#If we don't like/agree with something we can just ignore it

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.

[deadpcnned]

you're so vain (jj.m)

coming soon!

general masterlist | join the taglist

pairing: jj maybank x reader (au)

synopsis: for as long as anyone can remember, jj maybank has been a ladies’ man—willing to charm any girl with a pulse. you, on the other hand, have never been easily won over, shutting down unwanted advances without a second thought in the name of higher pursuits.

so when his friends bet he can’t get with you, he sees it as just another challenge. what he doesn’t know is that you have a bet of your own—act like the worst girlfriend possible, and prove that guys don't just stick around for looks.

at first, it’s just a game. your weird quirks and stubborn attitude are nothing he can’t handle, and his flirtations are nothing more than motivation for you. but with every passing day, it all seems less like a game and more... real. what happens when winning the bet means losing each other?

* this series is inspired by 'how to lose a guy in 10 days' *

content warning(s): au, drugs, alcohol, language

author's note: uh oh, another series... like most girls, i am such a big fan of this movie and i couldn't resist adding my own spin to the plot. this series won't be starting until probably the end of february, but i wanted to go ahead and post it!

“I seriously doubt a guy would stick around if he were fishing out spinach from my mouth every time we kissed,” You mumble, rolling your eyes at Ruthie as you return to tightly winding Sarah’s hair around the curling iron. Your grip tightens around the pink handle, more from exasperation than focus. Topper seriously needs to reconsider his recent taste in women.

Ruthie pushes herself up from the bed and saunters over to the two of you, a spark of mischief shining in her eyes that catches your attention in the mirror. Without warning, she scoops the ottoman from under your knee, ignoring your annoyed huff as she plops down. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says, shaking her head as if she’s explaining something painfully obvious. “Boys are simple. They’ll do anything for a good fuck.” 

“Ruthie!” 

“Sarah!” You exclaim, pulling away the curling wand hovering dangerously close to her turned cheek. “Stop moving! I almost burned you!” You cautiously rest your curling wand on the vanity, crossing your arms as you address Ruthie’s tireless campaign. “Ruthie, that’s just not true. Men suck, but they’re not that desperate.” 

“Care to test it?” The look she gives you, so full of unwarranted confidence, makes it tempting to agree blindly to whatever nonsense she’s about to spew. But in the short time you’ve known her, you’ve gathered jumping headfirst into whatever she plans is maybe not the smartest thing to do. 

“How would we do that?” You arch a brow, playing it cool, the picture of nonchalance. Girls like Ruthie want you to bark when you should be biting back. The best way to handle them is to beat them at their own game. It doesn’t matter how uneasy her grin makes you. You have to look like the picture of perfect insouciance. 

“Easy. You reel in some sucker and make him regret it. Clingy, loud, jealous – I’m talking full nightmare fuel.” 

“Me?” You scoff, reaching for the iron. “Sarah, I swear, if you move–”

 Sarah hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t angle her face towards the circular mirror like you need her to. She’s too busy watching Ruthie, waiting for her following words. 

“Yes, you.” 

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig?” You fuss, shifting your position to continue working on Sarah’s hair. You twist Sarah’s blond hair around the silver rod as you suggest, “You test it out with Topper. You’re the one with something to prove.”

“I’m actually serious about Topper,” Ruthie counters and you have to physically bite your tongue from making a snarky comment. “And you’re perfect for this. You’re objectively hot and leaving at the end of the summer. No strings with a hot chick? Guys eat that up.” 

“Ruthie, remind me again why you’re with Topper if you have such a low opinion of the entire male species,” Sarah asks. Sarah eyes Ruthie with a mix of genuine curiosity and plain judgment. Ruthie doesn’t dignify Sarah with a response, upholding the same catty attitude she’s maintained with her since the start of the evening. “Or not.” 

You and Sarah share a long look, not hiding your indignation, but you can’t deny that beneath you’re irritation, you’re a little interested. You would be in the Outer Banks for three months; you might as well find a way to kill time. 

“Done,” You announce, pulling back and smiling at your handiwork. As Sarah fluffs through her hair, you ask, “So, I just pick any guy and make him miserable?” 

Sarah spins around at a dizzying speed, her jaw dropping open. “You’re considering it? Like, actually?”  

You give her a sheepish shrug and look to Ruthie for confirmation. 

“No, I get to choose.”

“What, why?” You scoff. 

“Cause you’d choose someone you already know, and those guys have been harboring unrequited crushes on you since you were, like, twelve.” You try not to betray your surprise. Somehow, Ruthie knows more about your life than you want her to. You weren't sure how Ruthie knew this about you, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. 

“Fine,” You huff, flopping down onto your bed. “Who, then?”

Ruthie’s smile is one you could only describe as downright devilish as she leans in, lowering her voice to a lethal whisper. “Who else but Kildare’s biggest fuckboy? JJ Maybank.”

taglist: @rinaarii @kaisgirlie @loophole3 @flourelle @xobeautifulfaith @brooklyn789 @jjscoquette

*if you would like to be removed, pls lmk!

[laurentidal]

Catch

Easy prey for me, I'll admit. I enjoy a challenge more often than not, but I'm not so egotistical as to say I'll never eat low hanging fruit.

Lily struck me right away. Tattoos from neck to toe and dripping in Pokemon memorabilia. She was a sight. Not usually my type, to be sure. But the tits under that Squirtle. They were not to be ignored.

I introduced myself as the owner of the shop she'd wandered into. It wasn't legally true, but thanks to a little lady who was currently helplessly finger fucking herself in the back office, it would be by this time tomorrow.

She nodded politely to me and continued browsing. I followed behind a few paces. I didn't want to scare her off, thought I think that even the brief encounter would have been enough for her to stay nearby. I have a… way with people. They're drawn to me and naturally inclined to do as I ask. With a bit of concentration and the right prompting, I can get people to do almost anything.

"Which is your favorite?" I asked gesturing to her shirt as I pretended to cross her path again.

She looked down at her chest, breasts stretching the fabric wonderfully, and for a moment I thought she might have answered "left" or "right."

"Smeargol," she answered simply, and upon seeing my curious expression happily elaborated. "He's a painter."

"Ah so it's art-related. Makes sense with the tattoos. Mine is probably Hypno."

"Interesting choice," she said, taking a drink.

"I've always been obsessed with the mind. It's an incredible thing. It creates whole worlds for us to live in." I could feel her getting more and more comfortable with me. In a short time, she now considered us close friends.

"Yeah that's true. I like how something like a dumb cartoon can explore topics without getting boring."

"Pokemon has a lot of strange themes. One that always struck me was the relationship between trainer and pokemon. Are they friends? Pets? Slaves?"

She took a long pull from her drink as she thought about that.

"l mean you wouldn't make a pet fight someone else's pet. They seem a lot like slaves to me. Slaves that do whatever their owner wants."

Her lack of a bra was beginning to show more obviously as we spoke and she fell more and more into my field of influence.

"But," she stammered, "they can disobey if they aren't friends with their owners."

"Or if their owners are weak," I agreed. "But they often don't get a say on who their owner is. He just swoops in one day and uses his balls to trap them."

At the word balls, she audibly sighed, though I don't think she even noticed she'd done it.

"Are we friends?" I asked.

"Sure," she agreed a little too quickly.

"And I'm strong. I've steered this whole conversation. Leading you along on each point."

She nodded.

"And I've swooped in out of the blue and am trying to claim you. Are you going to let me? Or…,"

I pointed at her shirt again, "are you just a little wild pokemon who doesn't have a choice?"

"No choice," she whispered as she stared into my eyes.

"Now why don't you come into the back office and I can show you the thing that all captured pokemon need. And you can see the other specimen I've caught today. I think you're going to get along nicely."

She simply nodded, eyes lowering to look at the bulge in my jeans. Too easy.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[milessunflowers]

Basically reader is head strategist for Mercedes and personally taylor made the strategies for nico and lewis but their fighting is disrupting the statistics even though he's trying to give them the best he can, reader is deeply in love with his bestfriends but neither lewis or nico seem to notice admits their friendship turned almost relationship turned bitter rivalry, its the year before nico wins his championship and its announced that reader is moving to another team (redbull maybe? Or ferrari so its angstyer when lewis moves there) anyway fast foward through out the year its been a grueling battle to win between lewis and nico that nico realizes that they haven't talked to reader since half way into last years season when nico finds out that reader moved teams he's rocked with devastation, anger, grief and a realization that he and lewis are the reason you don't talk to them anymore nico tries to tell lewis but he's just like 'so what? I'm still going to win' and nico stares at him in astonishment not recognizing his former bestfriend and would be lover, flash over to after nico wins the championship he announces he's going to retire before trying to contact reader which reader ignores for six months (lewis is ignoring the lonely feeling in his chest) before he picks up the phone and before nico can talk starts to rant about how reader just wants them to leave him alone that while he loves them and that while he tried to forget his feelings for them he can't but he can no longer be involved in their petty fued, Nico apologizes saying that he's retired and wants to make amends, we then flash foward to the year before lewis wins his seventh win, lewis has seen reader around the paddock but hasn't been able to get him to talk with him lewis has also seen the way nico has cozied up to reader (reader and nico are in a relationship, not that anyone knows that) anyway lewis tries to be friends with reader again (and Definitely more) but reader avoids him which leads him to talking to nico and Reconciling with him first and then with reader (all three of them just having these dinners at restaurants so they could have the closeness they had when they were younger) it takes lewis till 2023 (3 years basically since he won his 7th in 2020) when max wins another championship to both figure out nico and reader are in a relationship (got together 2018) and to realize he's pining for them both (again) cue awkward lewis being given advice from george, who directs him too lando, on advice on how to ask two people who are in a relatioship out (some side george x alex x lando or maybe oscar x lily x lando) anyway lewis asks nico and reader out in winter break where their caught by the media, before that though reader explains to lewis that before he fixed their friendship reader was really hurt that they would put racing over each others lives and that while reader and nico love lewis he needs to promise to that he won't put racing above their relationship and that after 2025 he'll retire wether he wins the championship or not, lewis agrees quickly afraid they'll take it back saying that he felt it was going to be his last year anyway, it ends with lewis winning 2025 and kissing both nico and reader after the last race and announcing he's going to retire.

Holy shite i got really into that, i'm so very sorry, if its too long please just say so.

–🍑

peach i am in awe. this is just, holy fuck

lewis hamilton x race strategist!male!reader x nico rosburg

synopsis: it took them too long to realize how badly they messed up. good thing you are forgiving.

author's note: holy cow this got really long but peach, the details, all of it, was just amazing. you're so creative 🫶🏻 i am living for all this. i did slightly change somethings, i hope you dont mind! feel free to keep requesting!!!

it started out well

like really well

your strategies worked amazing, the boys were performing well

then it went to shit like most things

they started this bitter rivalry that made little to no sense to you

for a while, you thought it was your fault

maybe your stats and strategies weren't right

maybe you weren't doing good with you job

you thought that up until ferrari offered you a job as head strategist

thats when you knew it wasn't entirely your fault

you took the offer proudly

thats when it hit nico how much they took you for granted

you thrived in ferrari while nico and lewis were still fighting with each other

you distanced yourself from that and instead focused on your new job, where you were surpringly happy

like happier than you had been at mercedes (even if lewis and nico weren't there)

it took nico almost a full season to entirely realizes that him and lewis hadn't even attempted to talk to you since they team move

that hit him like a truck

he felt guilty, him and lewis both

they just show it in different ways

once nico finally wins his wdc, he is happy, just not as happy as he would've been if he were still close with you and lewis

he announced his retirement and almost immediately went to reconcile with you

he didn't want to keep things in deep shit with you

he missed you so so much

your smile, your laugh, just you in general

it started slowly with small talk over text before nico just finally apologized for absolutely everything, from essentially blaming you for his rivalry with lewis to ignoring you for almost a year

you apologized for ignoring him too and distancing

from then on, you guys talked every single day

day in and day out

every free minute you two had was spent talking and hanging out

slowly, you guys admit how long you have loved each other for a long time

then boom, you guys got together

but you kept it a secret as you wanted a quiet (or as quiet as possible) life

you still worked hard on strategies

nico was amazing at reporting

you guys were happy together

skip forward a good few years and lewis is so close to winning his seventh wdc

he finally seems to notice the small signs that you and nico were together

that empty feeling returned

he was missing a part of himself without the two of you

he slowly starts to piece together the big puzzle

first with how you and nico seemed to gave been a thing for a while

then how much he missed you guys

then the deep rooted feelings he pushed aside for far to long

then the realization of just how much he need the two of you in his life

he immediately started building up this huge, elaborate, straight from the heart, apology speech he would tell you when he got you guys alone

he already had a plan set in his mind

then he realizes he actually has zero fucking clue what the hell to do

so he goes to the only person he knows that knows anything about this type of situation: george mother fucking russell

of course, george's situation is a little different

he started dating alex first then they basically accidentally added logan into the mix

but the three seemed to be happier than the majority of the people he knew

so he had to take a shot at asking him

turns out, george gives pretty decent advise

so, before going on the date, he needed to patch things up between the three of you

george's words not his

but that's what he does

he convinces both you and nico to talk with him (even brings roscoe because who doesn't love the little chunky monkey?)

you each take turns explaining how you felt

you kick started it by talking about how hurt you had been, not only as a strategist but also they're friend; how you felt like you were to blame for everything; how you didn't feel like they wanted you around anymore

nico already knew all this stuff but he still felt incredibly guilty

imagine how lewis felt

then nico explains how isolated it felt, losing the two people he loved more than anything; how he was so focused on winning that he forgot what was important

for once in years, him and lewis were on the same page

after hours of apologies, catching up, and eventually confessions, things were back to how they used to be years ago

skip to the winter break where you felt like you guys no longer had to hide

you were caught by fans at a restaurant, sharing laughs and some kisses before leaving back to the car, huge grins plastered across your faces

these pictures are posted everywhere

no one is surprised though

ferrari had to have some words with you about pr, same with mercedes for lewis and then sky sports for nico

once again, yall didn't care

skip forward again to lewis announcing he is gonna race for ferrari

bro didn't even tell you and nico

he was just like: "oh by the way-"

you were excited

but you made a deal between the three of you that you would retire and lewis would, regardless of the outcome of the season

the season went well, not exactly how you wanted it but still good enough

your retirement set for the end of the season was announced pretty early on

lewis's was very nico core

just dropped the bomb after the last race

where he just so happened to both you and nico in public

even though he had done it tons of times before

it was still surprising though

suck on that fia

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@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile

[sosa2imagines]

Ooo I just thought about this idea!!

Can I please request a Nick Fowler x fem!civilian reader where she’s at the wrong place at the wrong time and witnesses a crime that him and his men are committing and they take her hostage and originally plan to get rid of her because she’s seen too much and honestly his men are completely ready to follow through (they’re the ones who found her), but in her fear/nervousness she can’t help the sarcastic jokes and rambling that keep flying out of her mouth, to the point where honestly Nick is so amused by her and thinks she’s hilarious, and the two of them have clear chemistry and flirtation that neither can deny, so he decides to spare her and instead offer a deal (similar to the one he gave Mace, just without the spy stuff), asking her to join him and be with him (and unlike Mace, she happily agrees) *Cue Nick spoiling Y/n, giving her a life of luxury,and them falling In love🤧*

Sorry this took time, but I do hope it was worth the wait and you like it. Warning- Goons, metion of a body(nothing graphic or in details), fluff.

It had been a long day at work for you, and all you wanted was a night of comfort and relaxation. You picked up a bottle of water and a snack from a convenience store, and put on your earbuds, tuning out the world around you as you made your way to the registers to pay.

As you were leaving, you glanced down the alleyway towards the nearest exit.

The sound of someone grunting and moaning caught your attention. You hadn’t expected to step out into an alleyway crime scene. If only you had turned on your ear buds, you could have totally ignored this. But no!

So here you are.

The warehouse was dimly lit, and you could faintly hear the hum of the streetlights outside. The air was filled with the stench of gas and something else that smelled far worse. You had taken a step when you noticed five men, heavily armed and dressed in dark clothes. Their expressions were cold and devoid of any hint of mercy, and one of the men was dragging an unconscious body towards a black SUV.

You didn’t mean to gasp, but you did. And that was all it took.

A rough hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any scream that was trying to escape your lips. Before you could make a sound, a man with cold, lethal eyes and a face that looked like a skull of bones pushed you up against a hard wall. You found yourself staring at him.

“What do we do with her?” One of the men hissed out.

“She saw too much!” another man growled.

The rational part of your brain was telling you to stay silent, but the fear you were feeling sent your mouth to speak out of instinct.

“Oh great,” you blurted out, the sarcastic words spewing from your lips like a torrent. “Yeah, totally fine. You guys go ahead. I'll just, you know, erase this from my memory using tazer... Pjust zap me…maybe? oh wait, you don't have that, do you? Fantastic!”

Silence.

“Great, I’m going to die! They are not even good looking.” You thought to yourself.

The men looked at each other, a few seemed ready to shoot you to shut you up, while one man was rummaging around in his jacket to pull out his weapon. A voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife. It was deep, smooth, and held a hint of amusement.

“Hold on.”

Nick Fowler.

You knew nothing about Nick, just whispers, rumors. Everyone knew he was a dangerous man, someone to be avoided. His reputation was enough to make even the most hardened criminals shiver.

And yet, as he stood there, head tilted slightly, he couldn't help but find amusement in your situation. He seemed almost entertained by the fact that you had seen him in such an exposed position.

“He’s hot!” You thought.

“What’s your name?” Nick asked.

“Uh…” Your brain short-circuited. “Y/n.”

Nick’s smirk turned into a low chuckle. “Cute.” He turned to his men. “Let her go.”

“What?” The one holding you looked confused. “Boss, she saw everything.”

Nick's dark eyes studied you closely, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he gave a slight shrug, as if he had just reached a conclusion. “Yeah, you heard right,” he replied, his voice low and smooth. “She’s definitely the most entertaining thing I have come across all week.”

You couldn't help but speak up, a small smirk on your face. “Damn, man,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really need to get out more.”

Nick chuckled with a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Sweetheart,” he began, “tell me, what would you do if presented with a choice?”

You replied, your voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “A choice?”

His eyes narrowed as he continued. “You could disappear, vanish into thin air, never to be seen again... or you can choose an alternative.” His voice was laced with a dangerous tone as he issued the last option. “Be. Mine.”

You swallowed hard. The smart thing to do would be to run, to never look back. But the way he was looking at you, like you were something new, something he wanted, sent a thrill through you.

And really, what did you have to go back to?

You smiled, “Well, since you put it like that…”

“What could possibly go wrong? He’ll get bored of me and let me go…” You thought again.

Oh how wrong you were.

Nick Fowler was an enigma in more ways than one. One moment you were barely managing to pay rent, and the next, you found yourself draped in the silks of the wealthiest and wearing the most luxurious of clothes, sipping champagne with an impressive view outside the penthouse suite. You had everything a person could wish for...

Nick spoiled you like a king would spoil his favorite concubine. He showered you with gifts, made sure you wanted for nothing.

Nick was an intriguing man, and he quickly learned that you weren't one who could be bought off. The luxurious lifestyle, the opulent gifts, the lavish cars, none of it had the power to win you over, and he was determined to figure out what did.

He was clever, charismatic, and observant, and soon he discovered that it wasn't the gifts or material items that were drawing you to him.

You couldn't deny it, deep down. You had grown fond of Nick, and he wasn't the type of man you thought suited you. He listened intently, remembered details that other people would overlook, and challenged you, but never tried to control you.

The longer you spent time with him, the harder it became to resist the growing feelings of affection. His charisma and charm were only intensified further by his actions. It had taken time, and you had fallen for him despite your initial reservations.

And how had Nick Fowler, fallen for you?

You pushed his buttons without hesitation. Where even his loyal men, would not question him, you did it like he's your childhood friend. From questions about his life to his life choices. From his profession to personal life. You even did a little dance in secret when he said he's single. You even questioned him about his weapons.

Where Nick was more of a less speaker, you were a complete chatter box. And that stole his heart.

He was dangerous, sure, but with you, he was different. Protective. Teasing. Almost soft in a way you doubted anyone else ever got to see. And the chemistry between you? Electric. He challenged you, you challenged him, and somehow, in the chaos of it all, you fit.

“Regrets?” he asked one night, pulling you onto his lap as you lounged by the fireplace.

You smirked, twirling the expensive ring he’d slid onto your finger a few days ago. “Only that I didn’t say yes sooner.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good girl.”

And just like that, you realized you were exactly where you were meant to be.

With him.

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[ihanflwr]

YEA MY BOYFRIEND’S PRETTY COOL - nishimura riki (pt.2)

part 1 is here

IN WHERE; you try to make your ex, riki, jealous. it doesn't work out the best for you.

genre: a tinyyy bit angsty, fluff

warning: a little bit of cursing, suggestiveness, underage drinking.

not proofread! 🙆🏾‍♀️

it's 5:30 AM on a monday, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you lazily shift over to your vanity and rub your eyes.

you usually didn't wear makeup, but you decided to switch it up today. you look down at your uniform, realizing how wrinkly it is. you groan and just wear a hoodie to cover it up.

after finishing your makeup, you get out the house and walk to school. it was usually tradition to walk to school with winter, sunoo, and sometimes woonhak, but today you just needed some space.

that was until you heard a familiar, booming voice and a bunch of footsteps scurrying towards you. you stop in your tracks and sigh.

"noona!" woonhak calls out. you turn around and flash him a fake smile. he walks over with his other friends: myungjae, taesan, leehan, sungho, riwoo.

(more under cut)

"i haven't seen you in forever!" he catches up to you and puts a hand around your shoulder, practically suffocating you.

"you just saw me yesterday," you squeak, pushing him away to catch your breath.

"why'd you end the party so abruptly like that?" riwoo asks, a look of faux dissapointment on his face.

"i was just.. overwhelmed," you mumble. "nothing too serious."

"y/n, we all know you and riki broke up. quit the act," taesan blurts out. your eyes widen. myungjae hits taesan on the back.

"we agreed not to talk about that!" he whisper shouts.

"it's okay, i dont mind," you lie. you actually did mind a lot. why was riki going around telling everyone your business? "who told you we broke up?"

"if you're asking that, you obviously mind," sungho mumbles.

"riki told us," leehan confesses. you nod. of course.

"okay, good to know," you say, speeding up so you can get to school quicker. woonhak calls after you once again but you ignore him, your sole focus on getting to school.

riki was on the school's swim team for some reason, so they were always the first ones at school to practice. he used to always complain to you and say how much he wanted to quit, but his parents never let him.

after a lot of walking, you finally make it to the school's indoor swimming pool. you never realized how hot the guys on the swim team were. they all had somewhat toned bodies, making you want to faint right then and there.

but no, you had a mission to complete.

usually, a group of 3 girls or so would sit on the bleachers and just watch the swim team practice just so they could ogle over their muscles. you look over at the girls and spot a familiar face.

rei.

has ni-ki really moved on that quickly? you bite your lip angrily. however, that's not the point. you approach the team captain, anton, and tap him on the shoulder.

"what's up?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. it kinda annoyed you how quiet he was sometimes.

(its js for the plot i love him i swear😭)

"do you think i could talk to riki real quick?" you ask and he stares at you hesitantly.

"we're kinda in the middle of something right now.." he scratches the back of his neck.

"please. its an emergency."

"uhm--"

"don't make me beg. i just need to talk to him for like two seconds." you urge, holding up two fingers. he sighs and almost rolls his eyes, blowing his whistle.

"riki, y/n needs to talk to you." anton then turns to look at you. "if he's gone for too long, my coach will kill me. make it quick."

you nod and look over at ni-ki who dries himself off with a towel and slips on a t-shirt. he walks over to you, his hair still wet. you must admit, he looks so good right now. he gestures at a door and you guys walk out. he immediately lets out a yelp at the cold air.

he crosses his arms in an attempt to warm himself up. "hey."

"hi.." you say awkwardly. he doesn't make eye contact with you. honestly, you lowkey forgot what you even wanted to talk about, so you just start stalling.

"have you already moved on?" you ask. riki raises an eyebrow and glares at you. he shakes he head.

"no, but why do you care?" he's shivering slightly.

"i don't," here you go with the lying again.

"why'd you block me?" he asks abruptly.

"i thought it would be the best if i didn't talk to you," you say quietly.

"you're talking to me right now," he pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"do you like rei?" you ask, and you immediately regret it. he groans.

"you're seriously still going on about this?" he hated how stubborn you were.

"is she the reason we broke up?" you're practically interrogating him at this point.

"no, we broke up because you act like this," he snaps. you finally meet his eyes. now there's just an awkward silence that washes on you two.

anton pops his head outside and is also visibly uncomfortable from how cold it is.

"hurry up before i get scolded by my coach," he warns. without further notice, ni-ki walks back inside without even saying a word. anton looks at you worriedly but doesn't question it, heading back inside as well.

you gulp and slowly turn around, heading to the main campus. you just embarassed yourself even more.

5th period

your head is resting on your arms as you look out the window. your teacher is yapping about ancient China, and his voice is annoyingly monotone.

the way the trees sway in the wind is so peaceful, you could fall asleep. your eyes slowly start to shut. your seatmate, riki, nudges you but you ignore it.

"y/n, wanna tell me what dynasty started foot binding?" your teacher demands. riki whispers the answer in your ear.

"tang," you mumble without confidence, but suprisingly, you were correct. your teacher sighs.

"good job, but make sure you're paying attention," he mumbles. you nod. he goes back to yapping and you look over at riki. you want to thank him but remember you're supposed to be mad at him right now, so you put your focus back to the front of the room.

after what feels like hours, the bell finally rings, dismissing everyone to go to lunch. everyone scurries out of their desks and basically sprints over to the cafeteria. you search the classroom for winter and she grins, interlocking fingers with you.

“he still has feelings for you,” she says with a cheeky smirk. you tilt your head at her and you two begin walking to the cafeteria.

“why, because he gave me the answer..?” you raise an eyebrow.

“no, he was staring so hard at you while you were taking a nap!” she squeals. you roll your eyes.

“did you forget the plan? i need to make him jealous first before i consider other factors.”

“you’re actually about to listen to sunoo?” her eyes widen. “shit, okay then.”

at lunch, you, winter, woonhak and his friends sat around the table eating and gossiping. sunoo was sitting with riki and his friends.

“don’t you think you’re being too harsh?” sungho asks.

“no, she’s being reasonable,” taesan retorts. “if i were her, i would do worse.”

“guys, i’m over it now. chill.” you say, taking a bite out of your beef onigiri. everyone at the table side eyes you. “what?”

“you are NOT over him.” winter snorts.

“shut up,” you gently smack her. “is that 7-11 down the street still hiring?” winter looks at you and smirks.

“uh yeah, why?” riwoo asks. winter turns to riwoo and grins.

“she’s trying to make riki jealous, and apparently a lot of hot guys work at the 7-11.” says winter.

“i could’ve said that myself but okay,” you mumble.

“oh, i work there,” leehan says casually, “just fake date me.” you almost choke on your food. you wipe some sauce off your lips and stare at leehan.

“huh?”

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously,” he chuckles nervously.

“you’re a bit too eager,” myungjae teases, causing him to get flicked on the forehead by leehan.

“n-no, i’ll do it!” jesus christ, why were you stuttering so hard. leehan does that charming smile and nods.

“i’ll put in a good word for you,” he says.

“thanks..” you awkwardly look back down at your food. everyone at the table exchanges glances with each other.

“anyways!” woonhak exclaims. “who’s excited for our field trip to the beach?!” he starts to clap.

“woonhaks, that’s in two months,” taesan replies.

“am i not allowed to be excited?” woonhak shouts. you have to plug your ears from how loud he is.

“no, you’re not.” taesan says.

“y’all are so mean to my son,” myungjae whines, hugging woonhak.

“exactly!” woonhak pouts. you were able to drown out all the bickering and conversations with just your thoughts. you can’t stop thinking about leehan. you shake your head. you can’t fall for one of your best friends. plus, you never liked him before, why are you crushing on him all the sudden? winter notices you tweaking out and chuckles.

“you good?” she pats your back. you nod and go back to silently munching on your lunch.

after school

thanks to the good word leehan put in for you, you were able to immediately start working.

the whole day, you were so sleepy. you groggily scan the customer's items, your eyes threatning to shut. leehan comes behind you and pats your back.

"i can take over for now, hm?" he suggests, rubbing your back. he was alresdy taking this fake dating thing so seriously.

just as you were about to agree, the bell chimes, meaning a customer walked in the store. you look over and see RIKI AND REI. you rub your temples.

"is everything okay?" he asks, concerned.

"i can handle it for now. just, stay here with me." you say, looking up at him. he nods, still a bit confused.

you finish scanning the customer's items and you watch closely as riki and rei choose snacks for each other, gigling. you narrow your eyes.

"so that's why you wanted to me stay here?" leehan asks and chuckles. you nod.

after a while, they finally approach the cash register and place their stuff. just as rei is ahout to pull out her wallet, ni-ki already does it.

"stop that, i can pay for myself," rei pouts and hands you her card. riki shakes his head and also hands you his card.

"i'll pay, its fine."

"noo! its the least i can doo~" she whines.

"don't worry about it, you can pay me ba--"

"shut the fuck up and make up your mind already!" you snap. their eyes widen, and the air is thick. leehan gently pushes you away and bows.

"sorry about that," he laughs nervously, taking ni-ki's card and handing rei's card back to her.

after ringing them up and they leave the store, leehan turns to you.

"are you planning on already getting yourself fired?" he asks calmly. how was he being so gentle with you after you just caused a scene?

"i'm sorry.." you look down. he can tell you're starting to get upset and he gets closer to you. he hugs you, patting your head.

"it's okay, the shift is almost over," he reassures you. you two didn't even realize woonhak snickering and snapping pictures of you guys. leehan notices him and he gasps.

"when did you get here?" you quickly escape from leehan's grasp, standing as far away from him as you can.

"how did you guys not see me?" he laughs obnoxiously. you grab a random item and throw it him, causing him to let out an "ouch!".

"if you're not gonna buy anything, get out," leehan says trying to sound stern, but he can't hold back his smile.

"will y'all give me a discount?" he asks, rubbing his hands together.

"hell nah, get out." you say, your face still burning up.

"okay, okay.." he leaves the store. you and leehan lock eyes and burst out laughing.

after taking the bus home, you lay down on your bed (you changed into fresh pjs dw) and immediately text leehan.

fishdaddy: good job at work today!

y/n: i actually did horrible but thx anyways☹️🩷

fishdaddy: noo its great for your first time!

fishdaddy: you'll get better with more practice

y/n: why thank you

fishdaddy: np

fishdaddy: wanna walk with me and my friends to school tmrw?

y/n: sure i'll check in with winter

fishdaddy: okay!

you start to kick your feet in excitement before remembering it's all fake. you sigh and text winter.

y/n: is it okay if i walk with leehan and in his friendd in the morning

wifey: ofc! i can walk with giselle

y/n: okay great!!

wifey: have fun ;)

wifey: actually dont have TOO much fun 😶

y/n: 😨

~ part 3 will arive shortly ~

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Day 1: Non sexual intimacy @bucktommyfluffebruary

I'm already a day behind and it's only day 2 🤦‍♀️ But I'm still planning on doing the full 28 days.

(whether or not they'll be posted within the next 27 days however remains to be seen)

A lover's touch (AO3)

Tommy takes care of Buck after he gets discharged from hospital in 8x05

---

"You don't have to do all this." Buck insisted as Tommy helped him into his truck. He'd just gotten discharged from hospital, with a prescription for painkillers and doctor's orders to take it easy for at least a few days.

One of the nurses had given him scrubs to wear after Tommy had insisted he couldn't put his uniform back on "It's covered in pumpkin guts, Evan.", and he'd reluctantly agreed, and carefully gotten changed in a bathroom, despite Tommy reminding him it wasn't like he'd never seen him in his underwear before.

"And how would you get home if I didn't?" Tommy asked, pulling Buck from his thoughts.

"I could've just gotten an Uber..."

"Oh, sure. You want me to just... leave you here, go home, wait for you to get home with your paid ride, then drive over to your place to see how you're doing - wait, would I be allowed to come over? Or would you just text me to tell me you're fine?" Tommy deadpanned.

Buck rolled his eyes and let Tommy fasten his seatbelt while mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like "bitch"

Tommy ignored him and gave his knee a quick squeeze, before closing the door and jogging to the other side of his truck and getting behind the wheel.

"Your place or mine?" He asked as he started the engine.

"Mine." Buck sighed. "I want to get out of these scrubs and I don't have old sweats and hoodies at yours. I only bring my sexy clothes when I'm staying over." he said, trying to sound less like a petulant child and more like the hot sexy man he wanted Tommy to see him as.

"Alright, yours it is." Tommy laughed a little and pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "Do you mind if we stop for food or did you want to attempt to cook with that shoulder?" he quickly glanced at his boyfriend, eyebrow raised, daring him to deny that wasn't exactly what he was planning.

"Only if we can get a greasy burger and fries. I'm done being healthy for today."

"Deal."

By the time they got to Buck's loft and had something to eat, he was feeling more and more grimy and restless in the uncomfortable scrubs.

How medical staff could wear those all day every day he'd never know.

Tommy was clearing up after their meal and had started a load of laundry, and had been waiting on Buck's hand and foot since the moment they'd walked through the door.

It was sweet but also a bit frustrating. Buck was used to taking care of himself, he hadn't had anyone fluff his pillow or adjust his blanket since he was a kid and Maddie used to read him a story before bed.

"Are you comfortable enough in that chair? Do you want an extra pillow? I think you can have more painkillers in about half an hour if you need them."

"No, no I'm ok. I just... kinda feel gross. I think I’m just going to take a shower. I feel like I'm still covered in pumpkin guts."

"I can assure you, you're not. You look just like you did when we woke up this morning." Tommy told him.

"oh great, so I look like I just woke up." Buck complained.

Tommy smiled but decided not to take the bait.

"Yep. Cute, a little pouty, and very kissable." he said and kissed Buck to prove his point. "Do you need any help with that shower?"

"I can wash myself, Tommy, I'm not an invalid."

"No, but you currently only have one fully functioning arm, and the doctor said not to lift it above your head for at least a few days."

"I'll be fine." Buck said a little too harshly, and immediately felt bad. "I'll let you know if I need help."

Tommy nodded.

"Sure. You know where to find me."

He went upstairs to find something more comfortable to wear, and smiled at the sight of one of Tommy's cut off hoodies and his spare charger on what had become his side of the bed.

They were going on six months together and things were going well. He was happy and settled in a way he hadn't felt since... pretty much ever, and he hoped Tommy felt the same.

He debated stealing Tommy's hoodie, but decided to go for something that would keep his shoulder somewhat warm. Warm and cold compresses is what he vaguely remembered the doctor saying. He'd been slightly preoccupied with the curse, as well as wanting to look good for Tommy, and hoping Eddie wouldn't rat him out for practically yanking off the hospital gown when Tommy texted to ask what room he was in.

Suddenly noises from the TV drifted up to the bedroom and it made him happy to know Tommy felt comfortable enough in his space to make himself at home, and doing something as mundane as switching on the TV.

He grabbed some clean clothes and made his way to the downstairs bathroom, pausing to press a kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head as a way of apology for snapping at him earlier.

He'd planned to quickly undress and wash the day off of himself, only the quick part, he realised once he'd turned on the water and tried to get the scrub top off without hurting his shoulder more, would not be happening.

He spent a good fifteen minutes twisting himself into crazy positions and jumping around his bathroom until he'd finally managed to get the top off. He was red in the face and slightly out of breath, but he figured at least the water would be warm and relaxing.

He stepped under the spray, tipped his head back against the shower wall to let the warm water run over his face, and felt himself relax. His prickly mood from before as well as the embarrassment of getting hurt on the job in such a stupid way washing off him and disappearing down the drain.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and moved the wet hair off his face, grabbing the shampoo from the little shelf in the corner. He squirted some in his hand on auto pilot, only to then realise he couldn't lift his arm high enough to actually rub it into his hair.

He awkwardly moved it to his good hand, but then quickly found out washing your hair with one hand was no easy feat. He bent down so he could use his injured arm too, but the movement tugged on his sore shoulder too much and when stars appeared in front of his eyes, he stood up and gave up.

He rinsed the shampoo off his hands and out of his hair as best he could, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Tom?" he said softly after opening the bathroom door. "Tommy?"

The other man was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, while some sitcom played on the TV. He looked up at the sound of his name.

"Evan? Are you alright?"

"I uh... think I might need some help after all... i-if you don't mind..."

"Of course not. Tell me what you need." Tommy replied, dropping his phone on the table and walking over to him.

"I uh... tried to wash my hair... b-but it's not going so well with one hand."

"Good thing I have two then." Tommy smiled and gently steered him back into the bathroom. "Give me two seconds. You go ahead and get in the shower."

Buck did as he was told and got back under the warm water and watched his boyfriend quickly strip before joining him.

It was somewhat of a tight fit for two men of their size, but neither exactly hated being close to each other.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought of showering with you." Buck joked, trying to distract himself from feeling completely helpless.

"Next time." Tommy promised and pressed a small kiss to his lips. "Just relax and let me take care of you." he said while squirting some shampoo in his hands and gently massaging it into Buck's hair.

As much as he'd hated asking for help, having Tommy take care of him like this felt like heaven.

He'd known Tommy's hands were magic and could make him feel amazing, but never like this, never outside the bedroom.

"I wish I had one of those stools for the shower" Buck mused as Tommy gently started washing his body. "I'd never leave this bathroom."

"I have one at my place. I got it a few years ago after I sprained my ankle getting out of the chopper."

"You mean you fell out?" Buck teased. He'd gotten to know Tommy's crew over the past few months, and they loved sharing embarrassing stories from Tommy's probie days at Harbor.

"It had been raining! Everything was wet and slippery!" Tommy protested.

"And you tripped over your own feet trying to get back into the hangar."

"Who told you that? Melton? Tess? O'Neil? Donato wasn't there yet, so it wasn't her."

"I have my sources."

"It was Sal wasn't it? I should never have introduced you. He's banned from ever talking to you again." Tommy said, only half joking. He turned off the water and quickly wrapped a towel around himself, before doing the same to Buck and gently drying him off.

"Maybe it wasn't Sal, maybe it was someone else."

Tommy stopped what he was doing and narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend.

"Maybe I should ban all of them from ever speaking to you again. Or monitor the conversation so they won't spread lies about me."

"It's not a lie if it's true." Buck teased, sore shoulder forgotten.

"Yeah, yeah, see if I fly you into a hurricane again." Tommy mock threatened. "You can get Donato to do it next time."

"Hopefully there will never be a next time." Buck said, letting Tommy push him to lean back against the sink and helping him put a pair of sweats on. "But maybe we can take a trip together? We could go to Vegas. It's not really fair that you flew Eddie there but you've never taken me."

"You don't like MMA." Tommy argued, mildly distracted trying to find a way to get Evan's hoodie on without hurting his shoulder.

"There are other things we could do in Vegas, aren't there? We could go to a casino... or see a show... or... go see Elvis."

Tommy frowned.

"Graceland? That's not in Vegas..." he trailed off as confusion made way for realisation. "Oh... you mean... Elvis. A chapel."

"Well... Maybe not just yet... but... eventually... maybe? Would that be something... you... would like... one day?"

Tommy tugged Buck's hoodie over his head and gently guided his arms through the sleeves.

"Get married? By Elvis? In Vegas?"

"Y-yeah?"

"I don't know about the Elvis part... but the rest..." He paused and bit his lip, looking almost shy and as un-Tommy as Buck had ever seen him. "Yeah... yeah that sounds pretty good."

[gaysullengirl]

the new receptionist 2

──── ౨ৎ ────

read part one here!

summary: in which spencer reid gets asked out by reader.

pairing: spencer reid x bau receptionist.

genre: fluff.

word count: 0.4k

──── ౨ৎ ────

You walked through the Behavioral Analysis Unit's bullpen, agents were scattered throughout the room, typing on their computers, filling out paperwork, talking to one another.

You trudge through the workers, making way to your Uncle's office.

౨ৎ

"Damn, who's that?" Morgan asks, pouring coffee into his mug, Spencer turns around, "Oh, that's Y/n"

"How do you know her?" Derek inquires with a smirk on his face, "You haven't noticed? She's the new receptionist downstairs."

"If she's the receptionist downstairs why's she going into Hotch's office?" Derek asks, "She's Hotch's niece." Spencer replies.

"Seems like you've gotten to know her pretty well." The older man smiles, Spencer's cheeks turn pink, "No- no- I just talked to her on her first day," He shrugs, "it's nothing."

"You like her?" Derek asks, Spencer sighs, "Morgan, I met her a week ago- and we've only talked a few times."

"So? You can still like her." He reasons, "Derek, she's Hotch's family. That'd be so weird, he would probably stare me down at family dinner's or something."

"Aww you're thinking about your future with her." Derek teases, Spencer just walks back to his desk, ignoring Derek's comment.

౨ৎ

As you walk out of your Uncle's office Spencer catches your eye, he's sat at his desk, sipping a coffee and flipping through a book.

"Hi Spencer!" You smile as you walk toward him, "Uhm Hi Y/n" He responds shyly and adjusts his posture, "So, how's that coffee?" You ask, rocking back and forth on your feet.

"It's good." He smiles awkwardly, unsure if he should say anything else, "There's this really good coffee shop downtown."

"What it called?" He asks, "I've been looking for the perfect coffee shop, it seems like every one of them has 9 perfect things but 1 bad thing." He explains.

"Well, maybe we could go to it sometime." You offer, biting your cheek nervously, "Why?" He asks.

His questions shooks you, rejection you could handle, but him completely confused like he didn't have a second thought about you? That you weren't sure if you could handle.

"To get to know each other better?" You respond, unconfident in your answer, "Why? I mean I would understand if you were on the team and we had to work together everyday, we would need to get along- Are you joining the team?"

You shake your head, "Spencer, I'm asking you on a date." "Oh." His eyes widen, his mouth agape.

"It's okay if you don't want to go, I just thought maybe-" "No, I want to go." He cuts you off.

"Perfect." You smile, "How about this weekend? Saturday at 10?" You offer, Spencer agrees with a smile.

authors note!

part two since u guys loved part one, thank you sm btw!!!

part three coming soon!

[authorsofghosts]

Club in Love | Morph x Reader

Summery: Morph decides to take you out on Valentine's Day since you're both dateless. Of course, they think the best place to go on a date for two mutants like yourselves is the club.

Themes: Fluff -> Angst -> Fluff, Confessions, Mutual Crush, Open Ending, Clubbing, Drinking, (Slight) Drug Mention, Morph does Morph things, Morph doesn't use their Birth Name, Reader is a mutant/X-Man (no powers written), Wolverine cameo.

Word Count: 1.5k (not proofread)

"Come on, we're not gonna make it for the 'Couples Get in Free' hour if you have to spend thirty minutes just picking an outfit." Morph laughs, creeping ever so slightly closer.

"We're not a couple, Morph." You laugh out softly, shaking your head as you took out some shirts to look at them.

"Not yet," They smirk, getting closer and poking your cheek. As you go to protest, they grin wider. "I'm kidding, come on. It was funny."

"No, it wasn't." You mumble, remembering the fact that the only reason you agreed to do this was both of you were painfully single. Morph's smile drops as they see you lost in thought, quickly trying to figure out how to cheer you up.

"Hey, just think of it as a..." They start, pausing to tap their chin in thought, trying to find the right words. "A special Co-Ops mission. I mean, the best mutant on the team for having to undercover is moi, huh?"

Morph spins, with their hands in the air, switching between different forms and disguises, finally resting on their 'Public Face'.

"Come on, it can't be that hard to pick an outfit."

"Says the person who can shapeshift into any outfit they want." You grumble, shoving them away.

They laugh softly, smiling as they lean against the wall. Finally picking an outfit, you shoo Morph away to get dressed. As you walk out of your room, you hear a low whistle. "Morph-"

"Non, non, cher." You hear and see Gambit, but know better. "You look magnifique, chouchou."

"Morph."

"Fiiine." They laugh, transforming back into themselves. "You're not fun."

"I am, but not when it comes to you trying to seduce me or whatever with our friend's faces." You shake your head, grabbing your stuff and making your way to the stairs. "Come on, 'partner'."

"Is that a cowboy joke or a date joke?"

"If I said date joke you'd be happy, so it's a cowboy joke."

You stomp down the stairs of the mansion, rolling your eyes as you laugh with Morph. Before you can make it to the door, Logan steps out in front of you both "W'ere the hell do you two think yer goin'?"

"Relax, we're going to the club. You coming with?" Morph smiles. "Or are you gonna sulk and whimper like last year." They snicker.

"Morph, be nice-" You say, quickly being cut off by the chuckle of Logan, making you quickly turn your attention back to the gruff man.

"No, they're right. But I ain't going to yer fancy club, Morph. I'd rather stay 'ere tonight. Thanks though."

Morph pats Logan's back, tsking softly, "There isn't anything 'fancy' about it other than the way it overstimulates you with all the flashing, multicolored lights. But I promise it'd be much chiller since, you know, they're trying to draw in couples for their jacked up drink prices tonight."

You watch as they try to convince Logan to come, but there really wasn't much getting through to him. Not today, at least. "Well, you kid's have fun. I'mma get some shut eye." He finally grunted out, walking off.

"Welp, that's our queue, I assume, to get going. You know?" Morph laughed softly, pointing towards the front door.

"Mhm." You prompt, walking forward and paying them no mind. For someone who was just flirting with you, or so you think, they sure did ignore you for about five minutes. So clearly, they can't like you like that for real, right?

You don't see it, but their face drops as you walk out the mansion. "Shit-" Them mutter to themselves. Quickly running up to you, they wrap an arm around you and grin. "Oh, come on, don't get sour before we get Lemon Drops. Or maybe something stronger? Oooo, maybe one of those overpriced Valentine's Day themed drinks."

Morph shifts to their public face, opening the passenger side door and bows slightly. This causes you to chuckle out, shaking your head and flashing a soft smile in their direction. This satisfies them enough to shake off their mini-dread.

As you pull up to the club, Morph looks around at the crowded line outside. "Shit, really? No way there's this many people just cause tonight's so marketable." They chuckle, leaning against you with an arm on your shoulder.

"You'd be surprised how normal, happy people like this holiday." You mumble in a half-sarcastic laugh.

"Normal, happy people?" They repeat, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Non-superheroes fighting off whatever the fuck? People who don't have the stress of protecting the whole world?"

"Oh." They grimace, looking at you softly. "Let's try to not think about that, huh? Come on, I'll buy you whatever drink you want." They smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, just act natural." They mumble, walking closer to the bouncer.

"Yeah, yeah." You shake your head smiling, leaning into their touch. You feel them tense for a slight moment before relaxing. They press a soft kiss to your forehead in sight of the bouncer, then lean over to whisper in your ear.

"Don't be such a grouchy pants. We're supposed to look like a couple."

You blush slightly, looking away as the people in front of you step into the club. Morph grabs your hand and pulls you forward.

You enter the club and are immediately met with red light instead of the normal multicolored flashing. "See, I told Logan it'd be calmer tonight. There's just more people."

"Yeah, Logan doesn't like people neither." You laugh, walking over to the bar with them. "Any drink, huh?"

"Any drink." Morph repeats. "We could share, you know. They got couple's drinks or whatever."

"We're not-" You start, looking at the size of the couple drinks tat two people are sharing at the other end of the bar. "Okay maybe. Those are like... five times the size of my fist."

They chuckle softly, shaking their head. "I'll order us one."

You both sit at the bar, sipping on the drink. It's some kind of strawberry vodka cocktail, and if you were being honest? It was amazing.

You go to sip from your straw and find your face only a few inches away from Morph's. You awkwardly laugh and pull back, but that only makes them smirk wide. "Don't be shy now. I mean, we have to pretend to be dating to not get kicked out. What's a little eye contact gonna do?"

You puff your cheeks out, slightly annoyed by how nonchalant they are about this. Taking up on their challenge, you lean back and take a sip of the drink as they do. That's when it finally hits you.

The alcohol that is.

The soft, red lights in the club feel a lot heavier than before and as you look in Morph's eyes, they almost shimmer. Your cheeks heat up and you can't help but look at them, really look at them.

They usual confident, almost a little bit snarky person is taken aback slightly at the change in your demeanor, letting out a laugh that was easily readable as nervous. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Feeling, uh... Peachy." You say, slurring your words despite how slowly you were speaking.

"Oh, you're a lightweight aren't you. Fuuuck, I'm gonna have to babysit you? No, not happening. We're going home."

"No, what? Come on, what happened to having fun?" You ask, a wide, almost goofy grin on your face. You stand up, taking another quick sip of the large cup before pulling them by the hand. "Let's dance."

"Woah- okay, okay, I'm coming." They laugh, shaking their head but following. Whenever you get on the floor, the song playing is lively, about drugs and sex, like most music. You watch Morph's face distort slightly with worry.

"What's wrong?" You slur out, getting a little bit closer to Morph.

"Well, I usually... I usually dance while, you know Morphing. Shifting to different forms with each flash of the lights, cause it's... " They trail off, the song ending.

"It's cool. You're cool." You say, your eyes flickering around.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Did you just say I'm cool?" Morph laughs, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Well- I mean, yeah." You say, your cheeks heating up slightly. For what reason, you have no idea. It's not like you....

Shit.

Fuck.

You laugh, shaking your head, "I mean, what's wrong with saying your cool?"

They smile, eyes lighting up as the next song that's playing in the club is a slow, romantic one. Almost... bedroom-y. "You wanted to dance, right?" Morph asks, putting out their hand.

You look down at their hand, even in your drunken state, understanding where this is going. You take it, yelping out and laughing as they pull you closer, wrapping a hand around your waist. "Hey!"

"Then we're dancing." They say just for your ears.

Morph sways you from side to side slowly, in rhythm with the song. You're a little starstruck, flabbergasted even, at the moment. They put their cheek against yours, smirking. "You're blushing."

"N-no." You stammer, shaking your head.

"You're either extremely tipsy, orrrr... did you find something out?"

"Maybe. Both. Probably both." You mumble. Morph laughs softly, pulling you closer.

"That's alright. Was gonna tell you anyways." They say, forehead against yours.

You pull back slightly, "Huh? Tell me what?" You ask, eyes widening. "You like me, too?"

"Too?" They laugh, shaking their head for a moment. "You like me back?"

"Yeah, no, I just realized this, how long have you liked me???"

"Shit-"

[blakeswritingimagines]

Husk Spending Time With His Darling On Halloween

Word Count: 2.9k

Husk sat alone again in the hotel lobby, staring out the window. The faint sounds of party music and laughter could be heard from outside, but Husk preferred to ignore it. The clock ticked on the wall, the hands slowly moving towards midnight. Husk, who was usually a night owl, was already starting to feel sleepy. He glanced over at the door, wondering if anyone would come in for a drink tonight. The front doors suddenly opened, and you walked in. Husk raised an eyebrow at you. "Well, well, look who's up and about." Husk's voice is gruff, but there's a hint of curiosity in his tone. He leans back in his chair, waiting for you to approach the bar.

Making your way over to the bar, approaching Husk's sitting form. Your movements are confident, your steps purposeful. You take a seat next to him, letting out a soft dramatic sigh as you settle in. Husk looks at you as you make your way over and takes a seat, rolling his eyes as you let out a sigh. "What is it now, sweetheart?" Husk grumbles, his voice gruff, knowing what this was about considering you had tried several times now to get him to do something Halloween themed with you. "Oh, you know," you respond, your voice dripping with faux-innocence. You playfully nudge him with your shoulder, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "Just wanted to remind you what we have planned tonight." You lean in closer, a conspiratorial gleam in your eyes. "Halloween is coming soon, and I'm not going to let you out of this costume party you agreed to last month." Husk groans internally, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. He had agreed to this party ages ago, and now he was being reminded of it. He mutters under his breath as you lean closer to him. "You're never going to let this go, are you?" Husk grumbles, turning his head to look at you.

You flash him a playful smile and gently poke his arm. "Of course I'm not! We have a reputation to uphold as the greatest power couple this city has ever seen," you declare, your confidence unwavering. "Just think of all the attention we'll get. Everyone will be jealous." You lean in even closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "I already have the perfect outfit picked out, and you're just going to love it." Husk raises an unimpressed eyebrow, not convinced by your pep talk. "A reputation, huh?" He leans his head back against the bar's counter and lets out a long-suffering sigh, resigned to his fate. "So, what's the costume, then? Because I have a feeling I'm going to hate it." A wide smile spreads across your face as Husk expresses his distaste for the upcoming outfit. "Oh, don't be so down, grumpy pants," you tease, enjoying his reluctance. "Trust me, you're going to look so handsome, you'll forget you even hate the party." You take his rough chin in your hand, tilting his face towards you. "Now, are you ready to hear about your costume?" You lean in closer again, your eyes fixed on his and your voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "Just picture it," you say theatrically, "a classic monster. The most iconic, the most terrifying. Everyone will stop and stare!" You lean back, awaiting his reaction.

Husk tries to keep a straight face, but he can feel himself starting to crack at your over-the-top enthusiasm. He lets out another groan, shaking his head. "Oh my god, are you really going to make me dress up as a damn monster?" he replies, his tone a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement. Husk pauses for a moment before asking, "And what kind of monster are we talking about, sweetheart?" Your smile widens as Husk begrudgingly agrees to be a part of the costume charade. "You'll be the classic, the iconic," you say, your voice filled with glee. "The one and only…" You pause dramatically, building the suspense, waiting for Husk to guess. "Dracula," you announce, the word hanging in the air like a punchline. You can practically picture the look of horror and indignation on his face, but you know deep down he'll have a good time with this. Husk's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your announcement. "Dracula," he repeats, a mix of shock and incredulity flashing across his face. He lets out a bark of laughter, a sound laced with both astonishment and reluctant amusement. "You've gotta be kidding me," he says, shaking his head. "Dracula? Out of all the spooky figures, you pick Dracula?"

Your grin only widens as you revel in Husk' reaction. You know he's internally struggling with the idea, but you can see the hint of something else in his eyes - excitement. "I knew you'd come around," you tease, reaching out to tousle his hair affectionately. "And you're not the only one who'll be wearing a classic." You pause, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Care to guess who I'm going to be?" Husk lets out another sigh, resigning himself to his fate. He runs a hand through his messy black fur and glances at you with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. "Alright, I'll bite." He says dryly. "Who are you going as?" A wide, devilish grin spreads across your face as Husk agrees to play along with your little game. You lean in even closer, your face almost touching his. "I'm going to be-" you pause, teasing him, drawing out the reveal, "the lovely and timeless…" once again, you pause for drama, drawing out suspense. Husk's face shows clear signs of irritation at being trolled, but you can tell he eagerly wants to know what he's actually agreed to. "The iconic…" you stop yet again, building the tension, just to prolong his curiosity. Husk's patience wears thin as you draw out the reveal yet again. He's practically bristling with irritation now, but he can't help but be intrigued by your antics. "For the love of-" he begins, his voice sharp with annoyance. "Who are you going to be, sweetheart? Stop toying with me and tell me."

Your smile widens, your eyes dancing with glee as you notice Husk's growing impatience. You know you have him right where you want him now. The suspense is killing him, and you know it. You hold his gaze for a few more moments, just to tease him a bit more, before finally dropping the bombshell. "The beautiful and iconic…" You pause, drawing the reveal out as much as possible, just to drive him crazy. When you finally reveal the answer, the air practically buzzes with anticipation. "The Bride of Dracula." Husk's jaw drops, his eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, he's rendered silent, as if your revelation has left him momentarily speechless. After a few seconds, he regains his composure, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "The Bride of Dracula? Seriously?" He asks, a hint of incredulity still lingering in his voice. He runs a hand through his fur and lets out another exasperated sigh. "You're absolutely ridiculous," he mutters, though his tone lacks the bitterness he had moments ago.

After hours of preparation, Husk and yourself are now dressed up for the costume contest, the night filled with anticipation and excitement. Husk stands across from you, adjusting the cape around his shoulders. Despite his earlier protests, he looks surprisingly sharp in his Dracula costume. He looks over at you, taking in the sight of your bride attire. His eyes roam over your form, taking in every detail. Husk tries to maintain a cool demeanor, not wanting to show how much he appreciated your choice. "So, you're the bride now, huh?" husk comments, his voice gruff. "You look…" he trails off, his eyes lingering on you for a moment too long. Husk clears his throat, turning his gaze elsewhere. "Not bad, I guess," he grunts, trying to keep up his tough exterior. You can't help but notice the slight falter in Husk's voice, the way his eyes lingered on you just a little too long. You know he's trying to keep up his cool demeanor, but there's a hint of admiration and…something else in his eyes. You can't help but smirk, enjoying the way he's trying to hide his true feelings. "Just 'not bad'?" you tease, taking a step closer to him. "Is that all you have to say about my costume?"

Husk tries to maintain his nonchalant air, but your smirk and the way you step closer makes it difficult. "Well, it's pretty damn good," he acknowledges grudgingly. His eyes flicker up and down your costume, taking in every detail, his gaze lingering on the way the fabric hugs your curves. "You look…" he pauses briefly, his voice trailing off as he tries to find the right word. "… good." A hint of grudging awe mixed in with his begrudging admission. Husk's cheeks flush slightly pink at your comment and he quickly glances away, pretending to be uninterested. He tries to maintain his cool facade, but he can't hide the subtle flicker of emotion in his eyes. "I mean, you look fine or whatever," he grumbles, his voice betraying just a hint of reluctant admiration. He clears his throat and continues in a neutral tone: "You did a good job, I guess." With the evening's activities now underway, the hall is buzzing with excitement. The costumes on display are extravagant and creative, but yours and Husk's are definitely among the most eye-catching. Husk is standing beside you, his hand casually resting on your waist. He glances at you, taking in your confident demeanor. He lets out a snort, pretending to be unimpressed, but you can see a hint of pride in his eyes. "So, are you ready to win this contest?" you ask, looking up at him.

Husk glances down at you, a small smirk on his face. "Win the contest? Pfft. Please." He scoffs, feigning arrogance. "I could go in there looking like a bag of garbage and we'd still win," he says confidently. "I mean, people will be voting for us because we're such a good couple, right?" He pats your back playfully, his hand lingering on your waist longer than necessary. You can feel a warmth spreading through your body as Husk' hand stays on your back, a subtle reminder of the intimacy between you. His confidence is endearing, but there's also a hint of uncertainty in his words. Deep down, he knows how much he cares about the outcome of this contest, even if he won't admit it. You flash him a playful grin. "Just a bag of garbage, huh? You think you can pull that off?" you tease. Husk rolls his eyes at your teasing and gives your waist a gentle squeeze. "Please, of course I can," he retorts, his tone cocky and sure of himself. "I've been compared to worse than a bag of garbage, sweetheart." He glances down at you, his expression softer than before. "Besides, with you by my side, I could wear a potato sack and we'd still come out on top, right?"

Your heart melts at Husk' words and the tender look in his eye. You can see the truth behind his confident exterior, the subtle vulnerability beneath the tough guy exterior. His hand on your waist is still there, resting against your body. It sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, flashing him a warm smile. "Absolutely," you agree. "A potato sack is too good for the other competitors. We'll show them what true greatness looks like." Husk returns your smile, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. He seems to be basking in the confidence and support you've shown. His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly, his body language betraying his true feelings. "That's right," he murmurs, his voice gruff yet affectionate. "We're the real deal, sweetheart. No one else stands a chance against us."

After the victorious conclusion of the costume contest, you and Husk return to the hotel room, feeling elated and satisfied. You plop down on the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. Husk is right beside you, letting out a low sigh of relief. Husk, despite his initial reluctance, is now comfortably snuggled up by your side, one arm draped across the back of the couch, while the other hand holds a fistful of candied apples. His costume has been discarded, leaving him in his usual attire. You lean back against the couch, watching as Husk takes a large bite of his candied apple. His eyes are fixed on the movie playing on the TV, but his mind seems to be elsewhere. He lets out a content sigh, the sweetness of the candy sending his sweet tooth into overdrive. After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, his voice low and gruff. "So, uh, we did good tonight. Winning the contest and all." You glance over at Husk, taking in his nonchalant demeanor. His arm is still casually resting behind your head, the muscles in his forearm flexing slightly. You nod, a subtle flicker of satisfaction in your eyes. "Yeah, we did," you agree, your voice laced with a hint of pride. "But hey, we didn't even need the costumes to pull it off. We're a good team, you and I." You pause, glancing at him. "Though I gotta say, you looked pretty damn sexy in that costume."

Husk flushes a deeper shade of pink at your comment, a rare display of his bashful side. He clears his throat, pretending to be unaffected by your words. "Oh hush," he mutters, running a hand through his fur in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "You're just saying that because you've got a thing for guys in costumes." He rolls his eyes, but a subtle smirk still plays at the corner of his lips. You let out a light chuckle, amused by Husk' attempt to play it cool. It's adorable how flustered he gets at your compliments, despite his best efforts to remain nonchalant. You nudge his arm, your smirk widening. "Oh come on," you tease. "It's not my fault you look so damn good in that costume. But I guess you're right, maybe I do have a thing for men in costumes. Especially ones who have your… well, you know…" you trail off, letting the suggestive comment hang in the air. Husk huffs out a breath, his expression now a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. He scratches the back of his neck, pretending to be indifferent. "You're absolutely shameless, you know that?" He mutters, but there's a hint of admiration in his voice. He glances at you, unable to suppress a small smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoy making me flustered." You let out a cheeky laugh, unrepentant in the least. "Of course I do," you admit shamelessly. "It's fun to see you fumble around like a flustered schoolboy. It's a nice change from your usual tough-guy act."

Husk watches you fondly, a mix of amusement and adoration in his eyes. He reaches down to take a piece of candied apple from the bowl, taking a small bite. "You know, most people would find you annoying," he muses, his voice a low rumble. "But somehow, I can't help but find you endearing." Husk leans back against the couch, his arm still resting behind your neck, his touch gentle but possessive. "It's like you know just how to get under my skin and make me want to both strangle you and hug you at the same time." Your heart melts at Husk' words, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You can feel the tenderness in his touch, the way his arm is wrapped around you. The contrast between his rough exterior and his gentle demeanor never fails to amaze you. You let out a soft laugh, your voice warm and affectionate. "I guess I'm just naturally charming, in a mischievous sort of way," you tease. You lean into his touch, savoring the closeness between you. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. I enjoy getting under your skin. It keeps things interesting… thanks for going along with tonight, by the way."

Husk rolls his eyes, feigning irritation, but you can tell that he secretly adulates your playful banter. He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Charmed, I'm sure," he says sarcastically. "You're just a regular little devil, aren't you?" He squeezes your waist gently, his grip firm yet affectionate. "And of course, sweetheart. Tonight was… nice, for once." He glances at you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I didn't hate it." Your heart flutters at Husk' confession, a flutter of affection in your chest. Despite his gruff exterior, you can tell that he genuinely enjoyed tonight. The tenderness in his eyes, the way he squeezes your waist gently, all hint at the soft spot he has for you. You lean into him, your body pressing against his side. "Heh, you didn't hate it, huh?" you tease softly, a playful smirk on your face. "That's quite an endorsement from the king of grumbling and complaining." Husk rolls his eyes again, a small grin playing on his lips. He can't help but find your playful banter endearing. He leans in closer to you, his hand finding its natural spot on your waist. "Don't get used to it," he mutters, his voice gruff yet affectionate. "I can only handle so much affection before I start to melt like a puddle." He glances at you, a hint of amusement in his expression. He pulled you closer into his side as you both relaxed for the rest of the night together.

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Put instant coffee in water -> ✨Potion of Caffeine✨ Put milk powder in water -> ✨Potion of Calcium✨ Put pepper powder in water -> ✨Poison of My Eyes Hurt✨ Make a smoothie -> ✨Potion of Strawberry fantasy✨

Trough some strange alchemy, wizards turn everything drinkable into potion.

So basically, the only thing we ever need to create potion is mortar and pestle. So yes. Stir the powder in water, and you've done it! You create a potion🎉

I agreed with everything unsettlingcreature says. I just wanna add some of my thoughts, too :3

(I'm going to ramble a lot down here bc I love alchemy. Feel free to ignore, or click the Keep reading at your own peril XD)

Why Alchemy? Why not just eat the grass? Why bother doing the grinding and preparing?

Because the through out mixing can bring out the hidden powers (aka not the first effect). It also has stronger, longer, and more stable effects. Also everything taste better after cooking (?)

If you just eat the raw ingredients, no matter how many you eat, none of them combine and coherent together. You just have 23 effects all happen at that one second. (Dragonborn when they want to raise their alchemy skill XD)

Alchemy is like chemistry. Put a few random things together, do a little stirring and heating, then something new pops out. There's probably a lot of knowledge regarding the methods, too. Like when to add witch ingredients, when to heat, how hot is your flame, when to stir, and lots of things.

But I'll focus on the tools, which are Alchemy Apparatus. I arrange them in what I thought to be their necessary-ness, and it happens to be the same order as unsettlingcreature's :D

Mortar and Pestle

Basically, they can break down the ingredients, helping them release their essences. If you grind them into little pieces, they can blend together better, and are easier to have reaction with other ingredients. Probably easier to digest too.

Cook whole ingredients v.s. Cook the break-down ingredients

Some ingredients, like seeds, have a shell. So if you put it in water, it taste like nothing, zero effect. If you grind them into pieces, it's release what's inside. Like apple seeds have cyanide in it. So don't use a whole apple to make smoothie. Not only does it not help you for you health, but it will also poison you. So maybe the Apple's forth effect in Oblivion is Damage Health for a reason XD

I think the different quality of mortar and pestle probably define how fine you can grind your powder. If you grind it super fine, it's less likely to have sedimentation at the bottom of your bottle. No need to shake before drink if you're a skilled enough alchemist.

So I rewatch Spirit Away lately. Kamaji is basically an alchemist. He's using herb roller. It's kinda like mortar and pestle. It also serves the same purpose of grinding ingredients into powders. Anyway, he grabs some dried herbs, grinds them into powder, and puts them in the hot spring to create herbal soak. It's like potion, but in a way bigger scale. Remember when Lin tells Chihiro the herbal soak has dried worm in it? Yes, the ingredients they used are wild too XD

Kamaji making potion of skin care :D

Calcinator

If you put tea leaves in cold water, it needs at least 6 hours to have taste. If you put tea leaves in hot water, it only needs 6 minute to have good flavor.

Fire, is heat, is energy. When you give energies to your components, it can start the reaction, and also speed up the process. There's all kinds of energy. Like heat, electricity, light, and maybe magicka can be utilized for alchemy. But fire is the most commonly used one, and probably most easily used one.

So I read unsettlingcreature's post, and realized, in Morrowind, you're suppose to use Calcinator to heat the ingredients themselves?! I was imagine cooking the grass brew the whole time hahaha is that why I failed to make potions in game? XD

I think it's like caramelizing the onion before cooking the onion soup. It'd taste different than just cooking the onion in water.

So I played Potion Craft: Alchemist Simulator. The timing and duration of heating your brew will affect your potion. The experienced alchemist will know when to boil, when to turn to low flame, and when to remove your brew from the heat source.

Absolutely a great game for alchemy lover <3

Alembic and Retort

In game, they said Alembic can reduces the strength and duration of all negative effects, and Retort can increases the strength and duration of all positive effects.

In a way, they do the same thing?! The total portion of positivity in a potion increases. So, whatever So I'm going to treat them as same here, and technically, they do the exact same thing: Distillation.

The way of how distillation works is based on the solvents' boiling temperature. Like whisky making. Water's boiling point is higher than alcohol's. So if you heat the whisky in between their boiling points, only alcohol will evaporates, goes through the curly tubes, and turns back to liquid at the other side. Both water and some bigger bits stay this side, and the pure alcohol stays on the other side.

In my opinion, the tool does not matter. It's what inside which side that matter. You need to know if it's the poison going through the tube or not. In a way, this method can make two potions. One is the one with the effects you want. The other is your unwanted effect potion, but it still have effects (i think).

I watched Drink Master before, and they used a thing called distilator. It can extract anything's flavor into clear liquid. So you can have clear looking potion that taste exactly like a BLT sandwich, if you know how to use Alembic and Retort XD

So your high quality potion wouldn't looks like the blood and gore mess that you made only with mortar and pestle. It's clear and pure essence of a Daedra Heart, but it tastes exactly like the blood and gore mess you expected! (none can escape the better the potion the bitter it tastes curse ^^') Let's hope at least it has better shelf life.

I wanna talk about the solvent

They didn't specific what we use in game, but it's most likely to be water based potion. But not everything can resolve in water. Some plant's essence is oil based. You can use oil to extract that effect, then maybe emulsify with the rest of your potion. Or just use alcohol as solvent, because alcohol can dissolved both water and oil.

Anyway, if we use complex solvent, we can use Alembic and Retort to distillate the potion.

In ESO, they used oil as a base, but only as poison. You can actually use oil based medicine in real life, but it tastes disgusting XD So thank the Divines they only use it on your enemies haha

In Witcher series, Geralt uses alcohol as his potion base.

Our buddy literary drinks vodka to restore health XD

And speaking of alcohol. Vanilla Extract is actually an alcohol based potion.You're welcome tmblr XD

I wanna talk about the not-a-potion alchemy

I love picking flowers, and making potions. I always carry at least a dozen potions on me. But! Imagining carry a box of soda on me all the time. It's so heavy, and taking out so much backpack space. And not to mention all the sloshing when I walk. Potion may not be that suitable for travel.

My mom told me the time she had Traditional Chinese medicine. She said it had some wild stuff in it, like roots, mushrooms, bug shells, entire bugs, pearl powder, some minerals and whatever weird stuff they can find. Chinese medicine is basically real life alchemy.

Apothecary will grabs a bunch of grass, cook them in a pot, and drain the soup. And that is your potion (it's always brown, smells bad, and taste equally bad).

But! The patients don't want to carry a pot of soup home. So they'll actually cook down the soup until all the water is evaporated. It'll become dried powder (it's still brown, smells bad, and taste equally bad, but in powder form).

At this time there's two way of preparing your meds. One, they pack the powder, and you just need to stir it into water to have your potion (It kinda like return to soup, but really grainy). Two, they put honey in it (or other combining anent), and make it a pill (it's still brown, smells bad, and taste equally bad, but in pill form, and the honey didn't help much). You can make it big or small, depending on how strong you meds are.

Bitter Dumpling (苦団子, Niga-Dango). A mystic herbs medicine from Spirit Away. Chihiro took a bite and it's disgusting. She need to eat other thing to cover it's awful taste.

The Mind Awakening Pill (醒心丸, Seishingan). A dangerous drug from Naruto. It taste so awful Sasuke died XD

Anyway, your potion is now more portable. And if your pill is really small, you can swallow it with water to avoid its awful taste!

Wow I talk a lot. Thank you for coming for my TES talk.

How is alchemy in Elder Scrolls even supposed to work? How do you make a potion with a mortar and pestle? Are we grinding things into powder then steeping it in a bottle of water like an infusion?

That's my best guess anyway. I tried doing research but my tired brain keeps going "nope."

[hikarielizabethbloom]

I saw your tags about Once, and that's the one thing I don't like about large casts: the crackshipping. I utterly despise it. Have I done it before? Sure, upon initial meeting, especially if there's witty banter. But once it's clear theyre not going to be pursued, I'll stop. Take for example, in season 1, I was into Elendil and Galadriel. He seemed amused by her, and they even had fun and rode horses side by side. However, once he disavowed her after the battle, it was time to end it. I turned my attention to Haladriel in the finale.

Sorry, anon. But I'm all for rare pairs, crack ships, and so on. I don't really care about canon/endgame as long as the relationship is treated with respect.

Shipping should be fun! We should just keep remembering it.

Ship and let ship! There's no right or wrong. No moral. Ground. Just what you enjoy and what you don't 🤷‍♀️

And welcome into the Haladriel fandom! We do have fun most of the time 😂

[beargregor]

wait i'm curious, what makes you say that gregor doesn't like everyone else (if i read that post right)? just curious since i've never seen anyone else say that

i don't necessarily think gregor dislikes everyone else at lcb but i do think that gregor is an incredibly petty person that isn't nearly as close to the rest of the sinners and even outright dislikes some of them cough cough rodya cough cough which a lot of people just Refuse to see because he's as much of a doormat as he is. there's several examples i could get into to try and prove my point however i'll just focus on what i personally think to be the biggest ones.

additionally, this is going to be kind of long, so i'm adding a read more. read more! read it. sorry for being so wordy. i have several diseases.

Pt1. gregor is the type to try and get along at least decently with everyone, especially if he gets a good first impression from them.

this is less a point in favor of gregor's distance w/ the rest of the sinners and more just a contributing factor to it. once again there's several examples i could point to here but i think the most in your face one happened in canto I with yuri, as several people have pointed out. even before gregor comes clean about growing attached to her as quickly as he did because she reminds him of his sister, we get this interaction.

i'll go ahead and make the disclaimer now that i don't necessarily think gregor is the most reliable of narrators, especially when it comes to his feelings and interactions with most people, but from the way he acts when the topic of yuri comes up (and the way we still see him act even all the way up to c7, nearly a whole year after yuri's death) i don't see reason to question his sentiment here. gregor immediately got that aya and yuri were close, potentially even taking note of their traded belts, and went out of his way to get something nice for yuri despite hardly knowing her.

i feel like a lot of people have forgotten as much, especially since it's been so long since c1, but gregor actually spent a good bit of season 1 doing the exact same thing with the other sinners! gregor reads a connection between him and ishmael pretty quickly despite getting off to a rocky start

mostly because gregor can tell that ishmael is pretty sardonic in a very similar way to him. there's been multiple instances where ishmael and gregor have essentially expressed the same sentiment at different moments, most notably gregor's little argument after ishmael got shot with a decay ampule in c4

and ishmael's response to pilot talking about self-sacrifice in c5

i could go ahead and pull up more examples, but in general pm has gone out of their way to show us that gregor and ishmael are pretty similar, so it makes sense for gregor to assume that they're friends, right?

this will be pushpin 1. keep note of this for Later.

ishmael's only the first sinner we see gregor trying to do this with in s1, we also see him try it out with heathcliff, sinclair, and ryoushuu

he's tried to get along with charon, being one of very few sinners that we've seen actually try to establish a connection with her at all

even rodya, despite my insistence that gregor doesn't like her nearly as much as the fandom thinks he does

all of these seem pretty fine and dandy, right? sure it frequently leans towards self-degradation, micromanaging, and commiseration, but gregor can at least be pretty chummy with most of the sinners, can't he?

Pt2. hell's chicken was more than just comic relief guys please

i'm fully aware that this is quite the hot take, but i think hell's chicken deserves a lot more credit for character writing than the fandom gives it. hell's chicken gave us foreshadowing for several events, such as the donqui bloodfiend reveal

heathcliff's distortion in c6 (as well as hong lu's highly speculated distortion at some point in the future)

and ryoushuu and sinclair's continued connection by making him the odd one out on her team

which, hey! that implies something about gregor's odd one out, don quixote, too, doesn't it? yes. yes it does. that's pushpin 2. keep note of that for later.

speaking of pushpins, hey! that's pushpin 1!

splitting into teams is one of the major events in hell's chicken, and most of the sinner's choices are either motivated by very little, backhanded, or motivated primarily by not wanting to be on the opposite leader's side. i didn't include all of the picks, just because i feel like including most of them already gets this across, but i think gregor took one major thing from this: most of the sinners, when push comes to shove, will only side with gregor when they refuse to or can't take his opponent's side.

now, don't get me wrong, i'm fully aware that this is primarily intended to be comedic relief, but when gregor is being described as having his trust broken by ishmael or nearly crying because no one on his team properly sided with him for him, i feel like it's pretty fair to read into this.

something that i think is pretty important to remember in conjunction with this is that we know that gregor is the type to hold a grudge, both from his general attitude towards the G corp soldiers in c1 as well as his continued distaste for vergilius

even beyond the splitting into teams of hell's chicken, the sinners have given gregor plenty of reasons to feel bitter. i feel like this is something people have noticed but haven't really put a finger on, but it's kind of wild just how often the rest of the sinners make gregor the butt of the joke

and sure, we could argue that a fair few of these aren't really made with any ill intent. quite a bit of it could have been meant as harmless teasing, but with gregor being more sensitive than most, it coming from nearly all sides, and as often as it does? yeah, i think he's prone to taking it a bit personally.

Pt3. yes i do still think gregor was the third most important character in canto VII you guys gotta hear me out okay

of course, all of this leads up to the bit of the story i highlighted, doesn't it? c7? i totally get why people haven't really picked up on all the gregor things i did in it, seeing as they were mostly not *directly* said about him or by him.

personally, i think that gregor's distaste for talking about himself on any serious level and thus leading to him getting sort of "sidelined" narratively (which i take issue with that claim, but still. it's effective for getting what i mean across atm) is supposed to lead players to take a deeper look at the times gregor gets held up to other characters and compare and contrast what's being said about them by the matchup. as i showed earlier with his immediate latching onto ishmael, i think this is something gregor himself is at least partially aware of too.

so, that begs the question, who was gregor compared to in canto VII that makes me think it's one of the most critical pieces in understanding his character?

really, i'd like to avoid getting too lost in the analysis of this canto specifically, since i'd like to do a proper post about this later, but i figure i can bury the lede a little before doing it properly.

c7 features several characters being made to perform in sansón's play, acting out the relevant backstory for this segment of the plot. a lot of these characters have rather direct, degrading reasons for playing the roles they do.

outis, a character with an inflated ego who wants her journey to have a purpose, is made to play an aimlessly wandering villager with a single line.

hong lu and ryoushuu, two characters for whom families and the expectations placed upon them are likely going to play a major role, are made to play bloodfiends.

rodya, a character who resents her lot in life and is constantly shown to be eager to leave her destitution behind her and become someone special, is made to play a helpless villager that's too poor to even offer any money to the hero that saves her.

heathcliff, a character that has spent most of his life getting dehumanized by comparing him to beastly animals, is made to play a literal bear whose sole purpose in the plot is to get beat up and then quickly left by the wayside.

sinclair, a character that has two opposed parties essentially treating him as a macguffin to procure for their side, is made to play the character who was arguably the catalyst for this entire canto, not to mention playing a decently major role in ruina.

our star don quixote is made to play her father, the first kindred, but there's someone by their side the entire time, isn't there? don quixote's dear, steadfastly loyal companion. a character which don quixote has tasked themself with getting to come out of their shell?

hello again, pushpin 2.

gregor has been made to play our unreachable star, sancho. someone had to, of course. you can't really tell a story without it's main character, now can you?

now, i should once again give a disclaimer. i am not trying to say that i think adapting what happens to donqui/sancho in c7 to gregor is the road pm is going to take here, not only would that toe a bit past the line of foreshadowing, but it'd also just amount to rehashing that plotline again, which i don't think would make for a particularly exciting story.

what i DO think is that we can take a lot of the things that are said to either directly be the case for sancho and use them to inform how we see gregor.

and god, does playing sancho have some fucking implications for our favorite ossan archetype.

starting off, the earliest moment we get to see of sancho is quite literally her just waiting for death to take her in a pile of ashes.

which, i should remind everyone, is actually pretty damn close to what happens to gregor's literary counterpart at the end of the metamorphosis. gregor samsa experiences one final breaking point that pushes him over the edge and makes him decide to just wait for starvation to take him.

gregor and sancho both consider themselves to no longer be human, something which sancho goes out of her way to highlight repeatedly throughout the canto and gregor is quick to get defensive on her behalf for when outis starts really tearing into her

sancho spends quite a lot of this story denying herself the joys of community and friendship, despite knowing that, even with the rest of the sinners frequently making jokes at her expense and outright insulting her, they were things that she desperately craved.

and, while this is getting into my "outis is a red herring meant to distract us from gregor's eventual betrayal" theorizing, i also think it's worth noting for this discussion that sancho's fellow kindreds, her family, all seem to be under the impression that she dislikes them and ultimately her departure was an act of betrayal

and that, despite gregor being one of LCB's resident mood makers and attempted conflict de-escalators, one of the sinners that's most prone to making appeals to the bonds they've all forged together, only him and faust remained silent during everyone's speech

so yeah, i think there's quite a lot of little details and hints building up to the reveal that gregor's not quite as fond of everyone as he presents himself to be. i do think a lot of this ultimately comes down to gregor getting in the way of his own happiness, similarly to donqui, particularly because he's been frequently portrayed as something of a self fulfilling prophecy, especially by giving him as many christ allegories as they have by way of priest and garden of thorns. gregor is convinced that the rest of the sinners don't like him because he's not convinced anyone could like him, so he convinces himself that he hates them because why should he care if someone that he hates hates him too?

a lot of this ultimately ties back to my personal interpretation of what happens in the metamorphosis as well as my own theories regarding all the times gregor has made weird callbacks and references to lobcorp and ruina, but yeah. i think about this guy and his deeper characterization a fairly normal amount, i think.

to end this off i'll highlight one of my favorite little "gregor is fucking seething and trying so hard to keep it cool" moments, in the credits CG for c7 we see rodya teasing him by drawing a little horse on his window and actively pointing and laughing at it, which gregor really doesn't seem all too pleased about.

i personally think this ties into the other cruel part of sansón forcing gregor to play rocinante, which is the more literal "he's actually just straight up playing rocinante" side of things. gregor was quite literally made to play something less than human, less than even animal really, as he was reduced to nothing more than the shoes don quixote wore as she got to play the leading role. sansón directly makes jokes about gregor being nothing more than shoes in the play twice, which adds to this reading, i think.

this, imo, really plays into the adaptation of the metamorphosis! i've seen a lot of readings for the book that posit that, despite being the protagonist, gregor samsa can't really be considered the main character due to nearly everything he experiences in it being used to further his family's character development at his expense, which i think fits nicely with limbus gregor seemingly having the most said about him through indirect means by holding him up to other characters. also it's rodya carelessly making fun of His Big Major Insecurities™ again like she did in c1 which i always find fun. rodya i love you but god you're the worst.

[asmileforyourscrapbooks]

OMFG THIS COMMENT. GUISE. THAT LAST SENTENCE IS SO FUCKING RAW

edit: i see a lot of people arguing over the 'eat the rich' thing and i'd like to clear up my standing currently! i know they aren't the same kind of fancy multi-million corporation that our beloved phrase talks about, and the reason i agree to a point with this comment is that watcher is evidently trying to become that. they're doing some shitty things in regards do disregarding poorer fans, and are seemingly blatantly ignoring the economic crisis by saying 'everyone can afford that!', all in direct contrast to their entire branding of being leftist and openly supporting things like eat the rich.

"You said 'eat the rich' then handed us the forks, laid on the plate, and expected us to spare you?" at least from my understanding isn't flat-out saying watcher are now the rich we eat, but are well on the track to becoming so, and are quickly developing the same ego.

BUT!! don't like people directly hating on steven like that!! they're all grown men who can make their own decisions, and pretending like shane and ryan are out little baby beans and then calling steven evil and whatnot isn't okay. they can all be held equally accountable. though i do somewhat understand being the most disappointed in shane, as he's the one who speaks on shit like eating the rich the most, and is generally more outward with his ideals, so it's perfectly reasonable to feel betrayed more deeply. but bottom line is they're all equally accountable for this decision.

some shit we can't take back. i probably got pissed and said some weird/uncool shit initially because of the intense emotions i was dealing with, which other people amplified. i do regret some of the things i've said to a point when it comes to being hateful, but i can't just un-say it all, so i'm not even going to try. i'm going to leave everything be and allow it to serve as something to look back on for what not to do in future circumstances. while this new path for watcher is, in my opinion, not the smartest and generally really shitty, they're human beings who make mistakes, and they deserve our acknowledgement of that.

in short, i don't like it but i'll stop being a bitch about it because they don't deserve that. also sorry for the wall of (probably incoherent lmao) text i got passionate <3

edit 2: guys. im screaming. the apology was amazing imo and i genuinely think they really mean it, like it doesn't seem bullshitted. i think they realized they fucked up for reals and feel bad. im so happy for them, but also for us as fans. yay :D

[nikkisticki]

Mostly correct, but at the same time I find there's a mistaken belief that holding any form of anger or hatred will corrupt you, which I think is technically true if you take it to it's natural extreme, but once again I have to make the argument of self-responsibility.

Anger is a very valuable tool when applied correctly (a lengthy topic I won't go into but if you learn to use your emotional bursts rationally it can be very useful in various ways), and it's appropriate to get mad at fools for being fools. I'm not speaking towards actively attacking them, obviously, but when it comes to my blog where I'm not in the process of trying to talk to these people and actively attempting to avoid them, I don't think it matters as much as the joy I feel stringing together a fun insult (Although as my sweet ferny friend has pointed out, my angle of attack was a bit ableist and not really against the substance of their flaws.)

I entirely agree that being hateful directly towards them is entirely pointless with few exceptions (If you're in a situation where someone isn't ever going to change, what you say only matters to those viewing the conversation that's opinion will be potentially up for change. In that case, there is value in lowering yourself to their level and responding to their lukewarm insults with some spicy retort once you've already given them the chance(s) to be civil in scenarios where onlookers would respond positively to that), because ultimately the only way you'll ever convince them of anything is to make them ask the questions themselves.

As I said, I think you're right, but people choose to believe the things they are told. I believe it's ultimately just as dehumanizing to consider them as simply being "unable to see the propaganda for what it is because of a lack of education and active malice towards them" as to call them a pile of spare parts.

There is value in peace, but it is better to be a warrior in a garden then a gardener in a war, and I'm telling you for sure that these people aren't going to de-radicalize. The best option we have for the future is that they spend their whole lives hating imaginary enemies so they don't have to change and then die quietly, having only harmed people psychologically with their words and actions.

Edit: Which, when you consider they elected the people currently doing massive damage to people on the basis of wanting them to do damage to those people, it sort of strikes me that it's already long past that point.

At the very least, making people hate bigots isn't a problem that I see as being as problematic as the bigots themselves.

You know Elon probably saw this and was super mad he still can't fire Halli.

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."