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youandtom2 · 2 years

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Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+

Summary: You were always a people-pleaser, desperate to do right by everybody no matter what they asked. Being an intern, your boss Jackson exploited your people-pleaser tendencies in a very unprofessional manner, and CEO Mr Holland wasn't happy about it... Themes: smut! little bit of fluff and angst, dom!tom and sub!reader, oral (m+f), major praise kink, sir kink, overstimulation, masturbation (alone) , slight jewelry kink w/c: 10k+

MASTERLIST

You look over the dimly lit hall before you, tables decorated to the nines with hand-folded serviettes, silver-ware suited for royalty, gleaming as they sit on a fresh white linen table cloth, surrounded by tall plum-coloured cushioned chairs. There’s about twelve tables dotted around the hall identical to one another, waiting to be filled by guests in about an hour or so. The room sparkles with the metallic colouring of birthday banners and balloons floating around the room, illuminated by the dancing, multicoloured disco lights.

The surprise birthday party you were instructed to organise is for Mr Holland’s business partner, Taylor. They’re each other's yin and yang, mixing together like oil on water but somehow they make it work. The informal Taylor bases his relationship with his employees on friendship and a sense of mutual equality, where the formal Mr Holland prefers professionalism and respect on top of trust. Nevertheless, both are equally respected as bosses and businessmen in their own right. It doesn’t necessarily mean you all prefer one over the other, but if you had to make a choice as to who you would rather hang out with, the answer is an obvious one.

As an intern, it isn’t exactly part of your remit to organise and host birthday events, but your boss, Jackson, ordered you to do it. Jackson’s notable within the workforce for several reasons; he’s outgoing, social, ambitious, confident, and is unofficially Taylor’s kiss ass. He appointed himself (ahem, you) with the responsibility of organising Taylor’s surprise party, not because he thinks he’s capable, but because he’s looking for recognition. What people don’t know is that he’s actually a lazy guy who has gotten himself drunk with the taste of superiority, abusing you as his own personal slave for favours both big (entirely consequential and out of your depth) and small (worthless and petty). Unfortunate to be his first intern, you’ve realised how gluttonous he’s become with you at his disposal how and whenever he pleases. However, being placed at the bottom of the pecking order, you’re not at liberty to say no.

Jackson’s not your favourite boss by any means, but by God he keeps you busy. It tooks weeks for you to organise the venue, the catering, the entertainment, the decorations, the invitations, most importantly the cake, and the little oddities that everyone forgets about like hand-written name tags and having straws at the bar. You’ve been working relentlessly and after weeks of stress, late and often sleepless nights, numerous phone calls and emails, cancellations and rebookings, tonight is the night that all of that can end. The curse of being a perfectionist and a people-pleaser can finally release its hold on you.

Just as you finish clarifying the itinerary with the hotel’s bar staff, you notice a dark figure walking through the entrance. Your eyes trail nervously from the black patent shoes to the white shirt peeking beneath the black suit of which belongs to Mr Holland. He has his tortoise shell glasses perched perfectly on his nose, reflecting the colours of the disco lights as he walks towards you, stoic and poised. A silent ‘fuck’ crosses your mind.

Being the CEO eight floors above you, Mr Holland’s face isn’t one that you see as consistently as Jackson’s. He’s at least 6 tiers above you in the pecking order, one of two to take superiority over a long line of directors, specialists, managers, supervisors and assistants before you. So you can hardly blame yourself when you start to feel nerves gathering in your chest, despite how well-respected he is amongst the workforce.

His eyes finally find yours and he clarifies your name. You can appreciate that he’s at least taken the time to learn your face. “You're Jackson’s intern, right?”

Wow. He knows you more than you thought. “Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you. I was just coming to take a look around. I’m normally part of organising the celebrations but this year I’ve been too busy.” He wordlessly waves a hand before weaving in and out the tables, reading each name tag as he passes by. You watch nervously as he inspects the room until finding himself in front of what you call The Shrine with folded arms, almost bursting at the seams. More simply, it’s a collage of photos of Taylor taken over the years pieced together in a mosaic standing on an easel, gathered and no less arranged by you, of course. Next to it stands an empty corkboard, waiting to be filled with pictures from tonight's celebration, provided by the pop-up photobooth beside it.

“Whose idea was this?” There’s a warm smile on Mr Holland’s face.

“Mine, sir.”

“And the handcrafted name tags?”

“Also me, sir.”

“I love it. It’s very creative.” You exhale loudly, relieved. The people-pleaser inside you starts to buzz, fluttering wildly at Mr Holland’s praise. “Did you…” His eyes squint narrowly, honing in on you. “Did you organise all of this?”

“Yes, I did. The venue and catering took some negotiating but once that was planned, the rest came with time.”

“Impressive.”

You’re about to thank him but you're interrupted by the obnoxious calling of your name in a voice that booms from the entrance of the hall. Jackson marches towards you and you stand a little straighter. He doesn’t notice Mr Holland standing in the corner of the room next to the shrine. Instead of Mr Holland announcing himself, which is what you expected him to do, he sinks his hands into his pockets and quietly observes from afar.

“I need a rundown--” Please, that would be great. “--and for the love of God where is the present I was supposed to get Taylor?” Thanks for getting me a present for him, I’ll pay you back.

Your answer is succinct and to the point. “I’ve left it in your hotel room; it’s a dinner reservation at Keens Steakhouse in New York. As for tonight, the bar will be open for guests when they arrive at 6:30pm, Taylor will arrive between 7:00pm and 7:15pm for his surprise, the buffet will open at 7:30pm and cake will be served at 8:30pm. Last orders are at 11:30pm and the curfew is midnight. Everyone has checked in and has their hotel room key, although Kelsey couldn’t make it tonight, so her room is spare.”

Jackson gives a gruff nod, mumbling something intelligible under his breath. He cautiously looks to the bar, then narrows his eyes at you with a pointed finger wavering in your face. “I need tonight to be perfect so I need you to be sober. No alcohol. Got it?” In other words, I can’t be bothered making sure everything goes smoothly so I need you to stay sober while I get shit-faced. You nod, pursing your lips angrily as he walks away from you without a final word.

With Jackson no longer in sight, the tension finally deflates and your shoulders relax. You hate that every interaction with Jackson is a test of your skill and knowledge, caught in a vicious cycle of having to prove yourself worthy time and time again.

As Mr Holland emerges from the corner of the room, it’s an observation he also confronts having finally witnessed Jackson’s true authoritarian nature. His eyes are fixated on the golden doors in a stare so firm it could burn holes through the metal, and just when he steps into the brighter lights of the bar, his overall demeanour changes.

His jaw ticks when he finally faces you. “Jackson’s keeping you on your toes tonight it seems.”

“He always does, sir.” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, recounting the numerous occasions his brutal demands have worked you to the bone.

“I don’t think I appreciate the way he talks to you.”

“Oh I’m used to it by now.”

“So he talks to you like that all the time?” Shit. In truth, Jackson would never have spoken so harshly to you had he known anyone was in the room let alone Mr Holland, but that was his mistake. One you’re not sorry for. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell you what an amazing job you have done, I will. You should be proud of organising all of this by yourself, it’s not easy. Well done.”

Your chest swells with pride as Mr Holland pats a gentle hand against your upper arm. Finally, your first taste of positive reinforcement. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr Holland’s smirk quirks at the edges. His hands find themselves deep within his pockets once again as he coolly and oh-so-calmly exits through the doors.

~~~~

You are insomnia personified. As relieved as you are that the night is going exactly to plan, with the nervous anticipation over, you just cannot wait to get to your bed knowing that the stress is over. You have hours of sleep to catch up on, a stone of weight to put back on and friends and family to respond to, and without a single alcoholic drink to lift your spirits, you’re finding it harder and harder to keep the exhaustion at bay. Beyond the exhaustion, however, there’s a sadness hidden deep within your conscience and while you glance over the decorations you hung up as the melodic singing of ‘happy birthday’ rings in the air, it spreads. It’s clear that people are oblivious to what makes you so downcast on a celebratory night as they pass nothing more than a glance your way, but in all honesty, you much prefer it to be that way. You wouldn’t want anyone to see the tear building in the corner of your eye.

For now, you thrive on the compliments you’ve heard about the venue, the decorations, the drinks and the food, each and every one of them satisfying your perfectionist mindset. Okay, so what no-one knows you organised the party, and sure, you can oversee the fact that none of the compliments are directed to you in particular, because in the end, you’ve gained Mr Holland’s approval and that’s enough for you.

Well, it was enough until Taylor took to the stage for a speech.

“...and a special shout-out to Jackson for putting this all together for me. This is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t have asked for more.”

Your heart sinks in your chest and your ears instinctively drown out the clapping and cheering of the crowd around you, eyes set in stone as they watch Jackson accept the dedication so graciously that it makes you sick to your stomach. It takes every ounce of energy you have left in you to suppress the wobble in your lip at the sight of Jackson soaking up the glory like a sponge. Jackson taking the credit for your hard work was something you should’ve expected from him. After all, he is lazy and will never be willing to admit it, definitely not in front of Taylor. Still, the chase for recognition was always going to be a losing battle for you; you’re an intern for fuck’s sake, you are merely just a name and a face for most, unfulfiling of the protagonistic arc the people here want in their stories. Jackson, the kiss ass, makes much more sense being the hero than an underdog intern.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, accepting defeat.

You claim an empty seat at an empty table in a dark corner of the room, far from the crowd mingling on the dance floor and you remain there as the party continues into the night. The glass of tepid water looks pitiful in your hands, its lack of taste offering no respite from your sorrow.

With fifteen minutes until last orders, you begin counting down to the moment you can retire to your bed which you know won’t arrive until after you’ve cleaned up the hall. You’re jealous of some of the guests who have already decided to leave the party.

The chair to your right suddenly scrapes across the floor and you’re slightly taken aback when Mr Holland sits close beside you and abruptly rests an elbow upon the table, blocking your view of the crowd and demanding your attention. A cedarwood scent silently announces itself and you inhale it deeply, finding sanctuary in its presence despite how startled you are by it. Your breath is simply taken from you when he shuffles himself closer. He isn’t wearing his usual attire; something a little less formal, but likely to be just as expensive. With that expensive taste comes his expensive appearance: clean, styled, decorated admirably and booming with authority. A warmth starts to take a hold of you.

His movements are harsh and his body moves with brute intention, but behind those curls, his eyes hold sympathy, knowing what is upsetting you before it even spills from your lips. You try to fake a smile but he can see right through it.

“I thought it was you that organised the party,” he calmly states.

“I did. But because Jackson instructed me to plan a party means he takes responsibility for it.”

Mr Holland doesn’t waste a single second. “It isn’t right. It’s one thing to speak to you so rudely, but it’s another to take credit for your hard work, and I’m starting to believe that Jackson doesn’t value you as an intern as much as he values the superiority that comes with it, am I right?”

Anxiously, your eyes catch Jackson lazily hanging over the bar and demanding another drink. If Mr Holland were to know the truth, it would get Jackson in a lot of trouble and the people-pleaser inside you is screaming at you to just deny it all. Your skewed perception of professionalism means skipping over these things, something about snitching just seems so petty and childish, and that’s not the impression you want to give Mr Holland of all people.

Mr Holland’s stern voice brings you back. “You’re not answering to him now, you’re answering to me. Am. I. Right?”

You gulp. “Yes, sir.”

“I intend to have a word with Jackson--”

“Mr Holland, it’s okay, really--” You try to protest but he quickly rests his hand on top of yours, his warmth enveloping it completely, and your mind halts. Your heart flutters the moment his fingers curl just the little bit tighter, a compassion that says more than words could. It’s genuine, caring, but firm in a way that’s supportive, pledging to do right by you.

“He will apologise to you and let everyone know the truth.”

“Please, I don’t want to cause a hassle or stir anything in the office, I just want to do well. And what would it change if people knew the truth? It doesn’t bother me that much, honestly. Besides, you know the truth. That’s all that matters to me.” Desperately and without thinking, you twist your hand and your fingers interlock, returning the squeeze with a soft smile. Mr Holland tries his best to return the sentiment but you can tell the whole ordeal still troubles him and sits discontented by your side, a regretful sigh heaving through his lips. Soon, after a silent plea to let it go, he eventually sits level with you with a brighter sparkle to his eyes and instantly, the mood is lifted. You notice how his hand doesn’t leave yours.

“You at least deserve a drink.”

“I shouldn’t, I’m closing up tonight and I’m working early tomorrow.”

He scowls for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, facing issue after issue the more you expose Jackson’s true nature. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, you should be having a day off.”

“It’s laughable you think I get a day off,” you chuckle. The sad thing is, he thinks you’re joking. Jackson often sends you his overdraft of reports to complete over the weekend and has the cheek to deem you lucky that he gives you so much wisdom and experience. You can’t imagine Mr Holland being aware of this…

“Don’t be silly darling, everyone is entitled to days off. Even Taylor took a day off today for his birthday.”

Again, your scathing laughter meets his ears and he tilts his head, that skewed eyebrow lifting high into his forehead. “No offence sir, but with his position, he can afford to. I don’t think interns have that same benefit--”

“Of course you do, it’s company policy that everyone is entitled to a day off on their birthday.” Before you get a word in, he’s already pulling out his phone from his suit pocket. “Tell me when your birthday is so I can make sure you get it off, and I know when to get you a birthday present. Taylor too--”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all our employees, regardless if you’re an intern or not.” His calendar flashes to life before his eyes. “So when is it? June? July?”

Your mouth suddenly goes dry and it gawps like a fish, not a usual response to such an easy question. Your fingers knead together on your lap as the sadness once again materialises and Mr Holland quickly senses something is amiss.

“It’s…it’s today. My birthday is…was today.”

Mr Holland’s eyes widen with horror. It’s no less than a minute later that he finally replies. “And Jackson has you working?”

“Since 7am this morning. I had asked for my birthday off two months ago because I did actually read the company policies, but he said interns can’t request holidays because they’re not permanent. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What?! For fuck’s sake…” Mr Holland twists his chair violently, its legs colliding with the table as he tries to face you more directly and leans forward, your knees slotting into the space between his. The wave of his anger has rolled back even higher in its tide and now, unlike before, there’s a vein popping at his temple. “Let me just make this clear, okay? Correct me if I’m wrong. You’re telling me that Jackson has knowingly denied you of your birthday holiday entitlement and instead had you plan someone else’s birthday just so that he can take credit for it, make you work through it and clean up after it as well?”

God. In his words it sounds so desperately sad. Up until this point, you were able to distract yourself from getting caught up in the tragedy of it all, but now there’s nothing stopping the gates from opening and wallowing in self-pity. Although your blurring eyes tell of your true emotions, the forced smile on your lips does everything it can to convince both you and Mr Holland that you’re not bothered by it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Mr Holland’s heart inevitably sinks. In that moment, he thinks of the cruelty behind Jackson ordering you to buy and wrap his present for Taylor when you have none to open. He thinks of you, alone, buying the candles of the birthday cake you wouldn’t be blowing out. He thinks of you, just hours ago as the crowd sings happy birthday to another person, blissfully ignorant of your sorrow. He thinks of the hours you spent working when you should have been with your friends and family. It’s all of the things you truly deserve, but have been robbed from you.

He reaches once again for your hand, now resting on your lap, and the tips of his fingers graze your thigh. You would be a fool to miss it. “Darling,” he sincerely murmurs, almost as quiet as a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

The fake smile takes lead and the rebel tear is wiped away. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

“But it’s not okay. You…you didn’t even get to have a drink.” Damnit, your cheeks are wet again. “Did you at least get a break today?” Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO.

In fact, you spend so much time failing to not cry that Mr Holland assumes the worst. He takes in a long, deep breath and lures you into his embrace with a hand creeping up to the back of your head, and the second your forehead hits his shoulder, the dams break.

“I’m just so tired,” you sniff.

“You’ve been overworked, darling, that’s why.” His hand passes over your hair, gently cupping the curve of your head as he takes in every hiccup. His breath flows past your ears smoothly, broken up every few seconds with whispers of comfort. You feel horribly embarrassed, crying into the expensive suit of your CEO at the party you organised on your birthday: definitely not the definition of professionalism you are chasing.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this.” You retreat from his shoulder but the hand cupping the back of your head prevents you from travelling too far and you’re stuck, just inches from Mr Holland’s pitying eyes. He keeps you concealed from the crowd, but it’s not enough to hide from the burning glare of Jackson, his eyes drawing daggers at you from over Mr Holland’s shoulder. He’s somewhat frozen in a stupor, scarily steady for a man who was flailing over the bar minutes ago, but anger is a quick cure for intoxication.

Mr Holland’s voice sidles quietly into your ear. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Get yourself up to bed, I’ll deal with Jackson.”

“But--”

“I will not take no for an answer. Now go.” You shiver at the stern tone, appearing only as he turns to lock eyes with Jackson who’s faring a guilty look upon his face. As Mr Holland brings you both to a stand, he gently encourages you towards the golden doors and although you should be indulging in the relief of finally being let off, you can’t pull your focus away from Mr Holland’s cold stare that refuses to stray from Jackson. In the few seconds that it takes to walk from your chair to the doors, a clear, obvious shift in mood transpires, one that is felt by the entire room because now it isn’t just you that notices Mr Holland’s sudden decline in temperament. Evidently, everyone is quick to sense the tension. The crowd’s lively dancing now settles into an awkward shuffle and the singing dulls into hushed whispers because they know to never underestimate the seriousness of Mr Holland’s anger. It’s uncomfortable and intimidating, even more so if you’re the reason for his vexation and if that’s the case, you should be on your knees begging for his forgiveness. It’s the one power Mr Holland holds that Taylor, his business partner, his equal, doesn't possess. This is your first time seeing him exercise this power and it’s incredibly daunting.

The beat of your heels clicking their way up the staircase is a quick one, not daring to hang around the unease any longer. The fresh smell of washed cotton that greets you in your room winds you down and you don’t spare a second of reflection before you strip yourself of your stiff dress, blister-inducing heels, thick make-up and the heavy stress. You slip right between the sheets, ready to drift asleep.

The lights are switched off, your eyes are closed and your body properly relaxes. Yet inexplicably you can’t settle into your bed no matter how much you toss and turn. Rationale convinces you that it’s because you’re in a bed different from your own, that the mattress doesn’t have the mould of your body imprinted on it, and although it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, your inner conscience is telling you something else…

Flashes of memories made just half an hour prior spring to the surface and suddenly you’re watching yourself converse with Mr Holland again. But it isn’t exactly how you remember it.

For example, his hand is on your lap, gripping the curve of your thigh with his heat scorching through your skin when you know that, in reality, it was nothing more than a soft sweep. And when you both stood, you know he guided you with a gentlemanly hand, yet your dream sees his hand curving down the slope of your ass and squeezing the flesh. You have to refuse the idea of you shivering with arousal from hearing Mr Holland’s stern growl because truthfully, it was nerves.

Or…was it both?

You try to ignore it, but the seed has already been planted. Now all you can visualise is his fleeting touches, his soft voice praising you and calling you darling, the twinkle in his eyes as he sympathised for you, the caress of his hand through your hair as he comforted you, the way he cared for you, and fucking hell, the exhilaration of seeing him protect you so defensively when no one else did. His taut jaw, his clenched fists, his dark eyes, the pulsing vein at his temple, his eminence that commanded the room, the list is endless.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, succumbing to the pleasure of your own fingers toying with your clit. You don’t quite remember the exact moment your hand slipped beneath your underwear, too caught up in your fantasy of Mr Holland to realise. Regardless, the movie in your mind continues to play out and by now, none of it reflects any real events from tonight - it’s all purely fictional.

His hand slides up between your thighs. He dons a devilish grin because he knows there’s a whole crowd blissfully unaware behind him. An innocent gasp slips from your lips and it lures his eyes to your mouth, panting as he traces the letters of his name over your covered cunt as a sign as to who it belongs to. Overrun with anticipation, you bite your lip, feeling the pad of his finger slip beneath your thong and…

“Oh my god! Shit!” Your body seizes, curling into itself as your fingers dull to a small twitch between your clenched thighs. There’s a blissful moment where you ravish the hot rush of blood pulsing at your pussy, letting it bubble until it slows to a simmer, and only when you come down from your high minutes later do you fully realise what has just happened. Eyes split wide open, you rise from your bed.

You just masturbated fantasising over your CEO.

What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?

~~~~

The morning comes surprisingly quickly and the hotel's thin curtains don't fully shield you from the sun's glare. It’s bright, directly in your face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that it’s spotlighting you because it knows what you did last night. As if you forgot…

The guilt still ruins your conscience and you feel nothing but regret; fantasising and sexualising Mr Holland’s kindness is just the pinnacle of everything you disagree with and it doesn’t exactly define the sort of professionalism you strive for.

Shaking it off as best you can, you refresh yourself with a shower and a harsh splash of cold water to your face, and by the time you open your laptop it’s 9am. There hasn’t been any emails from Jackson so far which you’re not too sure if you’re shocked by. It’s typical on a Saturday morning for Jackson to send you multiple reports with deliberately vague instructions that you would somehow have to decode and translate for yourself. But regarding last night’s events, perhaps he’s heeded Mr Holland’s words and decided to honour your weekend entitlements.

The white screen stares back at you, watching you nervously bite your nails as if you’re expecting a red notification to pop up, attached to an email from Jackson with hungover words. A minute or two passes by and alas, nothing. Not a word. In all honesty, you don’t have an issue with it, not at all, but it means that your routine is completely disrupted and you’re struggling to decide what to do with yourself. And without work, you have nothing to distract you from last night’s sin while it plagues your mind.

A new sweat arises and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, and that’s the part you think is the worst. Why did it feel so fucking good?

What brings you out of your self-loathing is three quick, quiet knocks echoing from your door in quick succession. Curious, you open the door and when you see who stands there in all his formal glory, you wish you hadn’t. Your heart immediately jumps to your mouth.

“Oh, Mr Holland--hi. I wasn’t expecting you…” Your words fade into a soft whisper when your eyes spot a small pink bag, its ribbon handles hooked daintily onto his fingers. Surely that can’t be what you think it is…?

He’s painfully quiet, a small smile painting his lips at what he sees; he’s never seen you dress so casually before and he wants to take a good long look at you, unsure of when he’ll see such a sight again. The weight of his stare burns holes through you, heating you from within.

Not a second later, he holds out the pink bag towards you and you forget to breathe.

“Happy belated birthday,” he gently voices. Your fingertips graze each other as you take it from him. For such a small, delicate bag, it’s certainly weighty and your stomach drops thinking about how much money he’s stupidly wasted on you…

“Thank you sir, really. You didn’t have to do that.” A nervous chuckle escapes your dry mouth. “How…how did you get this so quickly? It’s barely past 9 in the morning.”

“I have a few contacts who owe me a few favours. And I just felt so guilty about you missing your birthday. Sorry you couldn’t celebrate it like you should’ve.”

“Like I said, it’s okay--”

He shakes his head disapprovingly but surely, a taunting smirk begins to form. “Am I going to have to give you the same ‘talking to’ I gave Jackson last night to make you realise that it is definitely not okay?”

Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I suppose that’s just the people-pleaser in me.”

Mr Holland stands stoic before you, his head slightly tilted and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are watching you endearingly, drawing you into him, but everything else about him oozes something that makes you want to swallow a little harder. His confidence in himself is mildly intimidating and you wish you could feel the same. Just his being here creates a dizzying effect on you that you just can’t shake.

“You can think of this as a congratulations of sorts too.”

You tilt your head. “Congratulations?”

“Mh-hm,” his eyes flit over your confusion, a devilish, haunting smirk gracing his wet lips. “Congratulations on becoming a permanent member of Taylor and I’s company.”

Mr Holland admiring you be damned, you find yourself taking a step back in shock. “Are you…are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious, do you think I would lie to you?”

“Not at all, I just, I thought it was going to be Jackson’s decision. I am his intern.”

You aren’t a fool to miss the way his jaw ticks at the mention of Jackson’s name and all too quickly, a ferocious fire consumes his eyes. A small shiver cuts through your skin. “You don’t work for Jackson anymore because Jackson no longer works for me.”

“What?!”

“What did you think when I said I was going to deal with Jackson? That he was going to continue working for me even after finding out he was treating you badly? Or finding out that he orders you to do his work over the weekends? Or even when he blackmails you into doing jobs beyond your remit? How could you possibly think that I would let that sleazy bastard feed off my pay when I know he isn’t capable of the job? You’re far more deserving of the position than he is, far more deserving of the appreciation and beyond capable.”

“Sir, I…I can’t thank you enough. I’m very grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“I know you won’t. Although I do sometimes wish you would’ve told me or Taylor about Jackson’s behaviour sooner. I don’t tolerate that kind of exploitation, not even for a second and you shouldn’t have either.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in wanting to do well that I would’ve done anything to please the company.”

“Maybe you should stop spending your time trying to please other people, and focus on pleasing yourself.” His face gravitates just a hairsbreadth towards yours and in quieter, darker words, he whispers… “You were certainly capable of pleasing yourself last night.”

You take a timid step back, mouth agape. You can’t think of anything to say, not when the ringing in your ears starts to resonate louder and louder. Shame swells like a disease and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. You are almost certain you didn’t hear anyone outside your room last night, how could he have possibly known?

“I…um…I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He smoothly leans against the door frame, his wicked grin tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say. Nevertheless, he explains, not to worsen how mortified he knows you already feel, but to reminisce of the surge of adrenaline and lust that coursed through him last night.

“I came by late last night to drop off your present. I didn’t think you would still be awake so I planned on leaving it at your door, and just as I bent down to place it there, I heard just the softest of moans—“

“I think you must be mistaken—“ An uneasy chuckle barely covers your tracks, leaving you just as compromised as before.

“I thought you might’ve been with someone, but I then didn’t hear any other voices, so I assumed you were by yourself.”

“Sir,” you squeak, intending to finish your sentence but you just don’t have the words nor the confidence to deny him of what he already knows. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, exposed and vulnerable without the faintest idea of how to get yourself out of his commanding presence.

A million and one emotions rage through you and drown you in a fluster. Your feet shuffle nervously beneath you, slowly inching your way back into your hotel room as you sense yourself losing control over the conversation. With a mouth drier than the Sahara desert, there’s not much else you can do or say to avoid falling victim to both Mr Holland’s taunting and your own taunting; last night’s images playing out before you more vividly now that he resurrects them.

The subject finally diverges, but it doesn’t mean you're any more comfortable with it. “Do you know you’re the only one that addresses me as ‘sir’?”

You shake your head, eyes inevitably averted. You didn’t know that, you just thought it was professional.

“You never corrected me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I liked hearing it. Just as much as I liked what I heard last night. But I need to know,” he takes a step to cross the threshold of your hotel room. “Was there anything…anyone in particular crossing your mind?”

“There was…” His jaw ticks furiously and you instantly get the notion that denying him is simply not a choice here.

“Who?” He demands in that stern voice you’ve heard only once before.

One word sits on your tongue and you know that as soon as it breaks the silence, the professionalism you worked so hard to build up will crumble before you. But the risk is entirely worth it.

“You.”

Mr Holland’s lips part and releases a snicker as if he knew, and the curl of his smirk becomes dangerous. He lets the singular word ring out into the air, and the tension envelopes you both in a suffocating bubble until he finally speaks. “You…what?”

“You, sir.”

His chest rumbles with approval and you even feel its vibrations fluttering low in your stomach. Desire consumes you; a desire to know what he’s thinking, to know what he’s planning to do with that compromising information, to figure out whether he’ll respond to it in a way that satiates your more promiscuous desires like the ones that distracted you last night. You would give anything to see what’s going on inside his head.

Inexplicably, he nods towards your pink bag, easily brushing over your last conversation like it was nothing to him and it completely throws you off. “You should open it.”

It takes a second to drag your eyes away from him. You actually forgot you’re still holding it in your hands. The tissue paper rustles loudly as you reach in-- “Inside.” Mr Holland urges. With a short nod, you lead the way, allowing him to slowly close the door behind you with a gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous boom.

The second the door shuts, the air becomes taut, strained and harder to breathe and you dedicate all your efforts into ignoring your last conversation just as easily as he had, but he’s standing right behind you and the warmth of his breath skates past your ear and it’s all you can think about. Even without disclosing what he now knows, the presence of Mr Holland alone would bring about such unnerving effects, so you don’t find yourself at fault for struggling to keep it together.

From the pink bag you pull out a small white and gold box, wrapped with yet another ribbon. Inside is a silver chain, light and dainty, but the pendant it carries is nothing alike. The reflection of the sun hits the circular-cut diamond, becoming iridescent as it hits your eyes. The stone is slightly on the larger side, bigger than any other necklace you own, but it sits perfectly in the balance of being flashy yet classy. Expensive yet tasteful. It’s a piece that you can’t price and that exact thought scares you.

“It’s beautiful,” you softly murmur. The chain cascades elegantly across your fingers, almost mesmerising to watch.

Your eyes catch his movement in the mirror in front of you and steals your attention away from the necklace. He holds out his hand by your side, soft but firm.

“May I?” You almost flinch as his words hit your ear, the ripple of your shiver continues for long after. As the chain pools in his hand, he is equally gentle, handling it with expertise while he lifts it carefully over head and rests the pendant tenderly in the dip between your clavicles. Its icy cold touch seers your skin, heat radiating with each grazing touch of his fingers as they clasp the chain together behind your neck. Once secure, you admire the way it shines brightly against your skin tone, eyes momentarily lost in your image until you realise that yours are the only pair looking back at you. Mr Holland remains engrossed with the curve of your neck, his proximity close enough to be counting the beats of your pulse as it thumps beneath your skin and for all you know, it’s elevating, thrashing harder and harder while you watch with wide eyes as Mr Holland presses his lips against it.

The second his lips meet your skin, his hands find your hips, holding you steady to prevent you from buckling. A numbing tingle shoots through your nervous system at the feeling of Mr Holland swiping his tongue across the reddening bruise he’s leaving behind. Every kiss is with purpose, targeting each and every sweet spot as if he had a map to each of their location: the peak of your neck that connects to your jaw, the sensitive spot just millimetres below your ear, the slight curve of your shoulder that sits beneath the chain. He instantly claims you, and you show no sign of resistance when you find yourself voluntarily tilting your neck, begging for more.

You finally meet his eyes in the mirror, realising how cavernous his blown-out pupils are; that if you search too far you’ll become trapped. “This…” he whispers, planting another kiss to your ear, his hands beckoning to the chain, “is the only thing I’ll allow you to wear while I fuck you.”

A shameless, breathless mewl whines from your throat and a rampage of endorphins consumes you. As the first piece of insight to his mind, you don’t get nearly enough time to let it process in your head before his clawing hands are tugging at the drawstrings of your joggers.

The small nip to your neck is a wake-up call. This is real and this isn’t a fantasy of yours, only that it will be a recreation of what had you orgasming last night.

“You know, I can be a people pleaser too.” His hand slips beneath your joggers, but refrains from slipping beneath your underwear. “I can please you in so many ways.” As a testimony to his words, his fingers trace over the silk of your underwear, catching your bud in its travels and a silent gasp bursts from your lips. “But not without earning it. Do as you’re told, and I’ll do exactly that.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, words vacant, eyes rolling.

“Are you listening to me?” The hand on your hip squeezes harshly and you jerk in his arms. You have never agreed to something quicker in your life.

“Yes, sir! Oh—”

“Good. Then you can start by closing those curtains over there.”

His hand slips fluidly out of your joggers when you force yourself away from the subtle torment. The light dims a little, however you think it’s more for privacy than for light. When your back turns once again, Mr Holland sits himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Whatever it is about him in that single second triggers something in you; attraction, lust, sex appeal, or all of the above. Whatever it is, it compels you to give yourself in to him.

A messy mixture of want, need and unrelenting desire brings you to your knees before him. His eyes sweep over your face, examining, analysing, translating every desperate twitch. He can even see your lips parting where he spots the remnants of teeth marks from when you had nervously bitten them in hidden moments. Smoothly, the pad of his thumb brushes over your lip, tugging it into a pout because that’s what he wants to see; you, desperate, pouting, begging for him. It soon pops back into place, his hand now curling around your chin and pulling you closer. His own lips are nothing more than a breath away from yours and you think he’s going to finally kiss you, but annoyingly, he only allows you to feel the shape of the words as he whispers them to you.

“So what is it about me then, hm? What do I do that turns you on?”

“It’s…it’s stupid.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase.” The grip on your chin tightens and your noses collide. “Tell me what it is about me that turns you on.”

“Last night at the party, you were the only one that…cared. You made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

“What else?”

“You stood up to Jackson for me - you just looked so determined like you were unstoppable.”

He tilts his head in the other direction now, leaning in just as close, your breaths mingling together. You’re so desperate to feel his lips on yours. “And?”

“When…when you touched my thigh--”

“You were burning.”

“I was nervous--”

“Because of me.”

“Of course because of you. I was scared of disappointing you.”

A small snicker escapes him and leaves behind a wicked smirk. Two hands now firmly cradle your jawline and you think the moment has finally come. Why else would your heart be thumping in your chest?

“Not possible. I always knew you were a good girl. And I think you like being told that, don’t you? You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it. I saw that coy little look on your face the first time I told you how impressed I was. It was obvious that no one else had praised you like I did - you couldn’t keep yourself together. And I bet if I kept telling you how fucking sweet you are, and how much of an perfect angel I know you are for me, the second I slip my fingers into your tight little pussy, you’d be an absolute mess.”

Well, he’s not wrong. You’re already soaked.

“Please, sir,” you whimper. “Please just kiss me.”

Finally, finally, he pulls you in for a long, languid kiss, his tongue takes lead to taste every part of your bitten lips as they slot perfectly in between his, lingering longer with each time he captures them. The blood rushes so quickly through your veins you think you might implode, overwhelmed by just how good it feels that your hands suddenly grapple onto the cuffs of his shirt.

A satisfied hum buzzes against your lips, twisting your own into a small grin that unbeknown to you, Mr Holland could actually feel.

“Let me see you,” he demands, his hands plucking at the hem of your sweatshirt. When you don’t do it right away, a tight grip coils around your neck and stops the gasp leaving your mouth. “Do. As. You’re. Told.”

You’re baring your all for him (all except a diamond necklace) in a matter of seconds, standing before him as he leisurely leans back against the bed, resting on his elbows. Those predatory eyes roam your body, mapping out the shape and details, and imprinting them to memory.

“So fucking pretty…” He deliberately watches for your reaction and you crumble under the praise resulting in a mirthful laughter to shake his chest. His arms reach for your waist, luring you in with the tight grab of your hips until his lips sit just below your ribs. The heat from his breath hitting your skin makes you involuntarily wriggle, but he doesn’t allow for any movement from you, not unless he permits it. You feel his lips suddenly, trailing across your ribs and up your chest. “Do you know what good girls like you do for me?”

“What?” You breathlessly murmur.

“They get on their knees,” Mr Holland pauses to let you act on it. Now you’re looking up at him as his knuckle ghosts over your cheeks and he mingles closer. “They look at me right in the eyes and they beg me to give them a taste, to let them suck me off because they’ll do anything for a reward, even if it is just a few words of praise. So let’s hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you beg me with that sweet, innocent voice of yours.”

You take a cautious breath. “I want to taste you so badly, sir. Please. Will you let me?”

“Hmm.” He purses his lips. Shit. It isn’t good enough for him and he spots the panic in your eyes. All of a sudden, you begin pleading in such a desperate, childish tone you didn’t know you were capable of. Even your lip begins pouting as the need to please him becomes so overwhelming that, unexpectedly, your eyes water, like you’re facing life or death. And he is the decider.

“Wait, wait, no, please, I want to make you feel so good, so, so, so good. I can do it, I promise, and I can be good for you if you let me. Please sir, I really need it. I’ll do anything.”

Mr Holland smiles and gently kisses you with approval, just the shortest of pecks of reassurance before he leans back and nods towards the zipper of his suit trousers, tented with the erection that’s pleading to be satisfied. You waste no time in unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling free his hard cock that almost dwarfs your hand and you stare at him with such bewilderment, a stare that is returned by a certain smugness, a confidence that has you licking your lips.

There’s a surge of instinct coursing through you and your brain convinces you that there’s nothing else you should be doing, that your whole purpose at this very moment is to do as you promise; to please him, to make him feel good, so when you hear his moans the second you wrap your lips around him, your heart flutters with fulfilment. It’s a sensation you keep chasing, growing stronger the longer you bob your head up and down his cock, every time his praise seeps from his lips, and you just about lose it when his fingers comb through your hair. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. Not too little, not too much. Consistency is key.

You’re not sure how much of an idea he has about just how dedicated you are in your mission to prove yourself to him, that you’re desperate to show how capable you are by what you’re willing to do; perhaps a horrible side-effect of having to constantly prove yourself to Jackson with each conversation, but with Mr Holland, there’s an element of belief and confidence: a contradiction between Jackson’s ‘I don’t believe you until you prove it’ versus Mr Holland’s ‘do it because I know you can’.

Mr Holland’s head falls back, his eyes closed, and falls into an eerie silence. If it wasn’t for his hand still combing through your roots, you would’ve thought he wasn’t satisfied with you. Still, you keep going, running your lips and tongue down his shaft and returning slowly back up again where you get a teaser of the bitter-sweet taste you’re vying for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re undecided of whether you’re doing so well that he’s speechless, or you’re not doing enough that’s worthy of his praise. It’s hard to tell with his head tilted back, and you begin to lose faith. You’ve become so drawn into his voice and words that you feel lost without them.

‘You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it.’

“Sir,” you meekly voice, leaving a beat to suck on the head of his cock. “Am I making you feel good?”

The depth of his growl sends a spike of arousal straight to your clit. He spits out his words in a manner that’s uncontrollable. “Fucking incredible.”

His head finally lifts and his eyes pin on you, fully blown and dilated. “Look at you - oh fuck - taking me so well. Knew you’d be a good girl but f-fuck, I don’t know if I can hold it in any longer.”

You reply with a wanton mewl, your dopey, tear-stained eyes saying the words your mouth can’t. You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto the carpet, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Mr Holland swings forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath. It's slightly tense and panic-inducing but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you have proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Mr Holland pants. His grip loosens around you and your lips release him with a pop. The instant your lips are free, he claims them, humming into them with adoration. “That was…” A soft, tender kiss. “The best goddamn…” Then another. “Blow job I’ve ever had.” He kisses you for a final time with a smile laced through it, and rests his forehead on yours to give himself some time to catch his breath. “So good…” he breathes. “So, so, so good. Sweet angel. My sweet angel.”

There isn’t anything to describe the burst of achievement that swarms your chest when you hear those words and your cheeks inevitably heat under his hands. You’re smiling, obviously smiling and no matter how hard you bite your lips to hide it, the pull is too strong. You make yourself far too goddamn easy to read so when Mr Holland catches a glimpse of your reaction, he smirks, clearly amused, and simultaneously reaches down the length of your body until his hand finds sanctum between your thighs.

“Hmm, you’re soaked, darling. Don’t you think we should do something about it? After all, you’re earned your reward, and I’m dying for a taste of that messy, little pussy of yours.”

You release a shaky breath when his fingers start exploring. “Yes, oh god, yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Better. Let’s not make that mistake again.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now--” In a vice-like grip, Mr Holland encircles your waist and your body burns against the rough cashmere of his suit. It’s surprisingly stimulating as he casually hauls you off your feet, but you would much rather the heat of his skin. Nevertheless, your back soon meets the soft cotton of your sheets as he lays you to rest on the bed, remaining shadowing above you basking in the sight of your naked, wanting body. The diamond that nestles deep into the base of your throat twinkles obnoxiously in his eyes and he almost grows jealous of the way it hugs your neck. However, it's a jealousy he can overlook as his eyes wander over the peak of your breasts and your glistening cunt, because he knows that they are all for him.

Mr Holland promptly sinks to his knees, placing his head in between your thighs, his eyes never straying from your cunt. There isn’t a moment of hesitation when he swings his arms to cross over your hips, dragging your legs effortlessly over his shoulders and diving, tongue first, into your cunt. It’s a complete invasion of his touch, his tongue immediately swirling around your clit with a careful, consistent pressure that deep down, you know will end you in minutes. The gasp is telling of your struggle to keep composed, gradually crescendoing into a moan as that amorous tongue descends down your slit, licking you up in long, fat strips. An urge in your hips begs for attention, wanting to raise higher to ease the tension building deep in your stomach, but you're trapped, locked in place with no routes of escape and you have to tell yourself that you just have to tough it out.

But it’s harder said than done when he begins slotting his tongue into your hole, tasting and caressing every inch of you he’s capable of reaching. Digging deeper and deeper, his mouth consumes the entirety of your cunt, humming into it to push you further over the edge. He knows you’re hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to slow down. And just then, an evil, malicious thought spawns in his mind which he voices immediately.

“You’re not cumming until I say so. Understood?”

The feeling of you clenching to stop the impending orgasm has him chuckling. He knew you were close.

“Such a sweet, little angel. So obedient too, right?” He blows a gentle breeze onto your clit and you simply whimper in response. “Right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Mr Holland has your cunt in his mouth again, salivating over its taste as he suckles on your clit, your folds, your skin, anything to lure out what he knows he’s going to get eventually, but it makes it twice as appetising when he knows your orgasm is only at his command.

Meanwhile, your heart stammers in your chest with each tug of his lips. Whatever sanity you have left to cling onto, you claw at it with desperate hands, fighting to hold up the wall that blocks the blood rushing to your cunt, holding your breath to stop the bubble from bursting, because fuck, you are ready to snap. You can’t help but notice how he’s taken a page from your book, pleasuring you at a steady consistent pace, not too much but not too little. Unsurprisingly, the result is the same but the conditions are far worse.

“Oh my god, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore.”

His grip only tightens, his tongue moves faster and his mouth gets hotter.

Your hands, of a mind of their own, decide to condemn your obedience and push at his arms around your hips in an attempt to get away. Despite his obvious strength, you somehow manage to get a microsecond of respite, but his mouth only sucks you back in again, murmuring only one word that runs laps around your head.

“Obedience.”

“I can’t, sir, please, I can’t h-hold on. Fuck!”

“Oh dear.”

“NO! No, no, no, no, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I can hold on. Just…please go slower.”

His dark cavernous eyes meet yours from behind his arms, unmoving even as he relishes the taste of your slick, challenging you for only a second before he thankfully listens to your wishes. Weakened, your head flops back onto the bed with a small bounce, eyes drifting shut as the feeling in your stomach calms and a small relief hugs your heart. It’s a small price to pay to lose the feeling of euphoria that was going to course through you…only if Mr Holland had let it or if your people-pleasing traits had failed you, none of which had actually happened.

The feeling deflates but the pleasure still lingers.

“You taste so delicious, darling. I could eat you all day.” Arousal jumps to your clit like a flash of electricity. “And you’re doing so well for me, how could I ever stop?” This time, it’s his tongue, soft and caressing. “And this pussy; so pretty, so fucking pretty, I could just play with it for days.” His finger begins circling your clit not too long after he spits into it. By now, you realise what he’s doing. He’s feeding into your need for praise that, along with the small touches and sweeping licks, builds you up just as quickly and suddenly as before, and once again you’re struggling to cope. “I know you can be such a good girl for me, I know you can do as I say, and you have no idea how much it turns me on when you do.”

“Sir…” You warn. He instantly recognises the desperation.

“I’ve got one last instruction for you, angel.” He sucks on your clit for just a couple of seconds, just to get you closer and closer to falling apart. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.”

“Fuck!” You scream as an endless stream of euphoria consumes you, hitting you in a sudden white wash of heat that riddles your entire body top to toe. You can feel your cunt clenching erratically, between homing an orgasm and suffering under Mr Holland's continuous lashings, it can't, not for one second, rest until either relent. You feel your own slick, hot and bothered, trickling down your ass but before it gets the chance to meet with the white sheets beneath you, Mr Holland sweeps it up expertly with his tongue, partnered with a primal growl of pleasure.

By the time Mr Holland has finished cleaning up every inch of your cunt and ass with his tongue, he proceeds to kiss his way gently up your body, not forgetting to leave your tits untouched and pinches your buds between his lips. You have just enough energy to cradle his head, allowing yourself the pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, moving with him while he leaves sharp kisses to your chest, your collar bone, your neck, ear and jaw, until once again, those hungry lips claim yours.

Still somewhat recovering, you purr quietly, content with the overall sense of pleasure, both of your sexual and people-pleasing needs.

Your lips slowly part. The kiss ceases but your noses brush off one another gently, still basking in the blissful, intimate aftermath of what's just happened. Your CEO above you remains, hovering over you with admiration in his eyes, running over your features as if it is the first time he's seeing them, adoring them all over again.

There's two words sitting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind a smirk because he knows what he'll see when he speaks them.

"You're beautiful."

Of course, his prediction comes true. Your cheeks redden, your eyes roll away and your teeth sink into your swollen lips, muttering incoherently about it not being true but thanks him incessantly, but Mr Holland is too caught up in your coy modesty to rebuttal. It's just like the first time he complimented you, and he realises then and there that he's addicted to being the person that makes you shy, blushed, diffident.

Being a CEO, he does indeed posses significant power in the palm of his hand, obtained by hard work, dedication, commitment and sacrifice, but for him, there isn't a power stronger than the one he has over you and all it takes is a few, simple, praising words.

"We still have another three hours until check out."

Your eyes and ears perk up. "Sir?"

Cautiously, he shuffles above you, innocent until you feel his cock sliding into you and he relishes the catch in the back of your throat at the sudden pressure forcing its way fluidly into you. You're simply speechless, questioning if it'll ever end as he pushes every inch of him inside you, breaching and stretching the boundaries of your walls. Mr Holland snags your bottom lip between his teeth, harshly biting as a relief for the tight grip that surrounds his cock.

When your ass eventually meet his hips, you both release a groan in unison, breaths mixing and mingling until Mr Holland breaks the silence.

"You're gonna look even more beautiful when you're all fucked out and dumb for my cock, all with a diamond wrapped round your neck."

His hips snap back at a frighteningly fast pace and thrusts in even more aggressively. The pain is immeasurably exhilarating. Your thighs squeeze his waist, mouth agape without a single breath escaping.

"Think of this as a second birthday gift." Like before, he draws back and slams into you without mercy. "Do as you're told and you'll get your third on Monday in my office."

Somehow, your gut tells you that you won't have a problem with that. Not at all.

#dom!tom holland #ceo!tom holland #soft!dom!tom holland #sub!reader #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #smut #angst #peter parker smut #one shot #peter parker #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #praise you like i should

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jaegeraether · 5 months

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 21)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (21)

Masterlist (other parts here)

(*Mentions of mental health, suicide and domestic abuse. Take care with this chapter please x *)

Much to Lucy’s amusement, YFN was driving her car for the first time. YFN had first suggested that she drive to Birmingham to get used to the car and roads in the UK, and because Lucy had done all of the driving thus far. The first 20 minutes had been stressful, but eased with Lucy’s amused support.

“It’s just a car, little one. I don’t care what happens to it as long as you’re okay..” She’d said. That and how calm she was explaining the differences in the roads made YFN feel much, much more at ease.

When she was comfortable enough, Lucy insisted they ran through some of the information that was emailed through by Lumos, Lucy testing her knowledge.

“I only briefly skipped through that email, Luce.. it was our third date.” She groaned.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been doing research since the girls first told you about this job..”

YFN looked guilty. “I like to be prepared.”

Lucy chuckled. “I know. It’s one of the things I love about you.. and you might as well use me while I’m here, right? We’ll start slow.”

YFN groaned. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Okay, talk to me about the different tiers of women’s football in England.”

“Starting off slow, hey?” She pouted. Lucy was challenging her. “Okay… okay. There’s the top tier, Tier 1, the Barclay’s FA WSL. It has 12 teams, bottom team gets relegated to Tier 2 which is the FA Women’s Championship. Also 12 teams, the winners going into the WSL for the next season, while the bottom-placed team are relegated Tier 3, the FA Women’s Nation’s League. Then it gets a bit complicated because there’s the northern teams against each other and the southern teams against each other with the top northern and southern team in the final FA WNL Championship Play-Off, the winner moving up to Tier 2, FA Champions League.”

She looked over at Lucy who was grinning at her proudly. “I knew you’d been researching.”

YFN blushed under her gaze. “It’s important to you.. so it’s important to me. Regardless of the job.”

“God, you’re so cute.” She kissed her on her little cheek dimple, her face reddening further. “Try name the 12 teams in the WSL for me..”

“Okay… okay I can do it by location, might be easier. Around Manchester you have 2 teams, Man United and Man City. Around Liverpool there’s Liverpool and Everton. Around Birmingham there’s Aston Villa. Close to them there’s Leicester, in Leicester.. then there’s Bristol City by itself, and around London are the other 5 teams, Brighton and Hove Albion, Chelsea, West Ham United, Arsenal, and… Tottenham.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re talking football..” Lucy commented as she fed YFN a Malteser.

“Why do I feel like I’m being rewarded like a dog?”

“Who’s a good girl,” Lucy cooed and patted her head. YFN rolled her eyes. “Who are the current WSL Champions?”

“Chelsea, they beat Man United.”

“Do any WSL teams play for other titles?”

“Uh.. there’s the Continental Cup? Conti Cup.. it’s the Tier 1 and Tier 2 teams together, so WSL and The Championship.”

“And the current Conti Cup Champions?”

“Arsenal.. they beat Chelsea.”

“Any other titles?”

“The UEFA Women’s Champions League.. it’s basically the WSL of Europe. It’s where all the fun happens and there’s a chance for a team like Arsenal to go up against a team like Barcelona.” She turned to Lucy. “Is it your favourite?”

“My favourite is definitely playing for England… but when playing with Barca then yeah, I love playing against the UK teams.”

“Is it hard playing against friends?”

She shrugged. “It was at first.. but then I found it’s much easier if you just go at players like opposition and don’t look at who they are. Just do your thing. I always want to win so it’s easier for me, but I know some of the girls struggle with it.”

YFN nodded and stole another Malteser. “Barcelona are the current Champions, obviously because they have the best right-back in history… and it was against Wolfsburg. Aaaand I believe that was your… fourth Championship title? 3 with Lyon, 1 with Barca?”

Lucy looked impressed. “You really have been doing your research, you sneak. I’m really proud of that too. Almost missed the one with Barca though.. I had surgery on my knee about 5 weeks before the final.” She trailed off, getting a little into her own head.

YFN put her hand on her knee, stroking it to console her. She knew there wasn’t much to say about it. “I can’t wait to see you play for Barca.”

That worked. Lucy smiled. “Tell me again why you can’t live in Spain, if you already have a team for you to work with? And once you get a good schedule going, they’ll be going to the games for you.. There’s…” she took YFN’s phone to read the email. “…Samantha, Bridget and Emily, Ethan, Daniel, Ruby…” She trailed off as she kept reading. “Okay so they’ve hired 4 videographers and 4 photographers, then there’s your IT guy Noel who is an all-rounder..”

“Yes, love, but I need to make sure they’re all comfortable editing because a lot don’t have the experience. We also need a specific style to create so it helps to build our brand and keep it all homogenous almost.. and then what if someone is sick and can’t cover a game?”

“It’s only 2 hours from Barca to London.” She offered.

YFN let herself look at Lucy for a second. She needed to get her scepticism across. It worked. Lucy was intelligent, she knew that YFN would be busy in the UK for the next 6 months at the very least.

YFN patted the steering wheel. “I think we’re going to be doing a lot of driving! I should name him… any ideas.”

“Miles?”

“Ohhh.. like Miles Morales?”

She could tell from Lucy’s expression that she had no idea who that was. “Who?”

“Spiderman… never mind, I’ll add it to our movie list. Eminem? After Miles Morales? No… no I like Miles. Let’s keep it simple.”

“We have a movie list?” Lucy looked excited and longing, almost. “Miles it is. Also, Spiderman is Peter Parker.”

“How dare you.”

Lucy wiggled her eyebrows. “Well I still think when you get more comfortable and all fall into a good rhythm covering games.. you can maybe work from Spain…” She gave those big eyes of hers as she sat sideways in the seat, admiring her girlfriend.

“Well I am mainly working on my laptop. But it’s such a small company right now, so they’ll expand quickly with all of the coverage if we do it right. Plus, they have so much money. What they’re offering pay-wise and then expense-wise is ridiculous.” She stopped herself, realising she was getting excited about the job again, and eased Lucy’s worries. “I’m sorry.. I’ll let us live in a little happy bubble for now, hm? We don’t know what could happen.”

Lucy sighed and reached out, her hand finding YFN’s pocket. “Who knows, maybe I’ll end up back in the WSL.”

“Or maybe I’ll be fired on my first day.”

Lucy scoffed. “Not a chance. They’re lucky to have you.”

YFN could tell Lucy was struggling with her emotions a little. She assumed the dread for their goodbye tomorrow was creeping up on the footballer also. She saw her fall into that little Lucy space and she left her there for a few minutes before she spoke. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Right… there.” The took her hand off the steering wheel to poke her in the middle of the forehead. “I can see it sitting there.”

Lucy came back with a little smile. “I was trying to decide if I was a bad person or not by thinking that I’m partially hoping Martin can’t get that working Visa for you..”

YFN laughed. “You know he will have it approved by the end of the night. And also… no, it’s not a bad thing. It melts my heart because it makes me feel wanted and needed by you. So, thank you for the honesty. And I..” She stopped herself, eyes widening at the fact that three words almost rolled off of her tongue. Before Lucy could question it, YFN’s phone rang.

“It’s Ridley.” Lucy said, shaking the phone for her to see. Before YFN could say anything, Lucy answered on loudspeaker.

“Hey baby Blue, I miss you.” Ridley drawled, flirty as usual.

YFN looked over at Lucy, expecting her to be jealous and she wasn’t disappointed. She’d spoken to Lucy about Ridley before, but only the bare minimum, like she had with Jordan. Ridley was an enigma, and one of her favourite people on the planet. She knew it wouldn’t take long for Lucy to pick up her personality and understand.

“Hey Riddles, I miss you too. What’s happening?”

“Sitting in an airport, wishing it were a beach. Waiting for a man, as usual. I swear, you let men into your life, and you get this. Constant irritation. Must be so hard to drag your little dick around that you end up late for everything.”

Lucy chuckled beside her at that.

“I can guarantee you’re 15 minutes early. And by the sound of your irritation.. waiting for your coffee I’m assuming?”

“It tames my demons. And you are, as usual, correct on both counts.” She began speaking to who YFN assumed was the barista. “Thanks baby, I’ll definitely call you.”

YFN felt like she could hear the wink from across the phone. Lucy raised her eyebrows in question and YFN shrugged. This was normal.

“Okay I’m back. Fuuuck, that’s a good coffee.”

“Are you going to call her or were you just being polite again?”

“Did the ‘definitely’ give me away again?” She asked sheepishly. “She’s cute but very much the relationship type. You know I don’t do that.”

“Mmnhmn. Lucy’s here by the way, we’re just driving to Birmingham.”

“Ah, Lucia Roberta, we finally meet. Kind of. Hold up…” She switched to Facetime as she walked through the airport, coffee in hand. Ridley was drop-dead stunning. She was the only person who had more confidence than Lucy, and it was obvious with the way she spoke and carried herself. She liked to keep herself fit and tidy, besides the alcohol she always slammed when she was at a festival or picking up. Her jawline was godly, her hair was the perfect dark, dark brown shaggy bob, and she had a noticeable scar on her face that started on her cheek and rose to the bottom of her left eye. Typically, it made her even more attractive.

“Hey there, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Lucy said, trying to control her jealously that rose as she saw how fucking stunning she was.

“If any of it is good, then she was lying. She does that to be nice.” She chuckled and got a little closer to the camera. “But she wasn’t lying when she told me about you though. Fuck, you’re sexy.”

Lucy was caught off guard and looked at YFN. Yep, she understood now. Ridley was just… Ridley. Lucy grinned at the compliment and turned back to the camera, her cockiness coming out.

“What can I say… I’m built different.” Lucy quoted and Ridley got the reference, the two sharing a laugh and flexing biceps. YFN rolled her eyes. Of course they’d get along. She could only imagine what they’d be like in person together, egging each other on to do things.

“Little dick appears to be here and… lost.” She brought her fingers to her mouth, whistling loudly.

“Don’t scare the boys, Riddles.”

She grinned at her friend. “My therapist says I should do what makes me happy. Besides, I’ve already had two men tell me I’m intimidating today.. three for the hat-trick, right Bronze?”

Lucy chuckled. “I believe in you.”

“Anyways, I called to see when you’re coming to Spain.. I miss you.”

“I miss you more, and I’ll be there in 13 days. The day before Lucy’s Liga F match if that helps.”

Ridley liked specifics. “It does. Okay, Blue, I’ll see you then. Bronze, don’t be a stranger. Adiós!”

The call ended and there was silence for several seconds. YFN tried to hide her smile and looked at Lucy who was already looking at her.

“Well?”

“She seems fun. And…”

“…an aquired taste.”

“I like her. You weren’t lying about the flirting.”

“No, love. Luckily I’m already pretty obsessed with a woman anyways.”

“Did you two ever..?”

YFN knew it was coming. “No. Never. That was never us, our relationship is more like… shared trauma. I think she’s the best person, but we’ve both been through quite a bit.”

Lucy was silent and so she continued. “We were neighbours growing up. Her family was even more dysfunctional than mine, but instead of not having a mum, she didn’t have a dad. She grew up fast and took it upon herself to look after her mum, a bipolar, and her brother who was autistic who was always getting bullied… really badly. She took my brother and I under her wing also.” She choked, getting a little emotional, knowing what was coming. “One night after school her brother was… beaten to death. To be more specific, beaten and left for dead. He was supposed to be picked up by their mum who was ‘trying to get better’. She got drunk and forgot about him. Ridley found him and held him until the cops arrived. She begged them not to tell her mum, because she was so erratic when she wasn’t well, and especially worse when alcohol was mixed. They didn’t listen because she was only young, and they called her anyways. She’d killed herself by the time Ridley was dropped home. She’d expected it to be honest. I… Ridley and I used to sneak into each other’s rooms at night to hang out, play games, read books, talk. I snuck into her room and she wasn’t there. I found her in the bathroom with her mum.” YFN couldn’t help the tears streaming down her face as she remembered. “There was so much blood, Luce. And Riddles… it was almost like she didn’t feel the grief at all. She was so prepared for it. She was forced to grow up too young.”

She looked at Lucy who was also crying, eyes closed and shaking her head. She continued. “That scar on her face? From my dad. After what happened, her Aunt moved in and started taking care of her. They stayed in that house because they couldn’t afford to sell it with the debt they were left. She’d stay in my room as much as possible to avoid the memories in her own house. She’d usually already be in my room by the time I came up there. I told you my dad was abusive..”

“He didn’t… touch you, did he?” Her voice shook, nervous for the response.

“Not in the way you think. He hit us. He’d have good days and bad days. On one of his worst days, Ridley heard it from my room and came down. He was going at my brother with a knife and I was trying to stop him. Ridley saw red and jumped in to save us. We were only young and my dad was a lot stronger, so he’d managed to still cut her face as she fought him. She got it off of him eventually and knocked him on his ass. He left the next day and never came back. Nan looked after us from then on. She.. she probably saved our lives. He wanted to kill us. I could see it on his face.” She sniffed, wiping the tears away with the cuff of her shirt. “I remember holding her hand when she got her stitches.. so you see, she’s one of the most important people in my life, and she always will be. We grew into such different people after all of that. Both of us really haven’t dated much. Riddles has dated one person I think? And she sabotaged it. I let myself date a few but none of them have understood me or what I need.” She took a deep breath in. Might as well tell her everything, right? “One of the biggest changes we noticed as we grew up was sex. Riddles doesn’t have sex for love, she does it to hold some form of control. If she can control herself and somebody else, and especially their orgasm, then it satisfies her. She doesn’t let anyone close except me because I was there. We’ve had long conversations about this. Whereas me… I was so much of a passenger in my life, always scared of my dad that I just want to be loved. And protected. Supported. I want that unconditional fucking hopeless romantic, Heath Ledger love. And when it comes to sex… my body craves someone that I can put my absolute trust in. Someone who I can give all of my control, my thoughts, my opinions to. Someone who will literally hold me down and fuck me for both of our benefits. I don’t want a choice.” She was so far in, that her admission scared even her. “I’ve never had that before. Saying it out loud like that… scares me. I’ve never been so honest about it and I’ve definitely never let myself give up any of my trust until I met you.” She looked at Lucy who looked in awe. She reached a hand out as if to strangle her. “You, and your pretty fucking face. You, and your inability to pronounce ‘th’ in a sentence. You, and that fucking grin that lights up a room.”

Lucy pointed outside. “Pull over. Right there.”

YFN sighed as did as she was told, knowing that whatever came of her confession she’d accept. She pulled over and took her time, putting the car into park, handbrake on.

Lucy unclipped her seatbelt and leaned over the centre console, her hand finding YFN’s face as she pulled her towards her. Their lips met passionately. Then needily. Then desperately. Gasps for air and desperate breaths filling the air.

“Luce..” she whimpered against her lips in between the barrage of kisses she was receiving. Lucy took a little while to respond, distracting herself. “You’re mine. I will always keep you safe and make sure you’re loved. Do you understand?” She pulled YFN’s head to her collarbone and held her tight. Of course, the tears started up again. She can’t believe she’d told Lucy.

Lucy held her tightly, her hand stroking her hair, whispering sweet nothings, and reassuring her. Giving her everything she needed.

The emotions settled down eventually and YFN mumbled into Lucy’s shirt. “You know, I’m still really embarrassed about how forward I was when we started texting..”

Lucy vibrated under her, laughing softly. “Oh, I definitely encouraged that. It was perfect.”

YFN leaned back so she could see Lucy. She assumed her face reflected her girlfriends. Puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She cheekily tapped her cheek and Lucy took the hint, leaning in and kissing it with lingering lips. She kissed it a few more times and sat back in her seat. And then, they were off again.

They arrived at Jordan’s after dark, the little blonde bouncing up and down in the driveway as they pulled up. Jordan jumped on the closest person, Lucy, her legs wrapping around her waist. Lucy wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Alright, Jords?”

“I missed you too!”

“We missed you more, mate.” YFN said as she rounded the car. Jordan dropped off of Lucy and tried to do the same to YFN, though they were both a similar height and weight and ended up sprawled on the ground laughing.

The house was a cute little stand alone and inside was modern and fresh. It was a wide open space with its kitchen, dining and living area all sharing the same room which led out to the patio. It was a 2 by 2, with a bedroom either side of the large entertainment area. YFN found her bedroom, it was much larger than she imagined and had an ensuite. She turned and glared at Jordan. “You didn’t.”

“You have Lucy.. and my bathroom is perfect.” Just as she saw YFN about to argue she continued. “I originally picked that room, I promise! It doesn’t get the morning light, and I like being on that side.”

YFN pouted, wanting to argue but knowing it would be useless.

“Yay, shower sex.” Lucy said as she opened YFN’s suitcase on the bed. It was the most unhinged thing she’d ever heard Lucy say and her mouth dropped open. This was obviously the same for Jordan who was caught off guard. “Joking.. but not really. Go and have your little chat, I’ll unpack.” She insisted as she pushed them both out the door.

“I can’t believe she never said that to me…” Jordan whined. She was getting teary eyed as she looked at YFN. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I think she was scared... and torn… and trying to justify the unjustifiable. She knows she messed up.” She hugged Jordan a little tighter.

“She’s coming tonight.”

“What?!”

“I think tonight has gotten just a little bit out of hand..”

“How out of hand are we talking about?”

“Um.. I don’t know the exact number but I know the restaurant had to order more chairs.”

YFN’s eyed widened. “Wait… what?” Lucy walked out of the bedroom then and she directed her next question at her. “What am I walking into?”

Lucy tilted her head with an innocent look and shrugged. “The girls love a catch up, and as far as I know, no one has organised anything like this before so I think word spread around pretty quickly. I think between me, Jords, Katie and Caitlin, we managed to get quite a few different nationalities interested… we have no idea how many are coming though. Katie was organising that.”

“Oh, they’ll be here soon actually. We should get ready.” Jordan said, wiping her eyes.

“What are you going to do about Leah tonight..?” YFN asked gently.

Jordan shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, this doesn’t change anything. She still hasn’t spoken to me. I need some time to process and maybe I’ll let her say what she needs to. I don’t want to talk to her tonight, though.”

"You know the safe word.."

#lucy bronze #jordan nobbs #lucy bronze x reader #woso #engwnt #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso soccer #katie mccabe #caitlin foord #leah williamson

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cadmusfly · 1 month

Text

Let's Judge The Signatures Of Dead Frenchmen - Marshals of the Empire Edition

plus some bonuses at the bottom

This is a shitpost I've just wanted to do ever since I noticed Masséna's signature.

I know signatures are not meant to be legible, god knows mine isn't, but look at it, it's all the same letter!

I'm lazy so I'm only going to judge the ones on wikimedia and a few extra from letters, sorry to Marmont and others who did not get their signatures scanned and then made transparent for osme reason who is going to forge a dead frenchman's signature

Of course Bessières has a nice one:

Berthier is also pretty nice:

Loopy! Wait as has been pointed out to me, that could be an Alex. Did anyone ever call him Alex or Al

I love Lannes' because he circles his name!

A fancy guy like Murat's gotta have a fancy one, right?

Nice but not as loopy as Berthier's, honestly not the fanciest here

Davout has a nice legible one

Let's look at Soult's-

Woah, he's taking up a bit of space there! Where are you going with that t, champ?

Augereau is nice and straight I'm in awe as someone physicalyl incapable of writing in a straight line even on lined paper

Mortier is also really nice!

but also Ed Mortier. He called himself Ed. Do you think his friends also called him Ed or perhaps Eddie

MacDonald is Massena tier

can you guess who this next one is

hint: not french

Lefebvre's goin for the loop:

Jourdan is all classical:

Cant find Bernadotte pre-kinging but dude why is your kingograph so large who transcribed it like this

@phatburd linked me St Cyr's and

Very nice!

Victor lets see

I think I see a V in there. And a treble clef.

Oudinot:

I can kinda make it out!

But anyway I've been saving the best for last.

I have no words for this artistic masterpiece by Marshal Michel Ney.

Is that an umlaut or an emoticon? What are the two lines doing - error of transcription or part of the actual signature? Why do the loops just keep on going????

Is he just self conscious of how short his name is?????

Bonus!

Eugène de Beauharnais how's your-

he just didnt know when to stop.

Junot:

circle! pretty circle! napoleon did say he has pretty handwriting

Duroc:

Man he turned that c into an underline

This was fun! Next I'll rate all their coat of arms of something

#cadmus rambles #napoleon's marshals #napoleonic era #napoleon's generals #cad rambles about dead frenchmen on main

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

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How would Belo be with a cult leader s/o?

She already has followers consisting of both monsters and humans who rave about how perfect she is, and they think Belo is a testament to that.

I mean, not just anyone can receive the affection of an angel; she must be akin to a god!

There is a hierarchy in the cult, and Belo is at the top of it. He can rest his head on her lap and watch as the others worship the very ground his lady walks on (he doesn't have a choice; the leader demands it this physical contact, otherwise she will be unhappy the whole day).

They validate Belo in every thought he has of his lady and also obey him as he is basically the leader's right hand (or so he believes, but in reality, they respect him so much because he is their leader's precious).

And what if more angels started coming out of the woodwork to serve his lady? If he was able to handle the cultists, surely this would be a stretch.

I can just imagine the cultists praising Belo as they dress him up in lingerie fitting to their leader's taste, then tie him up, mindful of his wings, and leave him in his lady's quarters. His lady comes in and gets on top of him, caressing his wings and whispering something about being her 'pretty little canary' and 'give yourself to me, show me your devotion.'.

This is the ideal situation for Belo.

Unlike most angels, who tend to have a mindset favorable to sharing with other celestials, Belo gets intoxicated when he realizes he's the only holy entity in a location, that he no longer has to share, that his tier hardly matters because he's the only celestial present and automatically the authority in a plethora of matters. He feels special in a way he never has before and his ego swells almost incomprehensibly.

Which is exactly why he's living his best life in this situation. Not only are you a sacred being, your generosity blinds you to the misdeeds of your own following. My Lady they are clumsy, obliviously disrespectful, they hold no discipline! Someone who is built to serve and protect needs to teach them how to behave, how to conduct themselves before you and how to make sure that your love is not for naught.

It's only right that Belo be the only one allowed to touch you. His holy nature makes him incapable of corrupting you, and others live through him their own lecherous, selfish fantasies of being your favored.

With him at the helm of many secondary areas and tasks, your cult blossoms like the loveliest lotus and gains a level of steadfast efficiency previously unforeseen.

The arrival of other angels... Complicates things. They're immediately perceived as threats to Belo's position.

You may not know this, but he's only a power. If there's a dominion, throne or, Eden forbid, a seraphim... By their own laws, Belo could have to step down and allow the worshiper-tiers to overrule him in the hierarchy.

And he goes half-mad at the idea.

That's not happening.

No tier can understand and service you better than him, and Belo will personally confront the more powerful celestials about this. There is a very special balance here, in your wonderful garden of light, where the rank of an angel is not what makes them worthy of your love and guidance. Belo may be just a power outside of these blessed grounds, but in them, he is your second in command, your favored, your fighter, your whorshiper, your guardian. He's your everything.

And though he may celebrate the arrival of more angels beside you, he makes sure they always remember their place.

He's determined to keep this perfect balance.

In your name, he thinks as he placidly remains in position, bottom eye counting the patterns on his service gown and the jewelry on his spread wings, everything in your name.

This won't be like before. He's doing so much better now, the cultists are behaving perfectly, the workflow is stable and satisfactory, the other angels are impeccable. You wouldn't leave them. Not when everything is immaculate, when mistakes are non-existent. This time will he different.

You enter the room, and his thoughts vanish.

#Belo oc

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ladymirdan · 1 month

Note

Primarch ranking list?

I made this list ages ago, expecting for it to change a lot the more I read, but only two primarchs have changed position for me thus far.

Perturabo is now number one, and Horus (if the spoiler that I heard about the last Horus Heresy book is true) is now at the absolute bottom.

Rogal Dorn - He is the best and the emperor's favourite for a reason. He is hard working, has the best humor, he is just great. He is what I wished I was.

Roboute Guilliman - Roboute is so painfully relatable, he can fix EVERYTHING but himself. He is such a misunderstood character by the fans in general. Give him a chance, he is delightful.

Perturabo - Is also very relatable, but in the worst way possible. He is petty, jealous and cares too much about a world that doesn't give two shits about him. He thinks he has a good poker face but he doesn't so he comes across as even more unlikeable. He is wonderful to read about.

Horus - I swear, he is the last relatable one. Him getting severe impostor syndrome when he was made Warmaster and then falling apart from the pressure... I felt that in my soul.

Angron - I know very little about him to be honest, but he was such a delight in False Gods. I love him.

Konrad Curze - I Love his Primarch book, he is so unapologetically fucked up. I love his tactics.

Fulgrim - I feel kind of “meh” about him. I should like him more, he checks all the boxes for a character I should like but so far I like his legion more than him

Ferrus Manus - Don't know much about him, would probably be higher if I did. Mid tier.

Leman Russ - I used to HATE him but I'm warming up a bit. I like the himbo energy and that he stops playing dumb when called out.

Lorgar - Another one I used to hate but I have to respect a guy who is right so often even if he is a douche.

Jaghatai Khan - I need to read more about him.

Sanguinius - Sad, pretty vampires are cringe, angel wings are even cringeier. If he was more cool about it he would be 20% cooler, I feel Fulgrim would have rocked his looks and legion better.

Lion’el Johnson - Most of my friends are autistic (you pretty much have to be to like me), but Lion feels like the guy who talks about his special interest for hours and then tells you that he doesn't care when you talk about yours.

Alpharius - He is kind of cringe but gets bonus points since he reminds me of one of my larp characters.

Corax - what happens when you order Nighthaunter on wish.

Vulkan - to be fair, I have read very little about him. all I know is that he hugs people and lets his Astartes keep humans as pets. DO NOT WANT!

Magnus - I don't like magic or magic users. He feels like someone whose own life is a fucking mess and still gives you unbidden advice. Top-tier mansplainer.

Mortarion - Whiny fucking bitch without having the skills to back it up (Like Perturabo). Legit said that his upbringing was worse than Angrons. Also the master of double standards. Fuck em.

#40k #warhammer 40k #warhammer #horus heresy #primarchs #ranking list

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thebibutterflyao3 · 4 months

Text

Day 4 - Prompt: Future @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 698 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Remus had never been so enthralled with a man while he shared every insignificant detail of his life. Then again, Remus had never met anyone like Sirius before. This brilliantly clever, fascinating bloke who was filled with endless surprises. With every deep inhale before he launched into the next facet of his life, Remus waited intently to hear what he’d say next.

He was fairly certain that he could listen to Sirius explain the minutiae of why a wet paper bag sticks to itself with breathless wonder. This was important though. Remus was hanging on every word, storing every tidbit of information that Sirius revealed like it was a life-changing revelation, each one was a present just for him. While he’d actually enjoy mindlessly staring at this beautiful bloke for the foreseeable future, this was vital intelligence and he couldn’t spare a solitary brain cell at the moment. All of them were attuned to Sirius’s every word.

“So then, James and I moved into our flat in Edinburgh. Padfoot came a little later. I found him at a shelter I was volunteering with and just had to bring him home,” Sirius continued, grinning as he reached out to scratch Padfoot’s back. “He was so cute, I couldn’t resist. I tell James all the time that the two of them are pieces of the same puzzle.”

“That’s lucky, isn’t it?” Sirius asked, turning that blinding grin on Remus. “Finding a dog with the same personality as your best mate?”

Remus nodded solemnly. “That’s fate.”

“Exactly! That’s what I told James too.” Sirius tilted his head to the side and sighed. “Even though I’ve always imagined James as a Golden Retriever rather than a Newfoundland, somehow it fits.”

The note-taking side of his brain was furiously recording everything: Sirius lives in Edinburgh. James is his flatmate and best friend. Padfoot is James’s dog equivalent. Sirius volunteered at an animal shelter. Of course he did, he’s so fucking perfect.

“I can see that.”

Remus’s comments were intentionally brief and encouraging. He wanted every scrap of Sirius that he could get his grubby hands on. If he could breathe him instead of air, he would. He’d let the molecules of Sirius’s essence settle in his bones and cling to that little piece of him reverently.

Obsessive barely scratched the surface, but every time he tried to rein it in, Sirius would magically appear and flash that god-tier grin. At the ice rink, his favourite pub, and now the winding walking path that trailed the rocky Welsh shoreline, there was Sirius. When he opened his mouth, Remus didn’t know whether to expect a dead-panned retort, a random “fun fact,” or a quote from Shakespeare himself. The fucking range with this man.

He was so gone. Pathetically, pitifully gone for this bloke who barely knew he existed.

“I’d enjoy being a dog, I think. To just laze about and bask in adoring attention. What animal would you be? If you could pick?” Sirius asked, searching his face intently.

Remus hummed thoughtfully as he tried to find just the right animal. He wasn’t about to shrug this off when Sirius looked so invested in his answer. Lily had equated him to a lone wolf before, but that didn’t feel quite like the right answer for Sirius.

“An alley cat,” he decided, nodding at Sirius’s startled laugh. “Free to roam and explore, but happy to curl up for a lip in the sun.”

“Oh, I love that,” Sirius breathed. His eyes widened and he bit down on his bottom lip.

Remus stared at that perfect row of white teeth carving into an equally perfect plump pink lip. He couldn’t help himself. Before he’d even thought about it, he’d smoothed his thumb over the raw spot to free it. Somehow, he managed to drop his hand casually, as if it meant nothing. As if his thumb didn’t tingle from the contact.

Ffyc. Oh, I’m so screwed.

This one was going to fucking hurt. He could already feel the razor’s edge of this loss cutting into him. When Sirius went home, Remus would feel compelled to follow him. Which he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, do.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #wolfstar microfic

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revluvzen · 1 year

Text

[/💦/] Splash! [/💦/]

Top!Hongjoong x Bottom!MaleReader

---

credits to the owner of the gif!

Category: Smut, some fluff. MINORS DNI.

Tags: Hongjoong is your boyfriend, gay sex, top hongjoong, bottom male reader, sex in public, exhibitionism, sex in the pool, degradation, some romantic remarks, anal sex, spit on mouth/spit swallowing, dirty talk, hongjoong and you refer to each other as "honey"

WC: 4k

Despite my fics being mainly of NCT, I want to try doing fics for other idols. These idols will mostly have their own storyline in a series format! You can expect another Hongjoong fic in the future, continuing this plot, if this gets enough love! Please upvote, reblog and leave a comment if you liked it! ❤️

"H-Honey, they're gonna notice..."

It's summer! And Hongjoong and you both got some days off from (college/job). You've been so busy these months, what better than some vacations to relax a little?

"Honey~", you call Hongjoong, who's making some iced tea for both of you. "Yes, darling?", he replies, with a kind voice. "Wouldn't you like to go on vacation~?", you ask him, having thought of it since the past week. "That's... actually a good idea, sweetie...", he says, giving you your iced tea.

"Did you think of any destination already?", he asks, before sipping his tea. "I was thinking of going to a resort... a beach resort... I think we deserve it", you tell him, excited. "I like the idea! Let's book a room for us two and the ticket planes", Hongjoong happily says. "Really?! I'm already excited~", you tell him, happy that he agreed.

Hongjoong and you have been dating for two years already. He's the best boyfriend someone could have: he's kind, funny, and hot. And don't get me started on the sex topic. He's always coming with new kinky things to try... and, how could you say no to him? Bondage, whipping, role-play, he always do some new things and you end up loving it. Every time he's horny and approaches you, you know you're going to have a good time. The fact he's (almost) always horny implies you and him fuck on a very regular basis. It's not weird for you suddenly getting into a love hotel with him or passionately making out with him on the park.

Anyways. The day after, both of you arrive to the airport, do the check-in and get on the flight to the beach destination. Fortunately, the flight was nice and comfy, with no turbulences at all or whatsoever. After landing and going through Migrations, you finally could observe the beautiful sight of the town: luxurious hotels, fancy and colorful shops, and the gorgeous, blue sea on the horizon. "Hongjoong-ie~ this is so beautiful~", you tell him, very excited. "I know, honey~", he replies, with a smile on his face. "This is gonna be awesome!"

Hongjoong and you took a taxi to your resort hotel. "Oh, my, god!", you say, amused at how big and luxurious the resort is. "It's even more beautiful than in the pictures~", Hongjoong remarks. You do the check-in, and the bellboy guides you both to your room.

The room is majestic, it has everything you can expect from a 5-Star resort: great views from the window, a fancy and comfy king size bed, a minibar, and a luxurious bathroom. "Wow~ It's so beautiful, I love it!", you say, sitting and bouncing on the bed. "It truly is~", Hongjoong replies. "We're gonna have a really good time here~".

Both of you get everything from you luggages tidied up, and go have brunch at the hotel's restaurant. The buffet has many delicious dishes, made by a top-tier chef. After eating with Hongjoong, having some nice views to the sea, you started planning about the things you could do for the rest of the day.

"I think we should take a tour around the town, and go shopping", you suggested. "I think we should do that tomorrow... We have a lot of time to enjoy, so we don't have any hurry. I'm kinda tired, aren't you too?", Hongjoong asks. "Well, you're right... getting everything tidied up and the flight overall made me kinda tired...", you agree with him. "Why don't we go to the pool? It's midday still, the sky is clear and the water should be warm... I think it's a great idea", he suggestz. "Hmm, yeah, so do I! We can go to the pool, yeah. Although, we should go out for the night. Maybe going to the town's nightlife avenue or something?", you say. "I think that would be great~ Let's go back to our room and get ours swimming shorts, and let's go to the pool!", Hongjoong says, excited.

Both of you go back to your rooms and change your clothes. After taking off your shirts, Hongjoong puts on some swimming shorts with a Hawaiian flowers design. Your shorts also match the flowers design, but it's with different colours. "You look so cute, darling~", Hongjoong tells you, making you blush. "You too, honey~", you reply, smirking.

Hongjoong and you go downstairs and go to the resort's pool sector. Following a short path of natural rocks from the main building, you end up on an intersection with a sign in the middle.

<=== Kids this way || Adults this way ===>

Please, for the safety and wellness of our guests, kids should go to the kids' pools, that's less deep and has funny games for them.

"Let's turn to the left, then", Hongjoong says, joking and actually walking towards the left. "Hongjoong!", you laugh and tell him to come back. He does come back, and both of you follow the right path. Then, you see a very large pool, with many amenities on its side such as jacuzzis, water massages machines and saunas. There are quite some people on the pool sector. Some of them sunbathing, and some on the pool, swimming or playing between each other. The deeper side of the pool is closed, with a sign that reads "Life guard on a break, please stay on the shallow side".

"The last on on jumping in is a loser!", Hongjoong says, excited. He runs towards the pool and jumped in. A big splash was produced as he got submerged. He then looked at you, laughing. "You lost!", he says, mocking you. "You started running when you announced it! That's not fair!", you reply to him. You then jump into the water. It's kinda warm, as the sun rays has been hitting the water since the sunrise. "Wow~ it's nice", you say, getting relaxed. "It truly is, honey~", Hongjoong tells you.

You both did a lot of things in the span of an hour. You swam, played between each other with water guns and a waterpolo ball, got below the hydromassage fountain, etc. As both of you got tired, you swam to a corner to talk between each other while leaning in it. There's still a lot of people in the pool as the sun's still shining (it's ~2:00pm and the sky is clear!), so talking in the middle of the pool might be annoying to the rest of people.

You both chatted about a lot of topics: plans for tonight and tomorrow, comments about the brunch you had, and gossips about the other guests. "I've heard that the lady on the 235... is cheating on her husband... Wanna know how I know?", Hongjoong told you, quietly. "How?", you asked, intrigued. "Her husband... He came to the lobby, searching for her. Apparently he discovered about her affair and came here to check it. It's about to go down", he said. "Oh, my, god!", you said, on disbelief.

You both laughed in shock, but suddenly Hongjoong got a little corny. "You would never cheat on me, would you?", he said, smiling and staring at you. "Of course I wouldn't, honey~ I love you so much~", you say, touching his chest playfully. He replied back by caressing your hips, that are underwater. "I knew it~ I love you too~", Hongjoong said, leaning over you to give you a peck. You leaned too to kiss him. His soft lips touched yours, romantically.

Although, it soon became more than a peck. You both closed your eyes at the same time, and started kissing more passionately. Your lips are softly biting each other, sending a romantic feeling all over your bodies. Hongjoong put his hand on your chin, while you put your hand on his nape.

Things soon went to second base. It's so difficult to pull apart each other once you start kissing... It's just that his lips feel so soft, and you feel so secure while making out with him... and you love him. And he loves you too. It's natural that both of you kept kissing for long minutes, getting rougher as time passes by. You start tongue kissing, your tongues dancing inside of each others mouth. Your grip on Hongjoong's hair gets tighter. Your other hands gets on his chest, sliding down the water to his stomach. His hands get on your submerged waist, sliding to your lower back. His crotch now touches yours, slowly thrusting back and forth and making your bulges get hard.

Hongjoong then grabbed your ass, squeezing it. You replied by softly caressing his hard bulge. Both of you keep kissing, tasting each other's tongues. Hongjoong slowly slide his hand down your shorts, now touching your skin, slowly approaching your hole with his fingers. You also slide your hand down on his shorts, touching his hard veiny cock.

You keep kissing him, with so much passion. Taking advantage of the little lubrication the pool's water could bring, he puts one finger inside of your hole; meanwhile, you started jerking him off. It didn't take long before he finds your prostate and starts stimulating it. You each quietly moan inside each other mouth, him bitting your lips.

You actually think no one could guess what's happening underwater. I mean, from outside, it maybe could look like a plain passionate kiss on the pool by a sweet couple. That, until Hongjoong gets so horny that he has other plans for you. "Honey, turn around", he said, sexily whispering to your ear as he started fingerfucking you, now with two fingers. "W-What...?", you ask him. You know Hongjoong is extremely kinky, and making out with him on public is very common for you, but actual sex? That's new... But, once you get horny, you just don't want to stop. Should you risk being catch and humiliated in public because of being a horny slut that gets fucked while in the pool? "H-Honey, they're gonna notice~", you tell him, kind of worried.

"Come on, turn around babe~. Put your hands on the edge and give me your cute, slutty ass. I will do it slow so no one notice. I need to fuck you, honey~", he says. Fuck, how could you say no? His dirty talking gets you every time. You do turn around, and put your hands over the pool's edge, facing towards one of the plenty sunbathing areas on the pool zone. Luckily, no one's there. Unfortunately, that is because most of the people are on the pool instead of sunbathing. Not only that, but also some people walk across that zone to get on the pool or go back to the hotel. As Hongjoong lowers your swimming shorts, low enough that your rim gets exposed to him, you start wondering... Why is this turning you on? Will someone notice? Of course they will. But, maybe that's what's turning you on.

Giving your back (and ass) to Hongjoong, you feel his hard tip teasing your hole. He gets closer to your ear to whisper to you. "Do you want my big cock here, honey~? Are you this of a slut~? Ugh, I love you~", he saids, still teasing your hole with his cock. "Y-Yes, babe~ P-Please, put it inside... Quick... Before someone notices...~", you tell him, kind of trembling because of all the adrenaline.

"There it goes, fucking whore~ Feel it all inside of you~", Hongjoong says, as he starts putting his cock inside of your hole. The pool's water kind of work as lube, so his dick actually didn't have trouble on getting inside of you. "A-A-Agh~", you softly moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible so no one noticed you. Hard task, obviously. Hongjoong's cock feels so good inside of you, that your natural response is to moan like a slut.

"I'll start thrusting now~ I'll go slow, so we don't make waves or something...~ Be quiet, honey~", Hongjoong tells you on a playful sexy voice. He then sexily whispers to your ear, "Unless, you want people to notice...~". At the moment he said that, he started thrusting into you. Pace might be slow but the mere fact of his big cock fucking you already makes you so horny. "Agh~ H-Hongjoong-ie~ I... I love it~", you quietly tell your boyfriend, giving him validation. "I know you love it, fucking whore~", he says. You can't see him, but you know he's with that pervy, smirking face you love. Hongjoong's cock feels so good fucking you, and the adrenaline of doing it on a public place is a perfect combination that soon gets your cock hard.

Hongjoong keeps fucking you, going faster. He's grabbing your waist in order to do precise thrusts that makes his cock go deep inside of you. "F-Feels so good~", you whisper, feeling your prostate sending soft shockwaves of pleasure all over your body. You put on a lewd face, that Hongjoong notice from behind. "Look at you, fucking slut~ You're liking it so much~", he says. You turn your head to see him, who's smirking and looking at your ass, that's getting fucked by him.

When you go back to rest your head over the pool's edge, you see the legs of three guys, walking past you. You unconsciously raise your head and stare at they... And you see the expression on their faces. They give you disgusted looks, as if they're shocked at how you dare to fuck in a public pool. Being so close to you, they obviously noticed what's going on (unlike the other people in the pool, that's minding their own business and they can't tell what you're doing as they're kind of far away from you). You just look down and ignore them, your face blushing as you realize how shameless and nasty you're.

"H-Honey, I think those guys noticed~ Agh~", you say, still quietly moaning. "Don't worry, babe~ Everything will be okay~ Plus, that's the best part about fucking in public, isn't it~?", he says. "Ugh~ My cock feels so good inside of your tight hole~ I'll go a little more faster~", he says, now fucking you at a normal pace, not slow nor fast.

"F-Fuck~ You fuck me so good, honey~", you quietly moan. You know feel your prostate being hit by Hongjoong's cock harder, making you so fucking slutty and happy. "Such a shameless whore you are~", he sexily whispers to you.

Hongjoong keeps fucking you at a normal pace. Then, you hear a loud noise: a dude jumped into the water, kind of close to both of you, screaming "CANNON BALL!". The water splashes over both of you, which made both of you turn your heads to look at this guy. Hongjoong's glare to him is so intimidating that made the dude get shocked, both because of seeing you two fucking and Hongjoong getting angry. "W-What are y-you guys d-doing", he said, stuttering and shocked. "Get away...", Hongjoong told him with a serious expression, as he kept fucking you. The guy got scared, and swam away as fast as he could.

Hongjoong now sets up a faster pace, enough to make it difficult for you to try to quiet down your moans. You feel his cock so fucking deep inside of you, his balls hitting your ass, and your prostate being abused so fast. The water around you starts creating soft waves as Hongjoong thrusts harder into you. "Fuck, honey, it feels so fucking good~", Hongjoong tells you, quietly moan as he feels his cock so satisfied of fucking you. You turn your head to look at his lewd face. He looks so fucking sexy, so focused on thrusting fast and hard inside of you. As you turn your head, you also notice a group of people on the pool that are discreetly looking at you, with disgusted looks; some of them leaving the pool. "H-Hongjoong-ie~ t-they're noticing it~", you tell him. "And~? Is that something bad for you, baby~?", he replies, with a sexy playful voice. His cock feels so fucking good inside of you, you just want him to keep fucking you all day long and filling you with cum. It's so good to have nasty, kinky sex with your boyfriend. You don't even care about the other people in the pool. You just want to enjoy this moment with Hongjoong.

With your mind going on an euphoric state, as Hongjoong fucks you so good and rough, you replied to what Hongjoong asked. "I-It's actually the o-opposite~, I-I love this, honey~", you tell him, now moaning on speaking voice, loud enough to be noticeable for some more meters around you. "Look at you, fucking whore~ So happy of being fucked in public, you don't even care about the other people here anymore~ You know what~? I'm gonna fuck you so fucking rough that this waves are gonna overflow the pool~", Hongjoong threatens, smirking and thrusting harder into you, actually making the waves that are created because of how he fucks you get bigger.

"F-Fuck me rough, honey~ I want your cock deep inside of you~", you moan, now frenzied. "Yeah? You like my big cock, fucking slut? Huh? Fuck, you're so tight~", Hongjoong moans, fucking you at an extremely fast pace. He puts his hand over the pool's edge just like you, to have more control of the thrusts he's doing underwater. As he does that, he puts his face next to you, and starts kissing your neck, leaving some hickeys.

"Tell me you're my slut, come on", Hongjoong ordered as he railed your ass. "I-I'm your slut, h-honey, AGH~", you moan out loud. "Good boy~", he tells you. He grabs you by your chin and puts two fingers on your mouth, and makes you suck them. "Mmm~". Despite having his fingers on your mouth, your groanings are still kind of loud. "Yeah, keep moaning while you suck my fingers, yeah, fuck~", Hongjoong groaned. He's fucking you like a beast, so fucking focused on drilling your hole. The water around you strikes the pool's edge with so much power, as Hongjoong thrusts faster and rougher inside fo you. It's impossible for the rest of the people there to not notice what's going on.

Hongjoong grabs your chin and makes you face towards his face. "Tell me you're my whore, and that you're only mine~", he commands. "I-I'm your whore, and I'm only yours~", you reply, feeling his cock hitting your prostate with so much precission, it sending big and strong shockwaves of pleasure over your body, feeding your euphoria. "Say it louder", Hongjoong ordered, with a sexy and aggresive voice. "I-I'M YOUR WHORE AND I'M ONLY YOURS~", you yell, moaning after each word. "Good boy~ I love you so fucking much~", he says, grabbing your face and spitting on your mouth. You already know what to do: you swallow his spit, showing him how much you love him and enjoy being fucked. "I fucking love you so much too~", you tell him.

After some minutes, Hongjoong and you feel your orgasms close. He keeps drilling your hole so fucking fast, and you keep moaning loud as you enjoy how you he rearranges your guts so fucking rough. "H-Honey, I'm gonna come~ I'm gonna fucking fill you up so much~", he tells you, his voice breaking with moans. "F-Fuck, I'm gonna come too, it feels so fucking good~ Agh~", you moan out loud too. "L-Let's come at the same time, honey~ I'm gonna breed you so good, fucking slut~ F-FUCK~", he groans. Hongjoong fucks you frenziedly, the pool's water around you splashing out of it with so much power. The pool zone got invaded by the noises of your moans and the striking water splashes. "F-FUCK, AGH~".

Hongjoong finally comes inside of you, with a powerful final thrust that splashes water all over both of you. You feel his cum filling your insides and warming your abused prostate. "F-FUCK, FEEL ALL MY FUCKING CUM INSIDE OF YOU, SLUT~", he moans, with his cock still inside of you, now doing slower thrusts. Right at the moment you felt his cum filling your hole, you also reach your orgasm. Your back arches and your eyes roll up, feeling so much pleasure. You ejaculate underwater, then quickly realizing how you can see your white creamy sperm flaoting to the surface, around you. "F-FUCK, FUCKING FILL ME UP, AGH~", you moan during your climax.

Hongjoong keeps thrusting, now on a slow pace. He bends over to whisper to your ear. "Fuck, honey, you went crazy~", he whispers with a sexy voice. You're trembling right now because of how he fucked you so rough and the fact you're realizing what just happened. "Y-You went crazy too, f-fuck, it's just that it felt so good~", you tell him. "I know~ The moment we started kissing here, I knew we had to take it further", he said, smirking. "You fucked me so good~", you tell him. "I didn't even care if people noticed, I just wanted you~ I love you~", he says, hugging you. "I love you too, honey~", you tell him, smiling. You both kiss for some minutes, romantically tasting each other's lips. He then takes his cock out of you, and both of you raise your swimming shorts back on.

Both of you jump out of the pool and head over the path to go back to the hotel building. The moment you turn your head to see the pool... you see there's no one left. Not surprising, obviously. Apparently they all left at the moment your boyfriend started fucking you extremely fast. "Honey... Oh my God...", you tell him, shocked. "Yeah, I know... But it was worth it, wasn't it?", he tells you, laughing. "Well, it surely was... I hope they didn't call the cops or something...", you say, worried. "Don't worry, darling~ we just had a wonderful time, probably the best sex we ever had~ relax and enjoy the moment", Hongjoong tries to relax you. "You're right... Fuck, I still feel your cum inside of me", you tell him, laughing. Hongjoong relaxed you, and all that's on your head now is the happiness from the sex you just had. "You have too keep it inside during tonight's trip to the town's center, you know~?", he says, quietly laughing. "...I promise!", you laugh.

Both of you walk to your hotel room. On the main lobby, you can see some people staring at you both with disgusted faces. They surely were on the pool when you two fucked. "Don't care about them... haters gonna hate, you know?", Hongjoong said, quietly laughing. "I guess you're right", you tell him, smiling. You arrive to your roomm dry yourselves with a towel and change your clothes.

"I still can't believe what happened... I'll never forget about this, it was incredible~", you tell Hongjoong. "I know~ It was awesome, fuck, definitely worth it~", he replies. You then noticed an envelope being slided across your room's door. "Uhm, we got a letter", you say. "Oh... check it... fuck", Hongjoong says, already guessing what could it be. You open the envelope, and, indeed, there's a letter inside.

"=Paradise Resort=

==NOTICE==

=Fine for Indecent Exposure=

Hello. We send you this letter because of the recent event that took place on the hotel's pool, wjere both of you engaged on immoral sexual acts right in front of our dear guests. We attach a link to the camera's recording of the situation as proof.

We would like to reach out for you in order to settle this case, ordering you to pay the amount of 150$ to the hotel, with a plus of 50$ more on the basis of moral damage to our guests. Otherwise, we'll call the cops and sue you. Thanks for your understanding."

"Uhm...", you say, worried about the amount of money you both have to pay because of what you did. "W-Well, as we said before, it was worth it!", Hongjoong said, optimistic. "Well, you're right on that...", you tell him. "Plus, you say the CCTV recorded it? We now get to see it on VIDEO?! We have porn of ourselves?! This is the best day of my life!", he continues. You look at him, trying to hold back your laughter. "HONEY!".

#kpop smut #ateez smut #male reader smut #hongjoong smut #hongjoong #ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez hongjoong smut #hongjoong x male reader #male reader kpop #male reader #mxm kpop smut #kpop #smut #bottom male reader #top hongjoong

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telltale-heart173 · 3 months

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I want you to know I have SO MUCH lore for this oc Ive been cooking up so i'm gonna paste what I was telling my friend on the discord here and if some poor soul reads it all they bear the curse of knowledge and binding

I wanted to make them interesting not just lore wise but gameplay wise so it would make sense and work if they were actually ingame [applause

bold claim to assume my little guy is an employee and not a punishment to people who sit on the terminal the entire fucking game because my little guy is actually a little virus that will fucking kill you if youre on the monitor for TOO FUCKING LONG (/j i'm the person who stays behind a lot) meaning as the one who stays behind its an extra threat thats not just "oh watch for dogs past 6pm and the occasional mask" and it makes it more challenging also they dont kill you instantly the first sign would be like a light breaking in the ship and youd have to fix it meaning it takes your attention away from your crewmates meaning you need to be sparse with your usage of the terminal and the longer you sit on it the more the ship breaks and you need to fix things and if you reach 3 "ship problems" (aka letting it roll over and not fixing it) it's them drawing power from the ship to become physical and once they have enough power they reach out and fucking KILL your ass and theyd function just like a masked in the way they'd linger in the ship and hide until the crew gets back wondering why their guy wasnt responding to them and HOLY SHIT ITS THE COMPUTER GUY!! GOD DAMNIT JERRY WE TOLD YOU TO FIX THOSE DAMN SHIP PROBLEMS AND LIMIT YOUR TERMINAL USAGE THIS IS ALL YOUR FAUL [dies

which means that overusing the terminal not only puts yourself at risk it also puts your teammates at risk

and theres many different problems that can ERUPT

heres like a short list of the randomly selected (only one is picked) tier thingies and what they do!!!!

Tier one - You've been looking at the monitor for 10 minutes. 3 seconds to fix and very minor, but don't let it sit for too long. You can still take off with just a tier one malfunction. This tier will always be announced via audio cue, but it isn't very loud, meaning you need to keep in tune with your surroundings. Charging station shutting off will not be noticed if you're glued to the screen.

-Lights shutting off

-Monitor shutting off

-Charging Station shutting off

Tier two - You've been looking at the monitor for 15 minutes, and you have ignored the Tier one malfunction. 5 seconds to fix. You can still take off at this point. This tier will be announced the same way you're told things in game, that little red box in the bottom right "ERROR: [randomly selected tier two thing] MALFUNCTION." This is the FINAL WARNING you get as the person who stays behind.

-Speaker box malfunction (This counts as noise, the eyeless dogs WILL hear it)

-Door controls will malfunction (That'll really suck if you're being chased by something and you can't close the door)

-Terminal Error (You won't be able to purchase anything, won't be able to transmit messages, won't be able to open doors and shut down turrets) ((keep in mind this only affects the terminal, the monitor isn't affected))

Tier three - You have been looking at the monitor for 30 minutes, and have ignored the Tier one and Two malfunctions. 10 seconds to fix. You will not be able to take off until this is fixed. If you are the one that stayed behind, you will die at this point. Crewmates coming back from scavenging will need to deal with the threat and fix at LEAST the tier three problem before they can take off. You can tell what you need to fix here if you hover over the take off lever, instead of "start ship" it will say "[tier three thing] malfunction".

-Engine Failure (Engine can be found under the ship, you will need to crouch to reach it.)

-Power Failure (Monitor, Terminal, and general power will be completely off. You will need to climb the ladder and go on top of the ship to mess with the funny little satellitte dish)

now you may be wondering HOW THE FUCK WOULD SOMEONE COMING BACK FROM SCAVENGING DEAL WITH MY LITTLE GUY BECAUSE THEY'LL BE IN THE SHIP!! so glad you asked theres actually different ways to deal with them that get more effecient the more progress you have in the game

you can fix the problems the ship is having, which'll cause them to dissapear without a power source to draw from (this is one of the harder ones because theyll still be roaming amuck in the ship BUT its one of the beginner friendly ones, can be done without needing to buy anything from the store)

hitting them with the shovel will stun them for a few seconds, you can use that time to fix the ship problems, so either be strategic with your shovel hits or have a teamate just fucking stunlock them while you fix shit.

And then, finally a use to the zap gun if you're playing solo mode, the zap gun will get rid of them INSTANTLY, BUT at the expense of also overloading your ships systems which'll break 2 more things, but they can only be tier two's or one's. you will never have more than one tier three critical failures, aka no two 10 second fixes, so its a bit easier

then finally, you could buy something from the shop in the ship upgrades category

probably like 600. be called like "Reliable Software" or something which means you will never get a tier three failure, BUT you can still die if you get three malfunctions, it'll just replace what would have been tier three with a tier two, less time fixing, and you can start the ship without fixing it!!! still punishes the person who stays behind, really its just for the people who come back to the ship tier three is the only tier that will prevent you from taking off

this is an AMAZING mechanic that really makes staying behind less boring and less "okay get the scrap.......ok opening the door..........watch out red dot....."

because currently the only real threats you have staying behind are the eyeless dogs which only spawn after 6pm (unless its eclipsed) or the masked which have such a low fucking chance of spawning

which means a solid 50% of the time youre just sitting there staring at a monitor

btw when you fix a tier one malfunction the timer resets and the next one will be tier one again

so as long as you get in a good system of fixing them when they happen, its very easy to avoid

the times to fix the malfunctions get longer as the tiers go up as a way to punish the player like "hey remember how you ignored the lights shutting off guess what fucker now you need to fix that AND this other thing thats 8 seconds at LEAST that you cant help your teammates

also in game you can move the lightswitch so one of the problems you can just move to the front of the monitor

so itll take even less time

it only gets annoying if you ignore it and go "bahh i can fix it in a second...."

i really do love this idea, it doesnt feel too out of place of vanilla

and i think it would be so fun to have to work with because as someone who stays behind a LOT

i get bored

fuckin round on experimentation with no mask spawns and dogs only spawn at 6pm so until then youre just kinda sitting there staring at the screen

and even if tier three happens and your monitor guy dies hope is still not lost!!!!!!!!

perchance you come back to the ship and see the smoke coming from either the engine or the satellite dish

youre like god damnit juan you fucking idiot warned you about those malfunctions

its an early warning so you can be like "ok its gonna be in there. need a game plan."

it wont come out of the ship unless it chases you out

so you COULD fix the tier three first

before even going in

then you can deal with the THING and just take off

then fix the minor ones in orbit

and depending on what you have, dealing with the CREATURE is super easy

also if you have literally ass nothing on you, you can lure it out by getting its attention then just fucking sprinting out of the ship so it follows

it kills you in three hits, so its not just an instant kill

meaning you have some loosey goosey leeway to get creative with how you either fix the problems or take off

really theres a lot of ways to fix it, the best thing is the more stuff you have the more effeciently you can handle it

and even withOUT stuff you can still deal with it, its just harder and has more risk, just like everything else!!!

ok look I know the ingame days are like 11 minutes

okay so since i dont plan on implimenting this ingame as a mod at ALL i can say "ermmm well actshually in my oc lore universe a day is an actual fucking day so thats 24 hours 🤓 " so the tier timing still WORKS

i guess if i were to impliment this in game tier one would be every 5 minutes, you have 60 seconds to fix this before tier two happens (6 minutes), and heaven forbid you dont fix THAT in the next two minutes (8 minutes) or youre FUCKED

this leaves 3 minutes to the surviving crew to DEAL WITH the PROBLEM if tier three happens

but whatever

IF YOU'VE UNIRONICALLY MADE IT THIS FAR I LOVE YOU HERES SOME FUN LITTLE DESIGN QUIRKS ABOUT THIS GUY

fun quirks about this design!

-Semi transluscent, has a tv screen effect

-Eye is actually just an enemy dot (themself), if a player approaches them it will show up on their face (hence the 'now monitoring' their face IS the monitor)

-'oxegyn tank' straps show current time and profit quota (they dont have an oxygen tank its what they use as a power storage, if they took it off they'd poof lol)

-Constantly emitting smoke/steam from somewhere, a few wires poking out of places

-also their bestiary entry would just be "entity" if you couldnt tell

i could get into harvard with a paragraph like this

#you dont have to read the lore its like a mile long #but id like it /j #lethal company #lethal company oc #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc art #oc #ocs

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puella-1n-somn10 · 4 months

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⚔️Puella Magi Madoka Magica x Pokemon Sword/Shield: Hop and his Witch Form⚔️

Word count w/o intro: 11,703

Look, I know that the Traveler from Genshin won that poll, but...if I may be honest, I am not ready for what concept I had for them to completely topple apart all thanks to a single shred of lore being aimed at my head at mach speed. Trust me, fellas, I saw the roller coaster that is the Fontaine chapter; if shit is that crazy while we are halfway through the main story, then I dread the revelations that will befall us all when SNEZHNAYA rolls around-!

With all that being said...welcome back, ladies, gents, and those who have casted the dreaded concept of gender out of their lives! For those who are unaware, we are here today to witness what would happen if I were to take the worldbuilding of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and apply them to other media. Today's unfortunate guest for today is none other than the goat himself, Hop!

...Not funny? Ah, alright-

Yes, I am aware that Hop's reputation amongst the fanbase is...controversial at best. Generally speaking, I've noticed that the negative image of this character was formed by the fans prematurely judging him based on his initial lines of dialogue, passionate (which is often mischaracterized as cheerful) attitude, and, I shit you all not, animations (which is more of a fault caused by tight release schedules and the developers being rushed than that of the character himself). From these alone, he tends to be placed on tiers lower than the fucking Gen 6 rivals (no hate towards them, promise, I just wish they were fleshed out more)- which proves to me that not only are those types of Pokemon fans purely visual beings, but that media literacy is dead, rotting, and its tombstone has been Hyper Beamed to Hell and back-

BUT we're not here to rant now, aren't we? My...personal, burning distaste towards those who call him a Hau clone aside, we are here to dissect his character- in more literal ways than one! If I may be honest, this analysis post thinly disguised as a silly, crossover ficlet was created as a thought and writing exercise for myself, and it was quite fun, if I must admit! So I hope from the bottom of my heart that you guys find as much joy in Hop's pain and suffering as I did while writing it!

Just a few quick warnings, this post will contain mentions of child neglect and favoritism, implications of social ostracization and public shaming, and, I cannot stress this enough, mentions of self destruction/S-H/su-c-de. If any of these themes are too triggering, especially that last one, please, please click away! I am being serious here- take the utmost care, and be safe!

Of course, spoilers for Madoka Magica, Magia Record (Anime ver.), and Pokemon SWSH are right up ahead! If I may be honest, I haven't touched upon the DLCs yet, so spoilers regarding them will be minimal at most. There will also be shades of PostwickShipping (Hop <3 Gloria) present, so if that isn't your cup of tea, I sincerely apologize.

It would also be fitting to play some Decretum on the side, too, especially when we get to the despair bit- God damn, he and Sayaka need to be buddies.

-The Wish, Possible Powers, and Soul Gem-

"Before we ever started out on this journey… I remember watching Lee on the telly. He was like a bright star, so strong I could hardly bear to look right at him. But now, I can tell just how strong he really is… And what he's got that I haven't…"

Now, I could go the easy way and say that he'd wish to be as great as Leon- to become as strong as the champion and equally undefeatable, but, honestly, not only does this feel cheap, it feels so...unlike Hop as a character. He doesn't just want to defeat Leon- he wants to prove his worth and make his mark as a trainer. Hop, like the rest of Galar, idolizes his brother- so much so that he copied his strategies and every move; a mistake that had gotten him to lose the fight in the Circhester stadium even after facing off against so many trials and tribulations-

After all, as Bede said it in his own...brutish way, if people looked down on Hop, they will do the same to Leon - the man who Hop looks up to as not just an older sibling, but as a symbol- as an unshakable LEGEND, and not just as a human being -. So if the perception of the man who Hop saw as a hero was to shake all thanks to him...it'd be quite devastating, to say the least. It was this possibility that hit him the most- where his worth and identity came into question.

Hop may dislike losing - a sentiment that grows stronger every time you defeat him -, but what he fears even more is disappointing others; lowering his and his brother's worth in their eyes. He wanted to be number #1 because it was expected of him to do so, by himself, by the public, and, when you think about it, even by his family - whether consciously or not -...

After all, just look at his home- do you see any pictures of Hop around? Left and right you find memorabilia and trophies belonging to Leon, but how much mementos of Hop can you find? Whether or not he was aware of it, Hop craved not just the glory of his brother, but also the validation and positive attention.

This was his path in life- no, this was his destiny, as he'd put it; to become as strong as his hero and receive that blazing torch after living in his shadow for so long. To live up to his splendor, to inspire others to get up and take a stance, and to make something out of himself. His brother was a hero- so it makes sense to imitate someone as amazing and strong as him.

So, after analyzing his character for a bit, his wish could go along the lines of wanting to be by his brother's side, or, more appropriately, to make an impact on the world and the lives of others like he did. After all, we are assuming that he made the contract a bit before his constant losses began to fuck with him; he had confidence in his abilities at least during the beginning, and was certain that he was going to emerge from the final battle victorious.

The powers resulting from this wish could go in a lot of different ways; after all, wishing to make an impact is quite abstract. It isn't like he wished for someone else to get healed or to win on a lottery; so trying to make powers based on that would be tricky. My best guess is that his powers are associated with memories and legacies, which, once more, also fits in really well with how he documented and tried to mimic Leon's strategies and actions.

Now, before we focus on his soul gem and witness it crumble along with his self-esteem, we're going to take a good look at his attire upon transformation into his Magical Boy form- an aspect that, regrettably, I've forgotten to cover back while I was analyzing Medic. Now, this part may be a little unclear to some upon first reviewing the designs present in PMMM, but a pattern is there- and one of the most common reasons behind a magi's design is the intent behind their wish and their desires before or after taking on the contract. In order to prove my point, I'm gonna list some examples:

Sayaka Miki is a knight in shining armor; she wanted to uphold the ideal of a magical girl and fight for what's right

Homura Akemi's outfit is rather...funerary, for lack of a better term; she made her wish as result of her losing Madoka, and had more or less doomed herself to watching the demise of her beloved over and over again

Nagisa's outfit looks like an everyday, ordinary outfit for someone her age; she craved a normal life where she was able to be just like the other kids around her- not having to worry about living in a dump and caring for an unstable parent

Iroha's design invokes the idea of a ranger or even a mercenary; she is dedicated to finding her sister at what cost, even if most of the evidence (or lack there-of) pointed towards Ui not existing in the first place

Being in the spotlight of someone else's life, looking up to his brother, and making said champion an example on how he should lead his life...I think a stereotypical, legendary hero might do it; the main protagonist of tales like Beowulf or even your everyday JRPGs. Hop often made references to him 'weaving his own legend', so this would make perfect sense!

Speaking of-

Regarding his soul gem's shape, simple- upon transformation, it would look just like a small flame placed on his solar plexus like a brooch or button. Comparisons to Leon's charizard aside, it is a simple and straightforward symbol representing his personality; passionate, competitive, hot-headed, and bright- but all flames are prone to dying out one way or another. Hop's association with fire is also presented to us in-canon in his second league card, with him pulling off Leon's signature pose as flames wildly danced around him.

This also brings the idea of him burning himself away to fit into his ideal of a champion to mind, or literally burning himself out. A raging fire ready to render all that is in its path into ash- including himself.

The emblem on the middle of its egg form is a little harder for me to interpret fully. I could go with the easy way and say that it's probably the same as its form upon his Puer Magi transformation, but we all know that my perfectionist ass would not just simply settle with that. The options on our hands are as follows;

The easy option, the Hop flower (symbolizing how becoming a professor is his true calling in life)

A coat of arms (royalty themes- also, a pun on Eternatus' eternamax form, coat of ARMS, heheh)

A spiral (symbol of futility, continuation, cycles, and a downward spiral)

A coat of arms WITH a spiral in the middle (look at the above two points)

A flag (him wishing to create his own legend, and how he was initially a foot ahead of us during the start of our journey together)

A windmill (...we'll get to that, but let's assume it's because of Postwick for now- I personally prefer this one)

A shield with two crossed swords (again, royalty and hero themes)

As for its color, here is where things get interesting; I already spoke about how most soul gems correspond with the eye color of their respective magi, since "eyes are the windows to a person's soul", so a brilliant gold would fit both with this unwritten rule and thematically. However, then I got thinking- Red is also an applicable color, right? It fits his personality, and would clash really well with the cool purples and blues...until I realized that not only is red already going to be present as a sort of secondary (if not primary) color to go along with the existing cool palette in mind, but the added gold highlights would embolden it and make sure this design really pops.

Besides, making red a central color for his magi outfit also adds in to the idea of him still mimicking Leon, whose associated colors are purple, gold, and, of course, the reds of his cape! We aren't completely sure as to how much control a magi has over the outfit they'll don upon transformation, but we do know that Madoka actually designed her own magical clothing, so some input from the magi themselves, whether consciously or not, does contribute to the matter. This would also make a cute little homage to his champion outfit in Pokemon Masters EX!

One last point before we get to the part you've all been waiting for, we have to look at his weapon; yes, his powers are probably associated with memories or even perception, but, according to my research, one's weapon doesn't necessarily have to be tied to the wish. As a matter of fact, aside from Mami's ribbons (symbolizing her being tied to the life of a magical girl and her capturing others in this web of malice whether consciously or not- a literal lifeline), most of the cast's weapons are unrelated to the wishes made, and, like the aforementioned outfits, are more tied to the magi's intents or even personalities;

Nagisa's is a trumpet that blows out bubbles. She wanted her mother to hear her, but she's only ever able to let out little squeaks; the dichotomy between her desire to be acknowledged and wanting to be a decent daughter to a horrible person like her mother.

Homura's is a shield; she wishes to protect Madoka, but a shield alone cannot deflect everything threatening her sweet rose. There's also the symbolism of her hiding behind a shield, both as Moemura (shy and reserved) and Cool Homu (covering her emotions with an aloof exterior); in both cases, she's hiding herself away from the world.

Sayaka's is a cutlass sword. Go figure.

I am not completely sure on Madoka's; she dislikes brutal fighting, so it would make sense for her to use a long-range weapon that she's able to use to snipe enemies from a safe-enough distance. I also heard that a bow and arrow have some sort of significance in Christian lore, but, to be frank, I am not completely sure about this; this section requires further study.

Again, I gotta thank @bluethepearldiver for saving my butt here and on the upcoming natures section! According to them, since I had already removed swords and shields from the equation in order to make space for both Gloria and Victor, a polearm type of weapon would fit him the most! In their own, brilliant words, it is "representing how unattainable his goal ultimately is", and, in my opinion, it is a mid-range weapon- when utilized correctly, Hop would be able to conquer battles that would require either long or short ranged attacks to clear! Also, personally, it brings the image of a sheep herder to mind.

As for the specific type of polearm, that one would require a lot more creativity, but, since Hop comes from Postwick, a weapon that originates from Europe would be fitting. After thinking about it, I believe his weapon is probably a Halberd, due to how it can pierce, chop, or slash depending on the situation. It would also symbolize poor, bright-eyed Hop constantly changing his strategies and teams in order to catch up to us- to finally match us in strength. Every time we met him, he would have different strategies, a different team, a different outlook- he tried every viable, effective strategy, tearing apart the aspects of himself that were deemed roadblocks, pushing himself until he was burning himself way too brightly for his own good, yet...

-Descent Into Despair-

He lost. He had lost yet again, hasn't he?

His grip on the pokeball was shaky. The eyes of the crowd fixated on him as the last of his pokemon fell to the ground. Frozen air filled his lungs; his eyes felt like they were turned to stone, as did the veins in his arms.

The whispers grew louder; the crowd's collective judgement was being passed from one attendant to another. His teeth were about to shatter from the pressure around him alone. Not even Melony's concerns were registered on his mind; all the words around him amalgamated into a brute cacophony that choked all the will and rationality out of him.

His heart was on fire. His lips were dried as he stared at the nothingness before him. It was so hard to continue standing up- fucking impossible to focus on anything but this blunder forged by his own hands- which he now sees as nothing but useless vestiges. His heart was a war drum in the midst of conflict; beating as though the drummer's life was on the line if they were to dare and drop the pace. How he wanted to gouge his own eyes out and rip those ears out...

"Pitiful."

What on Earth was he missing?

He tried to change his strategies, he really did. The sad look on his pokemon’s eyes broke him every time, but they just couldn’t be of good help…he had to be a better trainer.

That’s what good trainers do, right? They make sure their teams were optimal. After all, strategy came first; that was what he learned from all these battles that long moved his heart.

"Foolish."

Another loss.

He looked down at his final, fallen comrade, not taking his shaking hands into account. Was it the cold? The stress? The sheer disbelief of what was before him?

Or was it frustration? A poison seeping between his clenched teeth- ready to curse out himself and direct his anger to the world? Readying him to pound against the earth beneath him until his knuckles were mangled and bloody?

No...no, this can't be it. He had to push himself further- he had to be better. Not a single Pokemon of his would listen to someone as fragile as he was; he had to make an example out of himself if he had to be a strong leader- a hero to them...

"Hypocrite."

Wooloo...

You promised, didn't you?

He stifled his own sobs. Oh, how could you have done this to them, Hop? They were the closest thing you had to a childhood friend! They were right by your side to the very end! All you had to do was to keep their head up, tell them it wasn't their fault, and that you would still enter the league together if you both focused! All you had to do was stay strong-

But you couldn't. You just had to up and leave them; cast them to the dirt where you dragged his good name through.

In the end, he couldn't even uphold that.

"Pathetic."

Over and over...over and over, he had repeated this fruitless, pitiful endeavor- all to no avail.

Finding himself floating adrift, Hop feels as though his very existence was slowly slipping from his fingers; becoming one with the very void surrounding him. He couldn't even feel his limbs, much less his face.

No matter how much he had stretched himself so thin, it just wouldn't work. The evidence was there before him, for all of Galar to see- his true rival and his brother on that field together, the latter holding the other's hand and raising it up in the air...that no matter what he did, all the sacrifices he had made, it was all up there in the air like smoke. His dreams, hopes, and ambitions- gone with what shine in his eyes that were left.

Oh, little sheep...do you not realize that you have tangled yourself within this spider web- the very definition of insanity?

"Worthless."

He's tired.

With each loss, it got a lot harder for him to get up and walk away.

His legs were shaking, and not just due to the harsh winds around him. The winds were picking up their pace, but the eyes, the eyes, the eyes-

Why must you insist on further embarrassing yourself, young man? Can't you tell when it's the time for you to just drop everything and move on with something better for everyone else's sake?

You're just embarrassing yourself at this point- nothing more than a clown attracting disrespect and shame like flies to a rotting carcass much like yourself.

...

Yeah...

What if...it was him?

He couldn't take the watchful gazes of the crowded streets anymore. Oh, how he wanted to hide away in the corners of the world- render his own face into nothing but a crimson pulp just so their judgemental glares, mocking smiles, and whispers would finally leave him alone and hollow.

His heart was racing- his veins were on fire, and his arms were about to burst.

It was too much... Upon stumbling upon a silent, empty, dirty alleyway, he slumped onto his knees as he shook from both the cold and pressure of all the bottled up frustrations in him. At long last, the waterworks finally broke out. Only the night sky and howling winds were his current company; doing little to distract him from his pained heartbeats and dried up throat.

He couldn't hold on to his victories, no matter how feeble or small. It didn't matter what he did or how much he tried, all that he's tried holding on to will just slip away from his fingers, like the breaths of fresh, cold air escaping him; inhaling just enough as to not allow him to pass out on the spot, but it was only that much.

The sound of metal clanging on the ground escaped his ears. It was only when he was finally slumped on the ground that he had noticed the fading luminescence just before his reach. Even as his body shook from the mental strain and the cold, he still recognized the jewel that was on the dirtied ground. Hands shaking, he slowly picked up the once brilliant object...

Through jittering teeth, he just couldn't help but sob whilst instinctively smiling; the sound coming out like a sort of soft giggle...

Hahahah...oh, don't tell him- don't tell him he couldn't...

What a mockery- look at him, everyone! Not only had he failed the challenges before him, but, oh, this poor damn pest- he couldn't even look after his own damn soul gem! The very thing he had traded away what was left of his identity outside of the league for- and even then, with his wish, it only made sure that his mistakes would return to him in even stronger, more merciless manners. Was it due to him being unable to focus on both perfecting his strategies and his duties as a puer magi?

For all Hop cared at that moment, it was just another sign of his pathetic, useless existence. Worthlessness- no, he was way beneath that; he had failed. He had failed, he had failed, he had failed, he lost, he had motherfucking lost.

Answer yourself this, Hop- Do tell how you expected to come so far like this! How you have managed to shamble and shuffle through the league challenge like the worm you are, with nothing but another's achievements to your name- and you couldn't even take good care of that!

"...Useless..."

Hop shakily breathed out.

"Hah...if only I wasn't born so useless..."

His grip on both sides of his head grew tighter. As he gritted his teeth and his eyes twitched, one last thought flashed in his mind-

"There's...nowhere left for me..."

"Everyone else is moving on without someone...some pest like I am..."

With all the air that was left in his lungs, Hop roared into the night and unleashed all the grief in his heart. His anguished wail was interrupted by a sudden crash, and all that was left were the howling, autumnal winds...

Word of the contestants' escalating behaviors grew amongst the people of Galar.

At first, it manifested as deepened anxieties; competitors being so overwhelmed by the upcoming events that it caused them to hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably in between sobs and unintelligible screams, or, at worst, completely melt down; faces reddened by tears as they were unable to remove themselves from the ground due to the paralyzing nervousness and hysteria. Initially, these incidents were brushed off as being related to the individuals' worries over the nature of the Gym Challenge, on top of the resulting trauma caused by the Darkest Day; even after the region was granted another chance at seeing the bright, blue skies, tensions were still at an all-time high, so, at the time, this appeared to have been the most rational conclusion.

It was when they've descended into thrashing bitterness and violence, however, that concern was finally demanded and raised- and, along with them, a whole basket of questions that craved all the answers in the world; anything to make sense of what was unraveling. Many a stadium had to close down - some even in the midst of these breakouts - for investigation purposes in order to get to the bottom of this anomaly.

Before long, rumors began to spread amongst the Galarian public- both on the streets and on social media; ranging from a contamination of sorts, to possible side effects of the Darkest Day that the current chairman was uninformed of. In the end, one by one, the majority of the gym leaders had to step forward admit that they knew as much as the rest did regarding the matter, but that did little to help stop the creation and spread of conspiracy theories, and they soon devolved into a competition of its own; on whose hypothesis is the most click-worthy and attention-grabbing.

Nothing was stacking up; everything had been tested - the water, the air, the soil, and especially the power spots -, the stadiums were inspected from top to bottom, and even the gym leaders were interviewed; it all came back negative.

The chairman himself had gone dark.

In the midst of the mass hysteria, right everyone's noses, the range of whatever was influencing these stadiums, the...being that has sending all these people into these frenzies...was growing.

Violent breakouts and missing persons reports spiked without ever showing a sign of slowing down. Nay, not even the gym leaders were spared- with Bea finally coming to her senses while Allister tried to subdue her and not hurt the rest around her, and Milo's herd of Wooloo going completely berserk and in complete panic not unlike the contestants and their own pokemon.

It was at its assumed worst when it had finally reached Postwick Town. Most of Galar had succumbed to what was engulfing it with its malice and twisted hopes, and, according to theorists, they doubted it would stop there. The people residing in the Isle of Armor and Crown Tundra were given the order to lock down and cease all functions until further information's released, in the vain hopes of preventing the spread of its influence.

And then-

Silence.

Everything around them was completely dim, with nothing but small flickers of flame and their own eyes' adaptation to help traverse them through what became of the region; a dim, cold land with ashy skies overhead, overrun with scared wildlife and...monsters- beasts you have never seen the likes of before. Perhaps staying still while you're able to recognize Galar while you could would be the wisest choice; stray far enough, and the world around you will fade, shift, and turn, until you find yourself not outdoors anymore, but in a dingy, suffocating hallway filled with cracks and little to no light-

and, soon enough, you will realize that you are not alone.

To the most fortunate (or unlucky, depending on the perspective), the sight of the missing people was there for them to see; lined up for their next battles and subsequent executions. Days of being trapped, fought, beaten up, and isolated in pain did a number on their psyches, and that is without mentioning the existing effects that have already engulfed Galar; plunging them into insanity.

By the braver and most informed few, most of the missing people have currently been accounted for- most, had it not been for the unfortunate casualties resulting from...all that has been unfolding around them, whether they were still yet to be found, were done in by beasts swarming through these twisting tunnels, condemned by whatever's waiting for them at the center of this cursed maze, or...just couldn't take it anymore, is still up in the air. Those whose statuses have not yet been confirmed included the younger brother of the former champion himself- who, quite possibly, may have been one of the earliest victims, if the timeline was to serve them right-

Oh, but if only they knew better- that the bright-eyed, enthusiastic Hop was right back to where it all started; watching the competition from atop the stage, waiting for the next match to begin. The empty husk that was once "Hop" was silent; slumped to the back to his seat with his dull, milky eyes staring into the distance, as the crowds roared once the hero and his new challenger entered the fray.

Yes...yes! Cheer for him! ONLY HIM!

Shaking from the cold and the tension of her surroundings, Gloria's attention darted from the armored monstrosity to her unconscious rival amongst the masses. His colors all but completely desaturated- it was nothing short of a miracle seeing his body still somewhat intact, though his sunken face and sloughing skin - some even falling as soon as she grabbed on to him; revealing pale bone -...without thinking, the armored girl screamed.

Contrasting Gloria's priority shifting from grabbing on to Hop's corpse and make a break for it to taking down that thing who must have caused it, Leon was...silent. His heart sank as he fell on his knees- his eyes shook as he fixated on the monster before them. His blood ran ice cold; it was so hard to breathe without sobbing...

Gloria and the gym leaders who have finally located the arena - those who have and haven't contracted - deemed that being a monster- Hop's God damned murderer, but Leon knew better.

The gold hues that were pooling from what's assumed to be the monster's eyes were unmistakable.

His own little brother was right before him, waiting to fight him in the middle of this arena-

Just like how he had promised- like how he had always wished for...

-The Witch's Nature-

Ah, the most unpredictable section of this post- the one where yours truly is expected to agonize and sob over all the options before me. Character complexities are complex! Multiple reasons behind despair! Oh, how is your truly ever going to choose the perfect nature for a warlock that would not only encompass the magi's goals and history with only a few words, but one that would also feel fitting for a spooky being like a witch?!

Welp- once more, I have thank Blue for their brilliant input once more! They've decided that his nature would be Admiration, and, honestly, it's genius! It not only fits his overall character, goals, and what caused his sanity to go downhill with the brakes cut off, but it has the right amount of dissonance that the witches of PMMM are known for! Again, this has been your reminder to support them- c'mon, chop chop, that's an order.

Of course, nothing wrong with mentioning all the other, though scrapped, natures. Again, you're all free to reinterpret the warlock to your hearts' content, and if you do have any other suggestion that would fit, please let me know! I not only want to understand Hop's character better, but I do wish to improve my character-deciphering and writing skills. Once more, I encourage all sorts of fair criticism heading my way, and, with all that being said, here's the losers' club:

Reflective

Smitten

Idolizing/Idolization

Competitive (decided that this one might fit Nemona better if I ever got into ScaVio and made a witch for her. Later. Inshallah.)

Self-abandonment (look at the above, but with Bede instead)

Self-immolation

Guilty

To yearn/Yearning (again, Nemona)

-The Witch's Appearance-

"It's not enough! I've got to try harder! And harder and harder till no one's laughing!"

Alright, first thing's first, before we dive into ANYTHING, we need to touch upon Hop's self-image and how it transforms through the course of the game. From the beginning, he is just so confident in his abilities and goals; it wasn't just a desire, it's a goal- he will beat Leon! He will become champion! One day, he's going to be on that stage; he WILL fight Leon, and he WILL beat him- just we wait!

And 'wait' we didn't.

For all his talk about creating his own legend, of taking up the mantle, we have done nothing but drag his face through the dirt without failure.

The more we beat that poor fella up, the more...desperate he became, and it gets cranked up to 11 once Bede humiliated him; calling him a waste of space, and that all he is doing is tainting his brother's legacy by trying, so it would be best for all parties involved he should just stop that. If he just stopped trying at all. If he just gave up at once. He still tries to maintain the spirit of friendly competition between the main character and himself, but the constant humiliation has been getting to him, and the talons that are digging in to his mind are sharp.

It is then that we finally realize that the once-confident trainer who initially accompanied us is no more. This hatred towards himself only grew with time, and, even when he had reintegrated Wooloo/Dubwool into his team, his self-worth was still nigh-non existent; he dared not accompany us during even the post-game story, believing that he would just be slowing us all down, and how we would fare and be better without someone like him around.

In Hop's eyes, he was a burden; a waste of space, and, no matter how much he tried to fight it, those words would persistently repeat in his mind. His constant defeats didn't help, either, whether it was by our or any other trainer's hands-

Hell, it can be argued that Hop's earlier confidence and passion were nothing but "fronts"; he had always cheered Leon on and idealized (dare I say even worshiped) him to no end, but, aside from the promise that he would, one day, defeat his brother and become a champion, what other positive things did he say about himself? What other dreams did he hold? He owed so much of his own knowledge about Pokemon battles to Leon, after all. This can be seen in the third episode of Pokemon: Twilight Wings, if we choose to interpret Wooloo's actions as reflective of Hop's- trying to be something it is not, and, ultimately, causing it to stray far from "home".

He wanted to be the hero of his own story. That's all he wished for. Instead, we've shoved him into the sidelines- face first on the dirt, without even realizing our strengths.

History repeats once more- the tale of Leon and Sonia all over again.

The image of a knight, a warrior, a hero is definitely a strong base to start it all off. The ideal knight in shining armor, he who stands up for everything right- the unbeatable champion of the people. Not just a person to look up to, but a symbol- that's all he wanted to become; just like how he saw his brother.

When he realized that his current tactics didn't work, everything had to go out the window. We aren't saying this lightly- everything. His plans, his . He had to change everything about himself- until he realized that the problem weren't his teams or his plans...it was him. It has always been his fault- he was just weak, nothing more than a pathetic worm.

The armor is scraping every fiber of his being. No matter what, he still cannot attain the strength and glory of a champion- so he has to keep doing this; break and melt himself. It isn't right, it hurts, but he deserves that pain- he deserves the agony and so much worse for the sin of his existence.

But it's not enough. It's not enough, and it will never be enough. Flaming hot, red daggers will forever pierce through his flesh and skin; melting and reshaping him not necessarily just to fit his desired goal, but as punishment.

It doesn't matter, though. It doesn't change his sheer, fucking incompetence. He'd bash himself against the wall, turn his knuckles bloody, and have his howls of torment be drowned out by his observers' whispers and harsh judgements, but it doesn't change the fact that he deserved every second of it. He had to keep molding himself, he had to suffer, he had to pay for being such a pest to everyone's lives and for being so weak...

No matter how much he tried, it doesn't change the truth that he is no damn hero; he is here as a prisoner, present to repent for his crimes of his pathetic existence...

Oh, yeah. Futility is not just a present theme, but we are running to the HILLS with it.

Next up, we look at his actions- the "spice" and depth this brings to his warlock's design.

Let's retrace our steps a bit and look at Hop's character before and after the main story; as soon as we boot up the game for the first time, there we see Hop being so excited over his brother finally coming home- he was practically shaking and jumping by the news of it alone! He just couldn't wait to see him again, much less what he must have brought back with him- and, when he laid his eyes on the starters and chose his, he was over the moon and the sun; this was the beginning of his legacy! Ah, even his own mother said that he had to learn some patience.

Compare and contrast to his attitude in postgame- he's a lot more mellowed out, but that can be better described as him finally being burnt out. He had nowhere to go, no goal to attain, and not a single strength to his name. Bede and Marnie are training to become gym leaders, Leon's the new chairman of the Galar league, Sonia is on the way to become the new regional professor, but Hop? There was nothing left for him. There isn't anything he was able to do that others could do even better- all that was left for him was to rot in the fields, forgotten and cast away like the object of shame he was.

"I don't know how much I can really help... If I come along, I might just end up slowing the rest of you down..."

I've already established how the warlock might be imprisoned in a sense; all to symbolize how he must have felt during his downfall and the lengths he went through in order to become someone worthy of becoming champion- of sharing his brother's legacy, but we should also take how he first started off into account. We already have the pain, but where is the tragedy in it all? The downfall of his confidence? The fall of Hop, the once bright-eyed, confident, and proud young man? How could we symbolize the face that we have flicked his passion and convictions away with the push of our buttons?

Passion...glory...destruction...hotheadedness...Lee...Charizard...

"Fire- and lots of it!"

Yeah, this should not come off as a surprise - given how I have already mentioned it dozens of times already -, but, hey, if Ophelia has a lot of flames in her design to symbolize the tragic end of her family and her own hotheadedness, then I can't see why the same cannot be applicable to our uncrowned prince of Galar. Truth be told, I think the fire is burning at him to this day; as I already mentioned, he is in a constant state of melting down and reshaping himself to no end to fit an ideal that is so far away from him, and what better way to do so than by forcing himself to endure these flames to no end- not just to burn away all his mistakes, but to subject himself to what rage and disappointment he believes Leon must be feeling? You cannot ask for a more fitting punishment, no? Quite ironic as well, if you'd ask me.

Plus, as a warlock, he wants the people to cheer for him- only him! What better way is there to grab their attention and love than by becoming the brightest thing on the battlefield?! Yes, it's all worth it in the end, hearing the people of Galar scream just for him alone- oh, he couldn't be happier! That is all he desires! If we thought Oktavia craved attention, think again.

Speaking of lengths he went through to become someone he is not, let's talk about him changing his teams; this is his point of transformation as a character, where the cracks in his confidence begin to grow alongside his desperation. At this stage, Hop was willing to make any sacrifice necessary to meet that goal of his- if he fails, not only were his dreams on the line, but so was Leon's reputation. The only constant between these teams is the starter Leon gave him- with teary eyes and a regretful heart, he had damned the experiences and memories he shared with the 'mons he caught along the way, for all that mattered at that moment, all that was worth keeping, was the one thing that held any sort of direct connection to his future glory; the very gift his brother gave him. It should be worth it though, right? He's only becoming better, becoming stronger, becoming the best trainer he could be-

Isn't that right, Wooloo?

Oh, man, wooloo. What kind of Hop-centric design would this be if I didn't incorporate this cute little sheep in some form or another? If not the sheer GUILT he must be feeling? Since I already covered how the warlock would be forever unsatisfied with his form, let us talk about the promise he made with Wooloo, and how him breaking it must be haunting him. Just up and abandoning them, his lifelong partner pokemon must hate him for such a cowardly decision- it should hate him; he had backed out of such an important vow between them, and implied that it was their fault that he was unable to reach his goals. Ultimately, it is his guilt and self-hatred that got him here; whenever he wasn't melting down and reforging himself, he was always fighting for the audience's attention- a whole herd of sheep who constantly demand a spectacular show. It felt right for his first partner pokemon to judge him, after all- he must be condemned for his disloyalty...

Building upon the last point- since Wooloo, his very first pokemon, was also removed from the team, this would translate beautifully into him removing parts of himself to fit that perfect mold, and what better way than to add in sheep elements to his design? The warlock having hooves as dark as obsidian for feet? Broken horns that might be mistaken for parts of his armor? Heck, even the gnarly skeletal system resulting from us combining that of a human's and a sheep's? While I am not too sure about what exactly is going on underneath his helmet, I will just assume that at least its base form resembles a mutilated black sheep's face, because of, well, Hop seeing himself as the black sheep of the family. Combined with his halberd, which I am certain would carry on from his last form to this one, this would bring the idea of a twisted sheep herder of sorts, on top of the existing themes of sacrifice that are already associated with cattle in multiple religions.

Of course, we can't go wrong with referencing him copying Leon's tactics in battle and said worship! This, too, will be a source of pain to his warlock; not only does his armor resemble draconic scales (again, Charizard), but the base of his helmet would bear the shape of Leon's beard. This also ties in to the above point of him trying to reshape his form to that of the champion's in order to achieve prestige and victory by following in his hero's footsteps, but its ultimate purpose in the end is the further erasure his form and himself; all that made Hop 'Hop'. He is constantly slicing away at his being just to fit that mold....

Yes, he also gets to keep the cape; much like his halberd, I can't see why this element of his magical boy form would not get carried over here, as it also assists with establishing the theme and desire to be like a big shot like his brother. Its red coloring would also be of nice contrast to the ashen grey or deep darkness of his armor, although it is tattered and not as magnificent as it used to be in his eyes. The armor already boosts the idea of a hero, but, combined with all of the elements from above and Hop himself going down the slippery slope, this monster right here invokes the idea of a fallen hero; bright-eyed protagonists who have become jaded over the course of their journeys or have decided to outright give up on their ideals and goals- some even opting to join the opposing side of the narrative outright.

I should also mention his inability to look at Leon in the face and how he didn't want negative attention to be drawn towards him in spite of Hop's desire to face off against his brother- some eye trauma, maybe? Would the mementos of Leon in his barrier bring him pain? Or...would the warlock be unable to see past the "glory" of the champion and his dreams? How his mistakes are blinding him? Maybe what he saw was so bright, so brilliant, that it blinded him to everything else; turning his eyes into burning pools of blood resembling molten steel?

Now, we calculate his karmic potential, his emotional volatility, and how they contribute to his warlock's strength.

While I was first working on this post, I thought that maybe he would have cracked after he had lost against the gym leader of Circhester Stadium - Melony -; after all, he must have been devastated, with all these eyes watching him as his final pokemon fell, but then I remembered two key details-

His self-esteem did not get any better by the end of the game's main storyline. In fact, it was at its lowest during postgame- and he even brought a comically large shovel to dig wayyyyy deeper, courtesy of Sordward and Shielbert!

His karmic potential not only stems from him being the champion's little brother, but his role in stopping the second Darkest Day.

So, in a way, that loss would be considered to be more of a catalyst for his despair rather than the straw that broke the camel's back, not unlike Sayaka learning the truth behind the soul gems or Hitomi's confession to Kyosuke. He may have brought Dubwool back to his party, he may have appeared okay-ish after we've defeated him in the semi-finals, he may have helped us save the day, but his internal conflict didn't dissolve just like that- you cannot erase all these years of constant comparisons, long-standing dreams, horrible impostor syndrome, and such an inferiority complex just like that with the snap of one's fingers.

Truth be told, he was supposed to finally give in after said semi-finals, but, out of urgency, he held on just for a little while- for just enough time to assist us with finding Leon and stopping Rose's plans. Now that everything was said and done - now that everything was laid to rest -, the eyes just wouldn't stop staring at him, the whispers didn't cease, and Hop...he was tired- he was oh so tired. Falling on his shaky legs and the harsh thoughts in his heads still not slowing down, Hop had finally closed his eyes and gave out his final farewell...

Also, Sordward and Shielbert will die by my hands for making his self esteem go further down the toilet in postgame, I swear to Allah-

From all that, we can see that not only are legends, prophecies, and destinies HUGE themes for when it comes to the design of his barrier, but that his warlock is gonna be powerful. Now, I don't wanna be redundant by saying that he, too, would be as tough as Walpurgisnacht (we've already done that with Medic, though, after thinking about it, he'd be more comparable to Hyades Daybreak), but saving an entire region is, putting it lightly, a huge feat, and that's without us touching upon his supposed connection with the legendary pokemon, one of Galar's heroes of myth, Zacian. In between being tied to almost a hundred destinies (Madoka) and saving the entirety of France (Tart), putting an end to the apocalypse - The Darkest Day - has got to be up there.

I know this sounds like a sort of repetition on my end, but remember what Homura said back during episode 9; "from here on, for every person (one) has saved, (they) will curse another". So, while Medic got his powers thanks of a combination of his own karma and how he had fused 8 other souls into him, Hop's karma was all his. In short, by this logic, Galar is beyond fucked.

Oh, and, y'know, the whole deal with him being the champion's little brother and Gloria's childhood friend. With all that in mind, bro's warlock is not just stupidly powerful, but outright broken. Not at Ultimate!Kriemhild levels, but that's still not good news in of itself, isn't it?

In the end, whether he had completely given up after he had lost to Melony or during some time between the events of the main story and postgame is up to you and your interpretation of Hop as a character. For the sake of this segment alone, I will just go with the idea that, if he despairs before the climax of the main story, his warlock would be a formidable foe, but not yet a world-ending threat like either Walpurgisnacht or Crépuscule de La Reine.

For comparison's sake (and to paint a clearer picture), I'd say that he could be as powerful as Gisela, if not moreso. From the PSP games, we can see how resilient and tough that witch is - so much so that she is tied to both Mami's and Kyoko's backstories -, so surpassing her strength is still a commendable feat. Much like his depiction in the section above, the warlock would still be capable of cursing many stadiums at once and cause such intense panic in order to take the league challenge down with him by making the contestants to go completely berserk, and, if he so wishes, he could render an entire village into ash.

However, if you guys wouldn't mind, I'll still be running with the idea that, thanks to the player, Bede, Sordward, Shieldbert, his family, and Galar's corrupted celebrity culture, the entire region has yet another apocalyptic event to go through, and only Arceus could save them now- basically what happens during the above despair segment. Good job, everyone! Enjoy listening to Grass Skirt Chase while ya could! /j

Now that we got the basic picture of the warlock down, let's cut to the chase and dive in to his barrier. I've had a lot of fun with this one, so buckle up!

As I already mentioned in my previous Medic post, a witch's labyrinth is stated to be the "mental landscape of the magi before they turned into a witch". From analyzing the barriers of the Holy Quintet and the other existing witches from the original anime, I've already deduced that they must be tied to either core memories, coping mechanisms, or desires-

HOWEVER,

A more simplistic take on all that would be "a place that rubs salt on the magi's/witch's wounds"; makes more sense, no? Candeloro is forever alone in her little tea party, Charlotte is in a silent conversation with another doll- unable to speak about what's on her mind, and, for goodness' sake, Ophelia's barrier is underwater. It is just logical to see that a labyrinth is designed to keep the witch miserable; specifically made to remind them of their own shortcomings, mistakes, broken hopes and dreams, and all that they've lost by the act of contracting with an uncaring trickster like Kyubey.

Unsurprisingly, with this idea in mind, I think the barrier would be a twisted version of a stadium, lit up by raging fire. The audience is present; their eyes ever-staring at you as their yells echo throughout the arena. You just know that your actions and failures will be recorded for future generations to see, mock, and spit at- after all, you are now trapped in a legend that is yet to be completed! Yes, even the style of your surroundings looks like it could fit right in an old storybook or any of the murals present across the region. Not too far away from this labyrinth's center, you are able to find multiple cages housing the victims he had captured; fighters worthy enough for him to test his skills on or put on a spectacle for all the audience to see.

In the middle of the battlefield, in the shadow of a large statue behind him, lies the warlock; broken, battered, burnt, and practically melting, but his duty remains clear as daylight- bound to his punishment and his own selfish desires, it has become his goal to defeat you before the audience. It is his destiny to be bound to this stage, having to pay for the sin of his existence.

The trinkets of Leon - or a silhouette that resembles him - that surrounded him in his own house are also present; after all, they are tied to his motivation, admiration towards Lee, and his wish to become champion. Even until now, the warlock and his familiars take good care of them, though he despises the reflection cast by them.

I should also make a quiiiiiiick note Pokemon Masters EX; you see, upon activating a character's sync move, they are displayed in front of locations present in the canon of Pokemon known as their "mindscapes", and, fellas, upon finding out that said places are significant to each person's story and life one way or another, I've realized that I have stumbled upon a hail Mary for PMMM/Pokemon crossover fanatics out there, myself included. Of course, I wouldn't recommend using these mindscapes alone as a sort of easy way to make barriers, but they do act as nifty, optional blueprints or spices to make those labyrinths look more colorful or representative of these characters.

When it comes to Hop, his mindscape, unsurprisingly, depicts Postwick Town. The location doesn't change when he becomes a Neo Champion, with the only alterations made to the artwork is that it is now nighttime and the presence of small flickers of flames dancing around; burning as brightly as the stars above - one more point towards fire being a persistent theme here -. Perhaps if you've gained enough of an upper hand and luck in battle to grant you some time to look at the ground, you can see that there's specks of white paint that faded away with time; the surface still resembling that of a soccer field's to this day, not unlike the one in his backyard.

To reflect his mental state and emotions of worthlessness and futility prior to him crossing over the point of no return, well, here's where the fun and pain come in-

The halls of the labyrinth are...suffocating; as soon as you enter, you realize that the area is only wide enough for a single person to traverse through. It's so dark, too; only the oil lamps and unmaintained lanterns present provide any form of luminescence, and even then, you have to be careful; one small misstep, and it is you who will be up in flames.

You also get the sinking feeling that you are being watched through the cracks and holes of suffocating halls; a feeling exemplified by the sounds of rain and howling winds just outside. The oil lamps do nothing to alleviate the bone-biting cold around you- the warmth provided is minimal at best. Not too far away, peculiarly enough, you can hear what must sound like...a radio; the details of what is being said is unclear, but the language is actually understandable if you happen to know Arabic. Through static and compressed sounds, you can hear that the voice on the radio is...reciting a nasheed; one chanting about the light of honor, victory, and divine heroism in the face of adversity, with determination being a repeated theme peppered in. No matter which hallway you turn towards, you cannot seem to get any closer to the source of the sound.

As you make your way to the center of the barrier, in spite of the lack of windows present, you decide to be a little brave and take a peak through the torn cloth or any of the cracks on the wall; you find that not only are you not at all far away from the hallway you've already visited, but that you appear to be going down a spiral- but this can't be possible! It is like you've done nothing but repeating the same steps over and over, only for your determination and desires to bring you down...

The winds have gotten louder - clashing with the noise present in the halls -, and your legs feel so tired...

You cannot take it anymore. You finally deduce that, if you want to face off against the warlock right then and there, then you better take a nosedive; break through the halls and descend further and further until you reach the arena, and face off against a furious gladiator- angered and heartbroken by the prospect of you destroying these mementos. How could you?! Such an act is beyond heinous in his eyes! You are no honorable opponent like the rest of them- nay, he is here to strike you down, to restore and clear the champion's name...

To rub salt on his wound a little more, let's add in more references to the people who affected Hop's life- those who have sent him down a spiral, whether consciously or not.

At the end of some of these hallways, you can find shrines that are clearly meant for worship; moreso than the memorabilia that are already present. A large statue rests in the middle of it, surrounded by worn pictures depicting a silhouette of a man and damaged, worn-out books and scrolls. The scent of smoke is present, alongside ashes on the ground; the warlock or one of his familiars must have been near the shrine not too long ago.

Some parts of the halls, namely what items made of organic material like cloth, are clearly damaged- whether caused by burns, cuts, or, most strangely of all, moths. The bothersome nature of these little creatures not only represent Bede tearing apart at his self-worth, but also his reliance on Chairman Rose- such a depiction may symbolize his actions and words' effects on Hop's self-image and life, but it also acts as a subconscious, final "fuck you" to white-haired youth; at the end of the day, Bede is just an unwanted, insignificant insect who gravitates towards any source of light while causing great disaster to others, even at the detriment of his own life.

...but...isn't that what you have cursed yourself into, Hop? Having to prove yourself to someone who is so far away for all eternity? To mimic them? All for a part of their attention and approval- much less a sliver?

They have both locked themselves in a cycle of attempting to appease to someone in their lives at the detriment of their own health...

Upon his defeat, once the crowd cheers at his defeat, the walls will crumble, and the debris will crush and pierce the warlock - whether he was still alive or dead by then - as you finally get a look at the outside world... Rolling hills that span for miles greet your vision as the grey, rainy skies conceal the afternoon sunlight- but it still is brighter than the suffocating arena and its connected halls. Not too far away, you are able to spot a windmill, still going on for what seems like several vicious years, if its poor state was any sign. Ah, if not for the chaos around you, the flickering silhouettes of round sheep in the distance and the smell of grass and rain really makes it feel like you're right back home...back in Postwick...

To end all this on a high note, let's touch upon his witch's kiss/warlock's whisper/evil cutie mark. Thankfully, I got it as soon as I could; one of those old emblems that acted as tickets to a gladiator match depicting a simplified sheep's head! To add some freakiness, the sheep face is stripped to the bone on one half, and glaring right at the person looking at it on the other. A circle of hop flowers surround the disfigured head, and the emblem itself appears to be half-melting.

-Witch Card-

Sayf Al-Muharib. The Gladiator warlock, whose nature is admiration. The light of an old hero's glory - eternally out of his reach - had caused his sight to turn into searing, painful ichor; blinding him to all but his own failures and shortcomings. As penance for the sin of his existence and weakness, the warlock is in a constant state of breaking down, melting, and reforging himself whilst in preparation for his next battle in the hopes of searing away all the flaws in him - all that lead him to his incriminating mistakes - and achieve a perfect form. He is unable to recognize the being beneath his armor anymore, nor could he remember the vision he had prior to his entrancement.

The cries and cheers of his familiars herald another chance for the warlock to prove himself and absolve the legacy of his hero once and for all- but, no matter what, the crowd is never satisfied, and neither will he ever feel proud of himself for the victory. He will never be an inch closer to the light of legend he craves so badly. To emerge from the battlefield victorious, one must not lose sight of their promise in the midst of battle.

(His name is inspired by Sayf bin Omar/سيف بن عمر, a Muslim historian and compiler. It should also be of note that the reliability of Sayf's ahadeeth have been a point of controversy to this day. When translated, the warlock's full name means "The warrior's sword".)

(The fact that his first name literally means "sword" bears two meanings depending on the protagonist- if it's Gloria, then it reflects how he tags along with and respects her though he is seen as incomplete without her presence in the eyes of the rest; while if it's Victor, then it's the clash between their friendly rivalry and his growing respect towards him. Either way, it also symbolizes how the MC stole his spotlight and destiny, and how they broke him and his dream apart throughout their journey.)

(Also, Homura fits the criteria needed to defeat him, let's GOOOOOOO-)

-Familiars-

Batel (plural form: Abatil). The gladiator warlock's minion, whose duty is preservation. A scholar at heart, the warlock analyzes the actions of the hero of legend to learn from them for future endeavors. Prioritizing the opulence and safety of these treasures, these small followers of his are on constant lookout for anything that would posses a danger to these sacred masterpieces while archiving the feats of the champion for future re-readings.

Unfortunately, their master despises the reflection cast on the memorabilia; forever reminding him of what he will never become. He will hang his head down in their presence out of both respect and shame, lest the sight of the failure he had become shatter what was left of his original heart once more.

(Symbolizing Hop's knowledge of battling in general; jokes about type advantages aside, he was always analyzing Lee's battles and was eager to use his knowledge during battles. It's also one of the key reasons as to why he chose to become a professor in the end.)

(Yes, the warlock himself also does his job at chronicling the feats of Leon - even going as far as to imitate them to this day -, but not only are the Batels there to assist him (I mean, they are his familiars), but they also sort of symbolize how...exaggerated Leon's achievements can get, especially in the eyes of others- including Hop's.)

(Its name is a play on words in Arabic; "Batal/بطل" means "Hero", but "Batil/باطل" can either mean "of no good use" or "useless". Leon was the hero, his hero, his ideal- Hop, on the other hand, was just dead weight to him.)

(Another note to add is that Hop's uniform number is 189, which, when read in Japanese, can mean "Hiyaku"; leaping. While the warlock himself would be struggling to walk with these hooves of his and his mutilated form melting and meshing with the armor, I can also see that the Abatil's only way of moving around is through leaping, since they would probably have only one leg to stand on. Ah, I love the smell of symbolism in the morning.)

Al-Daja (plural form: Al-Dajij). The gladiator warlock's minion, whose duty is to uphold competition. Ever-so excited for the upcoming battle, the crowd will explode into applauds whenever a new victim enters the stadium and comes face-to-face with their master. Their never-ceasing cheers always demand for more, and, not wanting their wide, unblinking eyes to stare at all his faults and mistakes, the warlock complies.

The warlock will try and not show a sign of degradation to his opponent- he'll hold out until they sing songs of his glory and his story gets passed down from generation to generation. However, these minions will often times become so entranced with the relics and spectacle that they would forget the identity of their master altogether, and even start cheering for the new challenger once the warlock is thrown into a corner.

(Based on Hop's personal drive - to become as glorious and powerful as the unbeatable champion himself -, how the losses have been affecting him, and him not wanting what negative attention he garnered along the way to affect Leon directly. The audience can be quite the chatterboxes; all it takes is one small piece of gossip for everything to go out of control. Its name, ألضجة, means "The Noise".)

(They also symbolize how everyone else already act around him all thanks to his brother's legacy- looking down on him for every little mistake he makes, while each victory earns him another comparison to Leon. He doesn't want to disappoint them- not the crowds, not his friends, not his family, and not himself, so he carries on with his useless endeavor; constantly chasing after a dream that is so far from his reach. The fact that this familiar is prone to forgetting who they are serving exactly is indicative of Hop forgetting himself.)

-Inspirations-

In-canon:

Sacrificing aspects of himself just to come close to that aforementioned ideal; going as far as to remove his lifelong friend, Wooloo, from his team

Trophies and other memorabilia of his brother being found in their home- almost no mementos of Hop being found there

Corviknight, one of the 'mons he gigantamaxes upon the release of the DLCs (the other is his starter pokemon, which I will assume is Scorbunny)

The fact that he is evidently Arab/Muslim-coded, especially in the French translation of the games where his name is Nabil (fun fact, Raihan is also an already-Arab name)

The third episode of Pokemon: Twilight Wings

Dubwool being able to learn a fuck ton of self-destructive moves

The statue of the Hero of Galar in Wyndon (Motostoke in the anime)

Outside Influences:

The Sealed Vessel from Hollow Knight and their theme; actually, wanna bet that he is trapped in a similar manner as they were if we were to assume that his power is equal to Isabeau's? That he has been gathering power from the mass hysteria resulting from his influence over the stadiums?

How sheep, lambs, and goats are associated with sacrifice, slaughter, deceit, and rituals (to tie the aforementioned wooloo/dubwool and self-abandonment points mentioned earlier)

The golden calf

The fact that some gladiators were prisoners and had to fight and put on a spectacle in order to regain their freedom

nana825763's "My house walk-through"

That one segment from Valle Verde part 2 which starts at around the 3:58 mark

The Devil Within by Digital Daggers (not my dumb ass imagining an animatic in which Bede is this warlock's first victim)

Cause of my Death by Itoki Hana

Dolus Vel Pedica, Area Strigae, and Delusio Summa from the Madoka Magica PSP game

The concept of living armor, but with added body horror

-Closing Statements-

Phew! Well, thank GOD this didn't take as much time as Medic's warlock did! (unless if we count my sick days- then yeah, it took just as much) To say that this was a WILD ride would be the understatement of the century!

I wanted to nail the vibe the witches had before we, as the audience, learned the truth about their origins - that he must have been born out of competition and the impostor syndrome that comes with such high-stakes contests -, and the idea that he, Sayf, was vengeful not just towards the leagues and the people who had beaten Hop while he was down, but also towards himself. I am unsure of whether or not I've completely succeeded on that front, but, if you guys have better ideas and/or criticisms, please do let me know! I aim to improve my writing in general and my abilities to break down character motivations and symbolize their actions in more abstract manners.

Being Bede is suffering; his ass is getting haunted on one hand, and Leon is able to smell his fear from a mile away on the other. He's not fucking winning this, lads :'3

...With all that being said, there is one shred of information that I've been withholding until now- the final piece of the puzzle that, once we step back, paints a rather grim image of what would occur if we were to combine the worlds of Pokemon SWSH and PMMM...

Outside the league challenge, the story of SWSH tackles the eldritch origins of Dynamax/Gigantamax; that the very vessels that allowed the people of Galar to utilize it must come from the remains of the invading Pokemon, Eternatus. Its initial awakening from its 17,000 year slumber heralded the event known as the Darkest Day; in which it had absorbed so much of Galar's energy that it caused its form to change and a dark storm to envelope the region, causing the pokemon to dynamax/gigantamax and go berserk. With the emergence of said storm come what is now known as "Galar Particles"; other sources of energy that, after the defeat of this threat, were utilized by humans for generations to come; rebuilding Galar from the ground up to the region we know today.

Now, a theme that both medias apparently share here from this fact alone is "energy". In a sense, you could say that Eternatus itself acts very much like a living grief seed; absorbing "impurities" in order for its true form to "hatch" and release boundless amounts of concentrated energy that can be used in a useful manner later down the line.

So....what gives? Why is Eternatus such a key element to this concept if the focus of this post is Hop? What does that creature beyond out comprehension have to do with the one we currently have in our hands right now?

See, not only does Hop's karmic potential stem from his destiny to stop the second Darkest Day alongside the main character, but his brother was also tasked by Chairman Rose with capturing the beast and delivering it to him; this was planned out in order to solve Galar's energy crisis that was going to unfold in the next several years or so, and, though it was a hard decision, the Chairman believed that now was a better time than never. The future of Galar, in his eyes, relied on him...

Obviously, Rose's entire plan fell flat on its face, so it was up to us, our bestie, and a very gud boi an' gorl (Pokedex entries confirm Zacian is Zamazenta's older sister) to save an entire region's ass from a wicked, unfathomable threat once more, but what if things went a little differently in this timeline? Obviously, one of the heroes who was supposed to assist/had assisted Gloria fell into despair and became the next world-ending threat she's going to have to put down, but what if this wasn't the only deviation from the norm here?

After all, Rose wasn't the only one who had sought out the means to prevent and remedy a sort of entropy issue at any cost necessary...

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bitchin-beskar · 1 year

Note

and ofc my fav currently: mean dom rudy and service top alejandro

god this is such a top tier pairing babes we both know it

Rodolfo Parra (mean dom) x Alejandro Vargas (service top) x Reader

Look I know we've talked about this, but this pairing is honestly god tier. No one expects Rudy to be the mean one, and especially considering in the field he always follows Alejandro's orders so well. But in the bedroom, he's the boss, even if both he and Alejandro are tops.

I kinda feel like he's a fan of ordering Alejandro how to fuck you, and then once he's satisfied with that, he'll fuck you himself. Alejandro is the foreplay, if you will, and then Rudy takes over and just destroys you.

But occasionally, they just tag team you at the same time. Usually when they've been gone for a long time, or if the cartel has been particularly vicious recently. When the blood's pumping and tensions are running high, that's when you know you're not leaving the bed for at least 24 hours.

A loud, high pitched whine works its way past Rudy's grip and out of your throat as you're unable to prevent your hips from grinding and twisting, desperately trying to escape the repeated stimulation.

A sharp slap to the inside of your spread thigh makes you jerk, and Rudy's voice growls low and menacing in your ear.

"What did I tell you, princesa? No. Moving." You pant harshly as Alejandro keeps a steady suction on your clit, making it incredibly difficult to follow Rudy's order. "Are you that far gone already that you've forgotten the rules?" He questions, a mean, snarky lilt to his voice.

The man between your thighs pays no attention to your dilemma, instead working on bringing you to the cusp of another earth-shattering orgasm. Alejandro is excellent at multitasking in the field, but when it comes to your pleasure, he has a one track mind.

Your bare, sweaty back is pressed against Rudy's chest, the cool fabric of his athletic shirt providing the barest sense of relief. He's got his hand pressing against your throat, not to choke you, but as a sense of ownership, reminding you who your body and pleasure belong to. He keeps his other hand cupped over your tits, every so often tweaking your sensitive nipples just to try and get you to twitch and disobey him again.

Rudy's thighs keep yours spread nice and wide, leaving you open for Alejandro to just bury his face in your cunt and eat you out to his heart's content. Usually, they use this as foreplay, but tonight it seems to be a punishment, although you're not quite sure if you did anything wrong.

"I'll tell you what, princesa," Rudy drawls, suddenly saccharine sweet. "If you can keep quiet when you come, I'll let our Alejandro reward you and breed this greedy pussy, hm?"

Alejandro moaned into your cunt, and you physically bit your lip to try and prevent the whimpers from escaping. God, you wanted that so bad, but you knew from the tone of Rudy's voice, he wasn't going to make it easy on you.

You quickly discovered how right you were.

Rudy's hand left your tits with one final harsh twist on each of your nipples, before he wound his fingers tightly in Alejandro's hair, and began to grind Alejandro's face into your pussy.

This had the dual effect of pressing Alejandro further into your cunt, driving the sensitivity up to near insane levels, and also making Alejandro moan wantonly against you, as he was wont to do when his hair was pulled.

The combined sensations, along with Rudy nipping and sucking at your pulse point on your neck made it nigh impossible to stay silent, although you put up a valiant effort.

As your legs trembled violently and your chest heaved, a near silent gasp escaped you as tears began to run down your cheeks. Rudy chuckled darkly, his hand coming up to grip at your jaw, turning your head and biting roughly at your trembling bottom lip.

"Tch, such a naughty girl, princesa," he snarled, his grip almost painful on your jaw. "Are you that pathetic that you can't follow one simple rule?" His tongue snaked out to lick at the salty trail your tears had left on your cheek.

"Guess we'll just have to punish you."

...

oof I made rudy so mean omg i'm not really sure where that came from. but im not mad about it lol

#asks #asked and answered #mutuals #mutuals and friends #rodolfo parra #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra x reader x alejandro vargas #mean dom rudy #service top alejandro #they fuck you stoopid #thot weekend

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hussyknee · 1 year

Text

If you're not reading Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall, you should be. I'm a 100 pages in and in absolute splits. Top-tier British queer comedy. 💀💀

(I'm also convinced the character the protag is trying to hook up with is autistic as hell.)

“No. God no. My mother’s French.”

“Ah. Lucien, then.” He said it perfectly, too, with the half-swallowed softness of the final syllable, smiling at me—the first full smile I’d seen from him, and shocking in its sweetness. “Vraiment? Vous parlez français?”

There’s really no excuse for what happened next. I think maybe I just wanted him to keep smiling at me. Because for some reason I said, “Oui oui. Un peu.”

And then, to my horror, he rattled off God knew what.

Leaving me to scrape the bottom of the barrel of my GCSE French, for which I’d received a D. “Um…um… Je voudrais aller au cinema avec mes amis? Ou est la salle de bain?”

Utterly perplexed, he pointed. So I was obliged to go the bathroom.

When I slunk back, he immediately confronted me with “You don’t speak French at all, do you?”

“No.” I hung my head. “I mean, my mother used both when I was growing up, but I still turned out stubbornly monolingual.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?”

“I…don’t know. I guess I assumed you didn’t speak French either?”

“Why on earth would I imply I could speak French, when I couldn’t?”

I stuffed a teetering forkful of pie into my mouth. “You’re right. That would be a deranged thing to do.”

#increasingly feral capslocking screaming meta-essaying liveblog in the notes #with random excerpts of the funniest shit but i really did try not to spoil the important stuff #tbh i don't think anything really can forewarn you of this reading experience #i think it qualifies as 'real literature' whatever that's supposed to be‚ because of how much it interrogates and subverts #lgtbtqia #mlm romance #queer lit #british comedy #book recommendations #book reccs #boyfriend material #alexis hall #nonbinary author #knee of huss

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sseomtada · 29 days

Text

being [ruben dias]

you finally learn the truth behind that night.

warnings: none | wc: 5565 | 3/???

“Umm, what are you wearing?” Aki lowered the bottles in her hand.

You cluelessly peered down at the clothes she’d literally seen you wearing earlier in the office. It took a while for your mind to construct the meaning of her slight chastise. Slacks and a button down was certainly not the appropriate attire for the occasion.

“Right! Shit…” You sprang into action, letting her in.

She made herself comfortable in your loft, beelining to the kitchen while you got prepared to join her in the long overdue ritual.

Some time had passed since the launch party at Nike. You’d been so busy with chasing up the next project on the agenda that your tradition had sadly slipped through the cracks. Luckily, your best friend was there to always remind you of the important stuff.

After sprinting through a shower, you slipped into a silk romper and joined her out in the living room. Her ability to whip up a master charcuterie board was out of this world. When did you even buy honey and feta?

“Early 2000s or something new?” Aki pondered as she scrolled through streaming options.

“I’m feeling modern tonight.” You replied around a cheese topped cracker.

She agreed, filtering for options within the last year. While the opening credits ran, you emptied the first bottle of wine she brought between your two glasses. That earned you a look of surprise to which you responded with a cheeky one of your own.

While you were on the more conservative side of alcohol consumption these days, you liked to let loose every now and then. What was the use of working so hard if you didn't blow off steam by getting a bit tipsy with your favorite girl?

Halfway through your glass, you started to wonder whether or not you’d made a mistake. Not on the wine, that was top tier, but the era of movie you chose. Film companies just didn’t put their soul into producing quality rom-coms like they used to.

You chugged the remainder of your Bordeaux and went in for seconds. Maybe fast tracking the intoxication would make this dry ass movie more palatable. Aki followed suit, hissing dramatically at the burn of her massive mouthful going down.

About five, or fifteen minutes passed - you honestly didn’t know now given your warped senses - before you turned to her with a grimace. She was already looking at you with an expression that made you burst into laughter.

“This movie fuckin’ sucks.” You gasped.

“I know!” Aki struggled to breathe. “I’m so sorry for picking it!”

Instead of torturing yourselves with the remainder of it, you decided to place a bet on what the ending would be. It was obvious that they’d end up together given the tone of the movie so far, but how they would get there was up for debate.

Ultimately, one Wikipedia page scan later, her guess was closer to being correct than yours.

“Okay…how about we do a drunk capsule now?” Aki dared you with her eyes.

It was an offer you couldn’t refuse, especially due to your current state. In these traditional events, nothing was off limits and everything was confined to the safety of the moment. To put it plainly, whatever either of you said couldn’t be held against you once you’d sobered up.

“Go on, I know you’ve been waiting for this forever.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

She clapped giddily, shuffling until her knees touched yours.

“Starting off a bit strong, but,” Her bottom lip reduced between her teeth. “Why haven’t you dated anyone since. You know.”

You blew a raspberry. “I-I have been on dates.”

“How many in the last year? Or two?” Aki hiccuped. “Come on, you’re still young and sexy! You should be getting pounded religiously!"

“Ew!” You slapped her leg. “Things have been really hectic with the company, you know that. I’ve barely had time to have a proper chat with my mom much less date a guy.”

That was the God’s honest truth. It was arguably a bigger task than you realistically could’ve handled, deciding to open a new branch of Bana.

The risk had to be taken, though. If you sat there trying to rationalize it through figures and statistics, you never would’ve committed to this next step that already was paying its weight in gold.

You also really needed to carve out time to call back home for more than just a quick hello.

Aki was the only other person who knew just how time consuming all of this was, so she accepted your response - albeit with an emphasized pout.

“We spoke,” She ran a finger along the rim of her wineglass. “Ruben and I.”

Your head reared back as you screwed your eyes shut. That information wasn’t too surprising considering that when you left, they both remained at the party. Still, it hit you with rather powerful force.

Trying to picture that conversation pulled your mind in several directions. Aki was a different person than you in many ways, her methods of communicating being one of them. She was far more straightforward than you were and was never the type to do a long song or dance before getting to the point.

The situation she had with him was rather complicated, though. She was collateral damage in his severance from you. His parting message to her was just as curt and painful as the one he’d sent you - with an added layer of which you now realized was the audacity he always had.

We can’t be friends anymore. Take care of her.

Going through something like that could create deviations in anyone’s behavior. You wouldn’t hold it against her if she found herself too flustered to articulate herself properly. Especially if he’d displayed the same attitude to her that was directed towards you.

“How are you holding up?” It was embarrassing to admit that this was the first time you’d really checked in with her regarding the entire situation.

She sighed deeply and then nodded. “I’m okay, said what I needed to.”

o passado

aki

Her eyes had been on you since that giant blond man had made his way over.

Not exactly the type she’d seen you fawn over, but there was a first time for everything, right? Besides, it didn’t hurt that he was clearly acquainted with Ruben - whose gaze was glued to you and the guy like his life depended on it. Maybe it would hit him where it hurts.

She prayed it did.

“And that was basically how I figured out I was a genius!” The long winded man she was conversing with finally wrapped up his story - full cackle to boot.

“That’s amazing!” Aki matched his energy, going as far as to throw her head back for good measure.

“Was that your CEO you were sitting with - the one in the white?” His tone immediately had her eyes narrowing.

Your dress was cream, but he was a man so she’d let it slide.

While his appearance was more towards your usual taste, there was no way she’d let him near you. Not with his clearly inflated sense of importance and clear habit of never letting anyone else speak for more than ten seconds without interruption.

“Yep, that’s her.” Aki nodded proudly. It was always nice to tell people that her best friend ran a company.

“Is she single? I’m sorry that might be a bit forward, but I’m sure you’ve noticed how stunning she is.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“She…is.” The smart retort part of her brain clicked off when her gaze drifted to find you talking to Ruben.

Whatever thirsty homeboy was droning on about fell yet again on deaf ears as she watched your interaction with shallow breaths. It was the first time she’d seen him in years, stirring up strange emotions to say the least.

When he’d messaged her that night, her heart broke and sank all the way to her toes. Only a fraction of a moment passed as she tried to rationalize why she’d so suddenly lost the person who was like the brother she always wanted. Her mind almost immediately went to you.

Take care of her.

Fuck, those words still filled her with rage to this day. He knew just how deeply you were in love with him and he didn’t even have the decency to say that shit to your face, or give you a reason. He knew how badly it would break you. Yet, he did it anyway.

Aki would never forget the way every bone in your body shook as she held you. She’d never get over how the heartache ate you from the inside out, watching you turn into a hollow shell of the vibrant girl you used to be.

But more importantly, she wouldn’t ever forget watching you pick yourself back up. Piece by piece, you took shape. Watching you find and love yourself after what he put you through was the proudest she felt in your friendship.

And here he was again.

She thought she’d seen a ghost when you showed up soaking wet and in tears on her doorstep a few weeks ago. It wasn’t a question in her mind as to why you were that torn up suddenly because there was only ever one person that could do that to you.

What did Ruben want? So much time had passed, did he think that was an excuse of some sort to suddenly start popping up like a whack-a-mole? She would’t stand by idly and let him create chaos the way he once did.

Aki watched him as he watched you making your way to the exit, his expression forlorn. It twisted her insides like they were filed with bile instead of bubbly. She excused herself from Mr. Know It All and shot straight to her target.

“Ruben.”

He spun around, eyes widening. “Aki…”

“Look, I’m not interested in the past and I’m definitely not here for any kind of apology.” She breathed. “I just wanna know what you’re doing, Ruben?”

His brows pushed together, “I was just having a conversation, Akenna.”

“Don’t do that.” Her jaw ticked.

He didn’t have the right to say her full name like he used to in jest anymore. They weren’t good friends, they weren’t anything to one another as things stood - all by his doing.

“And don’t play dumb.” Aki scoffed, anger rising by the second. “You weren’t there to see the fall out. No, you were living it up as the nation’s new hot shot and embracing all that came with it. You fucking,” She pressed her nails into her palm to steady herself. “You devastated her.”

Ruben flinched. Her words and the severity of it all finally seeming to click into place. She could see the thoughts swimming around his mind, imagining probably the worse case scenario that she bet wouldn’t even scratch the surface of reality. The air around the two hung heavy, as still as a day with no wind to sway the trees.

“I’m not trying to hurt Y/N, or you, again.” He eventually whispered.

That was rich, was she just supposed to take his word for it? Aki sized him up with scrutiny, wondering what position he thought he would get into with you both to repeat such a thing. Yet despite all her glaring, she still couldn't grasp his intentions.

Maybe deep down, she didn't want to.

In any case, by the looks of him, life had appeared to go unjustly in his favor despite his misdeeds. While that was an annoying observation, she chose to cling to the other side of it. She decided to celebrate that you were infinite miles away from the version of yourself he’d last seen.

A new form of yourself that she'd silently vowed to protect at all costs.

“Then whatever you trying to do, stop.” Aki warned. “She’s in a good place now, don’t ruin that.”

o presente

you

Whatever she was able to get off her chest seemed to provide her with relief.

That left you grinning. Heartbroken or not, Aki stuck to her guns. It made you promise silently to yourself that you’d adopt her stance. If you ever crossed paths with him again, though you should say when since it seemed all but inevitable in this city, you’d lay it all out on the table.

“So…have you tried Hinge?” Aki smiled sheepishly.

You exclaimed and pounced on her, smacking her with a sofa cushion as the light-hearted mood returned. She was surprisingly agile for someone so tipsy, narrowly dodging most of your blows with full bellied laughs.

I’m just doing your mom’s bidding - ah, watch the face!

The small brawl ended just as quickly as it started. Your tolerance was far below what it used to be, lethargy taking over your limbs. With a huff, you flopped onto the carpet. Aki raised your head to tuck a pillow beneath it before assuming a cozy position of her own.

“We’re gonna regret drinking this much tomorrow aren’t we?” You groaned, a hand running over your tummy.

“Nothing a good, hot cup of coffee can’t fix.” She yawned.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Even after shaking the last of a double shot into your mouth, you were laced with regret. As much as you adored celebrating last night, you currently wished you could’ve slept it off a bit longer.

However, duty called. You had two meetings to knock out and needed to get through a morning brief about both of them.

“Wow, you guys look…” Cindy tried and failed to hide her shock.

“Don’t worry,” Aki pushed her sunglasses up to her hair. “I brought the emergency makeup kit.”

“Let’s just get through this quickly.” You grimaced, clutching at your blouse.

As Cindy walked you guys through all the research she compiled, you chugged down a liter of water to bring your insides back to life. On top of regretting taking wine to the head, you felt guilty about letting a bit loose while she was probably busy working.

Another mental note: give her additional vacation days.

Erling’s online presence was pretty standard for a public figure and athlete. His social media was tightly managed as well. That was obviously smart on his part, enough people in similar standing had sometimes irredeemable flubs by not thinking before posting.

The water was kicking in, leaving your mind devising the skeleton of a pitch. It might’ve been jumping the gun a bit since you still didn’t know their hopes for partnering with Bana.

You always liked to be prepared for anything though, especially when it came to working with busy clients like him. Quick thinking could easily be the difference between success and failure.

“Uh, guys.” Cindy tapped her phone. “You’re gonna need to get started on using that kit - Erling’s assistant just asked if you could meet him for lunch instead.”

Aki yelped, immediately rifling through her bag. You high sprinted to the bathroom to empty your bladder before rejoining the room. After a quick touch up to make you resemble the human species again, you gathered everything you needed.

Since the meeting had been moved up, it would clash with a virtual call you had with another potential client. Cindy volunteered to stay behind to cover given that she was the only one other than yourself with extensive marketing knowledge.

“Where are we headed for this lunch?” You slung your tote over your shoulder.

“City training grounds.” Cindy pulled a face. “Not the most glamorous, but I guess he’s staying on brand?”

Your mind immediately went there. Of course it did, it wouldn’t be normal if he didn’t make an appearance in your thoughts when hearing the location. What you were grateful for, though, was that there was no sinking feeling. No ache in your chest or pit in your stomach, just neutrality.

Aki looped her arm around your free one and tapped your bicep. “Let’s catch this fish.”

“Good luck!” Cindy waved as you exited.

Uncharacteristically, you were the one that had to be forcefully awoken and shoved into the shower this morning. That meant Aki drove you both to work, so you hopped into her passenger seat once more as she fired up the engine.

“What do they even eat there?” She pulled up the address on maps. “Baked chicken and sweet potatoes?”

You snorted loudly. “I don’t think they have a whole team of chefs just to make Instagram fitness bro meal preps.”

Aki made a noise of agreement and then got to daydreaming aloud about their potential offerings. Her imagination had your stomach growling. You hadn’t been able to even sniff the muffins in the cafe earlier without turning green in the face, but you were finally entering the phase of your belly signaling for sustenance.

Her phone rang with an unsaved number on her dashboard. You pulled a face at her suggesting that it could be one of the suitors she’d been seeing under the guise of getting to know the new city. She bit at you like a puppy before answering.

“Hi Akenna, this is Meredith from Dr. Johnson’s office. We’re just confirming your visit today at twelve thirty.” The voice sounded out.

Aki’s mouth dropped open as she looked over to you. “H-hi Meredith! I…”

You didn’t know she had a doctor’s visit scheduled and by the looks of it, she didn’t recall either. That was one hundred percent okay with you. Obviously, her health came before anything else. Your head nodded incessantly, urging her to confirm.

“I will be there.” The words sounded as if she’d dragged them from the bottom of a deep well.

“Cheers! We’ll see you soon.” Meredith disconnected the call.

“Is everything okay?” That was your main concern at the moment.

She groaned. “Yeah, it’s just time for a routine check up with the pussypractor.”

You let out a laugh. Being happy at her using that word to describe her gynecologist was far from your normal reaction, but you welcomed it in place of the fear you’d felt for a minute.

“I’m glad you’re taking care of your magic conch.” You relaxed back into your seat.

“Are you gonna be okay? I feel bad leaving you there all alone.” Aki pouted.

“I’ll be fine.” You shot her a grin. “I’m just going to complete the mission and get back ASAP.”

Whether or not she was convinced remained a mystery. That question was a double edged sword, but so was your answer. You weren’t going there with any intention beside getting your job done.

And feeding the beast in your belly.

Thankfully, the grounds weren’t too far away and traffic wasn’t as horrendous as usual. She turned her car into the security checkpoint that went by without a hitch since they’d been notified of your arrival beforehand.

“This is…weird.” Aki peered around after parking out front.

It was like deja vu. Seeing the turf, hearing the sprinklers in the distance - your senses were all lit up and connecting the dots to your past experiences in a similar environment.

“Yeah.” You refocused on the task at hand, opening the car door. “I’ll see you at home. Want me to bring over an ice pack?”

“I’ll probably already have beat you to it, smart ass.” Aki shook her head. “Text me when you’re back.”

The lady at the front greeted you brightly and let you know that Erling’s assistant would be out shortly. In the meantime, you busied yourselves with taking a look at the large pictures lining the walls. Where City clearly had the money, they also had the success. Image after image were filled with bright smiles, medals and trophies.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” A young brunette woman appeared into your impromptu gallery viewing.

“Likewise.” You shook hands, extending a smile.

“Please, this way.” She directed you to follow her down a hallway.

Animated voices became louder the further you walked and the smell of rich flavors filled your nose. Whatever was being cooked was so far from barely seasoned cutlets and bland potatoes. Your stride hitched at the sound of one particularly loud laugh.

Right. It must be lunch break for the entire squad.

Just as your ears started to ring, unwanted sensations deciding to make their return, she pivoted off to the left to deviate your path from the cafeteria. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding just as your eyes looked back to catch Ruben’s - wide and confused, watching you disappear around the bend.

Coming somewhat prepared worked well in your favor.

Erling had a rough idea of what he wanted to do, but first asked your opinion about the direction you would suggest. Given the current era socially and culturally, coupled with the timeline of his playing career being almost predefined, you focused on building a diverse brand that spoke to longevity.

Football itself was such a vast world with many paths. You constructed a plan in front of him that held his passion at the center surrounded by interest that could tie back into it. If he wanted to expand his humanitarian efforts, a foundation was always the best bet - donating to boys and girls sporting programs, hosting summer camps, auctioning iconic jerseys for a cause.

Partnerships were the biggest way to expand image wise. Of course, there were the well known luxury brands that would die to have him as their ambassadors. If he wanted to hone in on a relatable image, he could partner with more affordable brands for an athletic line.

You wanted to show him that there was a world of possibility that was easily within his reach. All he had to do essentially was point the team at Bana in the direction he wanted to do and you would get it done.

Erling was extremely pleased with what you pitched to him. His assistant took notes for him to go over later in order to single out where he wanted to start, and get back to you guys with contract details. You were left buzzing with pride and very full with the most delicious chicken salad you ever had.

“I’m excited to see where this partnership takes us.” He beamed as he walked you back to the entrance.

“We intend to take you as far as you want to go.” You promised.

Him and his assistant headed out to his next appointment after you said your goodbyes. There wasn’t anything else on the agenda for the day now with both that meeting and the virtual one at the office being done.

You figured you might as well head home to check on Aki. Also, turning in early for a good night’s rest would be the best thing you could do for your body.

You requested a ride back to your place and hoped the wait would be less than 10 minutes. The confirmation came back to show that the driver was just under that, which nearly made you roll your eyes. Instead, you decided to be grateful and message Cindy to see how her call went.

“Are you going to wait eight minutes for Jeremy to pick you up?”

Your head craned to spot Ruben peering at your phone over your shoulder. Though there was nothing to hide, as well as him already seeing what was on your screen, you tucked the device into your chest and spun around.

“Obviously.” You cleared your throat.

“Why would you do that?” His gaze was scrutinizing.

“It’s what one does when they left their car at home and require a lift.” The hand holding your phone tilted it back slightly - six minutes.

“Come with me.” Ruben boldly suggested.

The laugh that left you was incredulous, there was that fucking audacity again. Under what circumstance would you get into his car with him?

You were actually starting to wonder, seriously, without any offense, whether or not he was entirely there mentally. It was like he had no recollection of what he’d done to you.

Or worse, that he didn’t care.

“No.” Your eyes turned downwards again - four minutes.

“Let me take you home.” He reached out to take hold of your wrist.

There was a slight tremble to your mouth that you were quick to shut down by pinning your lips together. Those words shoved your mind through a wormhole back to all those warm nights in Amadora. Your backpack slung over his shoulder, his fingers laced through yours. Both of your laughs bouncing off concrete structure lined streets.

“Absolutely not.” You spoke weakly.

A step too late, you registered his movement. Your small lunge was futile against his giant step back after he’d snatched the phone away from your unsuspecting grip. Getting onto your tippy toes was even more useless against his extended arm as he canceled your ride.

“Please, I owe you that.” Ruben handed it back to you. “And everything else you need to hear from me.”

Freedom of choice in this situation was an illusion. The opportunity to gain all the clarity you sought, all the answers to the questions that haunted you for years, landed in your lap without any effort on your end. Did the option of rebooking a ride share move the needle away from you wanting to know everything?

Not even an inch.

“Okay.” You conceded, motioning for him to lead the way.

Ruben walked you over to his jeep and opened the passenger door for you before you could even try. The gesture that once made you feel giddy did little to stir anything in you today. You fastened your seatbelt and placed your tote on your lap as he got in.

“Now would be a good time to,” He pointed at his console.

“Right…” You pulled up his gps to enter your address.

“Before you think something weird, just a warning that I’m leaving from the service exit.” His car spun in the opposite direction that you entered in. “Things get a bit crazy in the front with the fans and all.”

Wow, what a hero. You didn’t know whether or not to thank him for at least respecting your right to privacy, so you stayed silent and offered a nod.

The first few minutes of the ride stayed much like that - quiet. You wished he hadn’t turned off the music immediately as the car started. Whatever he listened to these days would’ve been miles better than the sound of his smooth engine running and the hissing of his tires on the lightly misted road.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Ruben spoke alas. “It wasn’t my place to step in with a stupid suggestion like that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” At least you both agreed on that much.

He chuckled at your swift concur. “Everything went well with Erling then, I suppose.”

“You’re on a roll, Dias.” You said drily. “Two for two.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, catching your attention from the corner of your eye. It was becoming apparent to him that this interaction wasn’t going to happen the way he imagined - whatever that may have been.

Did he expect you to be the same doe eyed girl you were seven years ago? Even without your shared history, that would’ve been an extremely naive ideal.

“Y/N…” Ruben tapped his steering wheel. “About that night…”

You dared to look at him for the first time during the ride. All over his face was the war he was fighting in his mind. As stupid and misplaced as it was, you actually felt a bit sorry for him. He had been a source of pain for you for so long, yet you still couldn’t stand to see him experiencing discomfort.

“Was it something I did, something I said?” Your biggest insecurity fell out uncontrollably. “Was it me?”

“No.” He interjected swiftly, almost angrily.

“What made you do it?” The question being posed directly to him after all this time didn’t offer you what you’d hoped.

You thought that if you had ever came to this moment, you would be on some sort of emotional pedestal. So far out of reach and so beyond what had transpired that no response he gave would have a great impact.

In actuality, it was completely the opposite. You didn’t feel elevated or safe out of reach from any negative outcome. Sitting beside him, getting swallowed up by his big leather seats, you felt small and vulnerable.

You were afraid.

“When I sent that message - those messages - it didn’t even feel like it was me.” Ruben appeared to be focused on the road ahead, but his eyes were distant. “I never felt like I truly deserved you. Sometimes when I looked at you, that feeling was overwhelming. I saw how much I meant to you, knew you’d do anything for me, maybe even give up everything for me…and I can admit it now that in those moments I was right about myself.”

He was really on a hot streak here. Three for three because you also felt like it wasn’t him speaking to you that night, or shutting off the lights on you. Four for four, actually. You would’ve done anything for him and yes, even given up everything if it meant you got to be with him.

The last part confused you though.

“Right about what?” You sought out comprehension.

“I didn’t deserve you.” Ruben provided it. “Because anyone who did wouldn’t have felt pressured by that. They would’ve stepped up even more and lived up to be the kind of person who was worthy of that kind of love. Instead, I was the type who was convinced that it was too much and ran away from it. I selfishly cut my emotions off and did what I did, not even considering the outcome.”

The fear you had was replaced with disappointment. You truthfully didn’t know what you expected his explanation to be. Maybe it wouldn’t have felt like this if he had said he started having feelings for someone else, or any other partially plausible explanation.

You guessed this was just as rational as all others in his mind, but you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. The guy you knew never showed any signs of wavering in confidence or expressed the slightest doubt that he was deserving to be deeply loved.

A part of you understood that everyone all wore masks, especially around the people they wanted to appear to be strong for. But he never had to do that with you. At least, you thought he knew that he didn’t have to pretend to be anything when he was with you.

“Ruben…” Your gripped tightened around your tote straps.

What could you even say at this point? The one expectation you did have that was met when you got into this car was that you’d received an explanation. It was just difficult to come to terms with the fact that all of your whys boiled down to something so simple yet complex.

Insecurity was an easy emotion to name, but far from that to dissect. And it certainly made people do often very shameful and hurtful things. Still, knowing all of that did nothing to ease the ache you felt watching him bite the inside of his cheek.

The drive suddenly didn’t feel so long as you realized he was pulling up to your building’s entrance. He put the car in park and reached to leave to get your door, but your hand quickly shot out to touch his arm.

“I’ve got it.” You slowly let it fall to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Ruben left it until the very last second, calling your name as you were about to shut the door.

“I’m sorry for everything I put you through.” His shiny brown eyes held yours for as long as you could take before you finally sealed it shut.

You rushed inside, not daring to look back so that your tears could fall unnoticed. With rasps of breaths falling from your lips as you pressed your head against the back of the elevator, massaging the space over your heart, you found yourself asking a new question.

What would you do now, knowing that which you’ve longed to?

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fic #being

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