#(for legal reasons that is a joke i was insane the second i decided to watch spn)

[4c-aperture]

spn was the top fandom BAR NONE for a decade on this site, wdym there are only ELEVEN jody/mary fics

[bichobolitach]

i just want to say i think of your Massimo/ LOVE RIVAL concept at least once a week... Massimo my guy... just here to cause some drama (in a cute sort of a way, no doubt)

Kwoc my beloved you’re officially the second person to show interest in my little raccoon boy which means now I’m legally obligated to write him. In the meantime, I will leave you fun Massimo tidbits.

- Massimo fences HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts), basically XV-XVII century fencing with the big medieval swords. Yes, he does have a lot of jokes about his big sword.

- Despite his cool bad boy look, Massimo is a massive sword nerd. That’s how he got Seiji to tolerate him in the first place, they just bonded immediately over their insane amount of fencing history knowledge; Seiji on olympic/épée fencing and Massimo on his medieval swords and treaties.

- His full name is Massimo Angelo Bongiovanni. Nick keeps referring to him by pasta names (“Rigattoni”, “Linguini”, “Fetuccini”, “Ravioli”).

- Massimo takes a very bold and direct approach to flirting with Seiji, he is not subtle nor is he discrete. He’s also very hands on.

- Nick also keeps referring to HEMA as Hiccup fencing, out of spite. He actually thinks it’s really cool, he just doesn’t like Massimo.

- Nick liked Massimo at first until he started paying all too much attention to Seiji.

- Jesse would like to maul him.

- Nick and Jesse find Massimo’s bold approach to Seiji so offensive, they actually team up to sabotage his attempts.

- Massimo is actually either a Junior or a Senior, haven’t decided yet. I just find it funnier that way.

- Seiji actually finds all his sword facts so fascinating he is willing to overlook all the unnecessary proximity. He assumes it’s an italian thing and moves on with his life.

- Massimo likes to hang out with Seiji even if Seiji isn’t romantically interested in him.

- They all meet in a sort of fencing varieties camp where a bunch of kids from different fencing disciplines are put together so they can learn the other disciplines and get to try the different weapons. I’m not sure if this is a thing that gets done, I made it up for fic reasons.

- Massimo also likes to wake up at the crack of dawn to train, which leads to him sharing the space with Seiji in the mornings. He also keeps trying to get Seiji’s attention so he keeps distracting him, which annoys Dmytro. Dmytro and Massimo’s coach spend most of the camp cussing each other out (very funny to me personally). Massimo has a lot of Romeo and Juliet jokes about himself and Seiji that he finds very funny.

- I was listening to “Rock you like a Hurricane” while drawing this, so that is now his theme song.

[creative-time]

The Guardian Interview 2022 (Simplified Bullet List Version Because Its 1 am)

Major Spoilers ahead so read at your own discretion

(They mention the 2019 pilot so I’ll go over that first)

Alright so someone has given me a link to the pdf of this interview, I’m not gonna say who did because I don’t want anyone going after them but they have given me permission to talk about this.

I’m also not going to be linking to this pdf, because tbh I don’t know if that is legal and I’m not taking that chance… but I believe you can find it if you look for it. (For legal reasons this is a joke)

Here are some things that I feel are important takes from this interview

The 2019 Pilot:

Becky Sloan states that Clayhill was “a bit South Park”

Baker Terry adds that they made an attempt to get an element of current affairs, but he whispers it “because it almost sounds like a dirty phrase”

They felt the timelessness and claustrophobia of the originals were missing

So, I guess this means that nearly everything in “The Key to The City” is not going to be present in the tv show, which is a bit sad but I guess is understandable.

They also did not mention if they were ever going to officially release the pilot so we are still on that can of duck organs 🙃

Alright, this next bit is gonna get into the tv show so you have been warned, it does get a little… interesting to say the least.

The TV Show

They wrote this during the pandemic (obviously), over zoom and they felt that is may have helped recapture the oppressive vibe they felt was missing from the Pilot, Joseph states that it was strange writing a show about characters stuck inside while they were also stuck inside, “so maybe there are points where we did actually go insane”

This interview states that Baker does “About 80%” of the voices, and yeah that adds up

Jamie Demetriou, Lolly Adefope and Phil Wang have come on board to voice new characters

Sam Campbell and Natasha Hodgson have joined as writers

Megan Ganz is the story editor

Lolly Adefope is playing an intercom (An intercom character or a character that just so happens to be using the intercom???) and singing a “vocoder-packed pop number about workplace stress management”

Terry says that they have spent their whole adult lives doing this (also adds up)

Just the sentence, “On TV, the homemade ethos remains - which will please fans who have been patiently waiting six years for it to appear.”

Hugo Donkin makes a brief cameo appearance in this interview along with Charlie Perkins

Apparently they went ham on the props, there’s a background prop of a travel pamphlet and inside are felt pictures of holiday locations and that’s actually kinda cute

The trio share a comically large wallet that’s only shown for a second, Joe says there’s gonna be a number and date on the credit card “that no one will notice”

“Everyone’s gone insane of set” -Joseph Pelling

There is a stop-motion area on set where they are working with clay (LETS GOOOO)

… the urinals… are gonna have eyes… and limbs… the urinals are alive and I don’t know how to feel about that tbh…

The prop making area has also been dubbed “The Puppet Hospital”

There’s gonna be a vending machine full of cigarettes and bottles of “Mysterious dark liquid”

Also a robot dog! Hopefully it is wholesome and not bad at all

there is a quiet dark stage dubbed “The Void”

Red and Duck are going to be confused and try to make out felt objects “Through the encroaching gloom”

Josh Elwell is Duck’s Puppeteer and contorted themselves on the floor behind a felt fridge to get out of shot!

Perkins says that bringing in professional puppeteers has added, “so much personality and emotion”

Becky says there’s gonna be scenes with Yellow Guy where the people might cry (what is this a call out post??)

They actually had to stop using real meat for this show and had to use silicon replicas because there was an incident where they used actual beef to fill a “horrible vending machine” and it apparently smelled so bad that crew decided to switch to fakes

Terry’s favorite dhmis theory involves Bosnian Serb war criminal Radovan Karadžić

Becky’s is a huge fan of the “conspiracy-level scrutiny they have attracted”

There is a mention of the Ed Tucker Duck Tree anagram

“They refuse the debunk any of the theories”

The trio says they put a ton of Easter eggs in this show because they know the audience has the appetite for “dissecting things” (yet another callout post)

There is a life-size felt car sitting on stilts, Becky said that the crew dumped the car “in hope that the show’s supersleuths might one day discover its location” (CIPHER HUNT 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO)

You’ll apparently have to swim through a swamp to get to the car, but Becky says that people can find it

Joe says that they had to give the characters little desires to fit with the runtime of a tv show, even it the desire was “I don’t want to be in this room anymore”

All the props and puppets are in storage, but the trio hope to exhibit them one day

“At some point, we’ll have built everything in the world out of felt,” says Pelling. Sloan pipes up: “No one can stop us!”

And that’s all I can think of right now, I took me an hour to write this and it’s now 2 am I’m going to bed

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 212

Whew. Last week was insane.... I’ll create a separate post for that, probably tomorrow. Too many people to thank this week!

@baelpenrose, obviously, not just for beta reading, but for helping me through the overwhelming amounts of stress I’ve been dealing with recently - up to and including being willing to submit my own chapter to my blog so I can try to post it from mobile while I was driving for 13 hours last Tuesday.

Guess what? You can’t post submissions from mobile. -_-  But that mfer certainly tried.

@generalperfectionbread, @peterpanpeanutbutter, @necromancer04, @et103, and @janeshadow for always jumping on each chapter. @lwgph for reblogging quite literally all of the chapters. All of them. @gam3rgur1, who catches up whenever time permits.

And finally, new follower who I know only by slight reputation but cannot wait to hear their thoughts, C.

Alistair started drafting the brief to the Ark population while everyone else started debating on who would be our primary voice when speaking with Odvub.  I had immediately bowed out when it was decided we would ask them to petition on our behalf - not only for the sake of Conor’s ongoing sanity, but also because I was admittedly enamoured with Odvub’s overwhelming presence.  Names were thrown out and argued over for nearly half an hour before I cleared my throat.

“My vote is for Grey.” I was proud of how firm and unmoving my tone was.

Xiomara was more curious than skeptical when she responded. “Why Grey, specifically?”

Completely ignoring the fact that most people in the meeting couldn’t see me, I started counting off on my fingers. “When Odvub was shown to the Council for the first time, Grey was curious.  Everyone else was awestruck, afraid, anxious, or some combination of the three. Grey wasn’t. They showed the exact same amount of curiosity that they show toward a new plant hybrid or an interesting problem.”

“Both of which we trust their judgment on, without question,” Huynh agreed with me. “It makes sense. I second the idea.”

“I am concerned about their legal knowledge,” Xio sighed. “I’m not advocating for myself, believe me. But Eino might be a better choice.”

Pranav scoffed. “No offense intended, Eino, but you are rather known for your passive neutrality. We need someone who will argue if we are initially told no.”

“No offense taken,” Eino’s voice assured. “I selected my preferred successor for that exact reason. Listening and patience are all well and good with a decade to make decisions, but urgency is not my strong suit.”

“Are you suggesting Professor Farro negotiate?” Grey asked, confused.

Several voices - including Arthur’s - barked in disagreement. “Not happening,” Arthur stated flatly. “We want to make a good impression, and despite what you all think, I’m more likely to piss off the Galactic AI by making a Lysol joke.”

Laughter broke the tension briefly before I picked up the reins again. “So, Eino declines, two votes for Grey so far.  I suggest we make this a unanimous decision - we’re talking about the literal future of our species here.  None of us wants to be the one who said nay, no matter which way this goes.”

Murmurs agreed with me. “What about Administrator Costa?” Pranav suggested. “Miss Harper and Professor Farro handled negotiations with the S’crirs, so there is precedent on having one of our mentees take the reins here.”

Almost as though it was rehearsed, Antoine bowed out. “I am disinclined to argue.”

Tyche snorted before mouthing at me. “Liar.”

After a few more minutes of suggestions and people bowing out, Grey called the vote themselves. “I think we have narrowed our pool of candidates adequately, and I am amenable to the appointment if that is what the Council determines. Are there any direct objections?”

Very succinct, I thought approvingly. Quit waiting for agreement and straight out ask for the nays.

After a very precise forty-five second pause, Xiomara spoke. “No objections spoken. Grey, you’re our voice and may gods above and below be with you.”

“Should they exist, they have much more to answer for than my success or failure in this endeavor,” Grey replied wryly. “We should adjourn while Pranav sets up the connection.  Xiomara, if you could send me the legal precedents that you have on hand regarding our rights and the case law that Her Majesty sent over, it would be appreciated.”

I left the audio open during the recess, but muted the end in my office so that we could speak freely. “How do we feel about that?” I asked, glancing around.

Hannah tilted her head side to side. “I think Grey is a good choice, but I’m surprised that Evania wasn’t suggested as well.”

Parvati almost stifled a grin successfully, but Tyche had no such compunctions. “Evan has phenomenal judgement of safety and an exhaustive comprehension of rules and laws.  She is also incredibly bound by the chain of command, so the risk that she would see Odvub as in a position of authority is too high.”

I nodded, along with Parvati. Alistair added “She does return books in a very timely manner, which I believe speaks highly of her respect for others - however, I also think it affirms her adherence to regulation.”

Quietly, I moved to assist Alistair in the short-term release to the Ark. After some careful debate, we reworded a few things to make sure the population was informed but not in a state of panic and added a disclaimer to reach out to your mental health partner or partners during this time.

We were very careful to not even remotely word that as a suggestion.

By the time the release was approved and being sent, Pranav alerted us that the connection with Odvub was on standby. “I would like to advise that the connection cannot be limited to audio only, as a significant portion of their language is via gesture.  My team will, however, be running translation to audio only as close to parallel as we can get it for those who believe they will be overwhelmed.”

Voice still muted from my office, I gave everyone a stern look. “If you wish to view the full communication, please feel free to do so from your personal datapad. I will have the local connection set to translation audio only.”

Tyche and Alistair nodded but didn’t move. Hannah and Parvati, however, transitioned closer to my desk so they would not be in our line of sight - understandable, seeing as they had not seen Odvub the first time.  It did not go amiss that Tyche flicked open her own datapad before glancing at them both, a pretty obvious sign that she was monitoring vitals.

“Ready,” Grey confirmed after everyone else had given their status. Antoine had moved to another location for audio only and medical monitoring on his mentor.

Even through the translation channel, the chiming symphony could be heard.  It made me glad that I had outright refused to handle this interaction, along with validating my decision to record the translation for later review.

“Greetings, Terran Council.” Thankfully, the translation software had given Odvub a neutral alto with flat affectation. “How may we assist you?”

My databand vibrated, and I twitched it open to find a message from Arthur. “They were not kidding about the hive minds, huh?”

Grey responded, sparing me from my need to respond to the clearly rhetorical question. “Greetings, Odvub. We have been advised that the Eko-mari fleet has petitioned to provide quarantine for our new colony world, and have reason to believe the request will be granted. However, we also believe it will be detrimental to our species in both short and long term.  As such, we request that you file petition on our behalf with the Galactic Council.”

Another message from Arthur. “Not a punch pulled. I approve.”

“This is a legitimate concern,” Odvub immediately replied, the artificial voice taking on a choral quality as it split momentarily. “Please advise your logic, so that we can make a sound decision.”

That was interesting… Odvub literally was the Galactic Database. In theory, they already had all this information.

Grey, however, was nonplussed. “We have already experienced the Eko-mari view of non-hive species: they view us as primitive, and more so for those species who have biological or psychological gender.  They grudgingly admit our sentience, but on a scale of ‘just barely’.  Additionally, while the information quarantine is a standard part of species relocation, we have a substantial amount of evidence of overreach on their part.”

We did?

Odvub hesitated when Grey stopped speaking. “Please elaborate on your evidence of overreach.”

“Ordinarily, I would provide files,” Grey admitted. “And if you would like, I still can after I explain. Regardless, not only myself, but my peer Pranav Raganathan and Miys has experienced multiple instances in which data that we earned through rigorous research and testing has gone missing.  None of our computer experts can locate the data in the Ark computers. Most importantly, Miys cannot locate it either.”

Tyche slammed the voice mute from our side as I surged to my feet. “They WHAT???!”

“We have had to reconstruct our research twice, once from zero, and once from memory and passive storage, just in the time since we joined with their fleet,” Grey continued, clearly unable to hear my roaring objection. “Since the second incident, we keep any new data on passive storage only.”

I stomped, hands fisted, growling at this new information. My databand vibrated, and I shook my wrist ferociously to open it, fully intending to dismiss. Rather than being from Arthur, it was from Pranav. “We only recently determined with the support of Miys that this was due to Eko-mari influence, which is why it has not been brought to the attention of the Council. Prior to Gamma shift yesterday, it was believed to be system error or human error.”

The feeling of being out of the loop subsided, but the anger at the overstep from the Eko-mari remained.

“Yes, we are aware. We have been attempting to interfere with the direct loss of earned data to the best of our abilities,” Odvub confirmed. “Miys alerted us and have been instrumental in ensuring we are able to facilitate your research to the best of our functions.”

“Oh.” Grey paused, clear that this was new information.  Good to know I wasn’t the only one who was entirely out of the loop. “That greatly lowers the need for explanation.” I could see in my mind how they would straighten their spine when they regained steady ground. “We have come to the determination that, in addition to loss of hard earned knowledge, we would be prevented from any gains regarding stellar observations from Von if the Eko-mari fleet were entrenched as quarantine patrol.”

“This would contravene the Terran taboo against censorship,” Odvub stated unequivocally. “There is an established right among refugee species to maintain social taboos. This is a valid concern.”

“On those grounds - violation of taboo on multiple levels - will you agree to be our petitioner to the Galactic Council?”

I didn’t need to see my peers to know that we all held a collective breath.

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[raibebe]

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized​ who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?”   “Nope.”   “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.)   “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again.   You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now…   “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.”  You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe.   “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless.   “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.  

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 9 “Trapped In The Closet” [Episode List] Following the most blatant sit-com tropes you can think of, Dave decides to spy on his girlfriend, Dana, because he thinks she’s hiding something. Tim reluctantly decides to join his friend, but the two end up stuck in the girl’s closet, which will eventually turn into a gas chamber.

Trapped In The Closet

“Yeah Dana. Sure. No problem.”

Tim was working on some college tasks, but couldn’t help but to eavesdrop Dave’s conversation with his girlfriend, Dana, on the phone. He could only hear his friend’s replies, which being only the 50% of what they were talking about, it didn’t make a lot of sense. Not that he was interested: Dave was simply hanging out in his room because he had nothing better to do during that warm Summer evening, apparently, and so he simply showed up to Tim’s place with a couple of beers and a remarkable amount of procrastination powers.

Despite being relatively hot outside, Dave was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of long, grey levi jeans, kinda loose as usual. Something that Tim hated about his kink is how quickly he checked his friend’s outfit, something that he always did since Dave is now basically his “fart bud”, against all odds.

“Yeah… yeah… I love you. No… I love you more!”

Kinda funny how Dave, 24, would revert back to an awkward teenager at times whenever he and his girlfriend were on the phone. They probably even acted like that on purpose, because love is doing stupid things together after all.

“Tim. Car. Now!”

Dave hung up and turned weirdly serious, got up and walked downstairs, saying something about getting in the car.

“Wait, what?” Tim asked, questioning whether his friend was being serious or not, but he did follow him to wherever he was going.

“We don’t have much time, Tim. Dana will come back soon. She’s out with her own friends and we have… like… 15 minutes.”

The two walked outside and headed towards the girls’ house, actually only a few blocks away from Tim’s. Tim himself reluctantly followed his bro into this, knowing that, at best, it may turn into a funny mishap to tell to their other pals while being drunk and laugh about it.

“I’ll just pretend your words make any sense, like I usually do…” Tim chuckled, sarcastically, but still following his friend.

“I think she’s hiding something.” Dave explained, walking at a fast pace, Tim right behind him. “She’s been strangely elusive lately and I want to check her room for clues.”

Tim just chuckled in response. “Dave, you do realize that this is not a 90s sit-com, right? Her room? Really? What are you hoping to find out, exactly, anyway? That she’s having some kind of affair behind your back?” he asked, trying to reason with him.

“An affair? You think I’m that kind of guy?” Dave answered, looking surprisingly offended by Tim’s question.   “I just want to make sure she’s fine. She seemed worried about something and she’s like this organized haf-woman/half-machine hybrid who keeps sticky notes in her room to keep an eye on her busy life.”

“Oh…” Tim replied, rather sarcastically.   “Now that makes a lot of sense.”

“Leave your sassiness for later, dork. Can we take your car?” Dave asked.

“Why? We’re already right in front of her house…”

Dave realized that he was so worried that they did, in fact, walked for a couple of blocks and found themselves stepping in Dana’s backyard without even noticing. He just laughed a bit about it.

“Sorry. Love makes me blind.” he joked, knowing that it was a rather silly thing to say anyway.

“Not the words I would have used, but ok.” Tim answered.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” his bro said, with a smirk.  

“Alright… but please, let’s keep a low profile and no awkwa-”

But as they approached to the girl’s house, Dave awkwardly started muttering some kind of theme song that was oddly reminiscent of the Mission Impossibile’s most iconic soundtrack. This guy has a girlfriend, everyone.

“So much for keeping a low profile, Ethan Hunt…” Tim joked.

Dana’s room, following the usual   “average american house tropes” that the writer of this story grew up with in the 90s, was on the second floor. Luckily, the house was empty, so both Tim and Dave could easily climb it without fearing of someone noticing their totally legal actions.

“Look at Tim, such a rebel! Such a fast climber!” Dave whispered, noticing how good Tim was at climbing the girl’s house.

“Thanks. I learned it when I visited your mom.” he joked.

“I thought you’d prefer my dad, you know.” Dave played along, with a rather noticeable reference to Tim’s homosexuality.

“Just… just let’s get done with this.”  

After some awkward climbing, the two found themselves in front of a window leading to Dana’s room. The duo was sitting on a small portion of slanted roof, wondering how to get inside.

“Alright. I could just punch through the window and open it. But you know I don’t like violence against windows.” Dave said, somewhat joking, but really trying to come up with a way to get through this final obstacle.

“Never mind, it’s open.” Tim said, as his hand passed right through the window.   “Or, you know, I got ghost powers all of the sudden, but I doubt it.”

“You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” Dave commented, as he got inside his girlfriend’s room, making sure no one was there, immediately followed by his sassy friend.

The room was fairly big and messy, books and magazines scattered all around the floor and the bed. Dana was a busy woman: she got a degree in economics but, given the tough times, she had troubles finding a decent job lately. Dave actually suspected that this was the reason she was being nervous about, well, everything, understandably.

“Why don’t you just ask her instead of acting like the perfect boyfriend material that you are?” Tim stated, in his usual snarky tone, noticing Dave basically rummaging through Dana’s more personal stuff.

“Just… let me do my thing ok?” he was serious again, trying to find something that could be clue, deep down knowing that all of that was quite non-sense and even ridiculous, but his stubbornness was showing.   “Wait…”

Something drew his attention. A red (therefore important, according to Dana’s code) sticky note on the nightstand. Something was written on it.

“Oh… I guess I was right…” Dave whispered, eyes glued on the note.

“Something about her job?”  

But Tim didn’t get an answer, as they heard someone coming from downstairs. They probably were so focused on their mission that didn’t even notice how someone got inside the house minutes after them. They went silent and tried to listen to the person’s footsteps.

“Yeah. I’ll keep you posted.”

They heard a muffled female voice getting closer, probably talking on her phone. A voice that was very familiar.

“Fuck! It’s Dana!” Dave whispered.

The two looked around, looking for a quick solution or a place to hide, blatantly ignoring the window they used to get inside in the first place.

“The closet!” Dave said.

Without even questioning whether this was a good idea or not, the duo sneaked inside Dana’s closet and closed themselves inside just as the girl came into her room, still talking on the phone about something.

Tim and Dave managed to mess things up however, as they ended up in a very small section of that apparently big, spacious closet, so they had to arrange themselves in a weird position. Dave was standing up, towering over Tim, who found himself sitting on the floor instead, right behind his friend… with his face perfectly aligned with his loose jeans butt. As his eyes got adjusted to the dark, Tim started to distinguish the seams and texture’s on Dave’s jeans ass, and the tiny red Levi tag on the right back pocket. He couldn’t help but take a look, which he felt really unnecessary, given the context.

“So… this is where you lived for most of your life…” Dave joked, looking around, as if the closet was some kind of fancy mansion.

“Haha! Another gay joke! Great timing, Dave!” Tim muttered instead. The last thing they had to do was talk.

The two waited for a couple of minutes, hoping that Dana would just leave again or even just go downstairs, so they’d have enough time to get out of there in the hopes that Dave didn’t leave any clue of his presence.

“As long a we remain silent…” Tim whispered.   “We have nothing to worry about.”

Only moments after saying that, he felt a very familiar sound greeting his face. It was a long, rumbling sound coming from Dave’s denim ass. It was one of his usual, well-known loud farts, a fart that he was desperately trying to keep as silent as possible. Luckily, Dana was too busy with her phone to even notice the weird noise coming from inside of her closet.

“Dave! What the fuck?!” Tim hissed.

The gassy friend tried not to laugh, realizing how idiotic the whole situation was.   “I’m sorry dude.” he murmured.   “You know what happens when I’m nervous!”  

The smell was unbearable already. Being in a such small space didn’t certainly help. Those were probably some of the smelliest farts Dave ever managed to rip in Tim’s face, although this time was, against all odds, more like an accident.

“Tim…” Dave whispered, carefully placing his butt closer to his friend’s face.

Another fart erupted, sounding dangerously louder than the previous one. The rough surface of Dave’s denim gently caressed Tim’s nose. The blast of gas then turned into something much more subtle, but still otherwise bubbly. Tim felt his nose burn, as really he had no choice but to breath all of that in.

“Dave I swear. If you don’t stop, Dana’s gonna–”

But another   “slow-paced” rumbly fart cut him off. Dave was seriously trying to contain his well-known farting abilities. Tim, instead, was trying to remain calm, feeling like the Universe was somehow messing with him. That was an insane situation: he certainly wasn’t new to Dave’s farts, but in that context, it felt almost like one of his weird dreams about his fart fetish.

“Tim I’m sorry, at least I know you don’t mind… I hope”

Funnily enough, despite the slightly amused tone in his whispering voice, Dave sounded genuinely sorry. Yet he was right: Tim was insanely enjoying it, but knowing that Dana was out there made the whole thing almost surreal. And, once again, as much as Dave always proved so chill about this stuff, he couldn’t help but feel somehow awkward about having his friend face-farting him so non-chalantly.

And yet another   “ninja” fart was ripped all over his face.   Being nervous really turned Dave’s stomach into a messy cloud of gas, and Tim’s nose was there to vacuum it all up, completely defenseless, standing before the sheer power of the gassy friend’s powerful denim-covered anus.

Even though the situation was absurd, Dave couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. After all, the smell hit him too, and it was getting insane even for the farter himself, whose gas just didn’t stop building up.

“Sorry bro… I have to do this.” he whispered.

Tim felt Dave’s hands gently grabbing the back of his head, holding it still, as he pulled him in the clutches of his denim butt. The warm fabric of the jeans was soaking in that unbearable smell. The sniffer then felt the weight of his gassy friend almost crushing his skull. Despite being dark, Tim realized that Dave was basically sitting on him, using his head as some kind of human stool.

The fart was directly ripped in Tim’s mouth at that point, that rumbly sound once again renewing the already destructive stench. It was supposed to be loud, so loud, that Dave had to basically use his friend’s face to deadpan its impressive thunderous noise. The gassy bro was trying to rip it in the form of a long series, hoping that Dana would fail to hear (or even recognize) his well-known gross, but rather impressive talent.

Tim heard his friend’s sighs of relief after each, rumbling fart, but Dave was also trying not to burst into a laughter that could blow their cover. Fart fetish or not, he couldn’t help but to find it more hilarious than gross.

As much as the lack of space in that closet wouldn’t really allow it, Dave even lifted his right leg a bit, while still   “sitting” on his stool-friend, as a way to facilitate the impressive amount of gas gushing out from his anus. It’s not like he had to worry about Tim passing out or finding it too gross, anyway.

That fart itself was lasting longer than both of them anticipated. They lost count of how much time passed, probably a full minute. Tim’s face was warm and sweaty now, still trapped in the clutches of his gassy bro’s denim butt, directly living in person that thin line between Fart Heaven and Fart Hell.

A final sigh of relief, followed by a louder toot and a chuckle.   “Sorry, bud.” Dave muttered, hoping that his plan worked.

Indeed, Dana didn’t hear a thing. She hung up and left the room, her footsteps slowly turning into a far, muffled sound, until silence announced that the duo was now free to get the heck out of there, especially considering how they were almost both choking on farts.

Tim forgot what fresh, non-fart air felt like in his nostrils and so took a deep, refreshing breath the moment he stepped out of that gas closet. Ironically, Dave did the same, maybe even wondering how would Tim even endure something as overwhelming as his farts, but he didn’t really mind anyway. Despite everything, that was oddly hilarious, as the two stared at each other and then bursted into a laughter.

“Now let’s get out of here…” the farter suggested.

But before the two could even walk towards the window, Dana showed up again in her own room. She didn’t even startle.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, sounding more like an inquisitive mom than an angry girlfriend. She was fairly mature, after all. “I don’t know what you Dumb and Dumber are up to, but I swear if you–”

“I heard the news, Dana. We were just outside your window…” Dave explained, slightly tweaking the truth. “We wanted to play a stupid scary prank but then I heard it, while you were on the phone you know…”

Dana shook her head and laughed a bit. She hugged her boyfriend and kissed him.

“Yes! I got the job!” she giggled. “Sorry I’ve been so cold lately. The job interview made me so nervous…”

“It’s fine, Dana. You’ve always been stone-cold anyway!” Dave joked, earning a playful slap on his chest by his girlfriend.

“Yes, that’s a very import–wait what’s that smell?” the girl asked, sniffling loudly the air around him.

Tim’s heart almost stopped while Dave did his best to not just laugh like an immature prankster. His hair, clothes, skin, were completely “soaked” in his gassy bro’s gas, so naturally he’d himself smell like flatulence.

“Never mind. It must be you, Dave. He farts like crazy when he’s nervous, Tim, I swear.” she said, disgusted but slightly amused as well.

“Ow… it’s part of my charm, babe.” Dave replied, using what he would have considered an irresistible flirty tone of voice, which was super awkward instead.

“And yeah. Tim’s very aware of my skills, right?” he joked, winking at him, like the big teasing bastard he’s always been since he found out about his fart kink.

Tim just shrugged, faking a disgusted look, his heart racing fast, knowing that all he had to do after that was take the biggest shower in the hope that such unbearable stench didn’t fuse with the atoms in his body.

“Well, it’s gonna be a wild ride!” Dana exulted, happy about her new job offer.

“How about a round of beers to celebrate?” Tim suggested. “It’s on me, no worries.”

“Great idea, but I’m paying. I got the job, you dumb-dumbs get to drink!” Dana replied. She was in a very good mood.

“It’s fine, Dana! It’s the least we can do after-“ but Dave interrupted him.

“Come on Tim, stop living in outdated gender roles and let the pretty girl buy you a drink.” he said, faking a serious tone.

The girlfriend simply rolled her eyes and left the room “Just… meet me downstairs when you’re done saving the world, ok?”

As Dana was nowhere in sight, Dave simply turned to Tim and let another huge, long one rip.

“Shhh. Just tying up some loose ends here.” he said, shushing the gay friend, blasting what was left of his gas out.

“Are you finish-“ “Not yet” he simply said, as if he was making sure no particle of gas was left behind.

With one high pitched final note that was met with some immature laughter, Dave sighed in relief.

“With that said” he chuckled “You might want to take a shower.”

Tim simply nodded with an unamused expression.

“Oh, and you might want to leave the other closet you’ve been hiding.”

That was out of nowhere.

“No pressure bro, just know that we’re all always more than happy to have a beer with you.”

“Thanks Da-“

“Despite your bigoted views on gender roles of course.”

“I’m going to punch you now.”

The duo then headed downstairs and no one got punched luckily.

Tim thought about his friend’s words and how it was probably time to leave that metaphorical stuffy closet soon or later, not that he felt forced or anything.

Dana’s closet, however, that’s probably the only one he enjoyed being trapped into…

End of Episode 9

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 3 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first two chapters please~)

The next day flows by in a blur for Geralt. He wakes up, takes a shower, prepares a quick but nutritious breakfast for Ciri, and makes oatmeal for himself.

On his way to the hospital, he thinks about Jaskier and wonders if he should call him now. He almost does that, but then he decides against it because he knows that Jaskier is busy having his fourth dream right now probably. It's too early to call him as much as he wants to do so. 

His mind wanders on how cute Jaskier sounds when he is sleepy—when he has just woken up.

Cute, but also usually a bit grumpy even though he denies it with every inch of his being.

***

"That shouldn't be legal," is what Geralt thinks when he steps into the hospital room, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier's sleeping figure. "I can't believe I'm supposed to do that. God, have some mercy on me. I love my job, I really do, but it sucks big time sometimes. Why should I suffer this way?"

A moment later, he is well aware of how dramatic he is being, and how hard he frowns, making a source face. It's not like him to act like this at all.

Damn.

"That dramatic son of a flower must be rubbing off on me," annoyed at himself, he mumbles before he coughs as if that alone is enough to wake the musician up. 

"Good morning," he tries when Jaskier doesn't wake up and slightly turns to the other side of his bed instead.

"Mr. Pankratz, it's your medicine time."

Jaskier slightly opens his eyes just to look at him this time, and the first thing he mumbles is: "What happened to your ears?" before closing his eyes again. 

"What are you talking about?" The nurse questions, checking his ears with his free hand that isn't holding the medicine tray, wondering what he meant by that.

"Are you still asleep?"

"Yes... No. Maybe?" Jaskier mumbles again, half asleep as he rubs his eyes, trying to make sleepiness go away.

"You will have to pick one of them."

The musician opens his eyes after a while and smiles at Geralt.

"Morning. God, what a sight to wake up to."

Geralt must be used at this by now. Because whenever Geralt has to wake him up, no matter how much Jaskier complains at first most of the time, he always utters the same words eventually.

"What a sight to wake up to."

Yet, every time he does that, Geralt's heart flutters in his chest.

"You didn't sound too happy with my ears, though. What was that about?"

"Ah, about that. I had a dream that— promise you won't laugh?"

"Can't do."

"Anyway," Jaskier yawns and explains: "I had a dream that you were an... elf."

"I was a— what?" Geralt laughs.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!" The musician stares at him like he is ready to kill him. 

"I never said that," Geralt forces himself to stop laughing. "Well, that explains everything."

"Shh, stop interrupting me. It's mean."

"Sorry, I'm all ears. Not elf ears, though, sorry to disappoint you."

"Don't sweat it. Bad guys were trying to steal Mrs. Ansley's—who was a fairy, speaking of which—cookie recipe, which was also the key of a parallel universe, somehow. You were trying to protect the recipe, then puff. Some gingerbread men came out of nowhere to help you, but you tried to... eat them? Well, not just tried actually. You managed to eat their leader. Therefore they decided to join the dark side. Can't blame you, though. They looked pretty yummy. I was about to hop on my unicorn for help when you woke me up. A unicorn wearing a pasta costume. Pink pasta costume. Yeah, yeah, I know, that makes no sense, is there even a pink pasta costume?" He asks sleepily, raising an eyebrow. "Also, I had a magical lute, I think."

"You think that your whole dream makes sense, but just the pink pasta costume doesn't?"

"I've never seen a pink pasta costume, so..."

"Oh, sorry, right. I forgot you have seen everything else but that. The elf version of me, alive gingerbreads and all. My bad."

He chuckles at that lightly.

"Still more possible than a pink pasta costume."

"The most ridiculous dream you had this week might be this one so far."

Jaskier seemed to have taken it upon himself to tell Geralt about his dreams. This was the eighth dream he talked about this week, and it wasn't even Friday yet.

"It was like," he opens his arms wide as if he is presenting the name of his new song to the whole world, " 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland' I blame the medicines. And you," he points at the nurse. "I also blame you. For looking like... " he then gestures at everything, "this."

"You blame me?" The other man snorts, amused. "If anything, you should blame yourself for having the wrong dream. Have you ever looked at yourself? You would make a good elf, not me. You are as bea— I mean, anyway, medicine time."

"I am what now? Wait, wait, wait, were you about to call me beautiful?"

"I was about to call you bearable, but then I thought that would be mean."

"I think you were about to call me beautiful, but then you thought 'That wouldn't be professional, you are his nurse,' or something along these lines. Also, that's not even how you start when you're about to say 'bearable' they are not even pronounced the— "

"That's not what happened."

"Nahh, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened, but eh, whatever helps you sleep at night, love."

"You're probably thinking you're still in 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland', go back to sleep, you're delusional."

"I am so not! And that would be your problem even if I was. Wanna check my fever?" He says, giving the nurse a once-over, "I feel hot, suddenly."

"Well, that explains why you're delusional, doesn't it?" Geralt teases. "Take your medicine and you will be just fine."

Jaskier sighs and does as he is told.

"Geralt," Jaskier says before Geralt is about to leave, a grin on his face "I think you are 'bearable', too. "

***

Geralt means to call Jaskier.

He really does.

Yet, whenever he is about to call him, something comes up, and eventually, he just accepts that he is going to have to wait for his shift to be over. 

For some reason, he doesn't want to call him and get interrupted after a minute.

And he doesn't want to send him a text, because he prefers hearing his angelic voice instead.

So, yeah. He is kind of stuck there for now.

***

Geralt finds Ciri laughing at her own joke as she watches The Office when he gets home, and this reminds him of Jaskier since that's something they both have in common. Once again, he finds himself thinking about the musician.

***

“Shit, it hurts,” Jaskier says, holding his chest.

“Maybe it’s the universe’s way to tell you to stop laughing at your own jokes.”

“Oh shut up, the universe can kiss my ass.”

“Seems like it prefers to kick your ass instead.”

That draws an annoyed laugh out of him, which makes him hiss in pain.

“It wouldn’t send me here if it was trying to kick my ass, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason.”

“I can't believe you still keep using that silly nickname unironically. Don’t you think that it is a bit long?”

“You may be right. Hmm, I’ll just call you ‘Mr. Handsome Nurse,’ from now on.”

“Please don’t. No.”

“How about just ‘Handsome’ ?”

“Still no.”

“Why not? It’s just a fact. You wouldn’t get mad at someone if they would point at a yellow wall and call it a ‘yellow wall’ would you?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I see no differences.”

“Then you better get your eyes checked.” 

“Speaking of which—” Jaskier reaches for his scratch book standing on the bedside table “can I borrow your eyes for a second?”

Geralt frowns, wondering what the musician is up to this time.

Jaskier opens his scratch book and stares in his eyes intently for a while and as he scribbles something. "Thanks," he says, "I just needed an accurate model of the stars."

"You know," the nurse shakes his head and answers smoothly: "you could just ask for a mirror."

Geralt can't help but smirk at his open-mouthed speechlessness. 

***

He hears a familiar voice singing, and for a moment he is sure that he has finally gone insane. 

Drying his hands on a washcloth, Geralt makes his way to the source of the voice, thinking "That must how Jerry feels when he follows the smell of a piece of cheese Tom tries to fool him with."

Jaskier's voice is irresistible to him, just like how cheese is irresistible to Jerry.

Absolutely irresistible, and hard to miss.

He could distinguish Jaskier's voice among all the rest if he heard it in a room filled with millions of men singing a song together.

This voice is coming from their living room. To be more specific, from Ciri's laptop—which she was supposed to use for searching her homework topic, but that can wait for now—

"Or I shall die," he hears Jaskier singing oh so sincerely and dramatically "or I shall die!"

"Dad! Please don't be mad, I swear to God I was going to start doing my homework, but—"

The first thing he does when he sits on the couch next to his daughter is grabbing the laptop and rewinding the video to the start. He then checks if the volume is at maximum.

"Shhh," he gestures, all of his attention is on the video he is watching.

He doesn't even realize that he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees the musician's face appear in front of him on the screen before Jaskier even starts singing.

He is as beautiful as ever in his ridiculous mint green shirt that he left the first four buttons undone.

It has cactus patterns on it.

Geralt can't help but wonder if Jaskier wearing this shirt is actually some kind of a secret message to him and him only.

Didn't he say that Geralt was just like a cactus?

"...prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

His words. Not Geralt's.

What does that even mean then? Something like "I wanna wear you on me like a shirt?"

Okay, he should probably stop because he is reading too much into this and—

"Anyway, so, this song goes to the cruel man who made me want to buy this shirt because it reminded me of him. You know who you are,"

Geralt's breath hitches.

He is not reading too much into this.

If anything, it's vice versa, because Jaskier dedicated a song to him.

Jaskier is thinking about him, too.

Thinking about him too much that he has decided he should dedicate a song to him.

The scene splits into five and one of the boxes on the screen shows Jaskier playing the piano, while in the other he plays the lute occasionally, violin in another one, and accordion in the other one. And in the other, he sings.

Good God. Is there anything this man cannot do?—Besides picking names for babies maybe, since picking names is definitely isn't his strong suit.—

"I tell myself what's done is done

I tell myself don't be a fool

Play the field have a lot of fun

It's easy when you play it cool"

"Does this mean he gave up on me because he got fed up with waiting for my call?" he thinks. But then again, why would he sing a song for him if he gave up?

While watching the video, Geralt is well aware of the fact that he will watch this video again and again and will take special care of each Jaskier— making sure not to miss even the tiniest of the mimic and gesture he does.

"I tell myself don't be a chump

Who cares, let him stay away

That's when the phone rings and I jump

And as I grab the phone I pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him or I shall die

Or I shall die"

He was right, this isn't a song that screams: "I'm giving up." Thank God it isn't. Jaskier puts his hand on his chest as he sings, and Ciri sighs next to Geralt, resting her head on his shoulder as she watches the video with him. 

"Oh hello, hello my dear God

It must be him but it's not him

And then I die

That's when I die"

That dramatic son of a flower actually flings himself into an armchair.

"After a while, I'm myself again

I take the pieces off the floor

Put my heart on the shelf again

You'll never hurt me anymore"

While he sings the "put my heart on the shelf again" he puts a heart sculpture on his bookshelf with a serious look and frown on his face. He might have got this heart sculpture just for this video for all Geralt knows.

"I'm not a puppet on a string,"

At this point, Geralt wouldn't be surprised to see actual strings attached to the musician's body just so he could cut the strings. He really wouldn’t be surprised, at all.

Because Jaskier is that extra most of the time.

And Geralt loves that about him.

"I'll find somebody else someday

That's when the phone rings, and once again

I start to pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him, it must be him

or I shall die, or I shall die"

The musician's voice goes up effortlessly into an unreachable octave as he sings the last part, and it's impossible not to be impressed. 

But then again, the man puts his heart into everything he does, therefore even doing something like folding a simple frog origami seems impressive when he is the one who's doing it, let alone singing as perfectly as this.

He then slowly walks towards the camera as the other boxes disappear and that one takes over the screen.

"Seriously though," he makes an aggressive 'call me' gesture, and the scene fades to black after that.

"Whoever keeps Jaskier waiting must be crazy," Ciri comments and gave a snort of disapproval and frustration. "He must care about this idiot of a guy a lot if he sings for him like this. What a jabroni. It would take him only a minute to call him."

"Ciri!"

"What? I'm right."

"That's not a nice thing to say," Geralt warns as he hands the laptop back to his daughter.

"I'm surprised that you watched the full thing, by the way. Actually, you don't seem too annoyed with me watching his videos nowadays, and you seemed quite interested in this one."

"I just love Vikki Carr," Geralt says. He has seen the title of the video, after all, so he knew this was a cover of her song. "I've wondered how he sang this song."

"Name five Vikki Carr songs then."

Geralt doesn't know five Vikki Carr songs— he can't even name two, let alone five.

"Okay, I think that's enough fun for you today," the nurse pretends not to have heard his daughter. "Do your homework while I go out to get some milk."

"We have milk at home."

"No, we don't."

"I put it in the fridge myself just this morning, so yeah, we do."

"We're out of these cookies you love, though."

"I thought you said they consumed way too much sugar so we were going to come up with a healthy and as I've read from your invisible subtitles, also probably boring recipe we can make together this weekend?"

"I— God, you ask a lot of questions today." Geralt whispers tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting Ciri's "boring recipe" comment slide.

Fuck him for not saying "I'm gonna go get some groceries," instead.

"I just asked one question, but okay. So? You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind, just for one more week, you can have it."

"Really?! Thanks!"

"Anything you want, pumpkin. Alright, I'm off!"

Geralt ruffles her hair before he grabs his wallet, keys, and most importantly, his phone.

Just before he closes the door, he can hear Jaskier's voice coming from the living room once again.

He cannot blame Ciri at all.

***

"If this is another spam call and not the important call I've been waiting for I swear on all my lute strings that I'll crush that damn phone on the ground and dance upon its bloody ruins! Actually, no, wait, that would mean the possibility of missing the call I've been waiting for, but you got my point."

As soon as Jaskier answers his call and starts talking, he feels like all the tiredness of the day disappears. Jaskier's voice manages to do that even when he is simply busy telling him off, having no idea who he is talking to. 

He can see that Ciri was right. He is an idiot for waiting for the right time.

"I'm seriously so sick of—"

Geralt finally cuts him off by saying: "Wow, I wouldn't wanna be a scammer or something right now, you aggressive Dandelion."

"Wait a second, this voice— Geralt?! Is that really you? Oh my God, you finally ca— I mean—"

Jaskier coughs as if he tries not to sound too excited, "Heey, the best nurse in the existence," Geralt can almost see his flirty frowning, yes, he manages to make even frowning look flirty for crying out loud, "How's it hanging?" he asks, his voice sounds deep, lazy, and dare he say, sensual.

"I should be asking you the same question. Are you still praying by the phone?"

"Someone does stalk me on social media, I see."

"And someone sings a song and makes a pretty impressive video clip for me, I see. My daughter was watching it, and that's how I found out about it. Just for your information."

"So you're not the one who stalks me online. It's Ciri," Jaskier says, and the fact that he remembers Ciri's name warms up Geralt's heart if he's being honest. "Sweet. Cool. Cool. I'm not hurt by that at all."

"Well..."

"Would you die if you let me be happy for just a moment? Not that I'm not happy to know that your daughter still watches my videos, but it would be nice to hear that you were the one who checked my account willingly."

"I'm sure I would see your video today anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be that soon, I admit, but I would see it."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

Silence.

But it isn't an uncomfortable one.

"Did you really find it impressive?" Jaskier asks, his voice is full of hope and happiness.

"Well—" 

"Nah, I know it's impressive, forget that I asked," he lets out a long sigh, "If I knew making a video clip for you would make you call me right away, I would do that earlier. Were you playing 'hard to get' or something? You know... I find it kinda cruel to make someone who just got out of the hospital keep waiting on the phone for so long. For your information, that 'kinda' is kinda unnecessary here maybe. I call it 'the polite kinda'. Or 'the unnecessary kinda'. " 

The next moment, Jaskier's playful tone leaves its place to a caring, worried one as he keeps talking: "If something is going wrong with your life, I take it back though. Ignore everything I said in that case. Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Ah, about that— Don't worry, everything is alright," Geralt replies, "I was thinking about calling you today, but I couldn't quite find the time. I know that's not an excuse, and I know I could call you earlier, but I didn't want to call you only to say 'I have to hang up,' a minute later."

"I’m happy to hear that nothing is wrong. And well, even that would be better than leaving me hanging. Or a simple 'Hey, the best patient ever' text would do. You took so long that I would be lying if I said I didn't think about getting involved in another accident."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I would get into millions of accidents just to see you, Geralt. Provided that I could have you as my nurse every time, of course. What's the point otherwise? I'm not a masochist."

"Such a flatterer you are, Mr. Pan—"

"I'm not trying to flatter you. Cross my heart and hope do die, I'm just scattering the facts around like they are glitters. Or cake sprinkles."

"God forbid! Accidents, death... Aren't we gonna talk about nice things at all?"

"I've been waiting for you to call me forever. I have every right to be bitter about it."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about I start making up to you, starting now?" 

"Sounds like you have something in your mind, Mr. Handsome Nurse." 

"I do, indeed. Have you had dinner yet?" 

"Does strawberry yogurt count as dinner?"

"I highly doubt it. You were complaining about hospital food, and yet that's what you choose to have for dinner?"

"I've never said I count yogurt as quality dinner, but it's still better than the things you dare to serve people as 'food', I should admit, I thought you already came to terms with—"

"Maybe you should come over so I can show you how a proper, nice dinner looks like. I'm not half bad at cooking."

Jaskier is silent on the other end of the line.

"Are you still there?" Geralt asks finally, "I'm sorry if this was too forward of me or too soon, I just thought it could be nice. You could meet Ciri too, that way." 

"No! Yeah! I mean—" if Geralt didn't imagine it, Jaskier sighs and murmurs an angry 'get it together you dumbass,' to himself before he continues talking. "Yes, I'm still here. No, this wasn't too forward of you. I was just taken aback a little bit, sorry. I mean, not every day a handsome nurse who I've been waiting for his call for a decade calls and invites me over for dinner. I'd love that, Geralt."

"I'll send you the address, then." Geralt checks his watch, it's nearly 6 p.m. "Is eight okay for you?"

"Sure, that should be fine. Hey, Ciri still doesn't know, right?"

"I don't think I need to answer that."

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Don't you think she would just grab my phone and call you herself if she knew? Or reaching out to you on every social media possible? Shouting from the rooftops, even?"

"She really likes me that much?"

"She just called me, I quote, an 'idiot', 'crazy', and 'jabroni' after watching your video, so..."

"She did what?!"

"I mean, not directly at me since she doesn't know I'm the 'him' in the 'it must be him', but still." 

"Seems to me like you're in big trouble here."

"Don't even remind me about it."

"I'd be lying if I said that doesn't put some pressure on me though. I mean... What if she doesn't like me?"

"Wha— Ciri already adores you. She adores you so much that it's annoying sometimes."

"It's impossible not to like you," is on the tip of his langue.

"They say never meet your heroes. What if when she actually meets me, she goes 'Meh, that's it?' What if I disappoint her somehow?"

"Worrying about earth getting invaded by the aliens in pink pasta costumes and tutus would much more sense compared to this. Believe me."

Jaskier laughs at that, but Geralt can still sense that he is not completely convinced.

"If you say so."

"I know so, Jaskier. I know so."

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[not-gae-cuz-i-like-straight-wae]

Part 1: Responding to Jeansaaa

I intended on writing both my response to jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and another person in one message, but there’s some delay and I only finished the first part some time ago, so I’ll split my message up in two parts with the second part coming later. So NOTE: this message does NOT contain all my answers to this subject and I WILL explain more about the “why’s” in the (I hope) near future.

Introduction:

It’s been a while, but I’ve finally decided to write the respond to both jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’s last message and someone who I spoke with in the private chat. I’ll start off by saying I’ll call jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa just “Jeanaaa” for short and the other person I’ll simply call “ABC”, because this person preferred to remain anonymous. I’ll respond to this last person later on in this message too, because I might answer several questions others might have as well…

I can’t reblog Jeansaaa’s last message and reply to it, because Jeansaaa blocked me afterwards (I send him/her a private message and asked about whether he/she had never blocked me or unblocked me again and then Jeansaaa said he/she forgot to block me, made a joke about his/her memory, told me not to worry and said he/she would block me with a smiley... like, WHERE even is the logic in blocking someone like THAT), so I don’t even know if Jeansaaa will ever read my message. However, this is a reply to basically everyone who’d say the exact same things in a discussion about lgbt+, so that’s why I’m responding to his/her message anyway and the same thing goes for ABC. I will however speak directly to these people, because it is them who wrote me the things they wrote.

The last thing I wanna say before I actually start writing, is that I might use capital letters and exclamation marks. This, however, will be more often shoutouts out of surprise and confusion instead of anger and aggression or it will be just to emphasize parts of my sentences…

MY RESPOND TO: JEANSAAA

Jeansaaa’s last message:

Listen bro don’t take this personal I have no I’ll intentions at all and I don’t hate straight people ( I’m bi myself so i’m part straight ) but if you’re gonna post your opinions online than your gonna be subject to criticism, and the problem with straight pride is that for centuries lgbtq+ people have been called slurs, demonized even KILLED because of their sexuality, even to this day in certain countries it’s illegal to be to be part of the lgbtq+, until just RECENTLY gay marriage was illegal, nothing like that has happened to straight people, that’s why gay pride exists because homophobia is still ever present, but I’m not gonna shove this in your face, I’m just trying to let you know why gay pride exists and why straight pride doesn’t, have a good day dude 😊

“Don’t take this personal”

Okay, so first of all, EXCUSE ME?! I shouldn’t take it personal??? ERR. Aside from blocking me yourself, you LITERALLY told others to block me as well, so that is PRETTY personal!

No hate to straight people? WOW. I’m blown away!

Like I said before, it would be quite mankind-hating if you’d hate straight people! I know people don’t hate straight people (because THAT would be completely insane), but I still can’t believe we have come so far that you are criticized when you do say you’re straight! Because that’s what’s happening. Lgbt+ supporters want lgbt+ people to show everyone they’re not straight and straight people should shut up about being straight?!

I’m okay with criticism if it’s because I say THESE things…

Yes, I AM posting the things I say online. Those aren’t “opinions”, but I guess it wouldn’t even do any good anymore to explain that to you, so I’ll just say “opinions” to keep it simple… I know a lot of people have the same opinions as me. People that also have no ill intentions (towards the lgbt+ community itself as well), but (like me) they act the way they act and have opinions because they think about it themselves and NOT because the majority (or at least, the ones who are given a voice and scream the loudest and the ones that can control the governments and the media together with – of course – the large herd of people that blindly follows them) thinks that way. Unfortunately, many people don’t dare to stand up for their opinion anymore these days and those who do speak aloud are often silenced. Either because their account gets blocked if they’d speak on the internet or something even worse would happen if they’d stand up for their opinions in real life.

You’re calling the ENTIRE humanity before us STUPID…

So I have a question for you… You say: “for centuries lgbtq+ people have been called slurs, demonized even KILLED because of their sexuality” and you say “nothing like that has happened to straight people”. Now… Don’t you think there is a REASON why all these centuries people thought of lgbt+ as abnormal? Do you really think all these BILLIONS and BILLIONS of people that have lived on the Earth for CENTURIES just thought of lgbt+ as abnormal for absolutely NO REASON?!

Again: I don’t hate gays and don’t feel any need to discriminate them, in case you still thought I did after I already told you a hundred times I didn’t.

Look, I don’t justify the fact that people were killed because of whatever they thought they were or liked and I have said that before. I think they should have human (I repeat: HUMAN) rights and that they should be protected by the government in the country they live in (as long as they act normally, of course, but that applies to everyone). So if they’d get abused or they’d beaten up, the perpetrators should be punished! If people want to make decisions or changes to themselves, it’s their problem. That’s why I also wouldn’t hurt or scold anyone who’s – for example – gay. I fact, some of my very own friends are gay and they know how I think about it, but we have no problems with each other at all. So don’t pretend like I’M the one causing others frustration or whatever!

The problem.

And that’s why I think I should clarify myself one more time: I’m not against gay people. That’s their choice. What I am against is the lgbt+ AGENDA that is being executed (and that too is why I definitely wouldn’t support the lgbt+ community and why I openly said that on my account). I’m against the forcing of changing mankind’s morality. It’s totally fine (to me, at least) if you want to have an opinion, but why all that pushy hassle?! And now it even goes far beyond imposing opinions. Entire cities are changed. I know why and I’ll speak about this more extensively later on, but I’ll first finish my respond to what you’ve said.

I believe you are mistaken about your own goal.

You claim that gay pride is all to make sure gay people will have the same rights as straight people, right? I know many people do. Well, let me tell you something: the way you’re trying to achieve that WON’T change the fact that it’s illegal to be part of the lgbt+ community in some countries! Waving rainbow flags, painting rainbow zebra crossings and creating wall paintings of two men (like I have all seen more than once in my very own hometown and much, MUCH more in the capital city of the country I live in) won’t change a SHIT about what’s happening in faraway countries. And I can tell you another thing: in the places where all these changes for lgbt+ people are made, lgbt+ people already HAVE the same rights! So if you REALLY want to change anything in some country on the other side of the world, GO OVER THERE and try to convince them to treat lgbt+ people differently!

More than just normalizing (whether you acknowledge that or not).

But NO. That’s NOT what you all do. You wave all these flags and stuff here for another reason, because – like I said – lgbt+ people ARE accepted by the community in these countries and waving flags won’t change a thing ANYWHERE even IF it hadn’t already been legalized here. You wave these flags, paint these rainbow zebra crossings and create these wall paintings of two men because lgbt+ is already normalized here, but the lobby who created this agenda wanted people to take it much further than just normalizing the lgbt+ community. That’s also why it’s not called gay “normal”, but gay “pride” and why you all celebrated an entire “pride month”. That’s also why I spoke earlier about you all praising, glorifying or even WORSHIPPING the lgbt+ community now.

So DON’T try to convince me…

… that all these rainbow stuff and same-sex paintings are to reduce discrimination of lgbt+ people (which I, for the record, am also against, but I’ve already explained that before), because it’s NOT. It already IS not allowed to discriminate lgbt+ people in these countries and on social media and you guys are NOT trying to change anything in countries where being gay is illegal, because that would be happening over THERE and not over HERE.

About the next message:

Once again, I know (a couple of reasons) why the lobby wants you all to wave rainbow flags etc. etc., but I’ll speak about that more at some other point in the next (extremely long) message, in which I – like I said earlier – will also respond to someone who texted me in a private chat.

So this is where the first part of my message ends. You’ll hear more of me about this some other time…

[hellothirteenhere]

Jujutsu Kaisen x Harry Potter

I feel as though every fandom has that obligatory multichapter Harry Potter!AU. Of course, that’s not to say that our amazing writers hadn’t been writing fic within this universe. (For example, check out seadawnn’s ‘Conquest of Hearts’ - Wholesome™ Itafushi that makes me smile every time I read it.) But I’m interested in seeing how a full-blown Jujutsu Kaisen universe would be like in an alternate Harry Potter-setting. So! I’ve been thinking long and hard about how it would play out and here are my headcanons for our very own Golden Trio! Couldn’t quite place them definitively in their Hogwarts Houses, so I would love to hear your opinions on where each of them should go, as well as your own personal headcanons.

Yuuji Itadori | Gryffindor/Hufflepuff (5th Year)

Ok, so here's the thing: typical shonen protagonist conventions tells me to put Yuuji Itadori in Gryffindor. And it makes complete sense! We see that he's brave - fucking demon possesses you and all you say is "What are you doing with my body?"?. But he's also willing to admit when he gets scared, like when he first faced a Special Grade. GryffindorJock!Itadori who is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team is a mental image I'm not willing to let go of anytime soon. However, Yuuji is also an incredibly kind individual who just wants to save other people. Hufflepuff!Yuuji is that guy who is popular with everyone at Hogwarts, he cooks meatballs in the kitchens at midnight as he talks to the house elves as though they were close friends, and he would definitely take a curse or two in order to save his friends if the situation calls for it.

Background

Yuuji grew up as a mostly normal kid. Sure, there had been strange (almost magical, somehow) instances here or there but he was an energetic enough child that it never really occurred to him to dwell on them for too long. 

As long as he could remember, it was just him and his grandfather. Supposedly, Yuuji had an older brother. But for some reasons that his grandfather refuse to tell him; he had to go away when Yuuji had been very young. He doesn’t even remember what his older brother looked like. But then again, Yuuji can’t even remember what their parents had been like - so he doesn’t really feel as though there was anything lacking in his upbringing. After all, how can you miss something you never had? 

On his eleventh birthday, his grandfather solemnly sits Yuuji down and tells him that he was a wizard.  He was a “Pureblood” - and potentially very powerful - wizard. His grandfather had been born a squib but he had known enough to explain to Yuuji the basics of the world that his parents had once belonged to. 

Imagine: “Yer a wizard, Yuuji.” “….Sweet.”   

His grandfather then hands him two things: 

First, a letter from some Hog-Wash-Hagwarts?? Warthog? School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that he was to attend. His parents had gone there as well to learn magic. 

Second, a long, sturdy piece of polished wood. When grandfather had taken it out of its box, Yuuji had looked at the wand skeptically - almost a hundred percent sure that the entire thing was one huge joke. But his grandfather was no prankster, after all, because as soon as his fingertips touched its surface, he felt a warm glow rush into his fingertips. 

According to his grandfather, the wand had been his mother’s, passed on to his grandfather for safekeeping after she had died all those years ago. 

When asked about the whereabouts of his father’s wand, his grandfather’s face turned dark. It was with Yuuji’s older brother, he said. His older brother who had also been attending the same school that he would be. 

Headcanons

Itadori is one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts students of their year. He also gets great grades for Charms and, much to everyone’s surprise, Potions. A Chaotic Good™ through-and-through, Itadori tends to forget to follow the very strict instructions that Potions Master Kento Nanami wrote at the blackboard, and yet despite eyeballing the ingredients, his Potion turns out great every time. HOW? No one knows.

His dorm room is filled with Muggle posters - it just feels too weird to have a magical poster of a tall woman with a big ass greeting him every time he woke up or entered his dorm room. He learned the hard way that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing when Todo gifted him a moving poster of Jennifer Lawrence.

He tries his best to collect Chocolate Frog cards, bless his heart - but he always tend to lose them in the journey between Hogwarts and his home every summer. Little does he know that Kugisaki and Toge pilfer the ultra-rare ones that he somehow manages to pull in a semi-regular basis. 

Megumi Fushiguro | Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw (5th Year)

Primarily, I want Ravenclaw!Megumi Fushiguro as an aesthetic. We already know that he likes to read non-fiction books in his spare time (babes, i love you but that is nerd behavior), and he's shown that he's very sharp and intuitive when it comes to battles. He is also very knowledgeable about the Jujutsu World. Also, pretty boy looks damn good in blue. I can just imagine Megumi as the quiet, brooding Ravenclaw who is somehow friends with every insane person in Hogwarts. However, Hufflepuff!Megumi embodies who he is as a character. He's loyal to his friends and family, selfless when it comes to protecting the others, and he's willing to work hard behind the scenes even if he doesn't get recognition for it. We also saw how Megumi was willing to be the sacrifice bunt if it meant that Kugisaki had the chance to move forward during the baseball scene.

Background

Megumi came from an aristocratic Pureblood family, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Zenin. An extremely powerful wizarding family rumored to be distant relatives of Salazar Slytherin himself. Only - his father Toji had been born a Squib who married his mother just to spite his conservative family. Much to his surprise, however, Megumi was born not only an incredibly talented wizard but also the first parseltongue of the Zenin family in years.

Professor Gojo - back when he was still an Auror and not the DADA instructor at Hogwarts - came to the Fushiguro family household after he had apprehended Fushiguro Toji or, as the wizarding world commonly knows him as: the Sorcerer Killer. Much to his surprise, he doesn't find Toji's wife nor his stepdaughter - instead, he finds tiny Megumi talking to his pet garden snake, Orochi. He ended up taking Megumi under his wing, letting him live at the Gojo family’s home and later taking him to Diagon Alley a week before he started in Hogwarts. 

Gojo buying Megumi his pet owl, Nue. 

No, YOU’RE crying. 

Of course, the Zenin family kick up a fuss about custody. It's only Gojo's status as the strongest wizard alive - as well as his well-placed threat to make the knowledge that the notorious Sorcerer Killer had once been a Zenin known to the wizarding world - that keeps them quiet.

Headcanons

Megumi's best subject is Care of Magical Creatures - though he’s also great at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. Students are, by school regulations, only really allowed one (1) pet (an owl/cat/toad). And legally, Megumi has his horned owl, Nue. It is, however, an open secret within the Hogwarts community that Megumi Fushiguro walks around the castle with his pet snake Orochi wrapped around his wrist under his cloak. No one questions that Megumi arrives at Hogsmeade, conveniently trailed by the same black and white dogs every weekend. His roommates learn to turn their heads the other way when the bunnies under Megumi’s bed escape their cage.

He used the expansion charm in order to house his ever-growing collection of pets. Imagine Newt Scamander’s suitcase but, instead of a large sprawling space, it’s a cozy room filled with books and pets and pet paraphernalia.   

He’s not competitive enough to play Quidditch, but he attends every game to support his friends. He also attends their practices sometimes but just sits at the pitch to read his book, do homework, or take a nap. 

Half-Veela!Megumi make brain go brrrrr

Kugisaki Nobara| Slytherin/Gryffindor (5th Year)

Out of everyone, I had the hardest time placing the Kugisaki. I feel as though Slytherin!Kugisaki is the girl who dropped everything in order to go live in the city - the girl who was willing to do anything, even join a career with a high possibility of dying, just to follow her dreams. She is unapologetic about being herself, highly resourceful, and is one luxurious queen. But Kugisaki is also incredibly brave - unafraid to stand up for the girl who was being ostracized by everyone in their part of the countryside. I implore you to imagine Gryffindor!Kugisaki pulling the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat in order to save other people. 

Background

Kugisaki is a Muggleborn who used to live in the quiet countryside. She’s an incredibly talented witch who started showing signs of magic at an early age - something that had frightened her, especially because it was clear that it also frightened her parents. She tried to suppress her abilities, trying to fit into society for a while - that is, until a girl named Saori moved in from the city.

Saori had been a Pureblood witch who had grown up in the Wizarding World. She had been the first person told Kugisaki that her magic was a blessing instead of a freak of nature or something that she had to hide. Saori talked to Kugisaki about the wonders of their world that she would one day get to take part in. She told Kugisaki about Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and all these wonderful places that she would get to go to. 

However, because they were a Pureblood family, Saori and her family did not know how to integrate within the Muggle community. Not too long after their arrival, horrible rumors about their family started spreading - that they were cultists, satan worshippers, etc. Eventually, they decided to move away from the country. Before leaving, Saori made Kugisaki promise to find each other one day and to never turn back on who she truly is.

When Kugisaki first received her letter from Professor Shoko Ieiri who mysteriously appeared in their doorstop the night of her eleventh birthday, the professor explained to her parents about magic and the wizarding - only, Kugisaki was only half listening. 

Unlike her parents, she wasn’t surprised one bit - it was only a matter of time, after all, and she was finally going to get to go to Hogwarts. Surely, Saori had already graduated by the time she entered but it was definitely one step closer to finding her childhood friend. 

Headcanons

Kugisaki has pretty good grades all around - but she is definitely known as the best in their year at Charms. She also has great grades at Defense Against the Dark Arts. She and Yuuji definitely almost failed History of Magic, though. They have too much energy to just sit quietly and take notes in class - especially one taught by a ghost. 

Every store owner in Hogsmeade knows Kugisaki by name - and by extention, they know Yuuji and Megumi too. She has long since mastered the art of dragging her friends all around the shops and still not paying a single Knut by the end of their Hogsmeade visit. At the end of every visit, Yuuji and Megumi swears that it would be the last time and yet, every visit, she still manages to wrangle both of them into coming with her 

In Potions, Kugisaki is a force to be reckoned with. Her cauldron always appeared to be on the verge of exploding and yet, somehow, a supernatural force (or by the sheer strength of her own willpower) seem to keep her from completely fucking up every time. 

BeaterNobaraBeaterNobaraBeaterNobaraBeaterNobara  

COMING UP

Slytherin!Sukuna Ryoumen

Ex-Auror-turned-DADA-Professor!Gojo 

Potions-Master-not-Professor!Nanami

Slytherin!Maki Zenin

Ravenclaw!Inumaki Toge

Hufflepuff!Panda 

[c-c-cherry]

OOH I GOT A GOOD REQUEST,,,, How about Jonathan’s reaction to each of the jojos, and their jobros?

*Jonathan looking down at his absolutely fucked family tree, a single tear running down his cheek*

Listen...I always say that *insert literally any character* is the best parental figure but it's Jonathan hours which legally means I can call Jonathan best dad in this post regardless of anything I’ve said in the past about any other best dads.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lemme just implement my soft Jonathan headcanons first: 

-Soft man. The king of manly tears. Tears down toxic masculinity like a fucking bulldozer

-Knits AND crochets. He never had a mother growing up so when Erina came in with all these lovely, traditionally feminine skills, he wanted to learn ALL OF IT

-Arguably gives the best hugs out of every Jojo (Josuke is a pretty close second, though)

-Since this post is just an impossible dimensional pocket where anything can happen, him and Erina live in one of those old grandma cottage-houses with a comfy, old couch and tacky curtains and a really cute little garden

-Again, if this is a pocket dimension he’s definitely hosting the Joestar family reunion there

-Just one of those houses where everyone feels comfortable

-Is impossible to piss off (except if you do anything to the people he loves)

-Always speaks in a very soft, understanding voice even when he’s mad/disappointed

-The father figure all the Jojos wish they had

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Part 2:

-You know that face you make when you watch someone you love do something insanely stupid but you’re still trying to keep positive because you know from experience that trying to stop them is futile?

-Just this constant, wincing smile?

-Yeah. That pretty much sums up Jonathan’s expression within any vicinity of Joseph Joestar

-He loves the man. He really does. But oh my god is he a dumbass

-Jonathan is the type of man to like,,,make bread and talk about his feelings but Joseph wants none of that shit and that’s ok,,,Jonathan can and will find another way to bond

-Regardless, he loves his Himbo grandson and the two of them end up talking about Erina and Speedwagon and a lil bit of Hamon too :3

-CAESAR on the other hand—Jonathan is so fucking happy to see a descendant of the Zeppeli’s continuing the whole Hamon thing and managing to be friends with Joseph

-Although Joseph never wants to talk about it outside of fighting, Jonathan and Caesar both share this tender love for the healing aspect of it :’)

-He teaches Caesar how to do stuff like grow/heal plants and flowers and Caesar ends up growing his own sunflowers in Jonathan’s backyard :)

-Smokey reminds him of Poco and he literally just wants to protect him with his whole heart hhhhhhhh

-Suzi Q also reminds him of Erina, but he still has no idea how she puts up with Joseph’s bullshit (and whenever she can’t decide what to wear, he always helps)

-He penalizes Lisa Lisa for being a fucking Hamon coach and also smoking cause like-

Part 3:

-Hgggghnn HEAR ME OUT but between him and Joseph, Jotaro arguably has more qualities of Jonathan including this wonderfully secret, sweet, sensitive side

-Jonathan grows flowers using Hamon and braids them into Star Plat’s hair (he has practice when doing it with Erina) :))))

-Joot claims to hate the bread that Jonathan bakes but if he DOES make it y’all know you’ll find him sitting there, eating it, and talking about his feelings like a good man should (but only if no one else is around)

-Arguably the only responsible father figure in his life and the only one who would scold him for literally going to jail

-Also apologizes profusely for not killing DIO the first time ;(

-Kakyoin is the kind of person you could just sit in silence with for hours doing shit like reading or painting or something and Father Jojo is loving the vibe

-YES JONATHAN WOULD HAVE A HOME GARDEN and every year he grows cherries for Kak >:)

-Pol is a bit extreme for him, but if he can handle Joseph then he can handle this man

-As rich, Victorian boys often did, he definitely studied french as a kid and can surprisingly hold a pretty good conversation

-Him and Avdol!!!! Feed his chickens together!! And engage in lovely, civil conversation :)))))

-Holy definitely inherited Jonathan and Erina’s sweet nature and she’s always down to compare knitting techniques with him :)

Part 4:

-Is it....is it safe to say that Jonathan just adopts all of Morioh?

-Ok but Josuke gets along with everybody (Rohan doesn’t count hgfjgh) so you already know he’d be up for some nice familial bonding (though he wouldn’t show it initially)

-I feel like he’d be hesitant at first because him and Joseph are already on weird terms and he doesn't wanna “intrude” on the Joestar family or anything like that

-But our man Jonathan is here to reassure him that he’s still a part of the family and his cute little grandma house door is always open for him when he needs it

-Jonathan would bake that bread and Josuke would be sittin’ on that couch pouring his heart out before that shit even comes out of the oven

-Josuke’s the biggest out of his friends so getting completely engulfed in a nice, warm, loving Jonathan hug is the best shit

-Like instant serotonin :)

-Crazy Diamond doesn’t have any hair so no stand braiding :( BuT Josuke will let his hair down sometimes and you already know master weaver Jonathan Joestar is braiding in some purple flowers and shit :)

-Okuyasu isn’t that smart academically, but our man has a big heart and that’s all Jonathan cares about

-Jonathan always makes soup for him whenever he’s down because Oku’s mama used to make him soup when he was sad too ;-;

-The two bond over losing a mother at a young age and never being close with their father and feeling unwanted growing up and its the sweetest shit

-Koichi would just,,,,stare in awe because between Jonathan, Joseph, and Jotaro he feels like a fucking ant (and is honestly kinda scared)

-The first time they meet, Jonathan tries to ruffle his hair and accidentally PUSHES THE BOY INTO THE CONCRETE and he feels so bad after, that he spends all night knitting him a new sweater

-He gives it to Koichi with apologetic tears in his eyes and Koichi fucking LOVES IT with all his heart

-Rohan is extremely intrigued by all of this shit and they two of them spend hours talking about Jonathan’s life

-Rohan ends up giving him a painting of Erina and now Jonathan sends him his favourite cookies on his birthday every year

-Also him and Tonio are real good buds and Tonio never yells at Jonathan for “eating impolitely” like George used to because he knows its just a sign that he loves his food :)

Part 5:

-What can I say? Both Jonathan and Giorno got a love for flowers and life, and that’s literally all they do together

-Like,,,their happiness is in one giant, contagious loop because when Jojo’s really happy, his Hamon will just make shit bloom everywhere and when Giogio is happy, his stand will go fucking bonkers and change shit into plants

-Ok but what if,,,they braided flowers into each other’s hair? :D

-Jonathan would bake the bread. Giorno would sit hesitantly on the couch. The moment this kid takes a bite with that GOOD jam he’s like “HAHA there goes my stoic front whoops-”

-Jonathan thought Giorno would get cold in the winter so he crocheted a heart the size of his tiddy window and gave it to him for Christmas

-As I said previously, him and Bruno would go fucking hard on tea parties and all that shit -Both are the obvious mom friend, it’s impossible for them not to get along

-Abba’s a little,,,iffy about him, but eventually grows on him the more Abbacchio actually starts warming up to Giorno (for whatever reason)

-Jonathan’s never really had to deal with teenagers that much (aside from when he was one himself,) so he really has no idea what the hell to do around Narancia and Mista because they’re so young and he feels like a fucking grandma around them

-But they’re always really sweet to him and ask if he wants to play COD but Jonathan has no idea why they could wanna play with a fish so he just smiles and laughs and hopes its a joke :’)

-When Trish wants her nails done, best jonadad is here to do it. She wants her hair done? Jonathan’s got that special brush that doesn’t hurt when you’re doing tangles. Hugs? Infinite hug supplier, babey. He’s really out here doing whatever it takes to keep best girl happy

-Fugo is,,,quiet,,,but he always comes over and eats the strawberries in his garden when they’re ready for harvest

-He even helps make them into jam :)

-He also teaches Fugo Hamon breathing techniques when he caught wind of his anger and it actually helps him a lot

-He considers everyone in that house his family too, and always invites them over for social events at his pocket dimension grandma house

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Jonathan Joestar lives in my head rent free...

If you’ve got a head canon idea, my ask box is always open!! <3

[abortionado]

I have a real life tale of Homeric Epic proportions for you all. I do not condone the actions of anyone in this story

My senior year of high school, I was entrenched in a preposterous scandal between two of my friends.

Guy 1 was this completely indescribable, sexually ambiguous, utterly ridiculous little xc/debate club twink who was an armed libertarian leftist, HYPERfixated on working class history, and VERY intelligent but so hyperactive and deliberately loud/obnoxious that all of our teachers hated him anyway. He called me “Rosita Bonita,” and was accepted to Princeton and CalTech but was going to a mid-tier school nearby because he didn’t want to leave the mountains. 🥺

Guy 2 was an extremely easygoing, widely-beloved football player with a FIANCÉ he’d been with for 3 years (religious people in small towns get engaged young) who was a devout environmentalist and was planning on going to trade school in Italy after graduation. No real reason, he just thought Italy was dope, which I respect. 

Both good guys, both weird

We were all the same friend group (me, the dudes, the fiancé, & several other ppl), and those two were really close. Like if I was slightly more heterosexual I would say “bromance.” The summer before senior year, those guys, another friend of ours, and the fiancé went on an educational environmental science trip to Peru, where they, like, hiked around and camped out in the mountains. I don’t know or care what they were supposed to be learning about the environment up there, I just know that they split their little group of 4 up into a boys tent and girls tent, and these two boys who the Lord God put on this earth to play high school sports started fucking each other in tents in the rocky mountains of Peru.

Which would normally be like, okay, so what, Rose, why are you telling me these dudes’ business, but you have to remember that the second dude had a fiancé, a female fiancé no less, who was on the trip and was sleeping just a few yards away from where these boys were fucking each other. And this is where it morphed into everyone’s business

My friend, the only member of their little group who was not involved, called me from a hotel one night when they’d gone back down out of the mountains and into a town (and thus had cell service again), and she was like, “Rose, you need to help me.”

And I was like “What? What’s wrong?” Panicking, because my four dear friends were very far away in a weird mountain town and I had no idea what could possibly have happened

And she goes “I think that [guy 1] and [guy 2] are having sex, and I don’t know how to tell [fiancé].”

This is news to me, because I was previously SO sure that guy 2 was straight. I was like “I really think you’re losing it”

So we talked it out a little bit and decided that the high altitude was getting to her, and our friend wouldn’t cheat on his fiancé, who he really loved, and our other friend wouldn’t sow division in our close-knit group like that

School started back up however long after they got back, and things were just like. Completely normal for a while, and then after like a month of the whole thing being forgotten and under the bridge, guy 1 becomes overwhelmed with guilt and decides to tell the fiancé that he was in fact fucking her beloved in the Peruvian mountains.

Now, this was a MAJOR blow to the law, serenity, and order of our group, as im sure you know if you’ve ever been involved in a situation where a member of a friend group was cheating with another member of a friend group. All of my friends are very progressive, so it was much more about the cheating and lying than the fact that they were both men, but I would be wrong to say that that was not also a concern, because it came so completely out of nowhere. We were all blindsided (except for my friend, who I had accidentally gaslit into believing this wasn’t happening and she was going crazy from mountain air 🤪)

So. This is where it gets wild

Guy 2 takes the logical path out and decides to just lie and say that this never happened at all. Like, he straight up denies everything guy 1 is alleging.

I don’t know why he did that. You should never lie about something if the other person has screenshots, which guy 1 did. He had screenshots like you would not BELIEVE.

And he IMMEDIATELY took to the public Internet, which my mother uses, with these screenshots.

A lot of people had heard rumors about this by now, because these guys were both athletes and guy 2 was like “popular” or whatever, so it just kinda gets around. Guy 1 decided to feed the people and send the screenshots to the school gossip IG acct (“____ high school tea”), and of course, the person running the page was THRILLED to have such top-tier content so early in the school year, and it was all posted for their 1,188 followers to see.

The screenshots told a story that ran much deeper than two dudes fucking each other on a field trip. I had initially kind of assumed was just a “gay-for-the-stay,” messing around kind of thing, but there were screenshots of texts from guy 2 about getting MARRIED, telling guy 1 that he was his SOULMATE, telling him he “set my heart to flame,” “I love you more than anything,” etc etc., and, most notably, a picture of guy 2 in the act of SUCKING GUY 1’s DICK. Some of these things dated from WEEKS AFTER they got back from Peru.

So, it was clear to me that guy 1 AND the fiancé both felt (justifiably?) extremely fucked over by guy 2 at this point. The previously-airtight group was on the verge of collapse, as all of us had been dragged into this conflict between these 3 mfs. The girl called off the engagement.

Guy 2 wrote a notes app apology to the entire school claiming he had dissociative identity disorder and blaming the entire affair on his gay alter ego. Then he wrote a sad rap begging his fiancé to get back with him.

But the most insane part of all of this is that, since guy 1 AND guy 2 were both 17 when the explicit pic was posted on “[redacted]hstea,” the POLICE got involved. Guy 1 was investigated on CHILD PORNOGRAPHY charges for a picture of him getting his own dick sucked by a peer, as was guy 2, AS WAS the person running the tea account.

(This tea account had ruined lives, so when her identity was revealed, she literally transferred schools within like a week. Or maybe she’s in jail idk)

The charges were dropped and the boys were let off with a warning, because like. From a legal standpoint, who cares, but we All had to go to an internet safety assembly run by cops where they lectured us for two hours about not taking nudies, and EVERYONE was looking at me and my friends, because even though we had nothing to do with it, they KNEW we were affiliated with the defendents, and that was enough for them

Then guy 1 shot out the back window of guy 2’s car, which was the catharsis of the whole event, and it effectively blew over within another month or two.

Our group was split in half by loyalty (we joked and said guy 2 and his fiancé were like our divorcing parents), and I did not see those two in a room together for SEVERAL months, but then there was one weekend in like February that we all got together like old times (except for the fiancé who had moved on to a better man, as she should), and we were talking about going to a party with some of guy 2’s football friends, and guy 1 was like “I’m not gonna do that. You know what they say about me.”

And guy 2 tucked guy 1’s hair behind his ear and said with ZERO hesitation, “But you know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

This is a completely benign interaction, but imagine being me, witnessing this after 8 months of general social hell, child pornography charges, ruined friendships, Megan is missing assemblies, THE most dramatic breakup I’ve ever seen in my life and subsequent SoundCloud raps, shot out car windows, and a fake DID diagnosis, ALL because guy 2 wanted to avoid allegations of gay behavior. For WHAT.

Anyway coronavirus happened and idk what’s going on with them now and I don’t care but that’s my villain origin story

[msgrumpygills]

So I’m kind of new to the fandom. I’ve been casually watching the show for a couple years now but only recently got into the fandom side. And I have to say, never in my life have I seen so much drama and toxicity in one place. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m enjoying the drama though lol.

Before I start though, I personally believe you can make anyone sound problematic if you try hard enough, we’ve all done and said stupid things, but when you decide to become famous you should be ready to be held accountable for the smallest things, not saying it’s right. It’s just how things are unfortunately.

So far I’ve decided that I just don’t like Jared and Danneel,did you know she used the same bullying tactics that Jared has used? I saw a screenshot from her story where she called someone out for... being mean to her? I can only hope the poor girl is ok after her dms were most likely flooded with angry stans. And she just seems so tacky, it’s really obvious if you take a look at her tweets from a decade ago, this woman does not have the potential or capacity to be any kind of famous.And honestly I think one of your anons were right about J2 being trumpies, especially Jared, I was looking for dirt on him and the guy said in a tweet that cracker is a slur? So far everyone I’ve met who had those kind of ideologies turned out to be somewhat of a racist so idk. As for Jensen, he seems to be a bit smarter in the sense that he knows when to stay quiet, but I think he’s probably the same as Jared. I think I remember him making a joke right alongside Jared when he was making that chloroform rape joke. And I think he said the N-word in his last panel with Jared? I think it was a fan’s name. I’ve been told he got the name right the first time and then practically said the N-word the second time around. I do think J2 are closet republicans who are trying to seem progressive because that’s what sells these days.

And Gen, she just seems so... uninteresting? Like I have no desire to know anything about her, unlike the others. But your blog helped out a bit with that. I still think she’s boring and uninteresting lol. I honestly think she should’ve just tried to get a role without Jared’s help. It probably would’ve been real hard, but earning a role through nepotism will not help her career if she decides to ever have one again. But then again, I remember thinking her acting paled in comparison to Katie Cassidy’s, who also played the character Ruby the season before Gen came along. So good luck to her I guess lmao.

So far the only one I’m unsure about is Misha? I mean you’ve got the hardcore Jared stans and the hardcore Misha stans, from what I’ve seen, both sides are extremely biased, and frankly, they all look like idiots from the outside, and they both have completely different beliefs. But you seem to be a bit more level headed, so I thought I’d ask you,tell me all the dirt. What are some of the shitty things he’s done? And I’m sorry this got so long.

The Supernatural fandom is one of the worst fandoms to be in. One of the big reasons that I stopped watching the show was because of the fans, I’ll be honest. But yeah, it is kinda fun to watch the drama, as long as you’re at a distance and safe! 

I absolutely agree that anyone can be problematic. Hell, if I became famous and people found my old tweets or Facebook posts, even Tumblr posts, I’d probably be “cancelled” or called out. I’m not a terrible person, but we’ve all been young and dumb and we’ve all been embarrassing, that’s just part of life. 

Danneel has absolutely been a bitch, there’s really no nice way of saying it. Fans have had horrible experiences with her in real life too. I think if she was more active on social media again, she’s still be showing her true colors, but she’s not active really.  I do remember Jared’s “cracker” controversy and like....I try not to be political, but really dude? I’m white and I don’t consider cracker to be racist or a slur. It’s ridiculous to me? I’m no History major, but I don’t recall people using cracker to describe white people who were considered “lower than” others. 

Jensen is overall a lot smarter than Jared, but he has made mistakes still. The difference is that Jensen apologizes, he holds himself accountable, and he changes his behavior to make sure that he doesn’t make those mistakes again. No one is perfect, but at least Jensen can own up, take responsibility and change. Jared....well we know Jared.

Gen is....well you said you’ve seen my blog, and there are other “antis” here who can shed even more light. She’s uninteresting but thinks she’s the bee’s knees. 

Don’t be sorry about the message getting long! I’m famous for being long-winded, so you’re among friends! 

Misha is......Misha. His fans are absolutely insane (I know there are some normal ones) so any sort of negative backlash against him is usually buried. I’ve made a few posts about him and why I stopped really being a fan of his, but I will try to summarize! 

I started getting kind of turned off to him around the 2016 election because he was bombarding social media with politics and I just wasn’t there for it. A lot of fans came after me for that but that’s their prerogative. I actually started seeing some anti posts on here and went down a rabbit hole of things that I’d looked past or didn’t know about that all mounted up. Some of those things are; (I don’t have links for everything because the one blog that had compiled everything together isn’t active anymore, but someone might have screenshots!) Also in no particular order!

Misha admitting to leering at kids at a playground while preparing for his role in Karla. 

Having his young female fanbase send him pictures of themselves only wearing cheese bikinis or kale swimsuits, etc. for GISHWHES. I know some people think “it’s just a goofy scavenger hunt” but if it wasn’t Misha Collins, would you want your barely legal sister sending pictures of her only wearing cheese to a 40 something year old man? 

His constant blatant disrespect for Jensen and his aversion to Destiel, his baiting of the fans and complete abandonment of Jensen when he gets the backlash. 

He baits the Destiel fans to the point of them making Jensen uncomfortable, then when Jensen puts his foot down, the fans attack him harshly. Where was Misha for that? Silent. Even though he was the one who eggs everyone on. 

Being rude, sexual, and otherwise inappropriate in front of children at conventions. I know fans will say “it’s not his responsibility to monitor kids!” but the fact that he continues to act like that while knowing there are kids in the audience is weird. I wouldn’t be making sexual jokes or being lewd in front of kids, that’s gross. 

His whole “charity” act that is really just him profiting from his “kindness” acts and his GISHWHES hunts. Pretty charitable of him. 

The fact that he uses Stands to push baiting merchandise onto fans with no regard to how Jensen feels, just to make a buck. (In addition to that, he doesn’t reign in the Stands staff who are horrible to fans and customers.)

I’m sure that there’s more, but that’s all I can think of at the moment! Hopefully that sheds some light! I try not to be too biased either way, but with some of the things it’s hard not to.

[horansqueen]

It Feels Like Christmas - Part 2

It feels like Christmas Just like Christmas It feels like Christmas with you...

Click Here if you want to be on the update list

NIALL

Have you ever felt like fate was on your side? Have you ever felt like someone, even after just meeting them, was going to have a big impact on your life? It's not like the sky opened and a light beamed down on them or anything. It's not like an angelic song started when they appeared. No, it felt more like a stomach twisting, heart jumping kind of thing. Like there was this certitude inside of you, some thought that turned quickly into a fact, the fact that the person taking a seat next to you, in your taxi, was going to change your life one way or an other. Call it faith, call it intuition, call it a blessing... all I knew was that I had to try something.

"Alright, you're the mysterious kind, I can go along with that." I replied, letting my lips curl slightly, still staring at her.

She smiled back gently and somehow, I could read a 'thank you' in the way she was looking at me. Perhaps she didn't want to tell me too much about herself, but her eyes became soft and I could swear it was not anything against me.

Her eyes left mine and she grabbed the straw in her glass to bring it to her mouth. I stared at her, trying to find the right words to tell her to make sure she wouldn't run away, and I noticed how shy she was. It didn't seem like it at first glance. In fact, you could think she was quite outgoing and social but it was the little things that made me realize she was timid. She didn't mind talking but she tried to avoid my gaze. She accepted my invitation but tried to remain as far away physically from me as she could. She made jokes and laughed at mine but played with her straw nervously when I looked at her.

"Look, I'm gonna be very honest with you Niall..." she held her breath and shook her head before licking her lips. "I really hate Christmas."

Her confession shocked me. I hadn't expected something like that to come out of her lips. I thought she'd tell me she was not interested, that she wanted me gone, or that she was too tired to stay... but her spilling her feelings about Christmas was something I would have never guessed. I mean, I didn't think that was even possible.

"Who doesn't like Christmas?" I asked, a bit baffled, shaking my head and frowning.

"Me. Mimi Armstrong." she chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "Seriously. The lights, and the snow, and everyone rushing in the streets to buy gifts for people they pretend to care about. And the songs... the SONGS. They're driving me insane. All these Christmas trees appearing in malls, kids crying to sit on Santa's laps because their parents lied to them all year long about being nice so a fake magical man will reward them... oh, and the horrible Christmas movies with orphans who find families on Christmas day? All crap."

I stared at her when she stopped talking. She was shaking her head, looking at her drink as she moved the straw in her glass before taking a sip. I just stared at her angelic round face and when she turned on her stool a bit, I noticed her facial expression and something in my heart twisted. Why wasn't Mimi Armstrong happy?

"That's a very cynical way to imagine Christmas." I simply said in a gentle tone.

Slowly, she turned to me, and when her eyes met mine, I felt my heart jump in my chest. Have you ever felt like someone was a total enigma, yet something attracted you to them as if you had known them for decades? Maybe we had met in an other life, maybe her aura just connected with mine or an other weird shit like that... or maybe I was just completely crazy.

"Perhaps I'm a cynical person, Niall Horan, you don't know much about me."

"Yet."

Her lips curled shyly and she chuckled. I don't know how I managed it, but by one in the morning, Mimi was genuinely laughing with me after an intense debate about Christmas, and a funny sharing of Christmas stories.

"Would you like to have one last drink in my room?" she asked, putting her empty glass on the counter and turning to me on her stool.

I felt my lips curl slightly and she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, waiting for my answer.

"Are you trying to get in my pants?"

She chuckled and raised her nose up in a cute way. "I would never do that. I barely know you."

We started laughing at the same time and I let my head fall slightly on my shoulders before we got up. I left a bill on the counter to cover for the tip and followed her to the elevator, staying slightly behind her as she walked. She kept turning around to make sure I was still there, sending me a small smile every single time, and when the doors of the elevator closed in front of us, I leaned on the wall, holding myself with the small banister behind me.

"Are you really inviting a stranger to your room?" I asked in an amused tone, hoping my words wouldn't make her change her mind.

"You're not a stranger." she argued, turning her upper body to look at me. "You're Niall Horan, from Ireland! The guy who's got a guitar for his fourth Christmas! Who gets a guitar when they're four?"

"It was a toy." I laughed. "I didn't get a guitar of my own before my teen years. I used my brother's to learn."

"Alright then!" she gave in with a big smile and a shrug. "Perhaps I don't know everything about you, but that doesn't make you a stranger."

The bell of the elevator made a 'ding' and we both heard the doors open. She took a few steps back and I walked with her as she laughed. "I'm not going to sleep with you though, I just want to make sure you're aware of that."

I smiled more and put both my hands in my pockets. "Noted."

I waited as she unlocked the door and she rushed inside, bending down to look at the bottles in the bar. She brought a bunch of tiny ones and put them on the bed before going through her bag, taking out a red and white gift bag.

"Wine?" she asked, opening the bottle. "God I'm so glad I bought them a twist cap."

"Is that a gift for..."

"My parents." she cut me, nodding quickly before shrugging. "It's okay, I can buy an other one."

We ended up sitting on the bed, face to face, hitting out plastic cups together before talking a long sip of wine. It tasted expensive but I didn't mention it as she leaned against the wall, tilting her head. She seemed to study me and I let her, finishing my glass and filling it again, doing the same with hers.

"What's your favorite Christmas song?" she finally asked before my eyes got smaller as I took the time to think.

"Baby It's Cold Outside."

She frowned and chuckled, shaking her head. "Is that even a Christmas song?"

"Actually, yes it is."

"Do they even mention Christmas in that song? I don't think so." she laughed with a shrug. "It's a winter song alright, they do mention it being cold outside, that much is obvious, but that girl singing clearly didn't go on a date with that man on Christmas."

"Why not?"

I was starting to be intrigued by her theories and even if they always ended up being pessimistic, they were still interesting and I was curious.

"She would clearly be with her family. That girl's got the family values." she pointed out, making me laugh. "Also don't you think that man's a bit pushy? He insists so much after she told him a million times she had to go. He won't let her leave and that is seriously creepy."

"Maybe he feels like she doesn't really want to leave?"

"That's what a rapist would say."

This time, I laughed a bit louder. "Well, I can't say you're wrong!"

"You should find a new favorite Christmas song." she finally said, leaning closer to grab one of the bottle waiting on the bed before looking up at me again.

Her cheeks were red, her smile was immense, and her eyes seemed to shine. It could be just alcohol but she did invite me in her room, didn't she?

"Will do, I promise." I whispered, making her smile turn into a fond one.

We stayed in silence for a while, finishing the wine bottle and glancing at each other. I wanted to tell her something clever but nothing would come to mind. Actually, a lot of things did, but nothing smart or relevant.

"You know, my parents are not really my parents." she finally admitted, making me look up at her quickly. "I mean technically and legally, they are, but biologically, they're not. I was adopted."

"Oh."

"Mmhm," she continued, pressing her lips together and pouring some vodka in her glass. The taste with the wine must have been weird but I didn't mention it. "I was 13 when I was adopted. Which makes the whole thing even harder because, I remember my real parents, you know? When you're adopted as a baby, it's different, but when you have an actual past... a story with your real parents and then you get adopted, there are way more questions left unsaid. It's not that they couldn't afford to have a baby, or that they were too young. They knew you and decided you just weren't good enough."

I felt something twist in my chest as I watched her facial expression change and her eyes water. She cleared her throat and swallowed all the vodka in her glass before making a grimace.

"So you grow up bitter, and become a rebel, because if your real parents couldn't love you, then how could two strangers do? And if they were not going to love you, then you'd at least give them reasons not to." she shrugged and her eyes finally met mine. "But hey, I didn't turn out too bad, considering."

"You're an amazing young woman, Mimi." I let out in a very soft tone. "Whoever doesn't love you is a fool."

She stared at me for a few seconds, her eyes fluttering and her lips very lightly curled into a gentle but tiny smile. She passed her hand in her hair and suddenly. the moment was over.

"What about you? What's your story?"

"Nothing like that." I admitted, raising my eyebrows and grabbing a bottle of rum.

"Perfect family? I'm not surprised."

"No family is perfect." I corrected, opening the small bottle in my hands. "My parents are divorced but they don't hate each other. I don't really get along with my brother but I love him."

"You have people who love you. People who will love you despite everything, no matter what you do, or say." she whispered, licking her lips. "That must be great."

I waited but we both remained motionless. I watched her swallow hard, trying to keep her tears in, and slowly, I got up, took all the bottles left from the bed to put them away, and walked up to her. She let me take her empty glass from her hands and I sat down next to her. She hesitated but let herself fall in my arms, pressing her face in my shirt as I held her close. I leaned my cheek on the top of her head and closed my eyes. She smelled like cocoa and candy cane, and the irony of her smelling like Christmas while also hating it made me squeeze her harder against me. When I saw Mimi, I thought she would change my life but perhaps, I was the one who could shine a little light on hers. And I would do anything I could to do it.

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 22

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Hey all! It’s good to be back! The break was much-needed, but I’ve missed interacting with y’all. Have a relatively calm chapter!

cw: food

~

Weeks passed, and Patton realized that lip-reading was harder than he thought it would be. Patton practiced every single day, studying the diagrams in the book and taking down notes on everything. Remus had at first practiced with him by saying a phrase and having Patton guess, but they had quickly realized that it was too advanced at this stage. Now, Remus held up a notecard with a phrase or word and said it. After going through five different different notecards, Remus would start over again without displaying the notecards. This helped Patton grasp it much quicker, and he had advanced to picking up several words that his therapists spoke in everyday conversation.

Sometimes, when he felt really excited, Patton would mimic the diagrams in the mirror, making the mouth movements for his own name, Remus's name, and Virgil's name. He already knew what his own name looked like, he found—he'd been unknowingly able to recognize it for years.

Patton always had the same translator at his doctor and therapy appointments, so he asked her a few questions about lip-reading and speaking. The woman was able to answer, usually, but there was rarely any time to get into a conversation. The woman did recommend some online resources and teachers for learning to speak, which Patton passed along to Remus. Patton didn't really understand the whole online thing yet. Virgil had tried to explain it several times, but it didn't make a lot of sense. Where did all of the information come from? Who put it there, ready for everyone to use? How was it usable?

Patton had learned how to use the internet in basic terms. He knew how to look for something in specific on Google, and he knew that Youtube was a thing because Remus liked showing him videos from it. Youtube had captions, unlike the television. Patton had found himself watching a lot of comedy videos, sometimes writing down the best jokes from them. He had a cheap blue notebook that he wrote the jokes and his notes in, and he kept it under his bed, like he used to do with his journal back ho—back at the cult.

Patton had researched the cult briefly on the internet, but had quickly become upset at seeing his own face on the cover of one of the articles that popped up. He'd closed it after seeing that several of the scientists, as well as the two prophets, were facing legal charges. That was all he'd needed to know.

Well, not really all. He'd been looking for any mention of Virgil. The one he'd read had mentioned him briefly, if not by name, and was now written in Patton's notebook: Investigations began after the appearance of two young men, both of whom required immediate medical care.

One was Remus. The other had to be Virgil. That meant Virgil was alive somewhere. Patton wondered if Virgil too was reading the articles, seeing that Patton was out, wondering how to find him.

Gosh, Patton missed him.

Right now, Patton was following along with a video on tongue movements for forming different letters. He wasn't sure that he was getting the S quite right, he'd have to ask Remus later. He took a few more notes on how to do it, then folded his notebook closed and took Father's laptop off incognito. Remus had taught him how to turn on and off incognito mode with a little wink, and now Patton used it almost every time he was on the laptop, which was only while Father was at his second job. For some reason, Patton felt that he wouldn't be allowed to do this.

He was just in time out of Father's room for Remus to get home from work, shooting him a fingergun (Virgil used to do those all the time) before throwing himself onto the couch. Patton longed to shake his shoulder, ask him for help practicing, but Remus was always tired right after work. Patton wasn't sure what he did, only that he was trying to find something else that paid better, so sometimes he would be out for hours after he was supposed to be home looking for a new job.

Patton slid into his room, flicking the light switch to turn it off. He rarely sat in his room with the light on, it made him uncomfortable. It almost felt as though someone was watching, though he knew that it was just a response developed from a traumatic situation, as his therapist had told him.

He'd barely been in his room for thirty seconds when Remus wandered in. He gestured to his mouth, and Patton watched carefully as he spoke.

“You - - - - to eat pr - - - - -.”

“One more time?” Patton signed. Remus repeated himself, but Patton still didn't pick it all up, so he asked Remus to sign it.

“You need to eat protein,” Remus signed slowly. “Diet time.”

Patton wasn't particularly hungry, but a part of regaining his body mass and retraining his body to eat normally was eating six or seven small, 'enriching' meals instead of three big ones. Remus was right, Patton realized as he checked the clock—it was time for his protein supplement, a meal usually made up of beef jerky and peanuts. Yay.

-

The weeks turned into months, and Remus decided that it was time for Patton to get some real world practice. Sure, he'd been going to therapy and all, but those folks rarely talked to him. It was time to play to Logan's weaknesses.

He brought it up over dinner one night, when Patton had already gone to bed. It rubbed him the wrong way that Logan sent him to bed instead of letting him stay up and talk to his pops, who had only been home for ten minutes. Sure, Pat had a schedule or whatever, and he had to follow it to stay healthy, but it should be his own decision. Still, there was nothing Remus could do about it. Except maybe this.

“So, when's your next day off?”

Logan shrugged. “I believe I have the morning of next Wednesday off, but that's all for next week. Why?”

Remus twirled his fork through the cheap macaroni and cheese, pretending to not be too interested in the outcome. “Just thinkin'. Pat's almost out of books again, we should probably make a trip to the library.”

Logan smiled softly at the suggestion—or maybe at Patton's name. There was no telling with the man.

“And his therapist's been saying he needs to go to a new place for enrichment or something like that. Wouldn't—”

Logan's face had already shuttered. “Absolutely out of the question. I cannot—”

“Lo, he really wants to,” Remus pleaded, letting his fork fall to the table. “He's gotta get out of this house. And what better place than a quiet library, where it's easy to watch him and sometimes there's a cop hanging out?”

“Remus, I—I can't,” Logan said, his face still stone, but now his eyes had grown sad. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow Patton to be in an unsafe environment. If I lost him again. . . .”

“You won't,” Remus cajoled. “I'll come too, watch him be safe. Just imagine how much he'll love it! Father-son bonding and all that crap!”

Logan looked down at his plate, clearly thinking deeply. Remus could almost see him weighing the options in his head. Internally, his heart rabbited, but externally Remus was the picture of calm. Hopefully. Maybe. He was probably not, but he could dream.

“I'll consider it,” Logan said eventually. “You are correct in assuming that the library is a place I would very much like to share with him. Tomorrow after tutoring Andy I will stop at the library and inquire after safety precautions. By Monday, I will have my decision.”

Remus leaned back, picking his fork up again. That was as close as he was going to get Logan tonight. If he continued to push it, Logan would completely shut down the conversation and then there'd be no chance of getting Pat out of the apartment.

They'd been watching a stupid black-and-white movie a week or three ago, and one of the characters had said a line that Patton had obviously related to. Remus had looked over to see tears brimming after the old man on screen said, “I thought I was supposed to be getting fresh air. So far, I've been in a train and a room, and a car and a room, and a room and a room.”

That probably really sucked for Patton. Remus went stir-crazy in this tiny apartment, and he was able to leave whenever he wanted. Patton left three times a week, and went straight to his appointments and then straight home. One of his doctors had actually just switched over to doing virtual appointments, so Pat was only leaving twice a week now. Kid had to be going insane.

-

Patton felt a bit like he was going insane.

He marked a tally in his notebook every day, one for each day that he had been out without Virgil. It sort of was a continuation of his tallies in the cell, but he couldn't remember where he had left off, so he had just started anew.

He had just filled a second page of tally marks. It had been months since he'd escaped, even longer since he'd seen Virgil. Every time Remus tried to tell him that everything was going to be okay, or Father told him that everything was okay, Patton felt anger simmer in his stomach. It was not okay, it couldn't be okay, it would never be okay without Virgil. Even if he had to be trapped in this horrible apartment for years, it would be wonderful with Virgil by his side.

Every day, he followed the same schedule. Therapy exercises, meals at precise times, lip-reading studies, regular reading, bed at ten PM. It was terrible.

He couldn't help but feel excited, though. He was leaving, at least for a little bit! Father had asked him if he wanted to go to the library with him tomorrow, and Patton had thought his heart was going to drop out of his chest. Both Father and Virgil had told him about libraries, and how beautiful they were, and how many books were always there.

Patton was finally going to a new place, and it was the library. All of the anger he'd been feeling over the past weeks had washed away, replaced only with anticipation. Even with Father there, this had to be the best thing to happen in months.

~

Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

How they met, honeymoon stage, couple crisis, break relationship and reconciliation of the couple. With your favorite character! Come on, GO GO GO

M-my favorite character? (✿^J^)(ʘᴗʘ✿) gonna hit the self indulgent ask before bed lol. TIME TO DUMP SOME SELF INSERT YAHOO!

Trigger warning: Mentions of blood and violence! (Be honest a relationship with Russia will be the most difficult for many reasons, but there is a sunny horizon I swear!)

Russia and the World Meeting's Secretary Headcannons!

How they met:

Cute if you thought it was all rainbows and happy sunshine.

The secretary was immediately interested in Russia, but it was mostly because of her hopeless romance tendencies and he kept just... Staring at her the first few days of her new job.

They only interacted when England and France got into a heated argument about something, something, "You're cooking's more Terrifying than Russia is on a good day"

Mistakes were made and unbeknownst to the Secretary, Russia is quite the intimidating man.

She was only able to gather that by how silent the room got, either way it was part of her contract with Germany to break up any fights that would prevent meetings from running smoothly.

Stepping between the shivering men, and Russia everyone immediately became more concerned, and kicking themselves for not warning her beforehand.

Russia wasn't even bothered by it, he just simply redirected his aura to the new secretary who he gave zero cares about, and was fully expecting them to run away crying, which honestly pleased him since she had the guts to intervene.

"Hm? And what's this? Is the little one going to try and protect those two from me break in the faces, da?"

She felt her nerves on edge, but with a quick breath her hands were on her hips and she shot back at him-

"Don't give me any of that crap. If you're trying to scare me, go find out how to do that from my Ex Step Father..."

Physical gasps were heard, and the tension in the room climbed until Russia seemingly calmed down- "Da, I will sit down then..."

Their other interaction was just as unpleasant a few days later.

Russia pretty much told her that he doesn't care how strong she thinks she is, that no matter how many secretaries Germany hired, he won't step over any lines so long she doesn't.

He was taken aback by her calm demeanor and that she ignored his threat.

"Look- I'm sorry if I upset you, that wasn't my intention. It's literally in my job description. But If you do that again, I'll have to step in again. It's not you, and it's not me. It's the money..."

Then that same day Russia had seen her waiting outside for her ride, and he had a taxi back to his hotel that he was also waiting for, and decided to stand with her.

She straight up asked him if he was willing to try and start over and go to her place for dinner. All while mentally yelling at herself how insane that sounded.

He denied her, and didn't explain why until his taxi arrived. It was due to his plane taking off soon.

He found her place anyway that night deciding to accept her offer since his hotel was closed and booked for someone else the same time his flight was cancelled until next week.

The Honeymoon Phase:

Literally doesn't exist.

Between Russia's problem with communication, and the secretaries lack of her own people skills it was a hot mess for a year or two.

On the outside they seemed extremely happy, even their public behaviors changed. Russia became less violent (give or take the fact the secretary sometimes eggs Russia on to creep the others out when they deserve it or take a joke to far) and the secretary herself seemed to become more positive and out going!

But behind closed doors there is a lot of unsure emotions, and a few... Incidents.

It wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows. There was no Honeymoon Phase were they did nothing but kiss, and cuddle.

They were working on boundaries and communication skills from the very start.

They both agreed to keep their relationship under wraps as they worked on becoming close friends first.

Couple crisis(es):

Oh boy! Both Russia and the secretary have had troubling past and neither of which were ever dealt with properly!

There was one time the secretary was trying to figure out how to go about her more, sexual feelings towards Russia since she has moral codes, but after discovering a country can't legally Marry a human (to Russia's knowledge) she was avoiding him on a field trip the allies took to the zoo, for funsies and moral boost!

This enviably turned into him thinking she didn't care anymore and left early to his hotel room. She followed him there.

Upon arrival he tried to act like he wasn't hurt, since she seemingly wanted to explain and that's when things escalated.

He got mad that she was having a rough time telling him what was happening other than "Things have come up and I can't say why but I just needed time to think". After a little bit of back and forth he had enough and tried to ask her to leave.

Especially because now he felt not only betrayed, but lied to. Bad combo.

In return she panicked thinking it was the last time she'd see him again and begged him to let her stay, and they could sleep on the subject, but push came to shove.

He had her up against a chair, hands around her neck and assaulting her with questions of why she was lying, and why she was truly avoiding him.

Then she went silent. Tears formed from her eyes, and as soon as he let her go she ran from him, running into England where he forced her to go to the hospital for the bruising on her neck.

Happy she was able to convince England to not tell anyone, and to trust her, she was now hellbent even more now on talking to Russia.

He wanted to never see her again, but completely forgot about the meeting that took place the next day. His heart sinking as she wore a scarf around her neck, and the glare that England gave him as he walked in with her told Russia he knew as well.

Ironically he also joined her for lunch out of habit. Where she finally was able to tell her that when he had his hands round her neck she didn't see him. She saw her once to be father.

That didn't exactly sit well with Russia either, not until she told him that what had happened was the evidence that neither of them were ready for that kind of relationship, and the person who choked her, didn't feel like him.

She also finally admitted to not knowing how to deal with her desires and was going through a bought of confusion, and apologized for being cowardly over it.

For the next month when Russia went back to his country they hardly talked. It felt like they hit a hard reset on their relationship

Breaking point in the relationship:

There wasn't ever a point in time that they weren't together, just a handful of violent incidents that lead to them To not talking, or hardly talking.

There was three of them. The second one Russia had a relapse with his emotions, and had a meltdown in his home while the secretary was visiting him.

She heard him in his room and was going to ask if he wanted breakfast at home or wanted to go out.

She caught him feverishly clawing at some scars on his neck, blood seeping out, and covering his clothes and sink.

He allowed himself to only be so vulnerable with her, and this wasn't something he ever planned on showing her. In the past he even lied to her and said his scaring flares up and tears due to him being a country (like england when he gets sick around certain American holidays).

He panicked hard as she tried her best to stay calm and help him clean up. Though he appeared willing, he was really just frozen in fear and anxiety. As she started up a tub for him, she offered to clean his wound and he snapped.

He had her by the wrists begging her not to leave, and not to tell anyone, obviously out of it completely.

She tried not to breakdown as well, knowing his outburst would calm down if she just listened. And it almost worked. He had released her and she went to reach out for something past him, and he took it as her trying to escape, so he pulled her, and shoved her to the door to which she fell.

Something in him gave away and he started telling her to just leave and never come back, only when the tub that had over flowed had he realized how he was reacting.

Fully breaking down he cried at the edge of the tub, water now shut off.

She crawled over to him, leaning against the side of the bath, and waited for his sobs to slow down, not caring that her own clothes had soaked up some of the water on the floor.

Once he calmed down, she started to laugh, and when he finally looked at her she explained how much of a a mess they both were. And how insane she must look.

Russia saw the condition her wrists were in after he grabbed her and straight up said he doesn't care if she stays away or even leaves, she needed to get her wrists looked at.

So she called Estonia, behind his back.

Reconciliation:

This would have been the end of the relationship if it wasn't for some eavesdropping from Russia as Estonia checked out her wrists.

Estonia was aware of Russia's agressive nature, but was surprised he had still harmed her, even by accident.

The secretary could do nothing but defend him, and Estonia pointed out that she was being just as toxic as he was by not being honest about what was really going on between them.

She starts to open up about her fear of losing him. How strong her will to stay with him was, and how willing she was to get hurt every once and a while.

She also shared that he wasn't always like that, and the fact he never intended to hurt her, and she could tell he was just out of control, quite literally, was all she needed to stay.

Russia was on the other side of the wall, listening. His heart sinking as he realized the damage he has caused, and the fact she'd be willing to put up with it made him feel better until Estonia pointed out the biggest flaw in their relationship.

She was human. If she was a country she would have been better off, but if he by chance, even by accident, shook her too hard one day... She won't make it long enough to be with him.

That's something that shook them both to the core, and after she forced Estonia to secrecy and he left, Russia came out from his hiding spot.

He looked at her, and she tried her best to keep eye contact, but couldn't.

He sat next to her, all four walls coming down. Now he's cried over his past, and she's consoled him over it rather easily, but that night she couldn't find the strength to, and just let him weep.

It was painful for her to watch as he raised his hand time and time again to try and touch her in some way, asking for silent forgiveness, but she gave him nothing.

Then he said something that surprised her, and even made her give him a double take.

"I- help me..."

She blinked at him, her senses coming back and she clung to him. She was ready to forgive him, but knew full well that if the next step they took he didn't take seriously, she had no choice but to leave.

Estonia had mentioned couples therapy, and Though Russia was extremely skeptical he agreed.

They had to switch therapist at some point because the first one kept pushing the secretary to leave him, not even giving him a chance to recover from his violent tendencies.

It was a fight that took place in the main lobby, where Russia sat. Tears had filled her eyes and he was about to interrupt when he heard her argue her point.

"He's more than capable! That's what pisses me off is people like you who never get to see him when he's at his highest. It was one or two mistakes, but he's just learning!"

Seeing her fight for him unprompted unlike other times before lite a fire in him. Where she wanted to quite the counselor, he egged her back into the idea, and much to their Surprise, after about three months, they were already cleared for the counseling sessions. Even the therapist expressed his surprise in their quick recovery, and commitment.

There hasn't been any further accidents since then, and Russia has learned to at the very least ask for space when he has an urge he needs to shake off, and she has learned how to word things in a way he can anwser without getting overwhelmed, or leaving him to cool down.

I want to share moooreeee but this was so much already! For those who made it this far, thank you for my Ted talk X.X I'm going to pass out now cause sleep, goodnight ♥️