possible.

Humanity means helping anyone when they need the most encouragement, and humanity means eliminating your selfish interests when others need your care. Humanity means extending to any and every human being on Earth love and devotion.

The tale of a king will show a perfect instance of humanity. A king with a kind heart once saw a battle pigeon and an eagle. He had the ability to interact with birds and beasts. The pigeon requested that the king rescue him from the eagle. The king told the eagle that, in consideration for saving the pigeon, he would have been prepared to pay any price. The eagle asks the king to give him flesh equal to the weight of the pigeon's flesh.

Agreeing with both the condition of the Eagle, The king begins to chop his own flesh, equal to the pigeon's flesh. He still finds the pigeon heavier, after donating a little bit of his flesh. He finally surrenders all of himself to the Eagle besides his meal. That is the moment when both the Eagle and the pigeon transformed into angels who appeared on the planet to measure the degree of the king's humanity. Now, for his deed of humanity, the king is remunerated with the most invaluable rewards and heaven after life.

And indeed , One of the most extraordinary instances of extra-standard humankind in an individual has been depicted flawlessly by Mother Teresa. Mankind implies thinking about and helping other people at whatever point and at every possible opportunity. Mankind implies helping other people now and again when they need that help the most, humankind implies overlooking your narrow minded interests on occasion when others need your assistance.

Individuals who consistently bunk that they don't have adequate offices accessible in spite of having everything can never offer compassionate types of assistance since, supposing that one has the mentality of not acting naturally adequate, in what capacity can the person in question help another person. One is constantly associated with their great deeds and it is fundamental to comprehend that there is no preferred deed over offering types of assistance for philanthropic causes.

Just individuals can comprehend the significance of mankind and it is humankind because of knowledge which really gives the center substance to human presence. You won't need a heavy ledger to contribute towards philanthropic exercises. You don't need to hefty bank account to contribute towards humanitarian activities. Paying your domestic help fairly is also humanity. Loving your neighborhood are also humanity, caring your family and friends can define as humanity, Helping one another are showing the essence humanity. Everyone of us know's what is humanity, the only thing is some people don't absorb the quintessence of humanity,

George Orwell 1944 1950 says that the

Even you are a normal individual who living with normal life, you can show humanity to the society you where belong, because humanity doesn't define your Richness, position, color, religion, and culture, because everyone of us in this world can show the essence of humanity, and thats the lacking part of us being a human today, at some point we forgot to be human, we forgot the essence of this world.

And that's why some people don't know how to act human sometimes, they can't see the hope, the hope of humanity, they are hopeless At times they feel hopless in view of something that transpires they commit an error, need to manage a major dissatisfaction, lose a person or thing we care about, or need to manage circumstances that are truly upsetting or overpowering. Different occasions, they feel miserable and don't have a clue why. It could be discouragement, absence of rest, physical ailment or some other factor that is influencing the manner in which they feel.

It affects more than one person when hope is damaged. It is impossible to replace them when true hope is rejected. It can be difficult to find inspiration again when a person has lost hope. All these claims hold true. How we shape each other's hopes is the most significant effect we have on each other. Hope breeds hope. We connect with our world more when hope remains. We commit more of ourselves, like anyone else around us, to what we do. Our innovation and our problem-solving require hope.

My point of this article in generality is that when a person has a hope she or he can capable act what is humanity , on the ground that hope and humanity are connected, because of hope people can show love humankind, love, respect, now how to care and socialize to other human, helping other people, hope is the one of the best element of an individual. Now in the view of something "Hope for Humanity " in if we deeper down the intimation hope for humanity are actually big discussions if we broader, because the insight of this article is to define and implicate the the essence of hope and humanity.

In this infinite, everlasting and ever-changing universe, the essence of humanity is to work for the independence of the will based on true awareness of the world and of itself, a subjectivity and conceptual unity of the opposites of the objectivity of blind nature and as part of nature itself. This essence is an acquired capacity that encourages man to change the conditions of his physical , mental and social human experience effective manner on the basic principle with

productive knowledge and understanding as well as of himself. In such a way as to gradually diminish but never fully eliminate the inconsistency among both subjective human persons and objective nature, between humanity and the environment.

This seems to be inherently a bad thing a complex of "being" and "knowing" historical processes; mediated by dialectical chance and necessity and taking place in a celestial body something which temporarily harbors life where life's subjectivity can evolve through discrete evolutionary leaps from blind non-living matter to the highest developed power demand. Namely the thinking of brain of man.

Now, how can we show humanity to people? Did we do already show? The first thing we can do is to Help encourage your humanity to shine ,Being human involves understanding that human beings are, well, "human," and flawed or fallible at times. It's also about trying to understand wrongdoing, and being immune to criticism, even if it's not what you want to hear or do. Despite the intense desire to explain away or defend, if their associates start by speaking directly, without judgment, organizations could really produce often more linked and long-time citizens,

Equally important, society is about expressing viewpoints, views and discoveries freely. It means not being afraid to understand and accept weakness and disappointment, and it's about accepting mistakes and recognizing wrongdoings. It's not the types of mistakes you make; it's about how you manage those mistakes as an ordinary person, and the organization as a whole. Next is be Genuine empathy model From a practical point of view, this implies first considering the perspective of the customer-"what "they express and" why "it is important to them . regardless of his concern and how vehemently he expresses it. And, no matter how often or what he buys. It's all about listening to each and every customer, understanding his emotions, and communicating good intentions.

To express true empathy, it is important to remember that everyone always you come into contact with is a doorman. You can asko Show Gratitude because Gratitude is a powerful way to show people that they will be valued by you, and it's often ignored.

Hope for humanity can Express empathy and humility All people, no matter how much they invest or how long they've known you, want to be treated with respect. In each and every interaction, they expect respect . from the very first to the last. Truly loving your people implies displaying compassion, understanding and humility.In order to compare to others, humility is about being self-aware and non-judging. And that's what we need to cultivate as individuals, for i concluded my perception i truly believe what NicteDeana.com that "Let's not lose hope in humanity, instead live help others ".

[ryoleoz]

part 1/2 of lindhardt getting sylvain to make caspar fat

This story I wrote and my friend helped me.

Sylvain had a very dirty mind and being very horny meant putting it to use on a regularly basis. When looking into ways to pleasure himself he’d come to reading in a book Lindhardt had leant him that by people getting fatter they will become hornier and in Sylvain’s mind, more likely to fuck with him. Lindhardt knew full well what he was setting in motion by giving Sylvain that book that he had magically altered himself to encourage Sylvain to follow his own desires specifically.

It didn’t take him long until Sylvain had gotten everything lined up. A special potion that both promotes weight gain and increases hunger as well as an aphrodisiac to promote a strong sex drive. All that was left was for him to decide who he wanted to fuck most. Currently he already gets in regularly sex a few times a week with Ashe who’s already easly almost as horny as Sylvain himself, running to him begging to put his cock up his soft and bubbly ass, Dimitri is too risky because of his guards now that the war is over and he has been crowned King of Faerghus...It was then he realized, how he’d felt watching Caspar build his muscles and work out sweating on campus each day, usually shirtless AND in shorts, exposing a hefty bulge, his thick thighs, and generous ass. Sylvain’s mouth would water as he watched him get bigger over time and he had tried countless attempts in moving their relationship into fuckbuddy territory, however Caspar wasn’t interested. He had mentioned how between Ashe’s slutty whole and Lindhardt’s needy throat he was well and set between the both of them, though he did compliment Sylvain from what he heard of his experience with sex.

Sylvain had decided, the perfect candidate for him to target. Caspar was already attractive, showed some interest in Sylvain and already held a healthy sex life. He knew there would be no way Caspar would be able to resist adding him to his list of cumrags after this, and besides, the thought of even just making Caspar grow larger send a shiver to Sylvain’s cock, warmth pooling into a full boner. He was excited.

----

Caspar and Ashe’s moans echoed throughout the room, the sensation of Lindhardt humming from underneath Caspar’s large asshole was exhilarating as Ashe skillfully grinded against his throbbing cock. He had already came before, But Ashe just wasn’t done with him yet and begged for round 2. Lindhardt thanked the goddess for Ashe’s puppy eyes working on their boyfriend who never seemed horny enough to fulfill the both of them. Licking at Caspar’s warm and wet hole with his hand working his clit he had reached his peak and nearly the same time as he heard Ashe’s voice crack in screaming “Ggnhh f-fuck! Ah, ah!” which set off Caspar like a chain reaction. The three laid in bed together, sticky and hot from fucking. Beginning to Doze off, Lindhardt prayed that Sylvain hadn’t chickened out of what he had set him up for.

------

“Thanks for inviting me for lunch Sylvain! I’m surprised ya know how to cook at all with how you get around, but it looks great!” Caspar’s eyes glowed off the plate of meats, fried chicken, a few burgers, steak, ribs, plenty of rich sauces...Having been fresh off of training Caspar’s appetite was already peaked which meant there’d be no way he wouldn’t consume the whole plate and with it, the entirety of the concoctions Sylvain had put together just so that he could fatten him up and fuck him. “Thanks I guess? I learned to cook some awhile ago from Ashe for when I was in a pinch.” he laughed back playfully. Without another word Caspar had already begun his descent into madness, ravaging the plate like a beast and finishing a whole burger in barely 4 full bites, some juice slipping down his stuffed cheek as he chewed the last bit and he hummed of satisfaction. The concoctions were fast acting Sylvain knew, but he didn’t think it would be as immediate as just that when Caspar’s stomach let out a low sounding growl. “Boy I really am hungrier than I thought today! I hope you have seconds buddy!” Sylvain smiled devilishly and crossed his legs to try and hold down his boner. “Oh don’t worry, I made sure to prepare extra incase anyone else decided to join, but since it’s just the two of us, feel free to help yourself.” Sylvain then watched in awe as Caspar plowed through his meal, letting out a hefty belch here and there, patting his stomach, at one point loosening his belt by the time he reached the end of his first plate.

He’d already downed a total of 2 burgers, 3 pieces of fried chicken, the serving of ribs fistfulls of fries, and, hell, Sylvain had even lost count of what he put on there for him and before he could even remember Caspar had already come back with his second plate, already fuller than his first one was! Sylvain’s face began to heat up and he was feeling nervous. Watching Caspar’s display of gluttony was a much bigger turn on than he thought it’d be, Sylvain could barely even touch his own plate and he lustfully watched Caspar repeatedly and mechanically throw food into his mouth and barely even chew it before swallowing it down to shove the next fistful in, he hadn’t even touched his fork or knife since this second plate, too focused on getting as much as he could into himself at once as possible.

Caspar then let out another powerful burp. “Hhn wow Sylvain, you really do make a good cook...I feel stuffed.” he let his hefty mug of root beer down on the table with a thunk, his stomach had puffed out a considerable amount, stuffed, but not bloated, the magic already kicking in and helping to convert the food to fat immediately. His shirt strained against his noticeable pot belly, pectorals bloated and hardened nipples showing through. Before Sylvain could say anything Caspar began to squeeze the breasts of his newly fattened self and blushed when he had let out a moan of his own thumb passing over his nipple. Even though he had stopped eating Caspar’s body began to fill out just a bit more, a second chin appearing under him and  his stomach now being squeezed on both sides of his chair and his shirt sliding up almost halfway his belly which looked like two scoops of icecream from the way it rolled over itself on his now grown belly button. Attempting to stand up the chair lifted with him and he had to force it down with a wince, his thighs and ass had filled out too and his pants were noticeably far too tight for him to walk straightly either, it was then that Sylvain noticed his impressive boner held up against him from his tight clothes.

“Sylvain…” Caspar mumbled in a sensual tone trying to cover himself in shame, arm over his man boobs, and another reaching to hide his dick, which didn’t do much for how his gut pushed his arm mostly out of reach. “I… I need you. I n-need you to help me. S-sylvain please. I need to be fucked right now.” as he finished he bucked his hips forward as if he was hardly in control of himself at this point.

Sylvain was red, he’d never seen someone so desperate for sex before, not Ashe and not even himself had ever looked so needy. It wasn’t just that Caspar was horny and wanted to fuck, it was that he needed to, he needed to be fucked right now before he overheated himself from not being able to release. “Let’s go back to my room first then ok-” Before Sylvain could finish Caspar’s eyes widened and he shook his head defiantly. “I c-can’t. P-please just now, do me now.” he pleaded almost as if he were about to cry. “Normally I’d say yes, but, I would prefer it if you could make it to my room first... It’s just too risky here. Caspar, please listen, you can make it that far right? It won’t take any longer than a minute to walk there.”

The thought of having to wait made tears come from Caspar’s eyes, rolling down his chubby cheeks as he desperately reached for Sylvains hand, who then guided him out the door. Sylvain was right. His room was one of the closest to the dining hall, and yet by the time he locked the door behind them, Caspar had begun to pant. Sylvain reached around him as best he could and helped him remove his shirt, and then his pants. As they slid off a noticeable jiggle ran through the underside of his belly and his full cock. On Sylvain’s bed Caspar felt helpless, he was so horny he couldn’t even bring himself to try and work himself. Sylvain thankfully, was quick to act, and immediately began to finger Caspar’s big fat ass as he gave head to his cock. The feeling of finally having Caspar’s body to him sent Sylvain into ecstasy, his dick filling his mouth with its length, and Caspar’s noises making him smile. Sylvain let Caspar’s dick slide sloppily out of his mouth, tickling the side of his cheek with a string of saliva stretching down from it.

Beginning to pull his fingers out of his hole, Sylvain stood up and turned away from Caspar. “Sylvain what are doing don’t leave me please k-keep going” Caspar barely finishing his words Sylvain had pressed his ass up against Caspar’s dick, and let it slide in. When it did Caspar left out a large mone and reached forward around Sylvain, hands barely reaching from his large belly, just barely making it to Sylvain’s sides. Caspar immediately starting bucking his hips into Sylvain who didn’t even have a chance to take action, all he could do was stand there as Caspar rocked against him. The feeling of his large belly pressing up against his ass and back, squeezing his cheeks as his dick worked his hole, tending his prostate nearly sent Sylvain over immediately, but he didn’t want it to end yet. He tried to stay composed but between the feeling of Caspar being inside him, Caspar, who he had made grow, and plead him to fuck him, was too much, and when Caspar had released his warm seed inside of him, feeling it fill him up, slightly seep through his stuffed hole it was too much. Sylvain closed his eyes and felt his cum rocket out of him in a long and full chunk, getting it all over the floor, and it pooling near his feet. The two of them, quicky feel asleep in bed together then later, wiped from the high of sex.

-----

The sun beginning to set by now, Sylvain woke up to Caspar shaking the bed, he was working his cock and his heavy weight made the bed rock like a boat. Light peering in from the windows Sylvain squinted. “Sylvain I need more. Sylvain I need more of you right now. I need you in me.” Caspar begged again, but instead of sounding needy, this time it sounded more like a demand, his tone huskier and longing. Sylvain could definitely go for more by now, and he didn’t waste any time to getting into position. Putting his dick into Caspar’s ass he moaned at how soft and squishy it felt. Reaching around the top of his torso he squeezed his hefty breasts. The speed of Sylvain’s dick working his ass was faster and more intense than what happened before, Sylvain was more confident in giving anal and his rocketing movements made Caspar feel bliss. His fat jiggling as the two of them shaked, feeling his body jiggle against itself as it did Caspar felt immensely satisfied. His size and weight were much greater than before, and it made him feel strong and fulfilled, being fucked like this made him feel like he’d won an award. “Sylvain you’re doing so good. G-god. Thank you.” Sylvain said nothing except a shaky moan, cumming inside of Caspar, and it spreading all over between the two of them, Caspar turned and lapped it up hungrily like a Kitten to a dish of milk, except it was sloppy like a dog at the same time. “I really wanted you to taste more of me you know.” Caspar said, guiding Sylvain down to his unfinished dick. Taking it into his mouth again, it didn’t take long for Caspar to release his semen all over him, it flooded out of his mouth despite swallowing a large deal of it and it made Sylvain feel full inside. And then again, the two sleepily dozed off beside each other.

#next part lindhardt will shame sylvain for being so lustful for caspar becoming fat #all 4 of them will fuck! #lindhardt/ashe/sylvain/caspar #weight gain #fat emblem #feeder emblem #forgot to tag before #sorry #lindhardt is trans in this fic

[dxketo1-blog]

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[galadrieljones]

11 questions

tagged by @thevikingwoman. thank you!!

1. The most beautiful place you have been 

Ah, a tough one. To me, there is nothing more sublime than the big, wide open empty of the American West. Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. Utah, and the weird hellscapes of northern Nevada. BUT, on our honeymoon, we went to France: flew into Bergerac and slowly drove north to Paris over the course of several days. The sunflower fields were in full bloom and it was really something else. I also have to say that, while I don’t always love where I live in Orange County, the sunsets in Laguna Beach really are the prettiest sunsets in the whole world.

2. Pick a super power. Why that one? 

Not no sleep, but just less sleep. I’d love it if I could subsist on just like four hours a night. I’d get so much more done that way!! Lol.

3. Do you have a comfort movie or show? What is it? 

Yes, I have several comfort shows. My most frequented are probably Gilmore Girls, Buffy, and Dawson’s Creek. Right now, on maternity leave, I’m also taking a GREAT deal of comfort in Beat Bobby Flay lol. Idk, I just really like him!!

4. A creation you’re really proud of?

All of my fanfic I’m very proud of. I feel it keeps getting better with every work. I’m very proud of having finished The Dead Season, but I feel like, in terms of writing and storytelling skill, A Funeral feels like my most honed creation so far. 

5. Something you are looking forward to in the next year or two?

Well, I just had a baby eight days ago, so I’m looking forward to getting back to normal!!

6. Top 5 video games?

The order here can tend to fluctuate based on where my emotional attachment lies on any given day, but I’ll be as “objective” as possible. Also I have six because the first two I consider to be a tie:

The Last of Us - This is one of my favorite games because it’s so tightly woven, as a story. The characters and their relationships, in combination with the setting and high stakes horrific atmosphere makes it feel both terrifying and desperate in almost EVERY moment. There is ALWAYS something to lose, and Joel’s longterm character development is both very unique and also extremely realistic, nuanced, and heartbreaking.

Red Dead Redemption 2 - This game, for me, succeeds on the strength of its protagonist. The game itself is beautiful, meandering, dynamic, and the story, while sprawling, is multi-faceted and really advanced in its usage of POV, symbolism, and ambiguity. It’s impossible for me to choose between RDR2 and TLoU because they’re such different games. There really is nothing like RDR2, and there is no protagonist like Arthur Morgan, but the narrative of TLoU is just so...perfect. Overall, I think protagonists like Joel and Arthur are sort of paving the way for games that are much more “adult” in scope. These are the first two games I’ve ever really played that feel exclusively BY adults and FOR adults. 

Skyrim - I can’t even really qualify my love for this game at this point in my life. It’s like comfort food. It’s like coming home.

Dragon Age: Inquisition - It’s an imperfect game, but it’s big and the characters are wonderful. I get lost in the banter, the background dynamics, the politics, and the wealth of opportunity for OC creation and fan works.

Horizon: Zero Dawn - Aloy is such a unique female protagonist, in that she is almost a Byronic Hero. Female Byronic heroes are really rare, and I think I love her for her secret romance, masked with a hefty layer of sarcasm, bitterness, and self-preservation. I love Aloy’s journey, because it begins with one quest (find the men who attacked the Proving and killed Rost) and then becomes a much more existential quest (Aloy’s discovery of her own origin story). The game itself is good, but I think if a sequel is made, it’s going to be fucking REALLY GOOD.

Bloodbourne - I’ve never actually played Bloodbourne lol but I’ve watched my husband play it twice. It is by far the weirdest game, aesthetically, I’ve ever encountered. The bizarre menstrual symbolism and hidden zones are entirely gnarly and beautiful. And I love the storytelling style of Hidetaka Miyazaki, how it’s all shown, or implied. There are no quest markers, no obvious objectives. Entire worlds can be missed through happenstance, or failing to fully investigate one small mystery to its painstaking conclusion. 

7. A recent favorite anything (food/entertainment/clothing/??)

As previously stated, I’m very into Beat Bobby Flay lately lol. Dude, Bobby Flay is entirely 100% the man. He is both calmly confident and entirely accomplished as a chef, but also extremely gracious toward his challengers and always willing to concede the loss (though he usually wins lol). That kind of humble confidence is...rare. He reminds me of that thing Solas says in DAI: “No real god need prove himself.”

8. Favorite board game?

I know it’s old school, but I really love Risk. I like playing with my husband, because he’s VERY good, but I learn a lot from him, and though I have only beat him maybe one time ever lol I usually take him by surprise a few times during the game, and that’s very fun lol.

9. Stealing this one: I know that lots of people have “dinosaur” or “ancient Egypt” interests as a child; what was something that you were super interested in as a child? I’d love to learn a new fact about that subject if you’re willing!

When I was a CHILD, I had a definite elves and fairies phase, as well as a metaphysical time travel/scifi phase. My favorite books, which I would read constantly over and over again were Afternoon of the Elves by Janet Taylor Lisle (which has no *actual* elves in it--the elves are like metaphors, honestly explains a lot about my tendency toward fabulism rather than actual fantasy) and A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. Looking back, I still see these books and how they manifest in my preferences today. They really blur genre boundaries--between fantasy, science, and domestic realism. They’re about kids having regular kid problems and often experiencing catharsis via “fantasy” worlds. 

10. A strange thing you googled recently, if you’re willing to share. 

Well, I’ve googled a lot of strange things lately. When you have a new baby, you’re always googling strange things lol. But I’d say, in the past few months, the strangest thing I’ve had to google was basically male and female underwear from the late 1800s. What the fuck does Arthur wear under his pants?? What the fuck is Mary Beth hiding under that skirt?? The most alarming thing I discovered was that women typically wore crotchless drawers around this time. This way they could pee without having to completely remove their myriad of skirts lol 

11. You only put ten questions, so I’ll steal a simple one from the previous batch, ie: Five favorite books! I’ve been thinking about some of them lately, so I wanna share:

Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan

Airships: Stories by Barry Hannah

Cannery Row by John Steinbeck

I’ll tag @buttsonthebeach @morgan-arthur @ladylike-foxes @bearly-tolerable @wrenbee @lyrium-lovesong @ma-sulevin @a-shakespearean-in-paris @hidinginthehinterlands and @idrelle-miocovani

Questions:

Five favorite books?

Five favorite video games?

Favorite visual artist(s) (fan artists and/or traditional)?

Favorite video game protagonist (non-OC) and why?

What’s the best meal you’ve ever eaten?

What’s your dream road trip? Or, if you don’t like road trips, what’s your dream vacation?

Do you like old movies? I’m talking OLD movies, like golden era, from the 1930s-1950s. Why or why not? Do you have a favorite?

What’s something unique and interesting about the place where you live and/or grew up?

If you were going to be transported into the setting of any video game, which would it be and why?

Regardless of where you actually live, would you prefer urban, suburban, small town, or rural living?

What is the most emotional you’ve ever gotten over a video game?

#about me #11 questions meme

[fyeahwonderbat]

In the Middle of a Broken Constellation - PT. 13

Pairing: WonderBat (Wonder Woman x Batman) Rating: T / 14A Universe: N/A - Reader’s Choice Previous Chapter: <- Chapter 12

Diana didn’t mean to slam her apartment door when she returned home that evening, but she was just too irritated to care about the strength she used to close it.

“Whoa!” came a startled yelp from the kitchen. She shot her blue-eyed glare across the hall, only to find a nervous Jason preparing dinner at the stove, a sizzling pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

And an adorable apron with frills making him look the part of the perfect homemaker.

It was shocking enough to smooth out her temper just enough to smile. “Sorry,” she mumbled. After a deep breath and the removal of her emergency black flats, Diana entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Where else would I be? I haven’t heard about any leads from you or the League, it’s not dark enough for criminals to be roaming the streets yet, and I was getting hungry.” Jason explained, covering all of his bases to justify his time at home.

Except for one, which Diana decided to bring up for him. “Nightwing wouldn’t let you join him and Huntress?”

Surprisingly, an honest scoff was his answer. “Nope.”

She did her best not to giggle as she reached into the fridge for her water filter and bring it with her over to the cupboard. While taking a glass off of the shelf, she listened to the sound of the meal being prepared and felt her stomach grumble. When she caught the scent of it, a second grumble shook her body. “So what are we having?” asked a famished Diana.

Proudly, Jason announced. “I’m making my world renowned burgers.”

“How is it ‘world famous’?” Diana inquired as she took her first sip of water all day.

“Because I’ve had to cook for myself many times while traveling from place to place, so I’ve made this particular recipe while I was all over the world.” Was his half-witted explanation. It immediately occurred to her that she could – and rightfully should – correct his understanding what ‘world renowned’ meant, but it didn’t seem like it would be worth the effort after the day she had had. Not only that, but the food did smell particularly delicious and she didn’t want to risk having her portion revoked.

Conceding to his logic, Diana put her cup down on the counter and headed towards her bedroom. “Did any of my belongings arrive today?”

“No, sorry.” He yelled down the hall after her, his sympathy genuine. Sighing to herself, Diana entered her bedroom and looked at the barren space. The hardwood beams that caught the light of the street gleamed with a rather pale glow, making the entire space feel all the more hollow. There was no bed for her to sleep on until it was delivered next week, and there were no dressers or night stands for her belongings until next weekend; she felt like she was on a sting operation rather than integrating into Gotham City, when her new home looked as barren as it did. Despite knowing that all of her possessions would be set up for her in a matter of days, she couldn’t feel settled in until she could see herself all over her new bedroom.

It wasn’t the first time she had to sleep on a cold floor though, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

She decided to move beyond her self-pity and open up her carry-on bags that she had placed in her closet. Whenever she traveled to the States, she always packed extra outfits in case she ever lost her suitcase during the trip, so she was absolutely prepared to dress down into her pajamas. She changed into her satin set of a button up shirt and shorts within a few minutes and exited her room with a new determined attitude.

The scent of beef seemed farther away than it had before, and Diana realized that Jason had brought their meals into the living room. Her slipper-wearing feet carried her down the hallway until she spotted a rather surprising set up for their dinner. “Oh, you found us a table?” Her question merely stated the obvious, but she was actually impressed. It was simply a foldable surface that he had placed near their window, but the matching pair of chairs meant that they actually had somewhere formal to sit and eat until everything else she owned arrived.

Jason was laying down their plates while answering her, rather focused on the table setting looking just right as he refused to look her way until he was finished with it. “It’s not much, but yeah. I didn’t think we’d want to eat on the floor when we have our own place. It’s kind of cramped, but it’s a table.”

Diana couldn’t argue with him there. “It’s a great table,” she praised him earnestly while walking the expanse of the long living room. She reached her seat and made sure she looked him in the eyes as she added, “Thank you.”

Jason nodded in acknowledgement of her words before sitting down and digging in.

For a moment, it seemed rather calm in her apartment. Her roommate had made her dinner so she didn’t need to cook as soon as she got home, the sun hadn’t set yet on the summery day in Gotham City, and there wasn’t a single police car or ambulance siren wailing off in the distance.

“Oh,” a thought struck her just before she picked up her burger. “Did you see me on the news?”

Jason quirked a brow while his mouth was completely stuffed. “No? We don’t have cable, and I was finding us this table.” Somehow, she understood what he was saying through the massive bites of food he was shoveling down.

Maybe it was because she was able to understand animals…

She decided to take a bite of her own dinner, chew it properly and swallow before she filled him in on everything he had missed today. “I was locked in the isolation ward at the hospital with the people who had been turned into sludge monsters.”

“You WHAT!?” Jason exclaimed, firing bits of food at her unintentionally.

Diana ripped her napkin off of the table and dabbed at her face, brows furrowed ever so slightly. “I went there today on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, and somehow, I was locked in there with about fifty people who had been transformed by the sludge. I couldn’t fight them or escape without giving away that I’m Wonder Woman, so I had to just survive until Superman showed up and rescued me.”

For a moment or two, Jason couldn’t speak. The story she had told him was running through his mind and his mental process of digesting her words showed on his face plainly. So startled was he, he put his world famous burger down and invested himself entirely in her recap of her day. “How the hell do you get locked in an isolation ward at a hospital?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, and it’s just another thing added to our list of mysteries to solve.” Grumbled Diana as she spoke her realization aloud. It felt to her as though their mission to save Bruce was becoming more and more complicated without leading to any answers, and her patience was wearing thin, especially after her ordeal at Gotham General on her first day on the job.

“Is that why you were so angry when you came home?” Jason questioned her gently. Taking a rather hefty bite of her dinner, Diana simply nodded as she chewed.

“Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy when we started out,” he tried to pacify her with reason. “We were all coming into this thing with Bruce a month late. Yeah, it sucks that we keep unearthing more problems than solutions. But I think we’ve all realized by now that rushing into things isn’t going to work. The sludge is contained, Bruce is functioning normally – or what it appears to be his new version of normal – and we pretty much have a superhero army on the case.”

Diana was ready to fire off a retort the moment he started listing their different tasks. “We know that the sludge isn’t contained because Aquaman and the Flash were last seen fighting off a new version of it, and we haven’t heard from them since. Should we send someone to check on them? Should we try to contact Atlantis? I don’t know!”

“Diana…”

His attempt to counter her logic only urged her onwards. “Bruce isn’t normal because we know he has some kind of cognitive impairment, but we don’t know what it is! I am spending the day with him tomorrow, and I can try to scan him again, and hopefully Cyborg can determine what’s wrong with him. Meanwhile, we have roughly fifty people in Gotham General who are infected with this sludge that has no cure, along with the people in Metropolis and the people in Central City. Superman is dividing his time between Metropolis and Gotham to help us find out as much information as we can, but Central City is still unprotected while the Flash is missing.

“We think Oracle has been consumed by the sludge, we think Vicki Vale might have been too, and all of those innocent people are left suffering in those mindless, violent sludge monster bodies until we can try to find a cure. But we don’t have any ethical procedures put in place because we don’t know anything about this substances. I can’t ask Cyborg to touch it though or we could lose him too! This entire situation is absolutely maddening! And I’m sitting here, in an empty apartment, trying to move my life from Paris to Gotham, when I should have just taken an extended leave from work and… and…”

She couldn’t think of what her alternative would have led her to do, and it resulted in a rather heavy silence in the middle of their conversation. The absurdity of her day finally caught up with her and she couldn’t stop herself from venting to the nearest crime-fighting human being. The longer she spoke, the more embarrassed she felt about her outburst, creating a rather petulant rant she hadn’t expected. It was true that she felt overwhelmed by all that was going on, lost in terms of what options she had, disappointed that no results had been yielded after putting forth a plan that involved the Justice League.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt anxious when she realized that she had absolutely no control over anything going on in her life.

That feeling of disappointment in herself doubled in size when Jason got up from the table suddenly. “Jason,” she called to him, ready to apologize. However, all he intended to do was retrieve his home that was plugged into a charger in the wall, then he returned to his seat while unlocking his device. Then, a question spilled out of her against her will. “You have a phone?” He didn’t look up at her as he kept his fingers busy. “It doesn’t have service. I found it in the garbage once while I was in Canada and it was in perfect condition. I just hobo off of other people’s Wi-Fi to watch videos online or type up encrypted notes for myself when I’m working on something.”

“Oh.” Was all she could think of to say.

He glanced at her over the top of his device, then showed her a pale white screen, with only the words ‘Moving In: Checklist’ written across the top. When she didn’t react, he clarified his intention slowly, “That’s what we’ll call this mission.”

Still uncertain about the meaning of his actions, Diana simply replied with a similarly paced, “Okay.”

An unimpressed look crossed his face, but Jason recovered and began typing away, moving on without her. “So we have you, me, Cyborg, Superman, Aquaman and the Flash on the case, right?”

Diana nodded. “We also have Nightwing and Huntress, and possibly some more allies from my side.”

That last comment of hers caused him to lift his head up. “Your side?” He paraphrased her, one brow arched high on his forehead.

“I sent for help from the Amazons, and asked Donna and Cassandra if they’d help, should we need them. Even though I haven’t heard back from anyone, I wouldn’t count them out entirely.”

“Well, I’m only going to include who we have with us now,” Jason stated, rather efficient about his note-making. “If we break this list down person by person, what is everyone doing? Which mission are they apart of?”

Diana sat up straight and counted each person on her fingers as she tried to figure everything out. “I’m working at the Wayne Foundation to guard Bruce from any other possible attacks, and to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen.”

“And to see if you can scan him so we can figure out what the hell happened to him.” Jason tacked on.

Diana let him add that to her to-do list, but didn’t wait very long to carry on with her rundown. “Cyborg is trying to analyze the sludge back at Headquarters, though he knows he can’t touch it. Once I scan Bruce, he’ll analyze that information too. He’s essentially filling in for Oracle now that we know she’s been consumed by the sludge.”

Across the table, Jason’s body twitched momentarily. He continued on typing, never looking away from the screen, piping up rather softly to ask, “So you think she’s gone, or you know?”

One second too late, Diana realized that she had been rather crude in relaying that information to Jason. There was no doubt that they were friends, given that they both worked for the Batman at one point or another. Her tone was a tad guarded when she responded to him. “According to Clark, she’s been gone just as long as Bruce has.”

“Well, I’ll add a visit to her place onto my to-do list,” Jason promised, his voice as rigid as his expression. “Speaking of Superman, what’s he up to?”

“He told me he wants to hunt down Vicki Vale, see what leads she had. He thinks she’s disappeared, that someone thought she was getting too close to the mystery of the sludge and took her down before she found anything.”

“Dammit, this could have so many more layers than we realize,” Jason cursed and bit his lip as he typed away furiously on his phone. He was beginning to empathetically understand her frustrations from earlier, making her feel much less ashamed of her whining. “Either this is just one bad dude or there could be a bunch of people in on this. They’re taking out reporters, they’re infecting cities…” “And then creating a single sludge monster to appear off the coast of Maine just to take away the Flash and Aquaman.”

“Do we know they’re missing?” Instantaneously, Jason shot his head up, staring her down from across the table. He was absolutely determined to only deal in facts, as evident in his claim to visit Barbara’s house. She wasn’t any different, however, Diana found it a tad upsetting that he felt the need to question her about what she and Cyborg had already agreed upon.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Diana stood her ground when she addressed his subtle disbelief. “They’re officially MIA. They went to handle the monster and haven’t been heard from since. Their Comms are dead, and we can’t confirm if they are alive or dead.” The blunt way in which she had to speak to him was rather painful, but she handled herself with poise to avoid another bout of volatility.

He didn’t question her when she stood up to him in such a way. Instead, he approached the situation from another angle, “Do we have plans for a rescue mission?”

That question deflated her. “No, we don’t. Given how thin our resources are already, I don’t have anyone else to spare. We need to contact someone from Atlantis if we are going to search for them, since the fight they had with a new version of the sludge monster was over water.”

“Why don’t we do it?” Jason suggested, his tone flippant, like it was the simplest and most effective idea he’d ever had in his life.

Quizzical, Diana frowned at him. “Do what?”

Jason answered with an overtly cheeky grin. “I’m bored, we’ve got no plans for the night. Let’s go search for them.”

“Jason,” she prepared herself mentally for the conversation that was sure to ensue before she rebuffed his idea, “We can’t breathe underwater the way an Atlantean can. We’d have no way to search for them aside from flying Bruce’s plane over the ocean and hoping to spot something. It’s unrealistic.”

That reply did not appear to satisfy his curiosity, nor his supposed boredom. Holding his phone in one hand and following the rhythm of his answer with the other, he bit back, “But we aren’t going to find them if don’t do anything at all. What, you just want to leave them out there?”

“No!” Argued the incredibly offended Amazon, her combative instincts making her rise out of her seat. “It’d be foolish to travel all the way out there with no really plan on how to locate them. Our only plan is to talk to an Atlantean—”

Jason stood as well, invigorated. “Right! So let’s do that.”

“—but he never gave us a way to do that. We can go to Headquarters and check.”

“Then let’s go!” Again, Jason was prepared to leave the apartment and travel to the JLA Headquarters at a moment’s notice.

His eagerness was becoming more of a nuisance, steadily declining in endearment. Diana nearly shouted, “Then what happens if we can’t contact them, and you still want to go out there? What do we do if you and I are taken away as well? What happens to Bruce, to Alfred, to all of the people infected and any future victims if we leave Superman and Cyborg to handle everything on their own? We can’t just run into something like this without a plan.”

Jason’s responses was already on the tip of his tongue by the time she finished her last question, but instead of hearing his reply, someone else spoke in place of him. “Wow, I never would have guessed that I’d find you like this.”

The window had become her knew doorway, Diana thought, as she stared up into the eyes of her latest intruder. It was about time that someone from ‘her side’ arrived to help them defeat this evil that had infiltrated the Justice League’s livelihoods. She just didn’t expect it to be like this…

((Who could it be!? It was super important I organized the mission records for both Diana and you, my beautiful readers. There's a lot going on and the different plot lines need to be spelled out before me dive into the romance- I mean, the friendship of Diana and Bruce. Hope you enjoyed this fun chapter amidst the serious tones of the last one, and hope you return next week to see who our guest is! Also, I have my own original story now available on the Radish ficiton app (pink logo with a white 'R' in the middle). It's a free app where I was invited to write original content, and I have my first series out called "The Aeternum Series: Book One". If you're into Greek mythology or magic or romance that's both sweet and sexy, please check it out! You can also learn more about it by following my social media accounts JenAnneGam. Thanks so much! ~ Maiden))

#wonderbat #maiden writes #diana prince #jason todd #bruce wayne