#(which I have thought about last year but I'm not too keen on this idea for a plot)

[morningmask27]

Hey so, do you ever feel.. Iffy? Bad? Disappointed? That the Fandom at large only became interested in whistlepaw thanks to faer ship with Frostpaw? I admittedly was feeling a bit like that when the ship first started popping up, although I understand that Whis is quite a background character aside from that (and up until then, more or less). So like I get why fae would gain more traction only now but Idk. I can't help but feel a little sad about it since you've made me develop an attachment to this cat. Just curious about your thoughts on the matter!

I get chronically attached to background nobodies, so I'm used to people not really caring about my faves and I honestly like it more that way because popular characters are A Mess of discourse and drama,

but yeah it is a bit sad that Whis is only really seen as a love interest for Frostpaw in the major fandom, but in a way that's also what fae is in the books. Whistlepaw does nothing outside of supporting Frostpaw (and that annoys me So Much for daily whis purposes, I want more material!!!) and I can't blame the fans for not latching onto background WindClan cat #78 and making up a whole world around them

in the end the fandom portrayal is kinda bland, but inoffensive at least. I made Whistlepaw my little silly and have never really cared about the fandom at large; Fae's basically my oc at this point and if a few people enjoy what I do then I'm content

[lilasamaaa]

A lapse in judgement | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Angst (of course), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff.

Word count | 3.8K

Warnings | Mention of sexual activities, rejection.

Summary | The long-awaited dinner with your in-laws doesn't go as planned... Will you and your boyfriend manage to change their minds about your relationship?

Author's note | I'm back, bitches! This lovely prompt was requested, thank you for the idea Anon! I hope you all like it, please let me know what you think! ✨ (not proofread lmao)

Being the new girlfriend after the one who got away fucking sucks. Even when your lover was the one to end things. It's quite something to be the girl after the one he was supposed to spend his life with. Get married with. Have kids with. You wouldn't wish anyone to be in your place. Yet, here you are, all because you fell in love with him. Carlos Sainz. Him and his doe eyes. His impeccable hair. His charming smile. Frankly, you didn't stand a chance.

You knew who he was, of course. Formula 1 is among your fondest childhood memories, sitting in front of the TV with your siblings and parents. Each Grand Prix was a household event, and you could never bring yourself to part with the Ferrari-colored jacket you wore every race Sunday. It's been years since you've fit into it, but the memory is too precious. So, yes, you knew who he was. And you recognized him immediately when he walked through the door of your workplace, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You don't follow Formula 1 as closely as before. Just enough to keep up with the news. You don't pretend not to know who he is. What's the point in pretending?

"Back from Monza already?" you ask, wiping your hands on a clean towel.

He smiles. A polite smile, but one that seems to indicate he's not keen on chatting. Or at least, not about that. You ask him what he'd like, and he asks for anything with soy milk in it. He orders two, to go, and you smile again. Okay, you think. Understood. The exchange lasts no more than two minutes, and soon, the driver exits the coffee shop, leaving behind a lingering woody scent.

Weeks pass without crossing paths with him again, and honestly, the encounter has completely slipped your mind. That one early morning, though, you're sitting at one of the café tables, contemplating new drinks, new recipes to implement based on some customer feedback, when the little bell chimes behind you. You definitely need to stop leaving the door open to let the floor dry after your morning cleaning session.

You turn around, ready to inform the friendly customer that the café doesn't open for another twenty minutes, when you catch his gaze.

"I know you're not open yet," he starts, putting both hands in front of him. "I saw the sign. But I really need some coffee, and all the other shops are closed."

"I suppose I can make an exception for such an emergency," you say as you rise from your seat, smiling kindly at him. "What can I get you?"

"I don't remember the name of what you made for me last time, but it was incredible. There was..."

"Soy milk?"

"Yeah."

"I'm on it," you say, turning around. "Two?" you ask, feeling like you already know the answer.

"Yes, please."

You hurry behind the bar, preparing the two coffees, and you place them in front of him a few seconds later. He takes out his phone to pay and places it on the terminal, which emits a soft "beep." Then, he picks up one of the coffees before sliding the second one towards you.

"This one's for you," he says, and you barely manage to hide your surprise.

"Oh," you say. "If I had known, I wouldn't have charged you for the second one."

"But it wouldn't have been the same, then. I wouldn't have offered it to you," the driver says, winking at you before taking a step back. "Thank you so much for the favor. Have a good day!"

With that, he's gone. As you sip your hot coffee slowly, you wonder when you'll see him again next time. But already, your employees arrive and pull you from your thoughts.

"That guy outside kinda looked like Carlos Sainz, no?" Lucia, one of them, asks while tying her apron.

"You've seen him? I thought so, too," you reply with a smile.

The next time you see him is the exact opposite. You've just bid your last employee a good evening, and you're putting the chairs up on the tables in preparation for the morning cleanup. A knock on the storefront makes you look up, and you smile when you see him. You open the door, and he slips inside, slightly damp from the light rain falling outside.

"Have you ever heard of opening hours?" you ask while wiping down the countertop.

"Can't say I have," he replies with a grin, the sight making your stomach flutter.

"I think congratulations are in order," you begin, throwing the towel over your shoulder. "That was a clean win in Singapore."

"Thank you. It might be a bit late for a coffee, but would you like to grab a drink with me?"

The proposition takes you by surprise.

"Like? Right now?"

"Yeah. Right now. I know a place not far from here."

"Aren't you afraid of being seen or something?" you ask, arching a brow.

"Never with beautiful women, no."

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. You've been living in Spain for ten years, yet you don't think you'll ever get used to the natural flirty nature of its inhabitants.

"Give me ten minutes to change and close up, and I'll join you," you say, while he nods, sitting on one of the bar stools.

Carlos takes you to a dancing bar, obviously run by friends since he spends five minutes shaking hands and greeting everyone as you enter. He leads you to the back of the bar, to a secluded corner where the music is much quieter, and you can actually have a conversation. You have no idea what to say. Where do you even start with a Formula 1 driver? Someone whose life is so different, so far removed from yours. Sensing your discomfort, Carlos takes the lead, asking you questions about your café, (Did you open it by yourself?) and about your life. (Where are you from? You have an accent).

The evening passes, and the drinks flow until you find yourselves tightly pressed together on the dance floor. Your back against his chest. His hands on your hips. Yours on his neck. Swaying to the rhythm of the music, all senses heightened. His lips don't take long to seek yours, and from the wall of the bar against which he pins you, you transition to his mattress, his warm body pressed against yours.

You don't sleep much that night. You don't know if you'll ever have the chance to see him again. To have him like that again. So, you lavish your lips on his, your body against his. And in the early morning, as you wake up entangled in each other's arms, and you almost expect him to kick you out... He climbs back on top of you instead, pressing warm kisses against your mouth, your collarbones, your navel... You arrive at the café thirty minutes late, with bags under your eyes. It's never happened before, and your employees are so surprised that none of them even think to joke about your poor state.

You don't hear a word from him for the next ten days. Occasionally, you glance at the app you downloaded, which informs you about upcoming races. You know he's in Qatar. You try not to let the little voice in your head win. The one that laughs at you. That tells you that you'll never see him again. He's working, you think. He's busy. Your life goes on, though you can't help but watch for him early in the morning and late at night, your eyes lingering on the storefront.

Then, one day, he comes back. Right in the middle of the shift. Seeing him walk into the café, Lucia lets out a scream and drops the cup she was holding. "Dios mio," she says, clutching her heart. Several seated customers turn around, but nobody seems to pay attention to the tall brunette with caramel eyes whose gaze is fixated on you, from across the counter.

"Soy milk?" you ask, trying to contain your smile.

"Yes, please. Only one."

And then, he starts coming every day. Every day he's not on the other side of the world, that is. By his seventh visit, Lucia can almost serve him his coffee without spilling any, her hands shaking so much.

Outside of the café, the two of you slowly start going to museums. To restaurants. To the cinema. But there's one place you both prefer. His bed. You spend hours there, exploring each other's bodies or talking about everything and nothing. Exchanging thousands of kisses or sharing your worst childhood embarrassments. Moaning against each other or talking about your very first pet. And one evening, as you were recounting how your respective parents had met, he asks you the question.

"Speaking of that, would you like to meet them?"

Your heart skips a beat. It's been six months since you've been seeing each other. Since you've been exclusive. Since you've been a couple, in reality, even if neither of you has dared to say the word. That one, and the other. The one that starts with an L. Even though you know you do... And you sense he does too.

"I don't know," you say, resting your head against his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Have you talked to your family about us?"

"Of course," Carlos says, pressing a kiss to your head. "They know I've been seing someone. And they know it's serious."

"Do they even want to meet me?"

"They haven't asked, if that's your question," your boyfriend replies. "But they never have, with anyone. They know it's something I like to do at my own pace."

You nod, and a few minutes later, the fateful dinner is set for the following Saturday. Already, the ball of anxiety that has lodged itself in your stomach grows. And soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of the door of the imposing Sainz mansion, your throat tight and your hand sweaty in Carlos'.

"Relax," the driver says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stroking your thumb. "They're not that bad."

Carlos knocks on the door, and a young woman opens it before jumping into your boyfriend's arms. You recognize her instantly from the pictures in Carlos' phone. Blanca. As if pronouncing her name in your head had reminded her of your existence, Blanca turns her head, smiling politely in your direction.

"Nice to meet you," she says rather blankly before gesturing for you two to come inside.

You encounter his other sister, Ana, in the hallway a few seconds later. She isn't much warmer, not even offering a smile and simply saying "Welcome" before rushing to hug her brother. The reception from the two women surprises you a little, and doesn't really help you feel confident about the evening. Carlos doesn't seem phased by the situation, helping you out of your coat before guiding you to the living room where the two young women have already disappeared. You're about to walk through the door when your eyes stop on a series of frames hung across from the front door. Your heart skips a beat. Feeling you come to a halt, Carlos stops as well, following your gaze.

"Fucking hell," your boyfriend says before taking the frame off the wall and placing it upside down on the buffet below. "I'm sorry. This photo has been there for so long that they probably don't even notice it anymore," he adds, his tone apologetic.

You know he's trying to reassure you, but his words have the opposite effect. You've briefly talked about your exes. Well, more about his. Isa. The girl he was with for seven fucking years. The one his parents loved so much. Seeing a photo of them together right before meeting your in-laws is like a knife to the heart. A reminder that you're the new girl. The one replacing her. You muster a smile that you know is fake at Carlos before continuing on your way. As you arrive in the living room, his two parents stand up from the couch, rushing to their son to hug him.

The embraces last a few seconds, until they turn to you. You greet them politely, handing his mother a huge bouquet of flowers and his father a bottle of fine wine, as they thank you with strained smiles.

"I also brought chocolates from my shop for you," you continue, turning to his sisters sitting at the dining table. "They're from a small producer in Andalusia, a real treat..."

"How kind of you," Blanca says dryly.

You miss the glance that Carlos shoots his sister, behind you. A stern look. One that scream "be careful". One Blanca pretends not to see.

"Let's sit down," Carlos' mother announces, gesturing for everyone to take a seat.

Intimidated, you stick close to Carlos, sitting next to him. The table is beautiful, adorned with fine porcelain and various flowers. You smile as you spot silver napkin rings and pick up the one in front of you. Your next breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes land on the letters engraved in the metal. Isabel.

"Ah yes, sorry," Ana begins, following your gaze. "We didn't have time to make a new one. I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," you say, looking up and smiling at her.

"So, dear, what do you do?" Carlos' father asks. "Carlos told us about a café, but we didn't quite understand."

"I opened my own café a few years ago. We also serve fresh pastries that I bake every morning. It's really taking off; I have several employees now, and I'm planning to open a second one soon..."

"Did you study culinary arts?" her mother asks.

"Uh, no, I don't have any degree," you reply with a nervous laugh. "School just wasn't my thing."

Ana and Blanca exchange a glance, and you lower your head, feeling your cheeks flush. You feel Carlos' hand on your thigh, and you cast him a grateful glance, which he doesn't see, his eyes fixed on his sisters.

"And so, the two of you met at the café, is that right?" his father resumes.

"Yes, that's right," you reply with a smile. "In May, the first time."

"In May?" Ana asks, looking at her brother. "Weren't you still with Isa?"

"Are we gonna mention her all night?" Carlos snaps.

"It's just a question, no need to get upset," Ana replies, rolling her eyes.

"Did you know who he was?" Blanca asks, holding your gaze.

"Uh, yeah, I recognized him. But I served him like any other customer," you recount.

"It must be weird," Ana continues, as your attention turns from her sister to her. "To see a celebrity walk into your little café."

"It's actually not so little," Carlos says. "It's pretty well-known in Madrid. Lots of customers."

"Never been," Blanca says curtly.

Carlos's mother gestures for her daughters to follow her, and the three women disappear in the kitchen before returning a few minutes later with their hands full of various dishes.

"Carlos told us you love to eat," his mother continues, giving you a genuine smile. "It's good that he didn't choose a very slender girl, for once," she adds, as you tilt your head. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

"What are your plans after the café?" Carlos' father asks, chewing on a piece of chicken. "Now that this first project has worked out?"

"I beg your pardon?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"What are you going to do with your life now?" Ana asks.

"Well... I'm going to keep running the café? It's my sanctuary, my biggest project. I'm so proud of it, I'm not going to give it all up now."

"Oh," his father replies, eyeing you. "I'd understood it was temporary. That you were a kind of investor."

"No," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "That's... That's what I do."

The silence falls over the table, punctuated by the clinking of utensils. After a short while, Carlos's mother clears her throat, meeting your gaze.

"Forgive our questions. We're curious to get to know the person Carlos shares his life with. You have to understand, after seven years... You always know what you've lost, but you can never know what you've gained."

"And that was quite a loss," Blanca chimes in, sipping on her wine.

"You can't trust anyone these days. You never know if they love you for you or for your wallet," Ana states, looking at her perfectly manicured nails.

"Or your contact list," Blanca adds, shooting a glance your way.

"Okay," Carlos suddenly says, throwing his napkin on the table before getting up. "That's enough. We're leaving."

"What?" you say, looking up at him.

"They're clearly not ready for this. We'll come back when they finally understand that my ex is just that - my ex. Get your things, love."

You stand up, feeling your legs tremble, as Carlos' hand find the small of your back, pushing you towards the hallway.

"Don't be ridiculous," his mother says, standing up as well. "You can't expect us to forget seven years just like that."

"I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to respect my partner. But apparently, that's too difficult."

A few seconds later, Carlos is backing out of his parents' driveway, one arm around your seat, his gaze fixed on the rear window. In the passenger seat, you fidget with your fingers, staring at your hands and biting your lip nervously. His brows are furrowed. Jaw clenched. None of you exchange a word until you hit the main road, headlights from passing cars casting shadows on your faces.

"I'm so sorry," he finally says, stroking your thigh. "If I had known..."

"You couldn't," you reply, placing your hand on his. "I don't blame them. Seven years is no small thing."

Turning his head, his gaze meets yours.

"I won't pretend that those seven years didn't matter to me, that they meant nothing. Even though I don't have any romantic feelings for her anymore, she will always be a part of me in some way," he says, as you feel your heart tighten in your chest. "But she no longer occupies my thoughts. She's no longer imprinted under my eyelids. It's not her fingers that give me chills, her voice that makes my heart race. All day long, I think about you. I talk about you. Even at night, I dream of you. You're right beside me, so close, and yet it's not enough. You still find a way to get closer, to flow through my veins, to infiltrate every breath, every heartbeat."

"Sometimes I wish I could see myself through your eyes. That girl sounds exceptional," you say, laughing as you wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes."

"She's quite something," he replies, eyes on the road. "I can't wait for them to realize."

After the disastrous first encounter with your in-laws, over six months pass before Carlos comes join you on the terrace of your shared hotel room in Jeddah, placing a coffee in front of you. Bending down to sit beside you, the pilot winces, a hand on his stomach.

"Are you okay?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"I feel so fucking sick," your boyfriend says, a painful grimace on his face.

"Shouldn't you see a doctor, babe?" you ask, stroking his arm. "You look awfully pale. And you haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

"I can't keep anything down," Carlos replies, throwing his head back before closing his eyes.

"Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro," you start, earning a small grin from your boyfriend.

"I just love when you call me that."

"There's no way you're getting in that car tomorrow," you insist.

You didn't think you'd be so right. Well, not to this extent. Hurrying through the corridors of the hospital, two large aluminum trays in each hand, you dodge doctors and nurses along the way, weaving through visitors until you reach the door marked with the number you're looking for. You knock on the door, slipping inside before turning around to close it behind you.

"I wasn't sure what you'd prefer, so I got both," you begin, still facing the door, handle in hand. "The paella was quite easy to find, but I admit I had to cross the entire city for..." your sentence dies in your throat when, turning around, your eyes meet those of your mother-in-law. Then your father-in-law's. And your two sisters-in-law, crowded in Carlos' small hospital room.

"Oh," you utter, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'd be there. I'll leave you alone," you start, turning around once again.

"No! Stay," Carlos' mother says, rising to take the trays from you.

"We're really happy to see you again," his father says, rising as well to embrace you. "Carlos was telling us how well you took care of him. Thank you so much for being there."

"That's the least I could do," you reply, feeling intimidated. "He would have done the same for me."

"I may love you, but I'm not sure I would have slept in that armchair. Or changed your blood-soaked bandage," Carlos replies, eyes half-closed, still under the influence of anesthesia.

"You did what?" Blanca asks, turning to look at you, eyes wide.

"Well, his nurse was busy and it started leaking," you shrug.

"You slept here?" his father asks.

"They wouldn't let me at first, but I didn't feel like leaving him alone in a foreign hospital."

"She annoyed the staff so much they just gave up on throwing her out," your boyfriend lets out in a laugh.

"I didn't annoy anybody," you reply quickly, fearing what his family might think.

"You threatened an intern to tie yourself to the chair."

"I didn't do that," you half-laugh, shooting your boyfriend a warning look.

Seated on the side of Carlos' bed, bickering with your boyfriend while running your hand through his hair in a loving gesture, you don't see the glance exchanged between the Sainz family.

"We were thinking about something, before you arrived..." Ana begins, her eyes finding yours. For the first time, you're not met with her harsh, cold gaze, but with gentle eyes. "We have a family house in Mallorca. We thought it would be nice to all go there together, so Carlos can recover in peace. We would be very happy if you joined us."

"It'll be a chance for us to get to know you. And to apologize for our pathetic behavior last time."

"Carlos chose you," his mother starts, smiling warmly at you. "And we all understand why."

You could cry with happiness at the thought of finally being accepted, being welcomed into the family of the person you've shared your life with for almost a year now. At no longer being the new girl. The one after the love of his life.

At the though of maybe, simply being the one.

The real one, this time.

[yallthemwitches]

Some thoughts on Lily Evans (Headcanons and other musings)

Headcanon things

---I think she really struggled internally about "not belonging" in both the muggle and wizard community. I couldn't imagine finding out I was part of some special group that made my family members ostracize me, THEN joining said new community to find that I am actually discriminated against and considered lesser. I don't think she was on the nerd level of say Hermione, but I think she really wanted to prove herself.

--I don't think she wore a bra. I use this in my fics a lot not just because it could be taken sexy, but because it would've been trendy at the time in the 70s. I think Lily would have kept up with the politics of the muggles and the wizarding world, and I would imagine she would be keen to follow the feminist movement.

--I'm really not of fan of the swarmy, bookish version of Lily that purveyed often in fics (I see more diversity now but back 10 years ago Lily was like some studious angel all the time.) We know she was smart and teachers loved her, but we also see a lot of anger and cheekiness from her too. I think James wouldn’t have been half as attracted to her if she was just a know it all. I imagine she was really sarcastic and quippy.

--I think Lily thought about fancying Remus in earlier years---to the point that in 4th year she turned on him quickly one day during prefects rounds and kissed him, immediately realized she felt nothing, and then they both agreed to stay friends and never speak of it (James would have died if he knew). After then, Lily had the habit of giving him a kiss on the cheek as greeting/goodbye (think of it as the french bisous, not like a real cheek kiss) and Sirius would always joke about "Where his kiss was"---which prompted Lily to draw real close to him ( making James feel jealous and uncomfortable) before yelling at him to fuck off.

--When Sirius and Lily became friends, they really became friends. They both confided in each other about being the family outsiders, they spent lots of study time listening to music, and she was always able to keep up with his sarcastic and self deprecating style of humor. Whenever Sirius would conjure rock music to play in the corridors, Lily always was the last of the prefects to put a stop to it. She would often spend time in the boys dorms even if James wasn't there to shoot the shit with Sirius and she often was his insider into all the cool muggle things he missed out on.

---Petunia peddled the idea that Lily was a "Hippie type" to Vernon and her friends upon being questioned and Lily really leaned into this gladly. She was very amused by the muggle occult craze in the 60s-70s and found a lot of enjoyment visiting muggle "esoteric shops" and getting books from them. This trait would later be adopted by the marauders who would take some of her muggle “occult magic” books and try to reproduce the (ridiculously fake) spells (often leading in explosions or very bad consequences seeing as the muggle “spells” were all a hoax and couldn’t stand up to real magical attempts). When she was home from the summer it was not uncommon for her to be reading a book by Aleister Crowley on the front stoop.

---Lily hated flying despite James' many tries to get her to enjoy it (he mostly liked that she was scared and held onto him more). Contrary to this, she loved Sirius motorbike. It felt more natural to her despite still being a flying object ( and despite both James and Sirius flying it in the most haphazard way possible.)

--One thing that drew Lily to James was his interest and love for muggle pop culture. I imagine Lily tried often to get Snape to listen to Joni Mitchell or have a laugh at how muggles depicted wizards/witches in film, but Snape didn't see the worth in doing those things---wanting to focus on the wizarding world. James on the other hand ate all of it up--he would jump at the chance to watch Carrie or The Wicker Man. Even before dating James, I think Snape's disdain for all things muggle was off putting to Lily, who saw just as much to learn from muggles as she did from the wizarding world.

Reference things

---I base a lot of my fic Petunia/Lily relationships off of the British show Fleabag. I HIGHLY recommend it and I think its a great example of two sisters who are completely at odds with each other. I think Lily and Petunia's relationship would be much more complicated obviously due to their reasoning for falling out, but I think in general its a great depiction of two sisters who don't get along. I admittedly have cradled their dialogue patterns for scenes. ( Its on Amazon prime really really really go watch it its amazing)

---One of my big references for Lily ( and James for that matter) is Paul Thomas Anderson's Licorice Pizza. I think the love story of the two main characters who are at odds against the world really works and its the typical Jily "one is madly in love with the other and does schemes to win her over while she's sarcastic and wary and grows to love him despite it all." Its also the 70s which helps a lot ( for me). I think also Alana Haim's character is a perfect lily as she's someone who is a bit lost despite having everything going for her on paper. I highly reccomend it if you haven't seen it.

Trailer link here:

[barbwritesstuff]

I've already talked about this a wee bit on my kofi page, but I thought I'd post something here too.

I haven't been writing very well this last month. I think it's all the grey, cold weather. That usually knocks me down a peg. Plus, I'd really hoped to have another manuscript finished by this point in the year... and I don't.

I'm feeling a little disappointed in myself.

Which is silly! I know I don't always have to be super productive all the time. It's fine if some months are slower than others. And yet, no matter how silly those feelings are, I'm feeling them. It's frustrating because I WANT to write. I WANT TO WRITE SO MANY THINGS! I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS! But sometimes the words come at a trickle instead of a flood, and that's fine, even if it's annoying.

That's why I haven't been responding to many asks and why some of the weekly Thicker Than updates have been a bit short. I hope you can understand, and I hope no one is disappointed in me.

I'm being easy on myself, eating a lot of yummy food, and dreaming of summer.

Still stupidly excited to talk more about Of Monsters and Mainframes and to really dig into Thicker Than - Chapter Eleven. Both those things have one very wonderful thing in common with each other: Werewolves.

So you can see why I'm so keen.

💙

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 20!

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst (god, I'm so sorry), discussions of stalking, mentions of nightmares, kissing, sex dreams, more angst, Billy's sad childhood.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, Dinah knocks on his front door.

He knows it's her, he can almost smell her impatience. 

You haven’t woken up yet, and Billy really wants to let you sleep. You’d had another nightmare- he’d heard the moment you woken with a sharp gasp last night. He’d waited, waited patiently to see if you’d come to him, if you’d ask to crawl into bed beside him. He’d listened to your footsteps as you’d made a cup of jasmine tea.

He’d wanted to go to you, but he didn’t want to make it seem as if he was… monitoring you.

Lying on his side, he’d listened to you sigh, making sure you were okay, using his keen sense of hearing to listen to your racing heart.

He wasn’t too sure what to do. How did he reassure you that he wanted to be with you, that your entire relationship was built on something stronger than pity?

Perhaps, he could encourage you to seek out therapy, help you through your erroneous thoughts and make you see reason.

He shuddered at the reminder of therapists, and his failed relationship with a certain one in particular.

He’d listened to you have your tea and go back to bed, then he’d listened to you toss and turn and make little sounds of irritation that made the beast inside of him alert, tugging at him to go to you, to lie beside you, soothe you into sleep.

He thought about how you’d feel in his arms, the way he’d bury his nose in your hair and wrap his body around yours, a smile pulling onto his face the more he thought about it.

Then, he’d remembered what you’d said, that you might just take his actions as pity, and not the movements of a man utterly and hopelessly obsessed.

In a way, he sort of understood the insanity that being deprived of you could cause, shaking his head as he fell asleep, knowing exactly how unhinged his thoughts sounded.

Billy pulls open the door, wearing only the grey sweats he’d fallen asleep in, rubbing at one eye with the base of his palm.

“Madani.” He greets grumpily, the first peek of sunlight just starting to light up the street behind her.

She looks unbothered by his prickly greeting, in her red shirt and sensible work pants, a coat thrown over the ensemble to shelter her from the chill of the oncoming winter season. Billy steps to the side to let her in, the glint of her badge on her hip when she moves.

“You got coffee?” Dinah asks, eyes scanning the area, most likely looking for changes in his home. It had been years since she’d set foot in his place.

“Upstairs.” He answers, and she nods, pulling her gloves and coat off, hanging it on the little hanger near the door.

He leaves her in the kitchen for a moment so that he can grab a shirt, not wanting to be exposed to her for longer than necessary.

She’s sifting through his collection of coffees when he finds her again.

“So, how is she?” Dinah asks, not looking up. He watches her open a bag, take a small whiff and shakes her head. Billy studies her for a moment, gathering his thoughts, making sure to keep himself calm, stoic. He’d already had an idea of where this conversation was headed, and he didn’t want Dinah prying too much.

He clears his throat.

“She’s alright- yeah- shaken, which is understandable, but she’s a fighter.”

“I know, I saw her background. Hell of a girl.” Dinah says, raising her head with a light smile that suggested she knew something that he didn’t.

“What are you implying?” 

Dinah makes a sound of amusement, selecting another bag of coffee, this one,  harvested from the mountains of Peru.

“I read her file, Billy. Her statements, her firsthand account of that night. I saw the autopsy report for those two muggers. I know.”

He keeps his emotions in check, wrapped tightly with a rubber band and shoved deep down inside of him. His head is full of static, denial in his veins.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He says measuredly.

Dinah has the audacity to laugh, full blown, head tossed back, he’d roll his eyes if he was a little bit more comfortable with the direction of the conversation.

 “I forgot how easy it is for you to lie to yourself. Don’t worry, Russo I won’t tell a soul.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Dinah.” He says, inching closer to her, desperate to make the were-cheetah understand his words. “There is nothing to read into, nothing to know. She means nothing to me.”

Dinah’s eyes slide from his face to something behind him, he turns his head, stomach twisting as he spots you, having just come upon the conversation.

God fucking dammit, Billy swears internally.

.

“Good morning Agent Madani.” You greet evenly, pretending that you didn’t hear what you definitely just heard, “Is everything going well with the investigation?”

She says your name in greeting.

“Are you doing alright?” She asks, grabbing a bag of coffee from Billy’s selection.

“Peachy.” You respond sarcastically, with a smile, entering the kitchen, unable to look him in the eye at all.

You watch her set up his coffee machine, as you slide onto one of the stools at his kitchen counter, unlocking your phone to look through your notifications.

The place is silent, save for the hum of the coffee machine, you can feel Billy’s eyes on you, but you refuse to acknowledge him in any way, shape or form.

I’ll show you nothing.

“So,” You say, clearing your throat, “any news?”

Dinah turns, looking at you both, before stepping over to an unmarked cupboard, opening it to grab a mug.

You blink, tilting your head in acknowledgement that she so easily knew where to find things. Maybe they were in a relationship before.

“We have a… working theory that maybe you’re not the target.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, waiting for her elaboration.

“When we assembled the timeline of events, and analysed the photos properly, we noticed that Billy hadn’t been around at any point that the stalker was there. Every time something happened, he was nowhere around.”

“Are you implying that he’s the stalker?” You say dryly in disbelief, looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“No, more that the intended target of this harassment isn’t you… but rather… Billy.”

At that, you finally look up.

“How does that make any sense?” You prod at Dinah.

“Thing is, Billy is a security expert, catching him off guard would be really difficult. But, threatening a close friend of his, forcing him to watch your fear… we think that was the goal the entire time.”

You blink, looking down.

This wasn’t about you at all?

“That’s why taking several photos of you being mugged was so important,” Dinah continues, “Your fear, they’re using it against him.”

“Which reminds me,” She mutters, turning to Billy, “Can you send me a list of any enemies you have? We’ll start big and work our way down.

“You kidding?” Billy asks, raising a hand to wipe at his brow, “That list would be ten pages long. I’m not in security to make friends.”

“We have to start somewhere.” You hear her mutter to him.

“So… this is good right?” You say interrupting their little conversation, with freshly sprouting thoughts, “This means that I'm- I'm not being obsessed over, yeah? So I'm not in as much danger as I thought? No one is learning everything about me because they like me?”

There's a stagnant silence between the both of them that makes you think that you weren’t very correct in your assumptions.

“Not exactly.” Billy says, glancing at Dinah who looks back at him and makes you think to yourself that they really made a cute couple. The thought makes you press your teeth together angrily.

For a moment, it feels like someone's taken a hammer to your chest again, more and more you realise that maybe Billy had never really desired you.

“If this person isn't actively interested in pursuing you, and just trying to hurt Billy, then they have nothing to really gain from keeping you alive in the long term.” Dinah explains.

It just makes your heart sink more.

“Well it makes sense that my death would be worth much more than my life.” You grumble, crossing your arms.

In your peripherals, Billy turns away, when your eyes follow his movement, you catch him shaking his head.

Great, now you’d disappointed him.

“What if I left the city? Got as far away as I could and never came back?”

You watch his shoulders stiffen.

“You’d probably be safe but there’s a chance the person doing this could go after your friends to make a point, or maybe they follow you, we’re not entirely sure about anything, all we have right now is just a working theory.” Dinah answers.

“Oh.” You mumble, “So you could be wrong, and I could still be the main target.”

She’s silent for a while.

“We’re still exploring every option, but based on analysis, Billy does seem like the real target.”

Great. 

You turn away with a nod of your head, trying to figure out how to excuse yourself from the conversation and retreat into hiding.

“Wait a minute,” You say, turning back, “Why me? I’m sure there are a lot of people they could target that mean more to him than me.”

His head drops, and Dinah glances at him with a wry smile on her face.

“I think you might be his only friend that isn’t ex-military.”

Are we even friends? You want to jab.

“Actually, the harassment might have even been orchestrated to get you both closer together, knowing that Billy might have taken you in if he knew you were being stalked.”

You think you were going to be sick.

The idea that you were just being used as a pawn in someone else’s game this entire time, like a mouse in a maze, with doors shutting all around you, forcing you to go in one direction, made you want to sink into the nearest abyss and never be seen again.

You wanted to claw at the walls, you wanted to scream.

You take a deep breath, holding it, closing your eyes and pressing your face into your hands. You let it hurt, you let your lungs beg for air, you feel your body begin to sag under the weight of itself. When you can’t keep it in anymore, you let the breath out in a rush, feeling your mind calm down, too busy focusing on the mild oxygen deprivation to keep panicking.

“Alright well, it was a pleasure seeing you, Agent Madani, I look forward to speaking with you again.” You say diplomatically, sliding off the stool and stepping purposefully back to your room. You don’t stop until you’ve collapsed onto your bed face down, your face buried into a pillow, hoping that you could close your eyes and have all of this go away.

.

A while later, there’s a soft knock on your door.

You raise your head, sitting up and facing the door.

“Yeah?” You answer.

The doorknob turns, and you feel your throat tighten as you meet his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Great.” Is your clipped answer, “Things have never been better.”

He says your name on a sigh, opening your door wider to step into your room.

You look away, down at the spot on the floor where the glass of water had been smashed to pieces a few nights ago. You wonder if you would still find any remnants of splinters there.

“You and Dinah look nice together.” You comment softly.

“I suppose we might have,” He accedes, coming to sit beside you on your bed, “A  long time ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

“She's really pretty, I almost want to congratulate you on being with her.”

“She's alright.”

You make a sound of disbelief, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

He tilts his head in curiosity.

“What?”

“Well if you think she's alright, it's no wonder that I mean nothing to you.”

The silence is stiff, like the air is made of honey, trapping you both in place.

“I'm sorry you had to hear that, but it wasn't true.”

You shake your head.

“Look- It's alright- you don't have to say anything to make me feel better I get it-” You stand, fighting the thick feeling of the air around you both, “-I'm probably not pretty compared to all the other women you've dated, and maybe you've just realized that-”

Your voice cuts off when he stands too, your body freezing up once more as you catch the stern expression on his face.

He's like a predator, the way he moves forward, corralling you until you're pressed against the bedroom wall.

You try to appear calm, though you can feel each time blood pulses into your brain.

His eyes are so dark, you can barely see his pupil, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact the closer he gets.

He gets close enough that you can feel the soft brush of his breath on your cheek, his arms pressed to either side of you to cage you in.

“Dinah and I were only together for a few months. I wouldn’t open up to her, and she wouldn’t open up to me. She once told me that I was incapable of making a real connection with someone, and maybe I carried that into my next relationship, but you… are the first real connection I’ve made in a really long time.”

You blink, your insides responding positively to his words.

“I said those things to her because what you really mean to me, is absolutely none of her business.”

“And what do I mean to you?” You ask softly, a depth of challenge in your voice, a silent plea to mean more to him than you think you do.

The corners of his mouth just barely tilt upwards, one of his hands move to cup your cheek.

“So much more than you know. It hurts me to hear you talk down on yourself, it pains to hear you suggest leaving.”

He leans in further, his face beside yours so that he can whisper in your ear.

“I want you, more than I can even understand and I've been thinking about you from the moment we first met.”

You gulp, raising a hand to touch his shoulder, smoothing down the length of his arm.

He takes your wrist in his hand, pressing it against the wall beside your head.

You gasp, turning to look at him in surprise at the meaningful way he moved.

His nose brushes yours, and you can't help tilting your face up in hopes that he kisses you.

“It's not easy to find words for,” he thinks for a moment before smiling, “If I liked you less, maybe I would talk about it more.”

“That's Jane Austen.” You whisper.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Yeah, maybe she's on to something.” 

You feel his thumb swipe gently over the fluttering pulse at your wrist.

His head moves, his nose trailing a path over your cheek, to your ear. You stay perfectly still, heart hammering, but unwilling to break him from whatever thoughts he seemed to be in.

He drops his head till his face is pressed to the base of your neck, you feel and hear him take a deep breath.

“You smell good.” His voice is a low grovel.

“Thank you.” You whisper in response, feeling him take another slow breath, your body growing aroused at your positions.

He lets out a soft hum of appreciation, you stand there a little surprised at his actions. Was he just breathing you in?

His lips brush your neck and you feel a jolt of heat spear into your stomach. 

Your skin tingles, all you can feel besides his mouth on your skin and his breathing in your hair is your body begging him for more.

You wanted him to touch you, to trail his hands over your skin. You ached to just be felt, and not even in a sexual way. You wanted him to learn you, explore the feel of you so you would know what that felt like.

Do people even do that? Do they explore each other simply for the pleasure of it? You're not sure, but more and more you want to know everything about him.

You feel his grip tighten on your wrist, feeling him lean more against you as if he can't bear the thought of being apart. He stiffens, raising his head from its place, buried in your neck. His eyes are…

strange, there's something a little odd about them, but you don’t get the chance to investigate further.

“Excuse me.” He grunts out  before he's drawing away, and stepping out of your room with meaningful steps.

This time, your stomach fills with warmth and affection to watch him go. Almost intuitively knowing that his departure is based on a heavy desire for you, one that he was worried about losing control over, and not dislike, as you might have previously thought.

He really likes me, is what you think to yourself as the door closes.

.

You swear you're not trying to torment him on purpose, but it's funny how things work out like that.

You tap your pen against your lips, raising your eyebrows curiously when you glance over at him and find him already looking at you.

He looks so calm, except you know him a little bit better now, you watch his eyes drift to your lips, the same dark red you'd worn before.

Somewhere at the front of the room, there's a presentation happening, some routine safety briefings being spoken about.

You smile, looking down, and when you glance back at him, he's still got his eyes on you.

You could feel it in your bones, in that spot behind your navel- it was only a matter of time before you gave in to the tension between you.

The image of it just pops into your head with no warning, the way he might tug at your clothes frantically, breathless kisses, low groans as he gets you naked. His firm press of your body against his desk, or the first flat surface. The reminder of the way his hands feel on your skin, his mouth- you blink, swallowing, looking down at the pen in your hands as you let the memories of him overwhelm you.

You wanted him in so many ways, over and over, you almost felt insane with need. All you could feel is the ache inside of you, a space craving to be filled.

Your body responds eagerly to your thoughts, you swallow, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as arousal dampens your underwear.

You try to avoid looking at him as you let the debauched thoughts consume you. The imagery of him naked, all those delicious scars on display for your mouth to explore, the way you wanted to taste the path from his cock up to the base of his navel. You press your thighs together, aching for his touch. 

He'd probably touch you too, if you asked nicely enough. Maybe he would give you just what you needed.

You fight the groan of desire that builds in your chest, blinking and looking up to reorient your mind in the room. The HR rep is on his closing speech and you're thankful that this is almost over. Your eyes drift to where Billy is sitting, and your breath halts suddenly when you find his eyes on you.

You feel warmth flush in your face, his eyes are heated, the expression on his face is calm but- but the look in his eye promises pleasure beyond comprehension.

It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and for a moment you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.

The sound of a binder closing breaks you from your daze. You blink, breathing in a slow breath, looking around. You meet some of your coworker’s eyes, smiling at them, hoping that they hadn’t witnessed you and Billy basically eye-fucking each other into next week.

You spare a glance at him, wondering if you should take the time to say something, or just leave. You’re unsure of how to navigate here, knowing that no one else knows how close you really are to each other.

You decide against causing any drama- or give anyone a reason to chat about you. You suck in a slow breath, gathering your items before rising to a stand, to walk out of the conference room.

You feel his eyes on your back all the way out.

You keep your breathing even as you walk, there’s a pounding in your ears, the thump of your footsteps on the ground.

When there’s a sudden grip on your arm, you gasp, head swivelling in shock and mild fear to see Billy right beside you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He hums, pressing you somewhere. Your legs move where he guides, trying to stay upright with his firm steer on your body.

It doesn’t really register that he’s pushed you into a dark supply closet until you hear the door locked behind him.

“Is- everything okay?” You stutter out, heart hammering in anticipation.

“No it’s not.” He grunts out, taking the little items from your hands and placing them onto the shelf above your head in a meaningful motion.

You open your mouth to ask him what he was doing but you don’t get the chance. His fingers grip the back of your head, pulling your body against his, Your hands reaching up to steady yourself on his shoulders.

His forehead pressed to yours, you feel his breath on your lips as he exhales.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice almost hoarse, “please say yes.”

You’re shocked at the desperate way he sounds, as if there’s no sanity left in him.

“Please please please, let me kiss you.”

Fuck. Did you really have him this way?

“Yes.” You rush out, before lifting your chin to seal your mouth to his.

Absolute sparks, tingles where your lips meet his. You share a groan, before drawing back so that you can kiss him again. His other hand raises, both gripping your neck with such tender attention that you get lost in it so quickly.

It's not enough, none of it is, you rise onto the tips of your toes, a smile on your lips as you press your body to his. A shared breath between you, remarkably slow for two desperate people.

His mouth leaves your lips, a kiss to your cheek, another right below your ear.

“I'd get down on my knees right now if you asked. Workplace etiquette be damned. Just say the word and my tongue is yours.”

You groan.

Holy fuck was he real? You tilt your head back as his mouth peppers kisses over the column of your neck, you're not sure who moves, if it's you looking for purchase, or him guiding you, but your back presses to the door, nowhere to go. 

Your hand dips into his hair, pulling him close, he hums, one firm hand drifting down your body to grip your hip. 

You're about to give in, tell him that you need him so badly that you can't wrap your head around it. However, at the same time, you stiffen when you hear several footfalls outside, and laughter as clear as if there was no door between you.

If you could hear that, then it's no question whether you'd be heard, maybe discovered before anything really good happened.

Billy pauses, raising his head having felt you go stiff in his arms, you study his dark eyes for a few moments, longing to live within the few seconds you'd gotten with him.

“We shouldn't.” You whisper, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders.

He nods, accepting, a hand raising to push an errant strand of hair out of your eyes.

“You're… really beautiful.” He responds next, and it feels like a cord’s been looped around your intestines, tangled in your heart, tugging gently in any direction it can.

You can only give him a shy smile, before looking away.

“And you,” you reply, lifting your head to return a compliment, eyes catching on his mouth and you notice something is off. You smile, raising a hand to the corner of his bottom lip, “-have lipstick on your mouth.”

He grins, teeth on display for you as you work carefully to rid him of any lipstick remnants.

“I'd wear it with pride if I could.” He confesses, studying you intently.

All you can do is smile in response, feeling so light in his presence.

.

He's lying in the forest, thinking about your cunt.

He feels at peace here, body lying in the dirt with the trees all around him, the sound of rushing water somewhere in the distance and he sighs, thinking about your wet little cunt.

It's like you hear him, your slow footsteps approaching, the crunch of grass beneath your bare feet.

Another dream, he realises, when he lifts his head to look up at you and he finds you naked, realising that he's naked as well.

He watches you approach, and when you're beside him, he extends a hand to help you remain balanced as you seat your body on his, that delicate cunt of yours pressed to his adonis belt.

Your fingers trace his skin, he can feel his cock swelling at the sensation.

Your hand drifts up, cupping his face your thumb pressing against his lips.

He feels like yours, wholly, lying in his most peaceful spot, ready to give himself over to any whim, any desire, parting his lips so that you can press your thumb into his mouth.

He feels a connection building in the back of his head, swears he can almost feel you there, and he wishes with every fiber of his being that it could be possible.

He reaches to grip your hips firmly, no words need to be said as he guides your body upwards, your thumb slipping from his mouth as he settles your thighs around his face.

He takes a deep breath, basks in the scent of your desire, of a cunt just as desperate for him as he is.

His eyes roll back in his head as his tongue darts out to taste you. A sweet sigh from your mouth that only encourages him. He starts slow, he wants to savour this, he wants to wring every drop of pleasure from your flushed body.

You whine his name. He grips your hips to press your cunt more firmly to his tongue.

So good, so good, is the only thing his brain can formulate, licking your clit repeatedly, getting high on your moans and the tart taste of your cunt.

He feels you rock your hips against his face. He simmers with the delight, loves his precious mate using him for her pleasure, taking what she needs.

He is yours, after all.

Hands tighten in his hair, you must have gripped it at some point, your grinding growing sharper, desperate. He keeps his tongue out for you to rub against.

Gripping your ass tightly in anticipation, knowing you're right on that edge and he'd do anything, anything to taste your orgasm.

He's alone when he wakes up. Upset and unhinged, he angrily climbs out of bed and is out of his bedroom in seconds. 

He wants you, he wants to barge into your room and drop to his knees so he can bury his face between your thighs.

He needs this- he needs- he feels his body shudder at the desire that spreads through him. The panther awakens fully, growling in his head, reminding him of every detail of his dream.

The smell of strawberries fills his nose as he gets your door open quietly.

There you are, asleep in your bed, he tilts his head at the peaceful way you look.

It's what makes him pause, blink in realisation of what he was about to do. He backs away in shock, the predator surging forward angrily, urging him to go to you.

He takes another step back at the way he feels himself losing control. Something was wrong with him. 

He blinks, sudden awareness of what day it was, or rather, what phase of the moon was almost above head.

Billy backs away from your door, cock swollen and aching, needing a cold shower more than anything.

.

The full moon was close. 

He'd verified it after an icy shower, the panther demanding he give in to his base urges, clawing at him to feed, to fight, and most importantly, to fuck.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, he couldn't give into it now, who knows how rough he might be, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to go softer if you asked, and that was the most sobering thought of them all. The first time he'd been with you, he'd bruised your wrist, and that hadn't even been near a full moon.

It was safer to wait this out, keep you at arm's length until he had his full sanity back.

But of course, the universe is seldom kind, especially to him, and he watches as you step into his line of sight from his spot in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel.

He watches you evenly, fingers tightening on the mug of coffee in his hand, his sensitive hearing warns that the cup might shatter if he squeezes any tighter.

“Going for a swim. You can come if you like?” 

He keeps his expression calm, tries not to think of how you look naked, fights the panther for the braincells necessary to respond.

“You go ahead, sweetheart, I've got some work emails to glance at really quickly.”

You smile at him, and he feels like the air has thickened, slowing time in his head so that he can look at you for a few moments more.

“Okay.” You say happily, turning to make your way down his staircase, the smell of your skin lingering in the air.

The panther isn't kind to him this time, pushing images of you, lying in your front below him, face pressed into the bed while he fucks into you from behind.

Billy stifles a groan, thinking about the sweet sounds you make, about how tight your delicious cunt is.

He was in so much trouble.

.

He's a little distant, you notice.

Not unbelievably so, but it's definitely there.

He can't seem to spend time in a room with you, always finding an excuse to leave, or maybe work really had gotten stressful for him.

He was a CEO after all, maybe he was just busy.

You sit in his sunroom, looking out with a sigh, you'd been feeling antsy lately, stuck between his house and your work and the occasional visit to Amy’s. Other than that, you'd felt really stagnant.

For a moment, you find yourself wishing you were in the woods camping again. Exploring with your friends, photographing any amazing thing you'd find. You frown when you remember the way your lungs felt while running away. 

Maybe you could do something for him that would help you take your mind off of feeling this way. It couldn't hurt to show him how appreciative you were of his protection and it would hopefully help him feel better too. 

To lift your phone to your face, smiling as you begin planning.

.

He's been sitting in his office, listening to your heartbeat for the last two hours.

As a precaution, he'd shoved his desk against the door, to slow the panther down if he somehow managed to take control of him. 

His nails are embedded in his palm, the pain keeping him locked into his body and all he can hear is the thumpthumpthumpthump of your heart.

His office is the one place your scent is weakest, he can't even go into his own bed without scenting you in the sheets. You're everywhere, like his home is yours and though on a normal day he'd relish the thought, today it's torture.

Would things be different if you were actually together? Maybe. He wouldn't have been so frustrated in the first place.

Billy tilts head back, sucks in a deep breath. He can't see this desire for you fading. He worries that he'll always be this unhinged around you on a full moon.

He squeezes his eyes shut, giving the panther the right moment to push more thoughts into his head.

He'd stalk you through your home, enjoying the scent of your arousal in the air. He'd tear your clothes to shreds, bury his face between your soft thighs and listen to you cry with need. 

He'd hover above you, ask you for permission, make you beg to be fucked as hard as he wants to fuck you. 

The sounds you'd make, as his hips met yours furiously, he'd feel you clench around him, he'd lick the sweat off your skin.

Your eyes, full of tears as he gives and gives, ridding you of any doubt of who you belonged to.

He doesn't realize where he is until his nose is pressed to the column of your neck.

You make a small sound of surprise, turning to look up at him, he's somehow found himself in the kitchen, an arm wrapped around you as he stands behind.

You smile up at him, unaware that his control is crumbling, you tilt your head up, a silent ask for a kiss.

The panther purrs in his head when your lips meet, he feels you sigh into the kiss, your body relaxing.

His hand grips your jaw when he tries to move away, keeping your head tilted up for him, so that he can kiss you for just a little longer.

“Sorry.” He says- can't believe that's the sound of his voice, “Got a little carried away.”

You turn in his arms, smiling up at him.

“That's okay.” You hum, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as best as possible.

The smell of raw meat catches his attention.

“What are you making?” He asks

“Steak for you, chicken for me. Just something to say thank you for all your help.”

The panther purrs louder in his head.

“You're- cooking for me?”

“Mhmm, we can't go out much, so I could use a distraction, and you've been so caught up working. I just thought I'd make you something.”

“Thank you.” He hums, still in disbelief.

He's not sure why he's surprised, you've cooked many meals together, but usually he's there to help. The idea that you'd feel comfortable enough to use his kitchen without him, only reinforces how comfortable you are in his space.

You smile, turning back to what you were doing, and before he can make a second thought, the panther shoves the image of his cum dripping from your cunt into his mind.

He backs away, retreating into his office quickly before you even notice that he's gone.

.

Something’s so weird about him right now. 

For the first time you can see anxiety written into his movements, unsure and hesitant when he reaches for his glass of water.

You’d worked hard, maybe turned the steak just a little bit past rare. Placed beside some creamy asparagus and some crispy fries that were amazingly delicious and it was safe to say you were proud of the final product.

You’d taken the food up to the sunroof, lit candles all around the table and the space heater running,  hoping to warm up the space with winter almost upon the city.  

You’d knocked shyly on his office door, letting him know to come up, and you’d grabbed some drinks on the way back.

He’d given you such a happy smile, one that had looked so gorgeous on his face, made you want to kiss him right then and there. 

It had made it worth it, and then his further delight at tasting the food made your insides flutter all over again.

He stops looking so unsure of himself the minute he starts eating, you can tell he’s focused on the meal for the time being, and you get to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

“So, you told me you liked cats- are they your favourite?” You ask, giving him a smile as he looks up.

It’s light, you know that, you don’t want to pry into any deep personal questions right now, you just want to hear the sound of his voice as he sits across from you.

“I think so. I can’t think of another animal I like more.”

“Interesting.” You say, leaning forward to grab your glass of wine, “I don’t know a lot of men that like cats.”

He nods in understanding.

“It’s the consent. It’s hard for some people to wrap their heads around the idea that animals need their boundaries respected too.”

“You’re not a real person.”

It’s such an absurd thing to say that it makes him laugh, which in turn puts a smile on your face.

“Did you have any pets growing up?” You ask.

Your heart sinks when he stops smiling almost instantly.

You can see the memory of it cross his face, the heartbreak of it all. You can tell whatever it was is ingrained into his psyche so deep that it’ll never leave him.

He swallows, looking down.

What do you say? Tell me more? It’s okay if you don’t want to? What would be the right words?

You stand, his eyes flit up to observe you as you thump across to his side of the table, before dropping into the space beside him and pulling him into a fierce hug.

He takes a deep breath of surprise, one hand moving cautiously around you, before he goes all in, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your neck.

“It can’t hurt you now. I promise.” You mutter against him, and his hold tightens in response.

“Her name was Della. She was a- a little kitten searching the dumpsters for scraps just like I was. Her fur was soft, so soft that I can never forget the feeling of it.”

Tears spring to your eyes, being soaked up by his shirt almost as fast as they come.

“The group home didn’t allow pets, I snuck her in anyway. I’d feed her before I would eat. Every potential foster that came by, I’d ask them how they felt about cats. If they were against them, I’d act out. Until I finally found a family that would take me and her.”

He’s quiet, shaking his head.

“When they found out they were expecting, they put me right back in the group home, but they kept her. After a few months, they moved away, and I never saw Della again.”

“It was probably for the best. I could barely take care of me, I would never be able to help her if she got sick but…”

“But you loved her.” You finish for him.

“I did. I do. I don’t say that much, but she was everything to me when I had absolutely nothing.”

You bury a hand in his hair, holding onto him tightly, wanting him to feel some semblance of the adoration he’d had back then.

Even more, you want to take that pain away from him, you wished you could soak it up, all of his hurt and his endless supply of trauma and replace it with something good.

After a long while of you holding each other, you finally find the willpower to pull away. There’s an understanding between you now, a line that’s been crossed. 

You smile up at him, and you turn, reaching across the table to grab your plate of food, settling against him as you continue your meal.

“You’re a good man, Billy.” You say after a while, deep in contemplation.

“Maybe the best man I’ve ever met.”

You can almost feel his fond smile.

.

You finish dinner peacefully, using small talk to avoid deep conversations. You spend the evening enjoying his presence, laughing with him, leaning against him.

Kissing him.

You can tell there’s something there, beneath his cool exterior, something that urges him to press his mouth to yours harsher than he usually does, his fingers so easily gripping the back of your neck, demanding your submission.

He manages to keep himself in check though, despite the fire in his eyes, he doesn’t do more than kiss you.

Yet, you find yourself yearning for it more and more.

You bump his shoulder as you wipe a dish dry, staring at the distorted kitchen sink through the wine glass.

He makes a sound of amusement, gently bumping you in return.

“I’ve been thinking…” You start, and struggle to find the right words to finish your sentence.

He passes you another dish when you find the right spot for the wine glass.

You hesitate for too long, deep in your own thoughts, fear and the worry of rejection holding your mouth hostage.

He bumps against you playfully, and you almost drop the dish, cupping it securely after a moment.

A quick laugh of surprise and you glance at him to see that playful look on his face.

“What is it?” He asks, reminding you of what you had just been about to say.

“Oh god, nevermind.” You groan, feeling embarrassed.

“Tell me.” He pries in a light tone of voice.

You shake your head.

“I was only going to say- that I think I might be ready? Well, I know I am, I just said ‘think’ because I didn't wanna come on too strong but uh I've never really had to say this out loud so forgive my awkwardness about it and I just wanted you to know- I mean- we don't have to do anything now and maybe you might not even want to but I just wanted you to know with no doubts in case it gets lost somewhere-”

The sound of your name on his lips interrupts your mindless rambles, and you give him an apologetic look. He takes the very dry dish from your hand and puts it in its proper place calmly before turning back to you.

His hands on your cheeks, cold and raisined from having his hands in the water, but you smile up at him softly.

He studies you, eyes tracing across your face like you're a book he wants so badly to read.

“What do you mean by ready?” He asks.

“For… us.” You confirm hoping you get your point across. 

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“Us.”

“Yeah.”

He stands still, studying you, as you can feel your beating heart, squeezing in your chest, pounding in anticipation of what he's going to say.

“I- would really like to be an ‘us.’” 

It makes your heart beat that much faster.

He closes his eyes, a look of regret briefly crossing his face that makes your stomach twist.

He presses his forehead to yours, and you're forced to look down or get a headache from trying to focus on him.

“I can't stay. I have to go.”

You blink in surprise, drawing back so that you can look him in the eye for an explanation.

“For work,” he elaborates, “we were having such a good time I didn't want to mess it up before I really had to.”

You feel sadness overcome you.

You take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.

“Oh.” It's the most you can voice.

He has to leave for work, in the middle of you asking to be with him?

“I'm sorry, please believe me when I say I'm not running, I want to stay. I want to be with you. I won't be gone long, just three nights. I'll ask Dinah to increase patrol outside, and you can go anywhere you want in my house, treat it like it's yours.”

Agony twists inside of you at the idea of being away from him, paired with the shock of having this dropped on you so quickly.

Your head spins, you're not sure what to say, all you know is that you'll regret it if you let him leave on an upset note.

You reach out to take his hand, smiling up at his beautiful face.

“I get it. You manage a lot of people's safety, not just mine. I'll be fine, and we can talk about it later.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

You reach for each other at the same time, his hand on your cheek, yours to his.

The kiss is soft and earnest, open and vulnerable, a parting gift between you.

“I'll see you in three days, yeah?” You whisper lightly, trying to squash the undeniable despair threatening to choke you.

.

.

.

[smile-files]

your friend, your servant

(a short hurt/comfort fic with henry and dalston, not long after the events of miracle mask)

...

a gentle knock on the door.

how unusual, thought alphonse dalston. nobody ever visited. well, aside from those couple times dandy old hershel showed up during the masked gentleman investigation, but that was weeks ago. he sat up and paused, wondering he if he was just hearing things; with a shrug, he settled back down.

another knock.

with a groan, dalston begrudgingly hauled himself off of the couch, where he'd been oh-so-comfortably reading a book, which he closed and placed on the side table. "i'm comin', i'm comin'," he called as he made for the door, straightening out his shirt on the way.

upon swinging the door open, he found the last man he'd ever thought he'd see standing in front of him.

"good morning, mr dalston," greeted henry ledore, in his typical flat affect.

"what the hell are you doing here, ledore?" dalston asked loudly, standing in the doorway. really, what the hell WAS he doing there? ledore, of all people…

henry cleared his throat. "i understand you own a large property and only enlist the help of one servant. i can help maintain your estate."

dalston was left agape. "…what?"

"i can repeat myself, if you wish." eternally patient henry. damn him. "i apologize if my language was unclear…"

"no, i understand what you said, ledore," dalston snapped, "i just don't understand why you said it. why on earth would someone of your stature be crawling to me for work? as a servant, no less?"

henry laughed lightly. "you forget, mr dalston, that all of my wealth belongs to master randall."

"yes, right…" dalston's voice tapered off in thought. henry ledore, his financial competitor for the past 18 years, didn't even want any of the massive fortune he'd built - that which dalston had been so long trying to exceed. their rivalry was entirely one-sided. "but that doesn't make you a servant," dalston continued. "again."

"i never stopped being a servant," henry said. "my 'stature', if you'd like to call it that, was always master randall's."

"then why aren't you licking bratscot's boots right now?" dalston asked with a smirk. "i mean, since you have been so obsessively dedicated to the boy all this time, i'd think you'd be chomping at the bit to be working for him again."

a sigh. "he wasn't so keen on the idea of my resuming work as his servant. that is why i've come to you, mr dalston." henry's gaze was intense, determined.

dalston shook his head, baffled. "and if i turned you down too, would you go to some other rich sap and ask them the same?"

"i'm afraid they all regard me too highly to ever allow me a position beneath them, no matter how illogical that may seem."

"illogical, eh…?" dalston paused. "…hey, then why'd you think i'd accept? because i've sullied your good name in public, repeatedly? ha!" with a laugh, and a hearty pat on henry's back, dalston finally let him into the house.

dalston resumed his seat on the couch, leaving henry standing awkwardly in the entryway. he picked up his book and began leafing through it.

"y'know, it is kinda infuriating," he mused, smiling, "that you upstaged me at literally everything then revealed you weren't even doing it on purpose. there i was, thinking i had some fighting chance of beating you and rubbing it in your face, but now i know you never even cared about what i was doing. all you cared about was your 'master randall'."

"my apologies for seeming aloof," henry replied. "you are correct, mr dalston: preparing for master randall's return was my top priority. unfortunately, i could pay little mind to other affairs."

"including your old friend dalston?" dalston grinned. "was i too far beneath your lofty, noble goals?"

henry gave a start. "i did not realize you saw us as friends. i apologize for not treating you with more warmth."

"of course we're friends, ledore! what on earth are you talking about?" dalston shut his book and put it down. "come, sit. stop standing there like a piece of furniture."

obeying, henry came around to sit next to dalston on the couch. it was, indeed, a comfortable couch; henry smiled to himself.

"i admit," dalston said, "for a while i did think you were a slimy, greedy little bastard. i saw you building a fortune off of those ruins bratscot wouldn't shut up about, with his girl as your wife no less… i mean, you never told me why you were doing any of this! really, can you expect me not to call you a snake?"

"the most important thing was for me to help master randall," henry replied, unhelpfully. "though you, too, were romantically interested in angela, were you not? i understand our 'marriage' may have upset you on a more personal level."

dalston continued, ignoring henry's apology. "and y'know, as kids, i'd always talk about making it big in the hospitality business… but there you were, with your chain of luxury hotels, bringing in the bills! getting rich off of my dream! why, so i started my own hotel chain here in monte d'or too, and i started being massively successful, just like you - except you never batted an eye. mr ledore was too big for me now. and then you accused me of destroying monte d'or? ha! you really shouldn't be surprised i hated your guts. because you never explained a damn thing…"

henry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"and what's it all for now? heh, i'm getting pissy with a saint." dalston laughed. "at least now i know i was wrong to hate you. that's nice, at least, so we can go back to being chums. no hard feelings, eh?" he nudged henry with his elbow.

"i harbor no ill-will towards you, mr dalston," henry stated. "your reaction to my behavior was due and deserved. i hope i can be a better friend to you in future, now that i am not so preoccupied."

dalston grunted, but spoke not a word. they sat in silence.

"y'know," dalston said at length, "i was glad when mr bratscot kicked you out. and i was glad you became independent. he'd shut you up in that house for hours, only sending you out to do chores… i was hoping that with all of that out of the way we'd finally get to see you again."

dalston was staring in the middle distance, and henry did the same, not knowing what to say.

"but then you shut yourself up in those ruins," dalston went on, "and then in the reunion inn, or in your study, doing to yourself what was done to you… except i thought you were being the cruel master over yourself like mr bratscot. selfish. choosing money over the rest of us."

henry bit his lip.

"why did you never explain anything? i know i would tease you when we were kids, but…" dalston paused, his expression softening. "why, do you not think we're friends, ledore? is that why you were confused earlier? …is that why you never told me about anything?"

a brief silence. "i assure you, my inability to justify my actions to you was not meant to be a personal slight. and… i am pleased that you think we're friends. but i was not expecting you to say so."

dalston smiled sadly. "but do you want me to think we're friends? do you want to be friends, ledore?"

"it is your decision, mr dalston."

"if i said we weren't, i don't think you'd get upset and disagree with me."

"i apologize."

dalston sighed. here he was, getting pissy with a saint again…

they sat in silence for a moment, uncomfortable with each others' sadness.

suddenly, dalston met henry's gaze. "you were my friend before anything else. you could never be my servant."

in turn, henry stood up with a sigh. "then i must bid you good day, mr dalston. i apologize for bothering you."

dalston grabbed his hand with both of his and pulled henry back down onto the couch.

"do you seriously not know how to be friends with someone without being their inferior?" dalston asked, incredulous, henry now forced to make eye contact. "you don't have to leave my house just because you're not working for me. what, is that why you left yours?"

henry's hand was still in dalston's grasp. he'd been startled by the whole motion, by dalston begging for his company with his hands. eyes wide, henry didn't know what to say. his mind was on the feeling of being wanted there, on that couch. of his hand in dalston's grasp.

"you're very good at saying nothing." dalston exhaled and released henry, expecting him to stand up again. he closed his eyes, expecting henry to be gone when he opened them.

"master randall has always been my closest friend. he's always treated me like his brother, and yet he was always still my master."

"hm?" dalston opened an eyelid, curious.

indeed, henry's gaze had travelled to the door… but he'd stayed, perching himself uncomfortably on the edge of the couch; though he still faced away from dalston. "the two have always been the same to me," he continued in a soft voice.

dalston sat up and listened to him, eyes fully open.

henry bit his lip and continued. "do you think master randall and i would've been real brothers if he weren't my master? if he were just… randall?"

"he's always seen you as his real brother."

henry said nothing for a moment.

so dalston waited.

"it is true," henry murmured after a while, "if you said we weren't friends, i wouldn't disagree with you."

"oh yeah?" dalston replied quietly.

"yes. though i would still be sad." he smiled unhappily. "though i suppose that wouldn't mean anything, if i never explained it?"

"i'd think you hated me."

"and i wouldn't blame you."

suddenly, dalston pulled henry to his side and hugged him tight, arms wrapped around his thin form. henry was initially frozen like a deer in headlights, just as he was when dalston had grabbed him before…

henry's mind raced. he is holding me. he wants me to stay. i am in his house. i am on his property. i am doing something wrong. i should leave. he is holding me. he wants me stay. i am wanted here. i am wanted here. i am wanted here. i am wanted here.

…henry let himself sink into the warmth of being wanted. he became nearly limp with relief, as if his loneliness were an old, cramped exoskeleton dalston had gently slit into and helped him shed, letting the vulnerable, delicate animal within finally feel the heat of the sun, so similar to the heat which had always pulsed in his heart… he felt so weak, yet so alive, within dalston's embrace… and so tired… it took a lot out of him, letting himself be loved, instead of hiding himself away…

dalston was amused to find henry fallen asleep, but smiled to himself. he let me hold him, he thought. he wants to be here. and look… now he gets to dream again…

he gently laid henry down on the couch, shifting over to make room. he settled in with his book again, just as he was before henry had ever arrived… except now someone got to be comfortable on the couch with him. he was glad henry had visited.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

okay, this is a genuine attempt to engage, i promise! i'm just too cowardly to go off anonymous. personally, i don't disagree with the core things these people are getting at, even though i really disagree with how they go about it.

it's true the creator of TLOU has drawn from the real-world conflict in gaza. he's on record framing it as like "desperate, conflicted people on both sides" narrative, which i think is fucked up when the reality is there is one side of that conflict that endures greater suffering due to power imbalances, racism, etc. i think that is true. it is my opinion (and obviously does not have to be yours!) that TLOU is deeply flawed in framing a real-world conflict with this “both sides” narrative. and i do agree media like this doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it shapes how people understand real-world power, violence, and oppression. i do wish the fandom made more space to discuss how that potentially reinforces the problem, but they're so incapable of doing it without descending into personal drama. they make it about them and not about wanting to actually talk about this because well... this is tumblr so obviously it's curated af and they can't escape their own egos. anyway, i'm not trying to preach here but i'm genuinely curious like, does that not kind of reframe why some people are like, "this is torture porn?!" perspective?

i think the way those two particular blogs that have been named already are going about this is so immature. they made posts on their blogs calling out behavior rather than directly engage with you because theoretically, even if you were calling them out specifically in your original post, i had no idea that was what was happening until they created a narrative saying so and until they perpetuated the drama with their attention-seeking behavior. like publishing that shit on their blogs and claiming they're trying to have a conversation... anyway... i guess i would like to TRY to have a normal convo about this.

i dont know any of the people who are i guess making sub posts about me. again, ive not been tagged in anything, and i dont go seeking out hate posts about myself so lmao. they can continue to circlejerk.

tell ya what. im going to talk about the CONTEXT and TIMEFRAME of Neil Druckmann's actions bc these things matter and are routinely glossed over by people who would rather water things down so they're easier to digest. In depth, complex discussions that acknowledge grey areas aren't as easy as just screaming "ZIONIST!" at anybody who enjoys TLOU, but here's the former:

most of what I see people parroting is an opinion piece from 2020

here is an article from April of this year that does a decent job at condensing Neil Druckman's comments about Israel and Gaza and TLOU

here is an excerpt I think is worth sharing:

The impetus for Ellie’s trajectory in Part II came from Druckmann seeing footage as a teenager of Israeli soldiers being lynched in the West Bank. He couldn’t shake the fact that there were cheers after such violence. “It was the cheering that was really chilling to me,” Druckmann told the Washington Post in 2020. “In my mind, I thought ‘Oh, man, if I could just push a button and kill all these people that committed this horrible act, I would make them feel the same pain that they inflicted on these people.’” Once that anger subsided, Druckmann said he felt disgusted over his own fury. But that made him think about how humanity processes hatred. “I landed on this emotional idea of, can we, over the course of the game, make you feel this intense hate that is universal in the same way that unconditional love is universal?” 

In a 2023 interview with Haaretz, Druckmann was keen to note that being inspired by something and basing a game on something are two different things. “It was inspired by, not based on,” Druckmann said of The Last of Us Part II and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. “That’s a really important nuance, because my inspiration is like my feeling towards a cycle of violence that I’ve experienced as a child growing up in Israel, growing up in the West Bank specifically, coming to the United States and observing it then from the outside, vs. being in it.” “This game deals a lot with tribalism,” Druckmann continued. “Sometimes tribalism on a very large scale, between two groups that are fighting for land—and again, that has obvious similarities to stuff that happens in the West Bank—but sometimes it’s tribalism within its own group…a sense of a group that feels righteous. And when you’re righteous, it’s very easy to diminish another group and say, ‘They are less than me, and I’m correct and they’re wrong, and therefore that gives me permission to inflict violence upon them.” 

It's possible to acknowledge Neil Druckmann's personal experience influencing themes throughout the story without oversimplifying it and deeming the entirety of it as Zionist propaganda. Him leaning into the worst parts of himself/humanity, being disgusted with his ability to lean so easily into that, and wanting to creatively explore it isn't Zionist propaganda. I think where people fail to make the connection in many of these statements is TLOU (both games and first season) was created prior to the events of Oct 7.

(IMPORTANT TO NOTE: this current conflict is another facet of an extensive history of conflict between Israel and Palestine. It's an incredibly chaotic, messy, and violent history that cannot possibly be summed up in this post alone. There is also the history of politics in Palestine itself that I recommend you read about.)

Neil Druckmann was born in 1978, decades into what we now acknowledge as the ongoing conflict. His first real exposure to the violence from the ongoing conflict would most likely be when he was a teen, which is what he references in that "kneejerk reaction" comment. The comments about being inspired by and not basing material on something were in April of 2023.

Now, let's talk about his actions after Oct 7. A few hours after the news broke, he posted an Israeli flag on IG with the caption Israel forever written in Hebrew. A few days after that he posted to twitter about a donation to an Israeli based charity Zaka, who purport themselves to be volunteer rescue and paramedics.

Let's take a minute to talk about Zaka. They have a weird history with questionable actions/leaders across the spectrum. Sometime in the mid 2010s they were given some privileges with United Nations. Zaka immediately started fundraising after Oct 7. A few months later a report came out that exposed the shadiness, purposeful misinformation, and mismanagement of funds by the organization.

Sometime in mid October, Druckmann tweeted about a donation to a Middle Eastern Red Cross humanitarian charity that isn't directly affiliated with any entity involved in the current conflict. The tweet highlighted that Playstation matched his donation, and he was thanking them. This tweet included both the Israeli flag as well as the Palestinian flag.

all this to say....

Surprise, surprise: a guy who spent some of his formative years in Israel has a complicated and oftentimes questionable-leaning-ugly conduct about Palestine.

Water is wet. Demanding that he retroactively apply current circumstances to his past self is not only impossible but also derails legitimate discussion and warranted critique; however, his trajectory is not one I'd readily align with a Zionist.

And bc I know some of you ignorant bitches lack media literacy, I'll make it easy for you:

Fuck Israel and their military state. The Palestinian people deserve freedom and peace, and yes even at times from their own presiding political groups.

catch ya later, Puddles

[takemealivelh]

heart is gonna flatline || l.h.

tour puts luke and lucy's feelings to the test. addiction to sex, alcohol and weed for when things get hard. SMUT.

this was so fun to write ! loved to participate in the @5sos-fic-fest this year. hope you enjoy this. here's the ao3 link.

7.1 k

FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED

Prompt Au where the characters are both famous musicians with their own projects who have a well-documented public friendship. When they announce a tour together fans go crazy, as do the shippers. As the tour progresses, maybe the shippers are on to something…

Pop-rockers 5SOS and Latina indie-rocker Lucía Huerta announce tour together Last year, there were rumors about the frontman of the Australian band -Luke Hemmings, 27- and relatively new sensation Lucía "Lucy" Huerta, 28. They'd been caught leaving West Hollywood bars together, late at night, on numerous occasions. They put the speculation to a stop when in June 2023 Lucy uploaded an Instagram story of her and the blond having a drink. She tagged Hemmings and wrote "that's the homie", to which Luke replied in his own stories "that's me :)". They've been seen hanging out repeatedly since then, but it doesn't seem any more platonic than work friends. And speaking of work friends, 5 Seconds of Summer and Huerta just announced a 2024 tour that definitely excited fans, not just because of the vibrant shows they expect to see later in the year, but also because they want to see how the relationship of the two stars will develop during the four-month North American dates. Here at Music Getaway, we'll definitely keep a close eye on them.

-

"i'm not ready to tell them yet," lucy says to his boyfriend as she leaves the coffee cup on the kitchen counter next to them. they've been dating for eight months. it's been hard to hide their relationship from the press, and luke isn't too keen on the idea. he actually hates it. but he loves lucy. he loves that she's a talented musician, her laugh, her jokes and her business smarts. and he just can't enjoy this in peace, not with being so secretive.

"you've been saying that for months now. when are you gonna be okay with this? with us?" luke doesn't get it. why hide when they go out on dates and he can finally press a hand on her ass in public to stop the thirst traps people seem to tag her on. hoping to get a chance with her? fuck no. the blond wants her all to himself, he can't deny that.

lucy twists her lips, stalling. the smell of freshly brewed breakfast coffee dancing around them. "you don't understand." she finally says, reaching a hand to touch his arm for a few seconds. the thought of being out in the open with luke would change everything. "people will treat me differently. they might not respect me anymore."

"what are you talking about?"

"luke, come on. i got my own interview with kelly clarkson and then i played the iheartradio festival." they'd been incredible opportunities. "all of my hard work goes away the minute they know we're together. they'll say oh she was fucking the rockstar and he got her those big breaks. i don't want that. i don't want people to minimize my efforts."

luke sighs and shakes his head. "is that what's more important?" lucy shrugs. "okay," he finally says.

"okay?"

"yeah. it's fine. i get it. i won't bring it up again."

lucy throws her arms around his neck. "thank you," she whispers before kissing his lips softly. "i love you."

-

luke sits with ashton outside the rehearsal room. they've been playing for nearly two hours and they need a breather, especially because luke's mind is spinning. "i don't know, man. it sucks." they hear chattering on the other side of the door, a few guitar riffs and then laughter.

"of course it sucks, mate," ashton tells his friend. "she doesn't want to be in your shadow. it really fucking sucks and you better not fuck this up for her. you know how hard she's been working." he had grown fond of lucy. she was as much of a fan of drums as he was. he taught her a few fills and she invited him to do yoga and get high, ending up talking about how the unconscious force of creativity is beyond any of us. ashton doesn't want to see her heartbroken because of her boyfriend's, his best friend's inability to trust someone who really loves him.

-

luke's insecure, there's no question about that. after his marriage fell apart, he fell into a depression. and when he got better, he found this woman in the venue of the iheartradio festival, she was wearing cool sunglasses and stevie nicks-looking clothes. hippie goth he would've dared to say. they were watching the soundcheck of another band and started talking after she took out a cigarette from her backpack and asked him for a lighter.

"sorry, no. i don't smoke."

"that's okay," she smiled. 

that was all she said before looking for -and eventually finding- a lighter in the outside pocket of her small backpack.

the man looked up at the sky, the sun shining bright and the warm air of the field. he squinted one eye and turned to her. "they sound pretty good," he said of the band that was talking onstage, between songs. she nodded her head. "do you know them?"

"not personally, no," she replied and blew smoke out in a thin line. "but i've been a fan of them for a while now. they're one of my favorite indie bands."

that got them talking, eventually introducing themselves and catching up later after each other’s set. there was chemistry and flirting. luke's band immediately caught up to what was happening, when he said he was gonna congratulate lucy and be right back. but he didn't and it took them a full while to find him, thirty minutes before they went up and played.

-

"you got a lighter?"

calum nods and lights the cigarette for her. the smoking area of the building being a small parking lot.

"thanks," she breathes out. "you out here on your own?"

the bassist nods. "it's a good place to think."

lucy smiles and rolls her eyes. “cheesy,” she says with a grin.

"where's loverboy?" he asks, a cheeky smile on his face. calum was the first one to see them kissing. it was an afterparty at his band photographer's place. he'd gone to the kitchen when everyone started leaving, eight in the morning. when he went back to the living room with a cup of coffee, he saw lucy snuggled up to luke, smiling at him. luke smiled back and leaned in to kiss her. "aren't you guys glued to the hip anymore?"

lucy chuckles, "i don't know. there's... a lot happening."

"i'm listening."

"uh... okay. so... we decided to not tell everyone yet that we're dating. Not even with the tour. and i think he's mad at me."

"why do you say that?"

"he's been more... distant. and i don't know if that's what i wanted but it feels like... payback. like, you banned us and now i'm gonna make sure you feel it type of thing."

"i'm sure it's not that."

a bitter chuckle leaves her lips. "helpful as usual, cal."

-

cincinatti, first stop of the you don't go to parties tour. lucy had laughed when they first told her the name of the tour, but she eventually grew to like it and even embrace it. it's 6 pm and her soundcheck just ended. security lets fans in for a q&a with 5sos. she walks over to her boyfriend and smiles at him, wanting to kiss him good luck, or maybe just because she loves him. but luke stops her before she can even tilt her head up to reach his lips.

"we can't now. remember?"

it leaves her heart sore. she stands still as luke enters the stage and is greeted with the cheering of the fans. the rest of the guys are already seated on the small stairs of the set. she watches him ignore her and the questions about her. michael replies to one of them by saying she's our friend and we care for her and we're pretty inspired by her work as well, so it seemed like a good idea to, like, join forces and do this tour together.

lucy hopes luke will acknowledge her at some point, but he doesn't. when they start playing talk fast for the few lucky seventy fans in the audience, she twists her lips and leaves, heading backstage.

-

he doesn't see her until she's onstage again, playing her set of amazing songs for the 16,000 people attending the show. they dance and scream the lyrics back to her. she plays her guitar and sings with her raspy grunge-style voice over the indie-pop-rock arrangements her backing band provides. his heart beats faster as she approaches the microphone and starts talking.

"and thank you to my friends in 5sos who have been kind enough to invite me to co-headline this tour. the you don't go to parties tour seemed a little odd to me at first because this is definitely a party, isn't it?" she smiles as the crowd cheers. "so thank you guys," lucy turns to the left of the stage and sees luke standing next to her guitar tech. "i really fucking love you."

-

because of technical issues, the band can't perform the whole setlist. sometimes it happens. ashton is always pissed. "they're missing the whole experience!"

"yeah, well. nothing we can do. venue told us we could do the whole hour and a half but because of the issue with the speakers, they can't last that long. you have to cut two songs."

the tour manager tries to hold this thing together as ashton and michael complain. calum offers suggestions.

"i guess we could lose um... we could lose babylon, right? just this once and... flatline maybe?" the bassist looks over at luke.

flatline is the one song they had never played live before and it’d be a surprise for the audience. especially because lucy would come onstage to sing it with them. play the rhythmic guitar while luke walks around, hyping up the crowd. they'd rehearsed it several times and she was excited about it. they both were. allegedly.

"sure," luke replies as he drinks a glass of tequila, setting it down on a table and making sure his guitar is properly tuned. "let's cut them."

michael and ashton look at each other and then at luke. the frontman shrugs and his friends tell the tour manager that they will cut babylon and flatline.

-

all of the musicians have separate rooms in the hotels. even luke and lucy. she'd insisted it'd be easier. luke hated it. and he didn't expect her to show up at his room, unannounced, with a frown on her forehead and breathing hard.

"you cut our song," she steps inside the white room with the white walls, white bed and white comforter. looking at luke, the woman crosses her arms.

"we had to," he simply states. as if he wasn't the one greenlighting the whole thing.

"you could've told me, though. i was looking stupid next to the stage, waiting for you to introduce me. and it never happened."

"is that all that matters to you? how you look in front of other people? we had to cut two songs, lucy. the surprise's gonna be even bigger in the next show. fans will appreciate that."

lucy twists her lips and walks straight past him towards the door. "you're an asshole," she says before closing it behind her.

-

the beginning of the flight to boston is awkward. the whole twelve -the bands and the crew- can sense the tension inside the plane. it stems from luke and lucy, obviously. when did everything get so uneasy?

twenty minutes into the duration of the flight, though, luke slides into the seat next to his girlfriend. she doesn't look at him.

"i should've told you."

"yeah, you should've."

her heart beats faster as he places a hand on her cheek, guiding her eyes towards his own. he looks inside the brown hues and decides he can't keep hurting her. but she hurt him first. he wants to grow up and let it go. it's proving to be harder than he thought. maturity hasn't caught up to him easily yet. "i'm sorry." she closes her eyes and luke leans in to kiss her. "i'm sorry," he repeats.

a hand on his wrist, lucy is sad. looking into his eyes makes her sad. "it's okay," she finally says.

-

"and now we've got a pretty special surprise for you," michael grins into the microphone as the whole venue screams. "it's time to invite lucy huerta back on stage!" he shouts with a smile.

luke thinks lucy looks so fucking edible in those tight pants and that see-through top. her smile is big as she waves to the audience and settles on the center of the stage, where luke usually is. he gets another microphone from one of the roadies before ashton counts to four with his hi-hat.

should've seen me like a year ago, year ago/i was someone you don't even know, even know/dark times kept me all alone, all alone/you were shining like a heart of gold, heart of gold

he steals glances at her as she smiles into the crowd that’s going wild, her acoustic guitar hanging from her shoulders. 

luke was depressed after the divorce, staying home and drinking himself to sleep. then he got his shit together (half of it at least), went to the studio and worked through his issues by writing songs. when he met lucy, luke thought she was the most wonderful person on the planet. she had the kindest heart and was an overall joy to have around. he sings the pre-chorus and is taken aback by her strong voice as she takes over the song with her playing and her singing.

ooh, i'm falling for the first time/heart is gonna flatline/now i can't even look at you/you're like staring at the sunshine, burning into my mind/now i can't even look at you

and she doesn't. she doesn't look at him as she sings, unlike rehearsals when they couldn't stop singing to each other. it breaks his heart, considering it's their song. he wrote this for her.

"thank you!" lucy shouts and then leaves the stage waving everybody goodbye.

-

after the show, luke showed up to her hotel room. the bands were out clubbing and when he heard lucy wasn’t gonna join them, he immediately took an uber back to where they were staying. 

“let me in, please,” he says after knocking on her door three times. when she finally appears, she’s wearing a towel around her body and another one around her hair. she looks tired. “can i come in?”

without saying a word, lucy steps aside and luke walks into her room. she closes the door behind her and approaches him. 

“talk to me,” he basically begs. reading her mind is like an unsolvable sudoku, the man can’t get his head around it. “I love you.”

“i love you, too,” she whispers, looking down at his messy converse sneakers. 

luke quickly grabs her face and kisses her. it’s passionate and arousing and she can feel herself melting under his touch. she knows they should actually talk about it, instead of making out and falling on the bed, her towels discarded somewhere on the floor. she can’t help it. they’re both sex addicts. lucy rips his thin black shirt open and kisses down his chest, leaving his skin wet with the droplets that run down her hair. his breathing grows heavier and his pants grow tighter in the crotch area. he closes his eyes as she trails the kisses back up to his face. “take it off,” she pleads and sits next to him. luke quickly reincorporates himself to toss his shirt, his slacks and his underwear out of the way. he’s big and pulsating and lucy swallows hard, he turns her on so much. 

when the last item of clothing hits the floor, one of his shoes, the man licks his upper lip and straddles her body, hovering over her. “you really want me, huh?” his smirk is cocky, as if he’s forgotten everything about these past few days. it’s like nothing ever happened and they’re still in their love bubble. she so desperately wants to go back to it, so she nods and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him to her lips as she parts her legs. luke hooks an elbow on her knee and spreads her wider, watching her folds throb for him. so slick and ready. he kisses her once more before carefully dropping her leg onto the bed. “condom,” he says. “i need to fuck you now.”

lucy reaches out to the bag she keeps on the nightstand. eyeliner, pills and condoms. she hands him one and it doesn’t take long before his cock is ready. luke smirks and kisses her, lining himself against her entrance with one hand, he takes a deep breath and penetrates her.

her gasp shouldn’t come as a surprise, given that it’s the same sound every time, not at all used to having him being so big and thick yet, even after all these months. she closes her eyes and bites her lower lip as luke runs a hand through his damp curls, letting her adjust to his size. he groans as he feels her walls engulfing him. “i want you so much,” he offers a low moan and starts picking up the pace of his thrusts. bringing one of her legs over his shoulder, the man reaches a deeper spot that makes her moan out. 

“fuck,” she pants as the bed bounces underneath their bodies. luke’s strength and determination to fuck her stupid works. her eyes roll to the back and she digs her short nails into his naked back. “more,” she begs and is immediately met with a hand around her throat. “more,” her plead is inaudible as she feels like she can’t breathe from the pleasure.

luke’s pupils are dilated in a way she’s never seen before. he tightens her grip around her throat and around her leg. gulping down at the sight of his girl falling apart under him, he tries to restrain louder moans but how can he? how can he fuck her quietly when she looks and feels so fucking good? “say you’re mine,” he orders. “say you’re mine.”

-

the morning sun shines through the window and rests its light on lucy’s face. She scrunches her nose and opens her eyes. she’s lying on luke’s chest, they’re both naked. he doesn’t seem to notice her shifting. the woman looks up at him, wondering when things got so complicated. she loves him. she truly loves him. he’s the first man she’s ever loved, in a real way, not a platonic crush way. the fact that he makes her laugh and his skills when making music and also in bed are extraordinary. he’s a sensitive soul and it’s such a wonder when he lowers down the walls he builds up around people. letting them in but not all the way. not in the way he does with her. or did. “why can’t you trust me with your thoughts anymore?” lucy wonders in a soft whisper before pressing a kiss to his sternum and getting up. she goes to the bathroom and takes a shower. when she opens the door that leads to the bedroom, luke is up and scrolling through his phone. “hi,” she smiles softly. her boyfriend’s hair is a mess and there’s still sleep inside his eyes. 

“hey,” the man smiles back, putting his phone away. “flight’s at 6. you wanna do something today?”

lucy leans against the frame of the bathroom door. she crosses her arms in front of her chest and thinks for a moment while twisting her lips. “what do you have in mind?”

-

they both go down in the elevator, not touching, and it’s killing them. when they reach the hotel’s diner, they find calum and ashton sitting at one of the tables, drinking orange juice and eating bagels.

“you guys had fun last night,” calum smirks as the couple sits down with a plate of waffles and two cups of coffee.

lucy blushes and luke has to stop every inch of his urgent body to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “shut up,” they both say in unison. there’s a soft smile on their faces.

after michael drops by to have a quick breakfast and then leaves to facetime his wife and his baby daughter, the rest of them decide that it would be cool to go out and explore the city. so they do that. they go to a park and sit around, smoking and drinking warm water because of the summer heat upon them. a couple of fans stumble across them and ask for pictures. they stay for around ten minutes before leaving off to continue their day, the musicians keep on enjoying the sun and the fresh air. if you ignore calum and lucy’s cigarettes, that is.

they go to lunch at a nearby restaurant and order pasta salads. lucy looks over at luke across the table, he’s laughing at one of ashton’s jokes and she sighs almost imperceptibly, looking down at her empty plate. there’s a single ravioli and two tomato slices on it. she looks up when she feels a foot against her ankle and sees luke smiling softly at her.

they can’t help but fuck in the restaurant’s bathroom. locked into a single stall, she drops to her knees and sucks him off. luke pins her against the door and buries his head on her neck to muffle the sounds when he slides into her. she’s got a leg wrapped around his waist and she swallows hard to hush the sounds she wants to make.

when they reach back the table, they find that ashton and calum have deserted them, leaving them with the bill. “assholes,” she says and luke laughs.

-

Seen out: Luke Hemmings and Lucía Huerta have an off day in Boston

The pair walked out of the Intercontinental Hotel with Ashton Irwin (5SOS’ drummer) and Calum Hood (5SOS’ bassist). They were seen by fans at Fenway Park and they took pictures with them. Luke looks tired in the photos, but he seems happy. He wears roughed-up sneakers and a white tank top. Lucy wears short denim shorts and a black top with flowy sleeves. The fans that tagged them in the Instagram posts spoke about how nice they were and how exciting it was to meet them. Hemmings and Huerta were both seen leaving Tenderoni’s Fenway restaurant and getting into an Uber. According to inside sources, the pair haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other during this tour so far. We hope it stays that way.

-

“fuck,” lucy’s frustration about the latest hollywood gossip blog post seems to go unnoticed on the plane. but luke can tell, and he wraps an arm around her the minute they both sit down. “they know. they seem to know,” she hands him her phone so he can read the writing piece. she hates it. she hates it so much. “inside sources can suck my dick.” this statement makes luke giggle. “what’s so funny?” she asks, annoyed.

“nothing.”

-

the next cities go by in a time whirlwind. lucy’s been distant since the article and it breaks luke’s heart. she refused to hold his hand and kiss him outside hotel rooms. even concerts’ backstages.

a few months after they met, they attended a house party in santa monica. the sparks between them were something everybody noticed, but they didn’t seem to think much of it. they’re rockstars, they’re the same age, of course they’re gonna flirt. luke fucked her in the spare bedroom, door locked. she gasped when she felt his cock for the first time, knowing he’d just made her addicted to it. he’d ruined every other man for her.

“we should head back downstairs.”

“i wanna stay here with you.”

“luke.” his name was rough against her lips as she hooked her bra back on.

“alright, i’m up.”

looking back, that should’ve been a red flag for him, but he chose to ignore it. because she made him feel good and he didn’t want her to leave him for somebody else. he didn’t want to be left again. he’d loved his ex-wife, and it was hard to get over her after she cheated on him. lucy had never been in a relationship, just random hookups, a friend with benefits and two weeks of winter love. she feared intimacy and luke could tell after the second time they had sex. spend the night, he’d said. lucy shook her head and told him she needed to get up early in the morning for an interview, which was a lie.

-

by the time the first month rolls around, they’re barely talking. It’s all sex and pretending onstage. pretending to have fun, pretending that they’re not hurt. their hearts break in silence. well, sort of.

“i told you not to fuck it up.”

“she won’t let me in. she won’t talk to me about it.”

“fix it.”

-

someone just like you, no one else/lights will guide you so, run like hell

the screaming fans can’t get enough of the energy onstage. michael jumping around, calum throwing his head back to expose his neck to the crowd, ashton beasting out on the drums. luke crouches in front of the crowd with a wide smile and lucy plays guitar while she sings her heart out. the lights radiate orange and red colors on the stage, the bass resonates in their bodies and there’s so much adrenaline going on that she has a moment of weakness. she looks over at luke, who has walked over to michael’s side of the stage as he sings the second verse. he wears a silver shirt that makes his shoulders look so spectacularly broad. she looks at him a little too long and when the camera pans over to her, showing her true feelings on the giant screen, fans seem to lose it even more. luke walks back to her and sings directly into her eyes, as if he can feel his way back to his girl. finally. a sad smile appears on her face for a split second before she starts dancing while playing the post-chorus instrumental outro. her long wavy hair hides her face and no one notices a single tear rolling down her cheek. when the song ends, she pretends to be emotional about the crowd, about how much they seem to love the show. which she is very grateful for. but on the other side of the coin, she just fucked up everything for herself. her career. and it’s clear when luke approaches her with a reassuring smile and one fan screams KISS! KISS! and then the whole venue is yelling the same word over and over again. michael and calum look at each other, ashton wipes off the sweat from his forehead and when the chanting doesn’t seem to stop, he grabs his mic. 

“alright, alright. calm your asses down,” the drummer laughs and the crowd follows suit. a distraction. he starts talking about how they recorded the song and thanking lucy for putting on a fantastic show with them for the beautiful souls in the audience.

lucy twists her lips, trying not to break down in front of thousands of people. so, she just waves and quickly exits the stage. luke takes a deep breath. he wants to run after her, make sure she’s okay. but she would never forgive him for giving the fans more reasons to speculate about their relationship. 

-

lucy cries backstage, alone. she takes off her makeup and sees dark circles underneath her eyes. why the fuck is she such a mess? why can’t she be in love like a normal person?

-

the show ends and the first person to knock on her dressing room is, obviously, luke. “are you okay?” he opens the door and sees his girlfriend lying on the sofa, sleeping. her makeup’s off and he can better appreciate the freckles on her nose that she gets in the summer. he stays with her, sitting on the chair in front of the mirror. the man looks at her as she wrinkles her nose in her sleep. he loves her so much. but what if this it? what if this is the end for them? 

michael opens the door, “what’s going on? is she okay?”

“she’s okay,” luke smiles weakly. “she’s sleeping.” 

lucy holds a pillow to her chest. she’s covered by luke’s jacket. michael decides he should probably leave them alone. “good luck, man,” he says as he pats luke’s shoulder, then he leaves the door closed after stepping back out.

luke could really use a joint right now. all these thoughts and feelings. wondering what she may be dreaming. or what she does with her days when they’re not together. he hates being so possessive, it makes him feel like a child. but how can you blame him?

“good luck with what?” lucy’s yawn startles him. she rubs one eye open.

michael meant well, but he also wanted to protect luke from heartbreak. lucy’s given him that for months now. all the guys -at least in the bands- knew lucy has a bit of… issues. she believes in things to be too black or white, good or bad, yes or no. no space for grey areas in her life. and that’s frustrating to deal with, but luke had fallen in love because she was so intense and so hardheaded when it came to defending her values. He admired that about her. “I honestly have no idea,” he lies behind a chuckle, playing it off as usual band nonsense. “do you wanna go back to the hotel and sleep?”

she’s too tired to get into an argument about taking separate cars, so she just nods. “Yeah.”

-

when they get to the hotel room, luke tucks her in and pours her a glass of water that he leaves on her nightstand. he looks for ibuprofen in her small bag with pills and condoms and sets two next to the water. 

“i’m sorry for being such a bitch to you,” lucy says with her eyes closed, lying on her side. 

she looks so out of it. as if she’d just drank an entire bottle of vodka and then smoked weed. he feels bad. he never meant for her to feel like this when they got into a relationship. but touring always makes things hard. especially if you’re playing shows every night with the person you love. the man sighs and sits next to her. “don’t worry about me. get some sleep,” he whispers and kisses her temple.

before he can stand up, lucy grabs his arm. “can you stay with me? please.”

a soft smile sets on his lips. “of course.”

-

after landing in the next city, lucy calls her mom.

-

there are three knocks on his hotel room door. “luke?” her voice is soft. as if she’s embarrassed. she doesn’t want her mother’s words to haunt her. the man opens the door without his shirt. just sweatpants. he was probably gonna go to bed. she might as well ruin his night too. 

“hey.” there’s a small pause. “what’s up?” he steps aside so she can come in. the tv’s on in the background and there’s a tray with an empty plate and a glass of tequila, just resting on his nightstand. 

lucy nods her head and walks inside. “i wanna talk.”

“okay…”

“about us.”

-

Love Is All Around: It’s Insta-Official

Two months ago, the You Don’t Go To Parties Tour hit the stage. And last night, Lucía Huerta and Luke Hemmings provided some much-needed proof of their romance. “Ten months with you feel like a second. Magic. I love you.”

-

lucy sighs as she reads the article.

“are you okay?” luke asks her.

“yeah,” she replies. “just… scared, i guess.”

“it’s gonna be okay, love,” he kisses the top of her head and sits next to her on the sofa. “everything’s gonna be alright.” the dressing room is big and no one else is around. it’s noon.

tons of notifications have been hitting their phones for the past fourteen hours. some are mean comments, others are encouraging words from fans. either way, it makes lucy anxious. “do you wanna get high?” she asks her boyfriend. maybe weed isn’t the solution to every problem ever, but it helps. 

the man smiles. “sure,” he says.

they go to the private parking lot of the venue. luke rolls a joint while lucy smokes a cigarette. she flicks the ashes onto the concrete, fidgeting her fingers around the cancer stick. luke isn’t the biggest fan of her smoking. and she's been smoking more as the days go by. but he understands she’s going through a lot, so he says nothing. he gets a text from calum, wondering where he and his girlfriend are. we’re gonna have lunch, join us? but the blond dismisses the message and lights the joint. he takes two hits before handing it to lucy. she brings it immediately to her lips, the slightly spicy smoke going down her throat smoothly. 

it’s so easy to talk to each other. sometimes. but their words have been stunted lately. they don’t know what the other’s thinking. and yes, last night they had a good conversation. but now what? does everything go back to normal now? how? they both feel anxious around each other, and that’s never ever happened before. they both hate it.

“what do you…”

“do you ever…”

they open their mouths simultaneously, quickly chuckling at the awkwardness of their interaction. lucy nods her head, letting him know that he can finish his thought.

luke smiles. “i was gonna ask you if you ever feel like… like things are going so good between us and suddenly we get so quiet and you worry? is that… is that something you feel?”

lucy smiles back. “yeah,” she says. “i don’t really know how to explain it. i mean, i love you. you know i really fucking love you, luke. but sometimes i worry we get too inside our heads. because i think we’re really similar like that. and i… i wanna be someone you can count on…”

“i want that too,” he replies. she hands him back the joint and he smokes some more.

“and sometimes i worry i’m not that someone you deserve,” she finally confesses.

it makes him sad to hear her say that, because there’s no better person for him than her. no one has made him feel this way before. the ups and downs seem to be heightened and it’s a beautiful way to live, he doesn’t want anyone else. there’s only room in his heart for this woman. this is the hardest he’s ever fallen in love, and he can’t imagine his life without her. a bit dramatic, but hey, that’s just who he is. “i don’t deserve anyone, lucy. i just want to be with you,” he says and takes her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “all the time. every single fucking day.”

the woman looks down at their hands. matching red nail polish and silver-colored rings. this is scary. it’s scary to love and need someone so much that you feel like you’d die if they ever left you. please, don’t leave me. ever. lucy sighs and squeezes his hand in hers. “right back at ya,” she smiles softly and looks up to find his baby blues staring at her with so much love in them that she can’t help the weakness she feels in her knees.

the silence is barely uncomfortable anymore. unlike the ones they’ve been experiencing for countless weeks now. it’s all out in the open. their love for each other burning brighter than ever. neither want this moment to end. and since there’s only one way to stop time, they lean into each other and kiss. it’s soft at first, like a goodnight kiss. and it escalates quickly to an i-never-wanna-be-without-you one. she grabs fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him closer to her body. luke places both hands on her face as his tongue traces her bottom lip. their eyes are red and their hunger is raw.

-

they can’t get to his hotel room fast enough. fuck having lunch with friends, they need to satiate this urge so they can go on for the rest of the day. “i want you so bad,” she whines against his throat, leaving wet and sloppy kisses along his jawline. he’s already big and leaking with precum, grinding his hips against hers. unhooking her bra, luke immediately buries his head between her breasts and she whines again. those beautiful sounds he can’t get enough of.

“ride me, babe. i wanna see these titties bounce,” he whispers against her skin. hands gripping her hips. bulge so hard he feels like he’s gonna explode. they’re naked and he already has a condom wrapping his shaft. lucy bites her lower lip and lines him against her slit. he’s throbbing in her hand and that drives her insane. the moan he drags out as she strokes him is paradise. The filthiest love they’ve ever experienced. Both always wanting to fuck each other. It’s her waist, it’s his broad shoulders. The way they move on stage, wanting to look sexy for the other. 

lucy sinks into his cock and lets out a whine, “fuuck.” his thick size feels so good. luke grabs her ass and spreads her cheeks open so he can penetrate her better. 

“you like that?”

“yes.” her mouth hangs open and her eyes roll to the back of her head. luke has always thought of her as his pretty little pornstar. even before they started dating, the way she danced with him at the club. her back pressed to his body as his hands rested on her hips and stomach. both sweaty and a bit embarrassed when they went back to the booth with their friends. 

the woman, as per requested, starts bouncing on his cock. titties moving up and down. “fuck, girl.”

-

“is it better to feel this or feel nothing at all?”

ever since the news got out about their relationship, lucy’s been a mess. interviewers can be assholes. they suddenly stopped asking about her music, her achievements. all they wanted to know about was her clothes and her boyfriend. like everything she worked for just disappeared in the blink of an eye.

she lays on her side on the hotel bed after playing a festival in latin america. luke spoons her, holding her close to his body. he doesn’t know what to say. he’s surprised by the outcome. hadn’t expected people to diminish her work, to ignore she just played the 6 pm slot, which is a hard spot to get. you need a lot of people to stay for the whole set. and she’d killed it. 

“i don’t understand what happened,” luke sighs against her neck and squeezes her tighter. “i’m really sorry.”

lucy closes her eyes, feeling a bit less anxious with him. “it’s okay. the industry’s fucked up.”

“yeah,” he chuckles weakly. “it is.”

-

“so it’s true? you and luke are engaged?”

the questions about her relationship don’t seem to cease. even a year later. they go together to events and people seem to be more excited about them together than their work. it’s annoying, but what are you gonna do? “yeah, we are,” lucy smiles. “we’re also dropping a new song together next month.”

“ooh, tell us about it.”

lucy has become good at deflecting. luke taught her that. 

-

“how was the interview?” luke asks after he greets his fianceé with a kiss and hands her a cup of coffee from her favorite shop.

“it was alright,” lucy shrugs. it’s definitely been a learning experience, dodging questions about her personal life. but luke has been so supportive and sweet throughout the whole thing. she’s grateful to marry her man in six months. “how was the recording session?” she asks as she sips the hot beverage.

the blond had written things throughout the tour. enough things to make an ep. “it was good,” he smiles softly.

-

the song luke and lucy release is a hit. a 90s-inspired track with her raspy vocals and his whiny ones make for an interesting texture that captures hearts everywhere. they play it on several shows, the crowds go insane every time.

a month later, lucy releases her second album. it's a hit. she's invited to play festivals and there are rumors of a grammy nomination.

"here's to my girl," luke smiles as he raises a glass of wine in front of her and their friends. "she showed the world she's a powerhouse, an amazing songwriter and performer. she's the best thing that's ever happened to me and i'm so proud of you." his gaze sets on lucy, who's blushing like crazy and smiling like an idiot. "i really fucking love you."

"right back at ya," the woman grins and stands up from the table to kiss her man. everyone cheers.

the night goes by fast. the celebration turns into a party in luke and lucy's new place in west hollywood. but the couple soon disappears into their shared bedroom. fucking until the sun comes up and their friends leave.

luke pants as his orgasm washes over him. "fuck," he breathes out, collapsing next to her on their bed.

"yeah," lucy chuckles. her body is sweaty and she wraps an arm around his torso as she snuggles up to him. looking up at his face, the man's glistening. he's the most beautiful man. he's got the biggest heart and he's never been jealous or threatened by her successes. she appreciates that. "wanna eat me out?" lucy smirks, her leg now over his, her wet pussy making contact with his thigh and she grinds into him.

"give me a second," luke lets out a soft laugh. "you really wore me out. my pretty slutty angel." he strokes her hair, hand soon trailing down to her ass. a small slap to it that makes her bite down on her lip. "okay, come on. legs spread, i'm diving in," he grins.

she does what she's told. opening her legs so luke can attach his lips to her swollen clit and start licking her folds. so sloppy. so fucking nasty. lucy groans as her breath hitches. "you're so good."

he smirks against her entrance before exploring her walls with his tongue. so fucking skilled.

-

grammy nominations announcement. luke and lucy's song gets one for song of the year. her album gets one for album of the year. they're ecstatic. it's all happening.

[no-higher-thought]

said you wanted to talk about 2bhank on your last post... well i'm all ears.

oo Wait fr ??

Oh my goodness gracious youve no idea what you just released anon FUCK you for making me write all this down /lh

Very unorganised thoughts cause i had like 12 pages worth of ramblings in my notes and had to cut it down. It was borderline just nonsense, man. Im losing it. Sorry if words don't make sense.

First off, they can and have hurt eachother. Hard not to, in a world as fucked up as theirs. Hank is someone who only knows violence, and doc is far too used to manipulating people and circumstances to gain the upper hand. In combat, in business deals, sieges, all that jazz.

But honestly, considering everything ? Their relationship is definitely among the healthiest, most stable in all of Nevada. Mostly cause the bar is all the way in The Nowhere but. y'know.

Both see it as VERY transactional, which, i mean. It is, first and foremost, a business deal so like. Fair i suppose. Hank is very good at their job of killing, and doc is very good at pointing them at nice targets. A sort of  "ah shit they didn't slam the door this time guess i gotta be extra careful pulling all the shrapnel out of their abdominal cavity."

There was never any moment one could consider "feelings realization" or whatever. They're simply incredibly close as a result of just how LONG they've worked together. Neither is particularly keen on asking somethn like "what are we to eachother?" Because it just. Doesn't. Matter to them.

That and like. I am very aroace. Hank is canon aroace. Saw doc fanart with ace ring once and have been rotating it in my brain since. Big fan of non-traditional relationships, man.

It's mostly convenience, methinks. Hank may not need doc to bring them back to life, but it sure does make the process a lot shorter and less painful. Doc doesn't need hank, he has plenty of money and access to many of Nevada's most feared mercenaries. He could find someone else to do his dirty work, if need be.

And yet.

Every moment they spend together is a moment of putting their life in the other's hands. Hank trusts him not to staple their legs on backwards, and doc trusts them to not dome him the moment he turns around. Don't get me wrong, it's not trust in the other, no. It's trusting that the other isn't dumb enough to get rid of a valuable asset.

But frankly, to someone used to nothing but pain and violence, a simple lack of it might as well be a loving embrace.

Theirs is a relationship built off of many years of contracts, of shared goals, of depending on eachother, expecting the other to catch them when they fall. When they crawl back battered and bloodied. When they pass out from overworking in front of their computer for the upteenth time this week.

They'd share a bed simply because both have horrific waking nightmares and huddling together on a shitty moldy mattress helps. A net positive, mutualism. They might seek some affection from the other, but its always self-serving.

Still. Neither of them are sentimental. If the machine took them on different paths, or hell, if they had to kill the other (for one reason or another), i don't think either of them would mourn.

Simply fill their time with the next mission at hand.

Doc could kill hank. They've been under his knife often enough. It wouldn't stick, sure, but he's very much capable of sending them back to the Other place, at least once.

Hank could absolutely kill doc. There's very little stopping them. All it would take is a single hand around his neck and one good squeeze.

But they don't.

They don't, and neither does he. Because at the end of the day, both of them benefit more when the other is alive.

Mutualism.

... Anyways uh hank is a cuddler. With how fucked up their nerves must be, i bet most of their sense of touch is straight up just pain. Which would be be a bigger deal, except. Doc has access to heavy-duty painkillers. How can you not, in some odd way, love the guy that makes the pain go away, even for a bit ?

[bluntblade]

Fanfic writer interview

Why thank you @sinvulkt for nudging this microphone towards me :D

what fandoms do you write in? The overwhelming majority is Star Wars (most of that Sequels, but a growing amount of High Republic), Horizon, Horus Heresy and a couple of Arcane fics too.

how many words have you published in 2024? I'm not quite sure I've got the total, but from what I'm sure I posted this year, 58265.

what is your greatest achievement this year? I think I managed to take my writing to some heavier places than I normally manage with the Arcane writing, so that might be it. That, or probably the best lightsaber duel I've penned.

what are your top three fics you've written this year? Well, speaking of Arcane writing and lightsaber duels:

🪽 If You Tell Me That You're Sure, and You Can't Wait Any More (Arcane) I dumped a lot of thoughts and feelings into the space between the show's finale and epilogue. I'm particularly touched that people have taken Caitlyn's Secret Diary to their hearts.

🪽 Bladework, Hubris and Hard-earned Wisdom (Star Wars Prequels) — Being reunited with AotC Anakin can often be, ah, a test for me, but I came away from the novelisation of Episode II with thoughts about how Anakin might come to embrace a new style of combat (as Matt Stover gets into in the Episode III novelisation). I wanted to humble him but not humiliate him (and certainly not to stray into "OC owns protagonist" territory, even if in context Anakin is stepping to a Knight who's got several years on him). This then turned into an exploration of him through lightsaber combat, and I genuinely think it's some of the best duelling I've ever written.

🪽 Warmth on a Cold Moon (Star Wars: The High Republic, Phase 2)— Matthea Cathley! Enya Keen! A chance to indulge in my history headcanons surrounding Jedha and help launch a new ship! Somewhere in between my revisits to Catalyst and Path of Vengeance, I decided that Matty and Enya would be adorable together, and this turned into a tour of Jedha City which also let me ramble on with some in-universe history ideas.

what was your biggest pit of despair moment? Fretting about whether I'll ever fashion my Horizon WIPs into something workable. But I will get there one day, I swear it.

what have you learned? I don't feel like I've learned any wholly new things, except maybe figuring out how to write a sex scene which can be a full scene whilst not being explicit, but I think my overall craft has kept coming along.

did you beta any fics? any faves you want to shout out? I haven't really managed to this year, unfortunately. It's been a busy year.

what three fics have you read this year that you love? Oooh...

wipe you clean with dirty hands (Arcane) by @foibles-fables

It's a genuinely quite frightening sense of comparison to realise that Foibs is writing the same base scenario as you (in this case, Cait and Vi in the aftermath of the Arcane finale's climax). This is typically insightful, touching and just a pleasure to read overall.

celebration of you (Arcane) by @meg-noel-art (Say_Anything)

Domestic CaitVi with two adorable little Kirramunchkins, which deftly balances wit, sweetness and melancholy.

Delineation (Horizon: Zero Dawn/The Frozen Wilds) by @tjerra14

I've been neglecting Ikrie shamefully, so thank goodness that Tjerra is fighting the good fight. This story carves out a fascinating chapter of past for Ikrie, and Tjerra remains the best in the business at making you feel the cold of Ban-Ur and the Cut.

what ideas are percolating for next year? Ryloth Besieged is getting completed, damnit. My project of a Kylo longfic set between The Last Jedi and my Episode IX continues to take form (I'm excited about the antagonist I'm building), and I've got some sad thoughts working away at me about Caitlyn losing Jayce.

who do you want to thank? @deusexvalerate for both gifting me an Enya/Matty fic and giving me the nudge to write them too, not to mention opening my eyes to how much fun writing Lyssa/Ru-Ru could be. And of course, my tireless beta-readers Nomus and Kelborn. Heroes.

tagging: well, the fine people I've tagged above, but also @mehoymalloy and @rileydrawesandwrites

[loveforlandonorris]

🎤 Lando at the Drivers' Press Conference before the Chinese GP:

(The video is from F1Fever on YouTube)

Transcript:

Interviewer: And Lando, what about your expectations coming into the weekend?

Lando: Probably not as high as Suzuka. I think that's our opinion. But still in a good position. I think we've been happy with how the season started. I think we're in a good qualifying battle with Aston, Mercedes, it’s very close and even last weekend ahead of Ferrari, but I think the order is still clear.

And I think in the racing we've done a good job. Not as good as Red Bull but and Ferrari, but I'm a head of Aston and Mercedes. So I think we're in a good spot. This wasn't a great circuit for us in 2019 but many things have changed since then. So I'm so optimistic we can have a good weekend.

Interviewer: What is it about this layout that gives you less confidence?

Lando: The long corners. Just, like, Turn 1. Yeah, this type of corner is just not good for us. Similar to, say, Zandvoort, that kind of experience for us. So yeah, we've got some things to try. And we're constantly trying to improve these areas. But it's an area we know is one of our biggest weaknesses, and maybe we kind of get away with it in qualifying but especially into the race becomes a bigger problem for us.

Interviewer: There were some race day frustrations for you in Japan, but afterwards, your boss Andrea Stella, said that the team can win this year. How quickly do you think you can do that?

Lando: Not anytime soon, that's for sure. I think we can. Right place, right time, if we improve the car how we need to. Honestly, there weren't too many frustrations with Suzuka. I think everything went pretty much as expected. I don't think we did a perfect job and I think we probably should have finished one place higher up, potentially. But I don't think it was far off. We've been the same place all season. We've been behind Red Bull, we've been behind Ferrari and we've been a bit of a step ahead of the other two teams come the race. And that's exactly how last weekend went.

So I don't think there's too many frustrations. But we know the issues, we know what we have to improve. And if we can improve them. I think Andrea is right. I think we can win races this year. And we can be competitive with these other two teams ahead of us. But that's an if. And you know, we have to work hard to improve the car in some of these certain areas, which have been a big challenge for us over the last many years, not just for years, but last many years. But if we can, then I'm confident we can have some good races.

Journalist Questions:

Q1 (Ian Parkes – New York Times):. I don't know if any of you drivers have had an opportunity to inspect the track as yet. But Charles mentioned it earlier, and a couple of other drivers have mentioned it in their media sessions earlier today, that the track has been painted. What does that means pecifically? Do you know? Does it cause any concerns? What issues are you expecting from such a track?

Lando: I have no idea. So I think we have to wait and see honestly, I think that's something new, something we don't think we've seen before, so hard to predict exactly what's going to happen. So I honestly have no idea. So I'll see you tomorrow.

Q2 (Michael Butterworth – Xinhua News Agency) To all the drivers briefly. It's been a while since we've been to the Shanghai circuit. Just keen to hear your thoughts on it. And any particular features that make it especially challenging or memorable for you?

Lando: I always raced here once, but I didn't finish the race. So not the best memories. But yeah, it was still in my first season. So everything was new back then. But it's always been a cool track to drive. Definitely was not my back then. But excited to give it another crack and see what we can do this weekend.

Q3 (Henry Clark – Daily Mail) I was wondering, obviously a lot of tracks that we come to, it's only been a year or so since you've last been here. But for everyone here there has been no race for at least five years. I was wondering what are the unique challenges that brings? Does that make this weekend particularly exciting? Or are there extra worries that come with that?

Lando: I guess just excited. Always excited for every weekend, but especially when you haven't been to a place for a while. For me, I didn't get a proper experience of it back in 2019. So things have changed. I'm a very different driver to what I was back then.

So I'm excited to see what it brings and how the whole weekend pans out I think anyway being a Sprint race and having two opportunities to try and nail the set-up for the first quali and then the set-up for the second quali. I think also there is plenty of opportunity. So I don't think it’s not going to be exciting for anyone. I think there's a lot of opportunities on the table, there's a lot of things that can go wrong at the same time, so excited for all of it.

Q4 (Henry Clark – Daily Mail) With all due respect to some of the more senior drivers, a question to a couple of the younger guys on the panel. When you see Fernando committing his future to racing well into his 40s, how impressive is that dedication? How much does it take to keep doing that? And also, do you see yourselves wanting to race for as long as that in your own careers?

Lando: I’d better be careful what I say. I think it takes a lot of dedication. I don't think anyone thinks Fernando lacks that in any way. I think he shows that with everything that he does in life. Whether it's at the track or away from the track, you know, in different sports or whatever. So it depends what you want to do. Everyone is different.

It's rare that you see someone commit for so long in any sport, you know, he's probably one of the oldest guys competing at the top of any sport in the world and I think to be able to do that at the level that he has done and continues to do, you're probably never going to potentially see it again, you know within Formula 1 and if you do, it's going be extremely rare.

So yeah, I think a lot of respect for that kind of thing. I have no idea if I want to do it in 20 years’ time, if I'm still going strong, but I love where I am now and I continue to do such a thing. Yeah, we'll see.

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Can I tell you a secret?

"Hazel, wanna go on a walk?" I'm trying to hide my fear but I think she can see right through me, she answers with an unsure grin.

"You're not planning to kill me are you?" she laughs, "Yeah sure I'll come." This will go well, this has to go well, otherwise I'd have to leave another camp. As we start walking there's a silent tension, both of us too scared to break it. "Have you heard anything about that friend you told me was missing?" She finally whispers, I hadn't told her about Camp Half-Blood but I did tell her Percy was gone, not that she knew who he was anyway. I've been worried sick, no matter how much I wanted to hate him I still loved him, even if I knew he would never love me back I still love him and I hated that.

"Nothing, no one's seen him; all I know is that he's still alive." I glace down trying to hide any emotion in my face, I don't know where he is and I will never admit out loud how much that scares me. After a few minutes of silence, once again just waiting for one of us to snap and finally speak, she knows I'm hiding something I take a deep breath. "Can... I tell you a secret...?" All I can hope is that she won't hate me for it, I don't even know why I'm telling her this, I regret every moment of this, why the fuck had I thought this would be a good idea? I really wish I was high right now,

"What's up?" She's interested but trying to not show it, trying to seem invested but not keen, let's see how much that would change.

"Just- I- please- don't hate me for this...?"

"Did you kill someone or something?" I can't tell if she's being serious or not, the panicked expression on my face must have revealed so because she quicker changed her answer. "Hey, sorry, yeah I promise I won't hate you for it, you can tell me anything." I take a sharp breath in,

"I- I'm- I'm...gay..." I look down, desperate to not see her reaction. The memories of Bianca flood my head, 'I knew it, but thank you for telling me, I'm proud of you.' Only a ghost yet I could still feel the warmth of her touch like four years ago. The fear that had filled my body only moment before evaporated, everything would be okay, at least for now. That was only a few weeks ago, if I could do it then I can do it now. I'll live. My thoughts were interrupted by my sister's arms strangling me in a hug, I couldn't remember the last time I had any human contact, it was comforting. Relief washed over my face, I did it, it went well, she doesn't hate me.

"I'm proud of you... wait is that Percy guy your boyfriend?" I blush violently and laugh.

"Sadly not, he has a girlfriend." We ended up talking for an hour or two, it was nice, I missed having a sister to talk to.

_______

Hiiii you get a ficlet because it's my birthday :)

I'm really sorry for not posting as much recently, I've been really busy with school and normally I write late at night which I can't do because I have clubs in the morning that I need to be awake at 6 for

[feraltuxedo]

Served Cold

Throwback to that time I wrote a twisty political scandal fic disguised as a coffeeshop AU. I'm still quite pleased with this one, it was very fun to write the twists and turns, with suave coffee snob Crowley and thirsty, thirsty Aziraphale. If you like a bit of a mystery, a bit of a plot twist, and a good deal of capital-c Clues, you'll enjoy this.

Served Cold by FeralTuxedo M, 14205 words Summary: On a quiet Wednesday morning, a man with flaming red hair and a face tattoo saunters into a London café. But it appears that he’s there for rather more than just espresso.

Snippet:

This was exactly the type of customer Divinitea wanted to attract, Aziraphale thought. Modern, fashionable, rich. Too casually dressed to be a banker. No, this was someone with an undefinable job that was mostly done at posh brunch places with free wi-fi. He probably had the word entrepreneur on his business card.

He was clearly a bellend. But a very attractive one. Shame Anathema wasn’t here to admire him. Aziraphale would have to do that all by himself.

He turned to the stainless steel behemoth that was the coffee-maker, an expensive import from Italy which Anathema insisted would keep the customers coming back, and began the complicated series of steps that resulted in a steaming stream of thick black coffee pouring into a tiny and rather pretty duck-egg-blue cup.

Aziraphale served it to the stranger, placing the cup on an equally tiny saucer. The man had taken his sunglasses off by now and was watching him with curious brown eyes.

‘Is this place new? I swear it wasn’t here last year.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Aziraphale said. ‘We opened a few months ago.’

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, fuelled by two bottles of Chardonnay and a dangerously outraged Anathema. Gabriel, of course, had been the cause of her outrage. And Aziraphale, who’d very much been drinking to forget, had instead ended up agreeing to her harebrained idea.

But the mysterious customer didn’t need to know all that.

He took a sip of his espresso and pulled a face. Aziraphale tutted.

‘Coffee not to your liking?’

‘Well…’ The man scrunched up his nose and tipped his head from side to side. ‘Since you asked. It’s a little over in the roast.’

Aziraphale just about stopped himself from muttering You’re a little over in the roast and instead focused intently on wiping the already spotless bar top.

‘But then,’ the man continued, ‘you’re not called Divini-coffee, are you? I bet your tea is top notch.’

Despite himself, Aziraphale laughed.

‘Divini-coffee?’

‘Did the pun come first or the menu?’

‘If you must know, I wasn’t keen on serving coffee in the first place. There’s a perfectly serviceable Costa just up the road, you see, and even a little independent place for those with a more discerning palate and a bigger budget—’

‘What, so you’d rather have people go to the competition for a hot drink? That’s one way to sabotage your own business.’

‘— then my partner made the same observation, and here we are with apparently subpar espresso that’s a little over in the roast.’

‘Your partner?’

‘Junior partner,’ Aziraphale corrected. ‘She owns 30% of the business.’

‘But 100% of the business sense, by the sound of it.’

‘She’s also the one who picks and orders the coffee beans, so you better take it up with her.’

The man shielded his eyes with the side of his palm and turned his head left and right, like a ship’s captain on the lookout for land.

‘Unless your partner is invisible, I don’t seem to have an option but to take it up with you.’

‘Fine.’ Aziraphale sighed. ‘Do you want a refund?’

He hoped not. They were already in the red for this month. On the other hand, Anathema was always very quick to offer refunds, going on the rather flawed assumption that a happy customer was, somehow, preferable to actual money in the till.

‘No need for such extreme measures,’ the man said with a wink, ‘It’s leagues better than Costa at any rate. Though I will take a few minutes of your company as compensation.’

God damn, he was charming. Aziraphale detested him for it, just a little. But then, because he was Aziraphale Fell and his only two weaknesses were French pastries and arrogant men, he did sit down with him. On the edge of the chair, of course, with his back straight and one eye on the door, just to make it absolutely clear that he was at work, and not usually in the habit of lounging about with customers.

The man grinned at him, clearly relishing the awkwardness. Aziraphale stared right back, eyebrows raised. He was not going to let this stranger fluster him.

‘You could at least tell me your name, if you insist on this—’

He flapped his hands between them to make a point.

‘Crowley,’ the man said, after a drawn-out pause.

He savoured the word like a fine wine, and Aziraphale thought it suited him perfectly.

‘Crowley,’ he repeated. ‘You go by your surname?’

‘Yup. I like it that way. Maybe you should try it, too, er… Aziraphale.’

Crowley’s eyes dropped down, once again, to Aziraphale’s name badge, and lingered there much longer than necessary.

‘Oh no, I shouldn’t think so,’ Aziraphale said lightly. ‘Anyway. Do you wish to converse at all, or are you perfectly happy just to stare?’

‘Was just admiring your apron, that’s all.’

‘Thank you. My partner hates it.’

‘I take it she’s not a fan of tartan?’

‘She says it doesn’t suit her.’

‘Suits you, anyway.’

Aziraphale mumbled another thank you. He was starting to get a little hot under the collar. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. He was fairly certain he’d seen this exact scenario play out on Pornhub. Minus the tartan apron, of course.

And really… it had been a quiet morning so far. Perhaps he could lock up the front door and drag Crowley to the back room. Have him rip the apron over his head and push him against the fridge and be done with him before Anathema arrived for her shift at lunch time.

Aziraphale sighed an inward sigh and, of course, did nothing of the sort. Good lord, he really needed to get laid. But ideally not at work. He had standards, after all. Unfortunately, Crowley appeared to meet all of them.

‘What do you want to talk about, then?’ he asked, trying hard to drag his thoughts out of the gutter.

‘Anything, really. The weather? Your favourite band? The embarrassment that is our current prime minister? Bet you’ve got some interesting thoughts to share.’

Aziraphale huffed. It was clumsy flirting, certainly more clumsy than he would have expected from a man who wore his trousers quite so tight.

[whythewords]

Twenty Twenty-Five, Somehow Alive

A lot can happen in a couple of months. I'm beginning to type this into my phone during my lunch break at my new job. I spent these last three and a half years becoming less and less enthused about this city where I live. Congestion and concrete and hustle and bustle. At the highest peak of my distaste for living in this city, I was offered a job...working for the city. It's what I thought I would always go back to. Initially I was dead set on it. Eight months of co-op, and an "I hope we see you soon" only for me to fuck off to some job for a marketing company. But it was the right choice at the right time. I learned a lot. I worked my ass off. I got a good sense for what I want, and an even better sense for what I don't want. Thew new gig is definitely a net positive, but there's still a hell of a lot of stuff left to figure out.

A lot can happen half a year. Dad's idea was for us all to move out together. Apparently he only liked that idea when it was his idea. When I added the stipulations of moving a little outta the way so that we could afford something that could, at the very least, eventually be a place with two living spaces, all of a sudden he wasn't so keen. First he didn't wanna leave Mississauga. Now with the recent development of me getting a new job and making a bit more money, I posed the question again: "We could probably afford something in Brampton or even Malton, which is just east Mississauga." "No that's too far." "So what do you propose we do?" "Well I saw some townhouses..." "I'm not moving into a fucking townhouse with you."

Dad, like me, doesn't care for the apartment anymore. But when he thinks about pooling our resources, he thinks about moving from our small space to a slightly bigger space...but with my name on the deed, the property taxes coming out of pocket, the home maintenance falling solely on me, all while I continue living like I'm 12 years old, dependent on mommy and daddy. His expectation being that I'll simply meet someone while living with them, combine incomes, get married and buy a place together. And all within the next few years by the way because he must have grandchildren. The conversation didn't go well. I "crashed out" as the kids are saying these days. Mom, intelligently removed herself from the situation and was reading in her room. I went in and sat on her bed. "I'm gonna take about 6 months at the new job, put down some roots, make sure I like it, save a little extra money...and then I'm leaving. I can't do this anymore."

I had started budgeting for the prospect of affording a home for all of us as a family and what that might look like. Naturally, I consulted that sheet again when I got the new gig and the slight bump in pay. But in another tab of that Google Sheet was a fail-safe, an "in case of emergency, break glass" type of plan: renting, which we were taught to avoid at all costs. "It's throwing your money away!" But it was there because I probably knew deep down this whole "pool resources with the folks, move out together and everyone's happy" plan was never going to work. There was push back from day one. I was told to just accept that we wouldn't be in the locale I wanted, and would need to spend a couple of years working on the home until there were separate living spaces, and little by little the plan that was mutually beneficial became the plan to make everyone else comfortable and change absolutely nothing for me, except put me in more debt. I was hoping to avoid renting, I always looked at it as a last resort just to reclaim some independence, get my mental health back, a temporary solution. But earlier this year I had a conversation with a very good friend who agonized to purchase, gut and essentially rebuild a place where he and his wife now live and are expecting their first child in. Of all people, he's the one who talked up the benefits of renting. I wouldn't have given it a second thought even a year ago, but things change.

A lot can happen in a year. A person can start out swiping clumsily on every dating app under the sun to avoid the feeling of intense loneliness, but later end up rejecting the idea that his happiness is tied to someone else, and begin working toward his goals independently of dependence. The important thing is still allowing for the occasional jaunt out of the comfort zone, putting oneself in situations where the unexpected could happen, exercising the confidence muscles. Last year it was improv class, this year, intro to acting for adults. Why? Well, why the fuck not, really? I don't plan on readjusting my career trajectory toward Hollywood at any point, I just wanna do some shit I used to find really fun in high school. So maybe this is all part of it? Getting outta the comfort zone? I've certainly gotten too comfortable where I am. So it's probably high time I start changing that. A new job. Some new hobbies. A new destination, maybe? I've been in this apartment for three and a half years. I'm not even the same person now who moved back in here then.

A lot has fucking happened in three and a half years.

[thenexusofsouls]

What would Natasha do if she survived at the end of Endgame. Would she remain an Avenger? Would she want to finally become a mother and adopt a child? Would she have joined the Guardians with Thor? Would Nat tried to find Yelena?

{i am the caretaker of souls} Thank you for sending these in! Answers below the cut. =)

What would Natasha do if she survived at the end of Endgame. Would she remain an Avenger?

I think she would have remained an Avenger, yeah. She would definitely keep working in some capacity, and probably in a job with long hours that is rather taxing. Nat really isn't one to "retire" unless she's forced to. It's not in her nature to relax at home, sit on a porch with iced tea, and have a comfortable life. She needs to keep busy and to keep doing work that fulfills her as a person. Which... for her is something that makes a difference, helps people, etc. Having an excess of free time to mull over her own dark thoughts is not something she would want or look forward to, so yeah, I think for as long as she's physically able to, she'd remain an Avenger. And even past the point of physically being able to, she might still stay on as a consultant or someone who works comms, etc.

Would she want to finally become a mother and adopt a child?

Would she want to? Yes. Would she? No. I don't think Nat would ever really get over the idea of feeling like she's a bad role model, like she wouldn't be a good mother, and/or like she'd put any child she would adopt in danger simply by being who she is. While the first two deal with her own guilt and self-esteem issues, the last one is an actual potential threat. Because of her past and how many people she's crossed over the years, Nat assumes she's going to have a target on her back for the rest of her life. Because of that, any child she would adopt would also be placed in those crosshairs. Best case scenario if someone comes after Nat, the kid is left alone to their own devices, which is terrible. Worst case scenario... the kid is abducted or hurt to get to or influence her, which she would never forgive herself for. In her mind, that's not an acceptable level of risk to place a child in, so I think she will always feel like she really shouldn't be anybody's parent. She would want to, though, emotionally speaking.

Would she have joined the Guardians with Thor?

I'm not sure how keen Nat is on venturing out into space, tbh, but if she would be staying with Thor in some capacity, then yeah, perhaps she would join the Guardians. After Endgame and everything that's happened, Nat's going to feel emotionally fragile for a long time to come. Because of that, I think she'd want to stay close to home in some capacity. By "home," I don't mean a place. Nat's home is her "family." The Avengers, Yelena, her "parents," and assorted others. I think she would want to be around at least one other person she knows well and is very comfortable with from that list of found family to help anchor her emotionally. Thor would certainly qualify, so yeah, if she knew she'd be on a team with him or mostly working with him in some capacity, even if there are many others involved, I think that could work for her. But yeah, she'd need at least that one "family" member to anchor her because she's emotionally fragile after everything that's gone on in recent years.

Would Nat tried to find Yelena?

Oh, absolutely. So much has happened, and she's not sure what Yelena might have heard about her as far as what's been going on, so she would want to clear that up because hey, they're sisters, they've reconnected somewhat, they've been through a lot together, it's time to really like... stop this bullshit of ghosting each other, heh. Honestly after all that's happened, I feel like Nat would have an even greater sense of "life is too short" than she did before, which is saying a lot. So yes, she would seek Yelena out and would love to maybe work with her in the future, live with her, and otherwise be closer with her than they've been in the last several years. That would be very important to her to at least pitch to Yelena and see what she thinks about it. She'd also want to check up on her to make sure she's okay after everything that's happened too. It's not all about what Nat wants/feels, after all.

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ jiyan, for cal ] It's during a tranquil night while patrolling with the mercenary leader that the general- no, that Jiyan voices something that has been troubling him. "Being with you and thinking of you are as easy as breathing. It feels natural, to the point I don't remember how it used to be before that. But finding a reason for why that is feels like trying to put together a thousand pieces puzzle. I didn't know my mind could be so complicated." That last sentence is said with a hint of amusement, the sides of his mouth curving into a smile. Surely, Calcharo will be amused by how perplexing and senseless his revelation is, too. He... doesn't even know why he's sharing something so personal in the first place. It makes no sense, he makes no sense. He knows this, and yet... "And yet, as perplexing as it is, it doesn't displease me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I look forward to seeing and spending time with you more each time and, before I realize it, you're present in my thoughts more as well. I'm not keen on distractions, but it's different when it comes to you. Why? I have no idea." A short-lived laugh passes his lips then. Really, what prompted him to talk of things he hasn't figured out on his own yet? Is he looking for help, an answer, anything? He can't say for sure either. "Laugh if you wish, I'm aware that I'm not making any sense right now."

VERY RARELY DID CALCHARO patrol with another person. Most of the time, he often did this alone as he felt he needed no assistance with such an endeavor. For years he had monitored Huanglong like a distant shadow, Jinzou most especially, when the TD outbreaks were at their worst. His Hounds had long since ceased asking if he wanted company, all of them knowing full well that he would be quick to turn them down and continue on his way. How surprising it was, then, that he was out here with Jiyan of all people, when hardly anyone could so much as convince him otherwise. Perhaps he reached this decision merely because he knew of how stubborn the General was, and that refusing him would be met with deaf ears. That, or maybe it was just that no resources would be wasted because Jiyan was outside of his command. He could only assume these were the case…even if being confused about your own thoughts and questioning it seemed…peculiar in itself.

     It was a quiet night, the stars gleaming as brightly as they often did, the air pleasant and cool as a reminder of falls approach. Everything had been quiet as it normally was…up until Jiyan broke that silence with his words. Frowning slightly, he turned his head a little to look at the other from the corner of his eye, confused about the words that passed his lips. What was said mirrored how he felt as well, which in itself, perplexed him all the more with each uttered word. He enjoyed being with Jiyan -- this he could not tell himself otherwise. He wasn’t sure when the other managed become a normalcy within his mind the way they did as of late, though it seemed he wasn’t the only one who was attempting to decipher the ‘why’ of it. Sometimes he found himself glancing off into the distance, wondering how he was doing back at Norfall Barrens, pondering if that stubborn general was pushing himself to do a thousand things in a single day. He shouldn’t care – he didn’t, he liked to tell himself. What Jiyan did, did not affect his work in any way, shape, or form. At the end of the day, he and his Ghost Hounds would still be paid, contracts still fulfilled.

     Ah…but considering Jiyan was the one who hired them in the first place, if something did happen to him, that meant that their contract would be null and void. He'd lose an excellent business opportunity and would have very little reason to remain unless someone else opted to hire him and his people’s services. There was a logical explanation for all this, he liked to tell himself on a regular basis, Calcharo constantly putting reasons to things that still left him feeling uncertain at the end of the day (because he needed explanations -- he needed it all to make sense when it felt senseless). Glancing away, he felt that unfamiliar feeling well up in him again: embarrassment. How could anyone just rattle off words like this? Even he, as blunt as he was, would have kept all this to himself as long as it did not interfere with his work. Quiet still, he mulled over what was said, pondered his own feelings, but found at the heart of it, they held a similarity. ❝You give absolutely no lead up into whatever is floating about in that mind of yours, do you?❞

     None whatsoever.

     How was one even supposed to prepare for what passed those lips when there was no warning in the slightest? Letting out a small huff of either exasperation, or amusement, it was hard to tell as he turned his gaze back to Jiyan. ❝You are the strangest client I have ever had, and I have gone through many. Although…I can say that you are the first I have found myself thinking about every now and then as well. Like yourself, I dislike distractions and prefer to focus on my work. Everything else outside of that can be cast aside until the later hours of the night.❞ And though he did do that when it came to this man – alarmingly so, at the same time, he found his thoughts wandering during the day as well at the most random of times. ❝But…I do find your presence enjoyable in a way that I’m not used to with other people outside my Ghost Hounds. Talking to you like this, face to face rather than through a terminal or letter, has become a routine that I have long since factored into my schedule.❞ One that he, oddly enough, looked forward to. He paused, glancing away. ❝Do know this information does not factor into a discount.❞