#and the idea of going into a bar alone sounds like. i would rather eat glass.

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I miss doing bar trivia bc now I just have to wait for something relevant to come up at work to tell people a bunch of fun facts.

[barleyo]

Prom Queen. (Re-upload)

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: tumblr took this down. I'm re-uploading it because idgaf. No tags because I'm lazy, read at your own risk. Obviously reader is of age, and obviously, if you DON'T LIKE what I write, DON'T READ what I write, thanks :3

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT AHEAD

You had always dreamed about your senior prom. Even as a young girl, you thought exhaustively about how the night would go. You would wear a gorgeous gown, drink spiked punch, dance and laugh with friends, and most importantly, you would go with a cute boy.

Those dreams fell flat when your strict father outlawed prom for you. He said that prom was just an opportunity for hyped up, hormonal teens to gyrate on each other on school property. Prom was a night where girls opened their legs for their subpar dates who barely made the effort to scrounge up a corsage for them. Prom was the chance for unwanted, "happy accident" babies to be made by teenaged fuck-ups.

In short, prom was for whores. Leon would be damned if he would have a nasty whore of a daughter. It made him sick to even think of you wasting your sweet, nearly virginal body on a shit-for-brains boy whose only sexual experience no doubt came from his own right hand.

So, yeah. Prom was a nonstarter.

Of course, this angered you to no end. You could be heard sobbing each night after Leon's declaration of war on you having any fun was drawn up, but a small part of you thought it was the best.

You knew that prom wasn't like how it was shown in the movies. You wouldn't get an invitation from the hottest boy in school, you wouldn't get there in a decked out limo, and the punch would be lukewarm and watered down at best.

You wouldn't dance: you would have no one to dance with. You would sit alone at one of the tables eating fun sized candy bars aimlessly scattered on the repurposed lunch room tables in your school's gymnasium, while a horde of your peers would dance nasty on each other, being free and young.

The whole time, nobody would look at you, aside from the sly glance paired with a snicker shared between two gossiping teens, indulging in the rumors that floated around about you.

Nobody would want to dance with the girl who had an overprotective daddy that fucked her. Especially when that girl liked it.

The more you thought about it, the more you came to peace with the idea of staying in with Leon. Technically, being demanded to stay at home with him meant that you were sort of, kind of asked on a "date" with a hot guy, even if you shared DNA with said hot guy.

On the day of the dance, Leon had the decency to let you skip school. You sulked in bed the entire day, thinking about what could have been, rather than what was. He did not bother you, having enough sense to let a sleeping dog lay, but at exactly 10:00 PM , you felt your phone ding under your pillow.

'Come downstairs. Wear a dress. Not one of your church ones.'

His texts were always sharp and to the point, just like he was. Commanding. Strict.

You, as always, obliged. You put on one of his favorites, the one that always left his eyes lingering on your body a little too long. As you made your way down the stairs, you heard the faint sound of romantic music playing in the living room, which you naturally followed like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Dad, what's all this?"

Your living room looked like a scene stripped from a cheesy romance movie. Rose petals scattered on the floor, lights dimmed low, and a tall, hot stud in the midst of it all. Your father's face was stern, but past that you could see the inkling of excitement in him.

"Your prom. I know it meant a lot to you," he said gruffly, adjusting the collar of the nice shirt he wore, "so I did what I could. Hope this'll make you forgive me."

Your feet pattered softly against the cool flooring, bringing your body along with them. You took a final look around the room and let your eyes lock onto your dad.

"I do. S'okay, I'm not mad at you, daddy."

How could you ever be mad at him? Your perfectly stubborn, grouchy, yet sexy father? Your father who—

"You know I just want the best for you, right peach?" Leon grasped you in his arms, snaking both arms around your lower waist while he rested his chin on your head. "Just wanna keep you safe."

"I know."

You both stood like that for a moment, neither speaking. The soft sound of the music slowly playing in the background was the only noise filling your sense. Well, that and the husky sound of your father's breathing. And his manly, leathery scent. His strong hands placed on your body, too.

You heard him clear his throat briefly and snapped to give him your attention, something you found yourself doing often. He liked when you listened to him quickly, made him feel respected.

"May I have this dance?" Leon asked, giving you a rare smirk when you nodded.

One of his hands stayed on your waist, while the other took your hand gently and clasped it in the air, leading you into a sweet waltz. With each step, he guided you with rigid, calculated movements. His movements were neat, as if he had been planning every moment of your shared dance.

The longer you danced with him, the closer your bodies pressed together, creating a faint friction between the two of you. In that moment, any negative emotion you had felt before faded away, leaving only the image of him in your mind.

Leon knew your signs. He'd spent a long time decoding them, and the look on your face was one he read easily. With a tilt of his head, he leaned in, a soft chuckle escaping his lips when he felt your increased heartbeat against his chest.

You made the first real move, pushing your tongue deeper into his mouth. Kisses were the only time he let you take on a dominant role. He thought it was cute, feeling your smaller tongue fuck into his mouth like you were in charge. Not wanting to spoil your fun, he softly guided you backwards to the wall, giving him a surface to work with.

"You're a bold one, I'll give you that," he said, breaking the kiss. "Can't ever actually ask for what you want, but you go wild once you get it, don't you?"

You hummed, letting him pull you up and wrap your legs around his waist. His hand slid under your dress and pushed it up, giving him a view of your panties.

"God, you're soaked. So wet f'me." Leon stuck his fingers in his mouth, slurping on them and covering them with spit before he forced them past the band of your underwear. Tight, quick circles were made around your clit, denying you of any time to think. "Nobody else can play with this, you hear me? This is all mine, you don' let anybody else have you," his voice was a warm whisper that fanned across your ear.

"I promise, 'm all yours. Don't want anyone else, only you, daddy," you swore desperately, meaning every word even if it sounded like you were just babbling on.

"Fuckin' slut." He spit a fat glob onto his fingers and spread it around your cunt, lubing you up. "Thought I raised a sweet girl. Bet you act like this for the boys at school too, huh?" Your panties were slid to the side.

His teeth clenched together jaggedly as he prodded the tip of his cock at you entrance, drawing in a deep breath when he pushed it fully in.

"No, never! I don't want any of them, just want you. They aren't good enough."

"Yeah? Greedy little cunt only wants her daddy, is that right?" The ego boost he was getting from this ran through him immediately. He wound your clit up with his thumb, quickly zigzagging on the little bud to match his thrusts. "Good. They don't deserve to feel you—"

You cunt fluttered around his length at his words, leaving him biting down on his lip.

"Just like that. Gonna make me cum if you keep that up, baby."

Your mouth hung open, pathetic mewls leaking from it. Each sound he drew out of you was nearly pornographic. He bullied your guts and hit deep, far deeper than your fingers ever could, and left you far more needy than your digits did.

"Inside this time?" You had wanted it so bad for the longest time, and instead he would pull out of you and coat your soft tummy or the fat of your ass with his ropes. "I need to feel it, please. I don't wanna be empty again, jus' fill me up," you slurred, drool spilling from the corner of your plush mouth.

"Yeah," he huffed, nodding along with you words, ready to finally jump at the opportunity, "yeah, inside. I need it too, baby, you have no idea. Daddy wants to spoil you real bad, he wants to give you all the babies you want."

Your lower body tensed, squeezing him tightly as the familiar rhythmic pattern of your orgasm set in. It felt so right in that moment, like your body was made for this exact purpose: being a warm hole for your dad to fill with his hot cum.

"Ready?" He said it more like a demand than a question, and within seconds he was creaming into you, still pounding your cunt like he hated you. "Take it, don't spill."

He kept his dick sheathed away inside of you, hoping that if he kept most of his cum in you, it would take. His brow was slick with sweat and his face was flushed. He had never looked so attractive before.

You ran your hand through his hair to get his attention. When he darted his eyes up to you, you mumbled something about wanting to go again.

"Anything for you baby. Night's still young, isn't it? We got time."

[sundrop-writes]

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary:

While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader - Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut, Sexual Tension.

Word Count: 2,800 words

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of ‘pickup artistry’: the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl’; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good’ as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama’ (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader’s neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing’ (in this case the word 'little’ is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: This was based on a request, and the original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn’t stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn’t want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it. 

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable. 

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous). 

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable. 

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life. 

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey. 

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression. 

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.) 

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique. 

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic. 

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do? 

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages. 

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up. 

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway. 

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you. 

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him. 

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you. 

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him. 

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech. 

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice. 

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man. 

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door. 

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside. 

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking. 

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.” 

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?” 

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle. 

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds. 

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.” 

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam. 

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake. 

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.” 

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation. 

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom. 

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin. 

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her. 

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid. 

You had to do something. 

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you. 

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop. 

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it. 

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips. 

You imagined her approaching you at a bar. 

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you. 

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now. 

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her. 

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy. 

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off. 

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips. 

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.) 

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close. 

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm. 

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-” 

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief. 

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet. 

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious. 

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you. 

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight. 

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light. 

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch. 

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves. 

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding. 

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest. 

“You.” You whined quietly. 

Emily chuckled gently. 

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction. 

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue. 

“Come to me.” 

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“Come on. Come to Mama.” 

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog. 

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss. 

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy. 

She was showing you who was in charge. 

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now. 

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control. 

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight. 

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.” 

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone. 

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.” 

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written here. And if you like my writing style, please check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists for other fandoms.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (Smut Blurb)

Concept: While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Word Count: 2,800

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure you follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

Please read my pinned post before interacting.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of 'pickup artistry': the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl'; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good' as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama' (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader's neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing' (in this case the word 'little' is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: The original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn't stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn't want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it. 

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable. 

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous). 

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable. 

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life. 

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey. 

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression. 

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.) 

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique. 

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic. 

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do? 

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages. 

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up. 

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway. 

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you. 

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him. 

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you. 

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him. 

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech. 

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice. 

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man. 

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door. 

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside. 

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking. 

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.” 

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?” 

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle. 

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds. 

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.” 

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam. 

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake. 

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.” 

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation. 

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom. 

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin. 

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her. 

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid. 

You had to do something. 

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you. 

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop. 

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it. 

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips. 

You imagined her approaching you at a bar. 

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you. 

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now. 

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her. 

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy. 

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off. 

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips. 

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.) 

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close. 

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm. 

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-” 

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief. 

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet. 

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious. 

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you. 

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight. 

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light. 

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch. 

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves. 

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding. 

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest. 

“You.” You whined quietly. 

Emily chuckled gently. 

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction. 

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue. 

“Come to me.” 

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“Come on. Come to Mama.” 

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog. 

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss. 

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy. 

She was showing you who was in charge. 

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now. 

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control. 

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight. 

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.” 

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone. 

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.” 

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

[nr1chaedickrider]

'Universe.'

got this idea long ago from @allfortzu 's satzu story and i just need to write something about the universe theory <3

cw: (mostly) fluff, some angst, some smut

_______________________________________

It's quiet. A half-empty bottle of beer in each of your hands. Both of you are leaning against the bed while sitting on the floor. Chaeyoung's head on your shoulder. You are both cold, but somehow you warm each other up.

"Do you believe in the multiverse theory?" asks Chaeyoung as she looks at you, sitting upright again.

"Partly?" you reply, taking a sip of the beer.

"Kind of interesting to think about." says Chaeyoung, her head leaning back.

"Do you think... what would you and I be like in different universes?" she asks. It makes you think.

Both of you in other universes?

"Never thought about it that way," you reply.

In this universe, you are good friends. You've known each other for a long time.

But what about in other universes?

In this universe, you don't know each other, or rather, you don't know each other yet.

You have just moved to Paris, Chaeyoung has been living there for years. After weeks you start to notice more and more the flower shop which is in the same street as your apartment.

When you stand in front of it, you realize that it also offers tattoos? A strange but interesting combination.

You open the door and are immideatly greeted by the scent of flowers, as well as soft music in the background coming from a record.

"Hello!!!" says a woman enthusiastically to you, she looks smaller than you, her hair color the same as yours, her arms full of tattoos.

You smile at her and walk to the counter.

"I haven't been here that long, and I wanted to decorate my place a bit... and maybe get a tattoo on the spur of the moment?" you laugh, which she returns. "I have the perfect Flowers for you, and maybe the perfect Tattoo!" she smiles and winks at you.

Maybe it's a beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Maybe more?

In this universe you know each other, but you are probably your worst enemies.

You're both students in an art university, and you're the best students in the class. In competitions, it's always about which one of you wins. But, bad for you, Chaeyoung wins more than you.

"This can't be true," you mutter sourly as it is announced that she has won again. You walk out of the room, you don't need any more 2nd place trophies that just remind you that you can't be better than the Son Chaeyoung.

You walk to the next art classroom - the next competition is already in a month and you want to win. You sit down on a chair in front of a slightly larger canvas, your pens and brushes beside you on a stool. You hear the door open behind you.

"Drawing again? Wouldn't you rather give up? I'm going to win again anyway. Use your talent for other things," Chaeyoung says in her teasing voice. You grit your teeth because honestly, you feel like beating her up right now.

"Leave me alone." you reply. You hear a little giggle from her. "Good luck winning against me then" she says ironically and walks out. You hold the brush so tightly that it breaks in half. You sigh as you put away the two broken halfs.

Here, you hate her more than anything.

In another universe, you have a rather... different relationship.

Chaeyoung's head between your thighs, your hand in her hair while you moan. A breathy "f-fuck-" leaves your mouth. You've met her in a bar, and from the eye-fucking to the quick talking stage onto this perfect moment.

You breath heavily as Chaeyoung eats you out, her tongue in your hole while her nose hits your clit in a unusual pace.

Maybe its the alcohol, or Chaeyoung's perfect skills, but you cum quickly into her mouth, the sound of her drinking your juices makes you even more horny.

She sits upright again, smirking at you while her finger is resting on your clit which makes you grind your hip against her finger, signalising Chaeyoung that you definetly want more.

She leans forward, kissing you while one hand plays with your breast, the other one drawing circles on your clit. You moan into her mouth as she explores it with her tongue. She leaves your lips and her mouth lands on your neck, sucking, biting, kissing every inch of skin, her fingers now burried deep inside of you. Your hands on her shoulder, your nails digging into her skin while your toes curl into the bedsheet.

In this Universe, you dont really know eachother except your name or how you look without clothes, how you moan and taste. And maybe it will stay like that.

Maybe not.

In a universe far away, you are older.

You've been Chaeyoung's girlfriend for years.

Chaeyoung is on a set right now filming her new music video, and you're visiting her for support.

She fulfilled her dream of becoming a singer about a year ago, and it went even better than she thought. Her debut song became a hit, so now the next album almost a year later.

"Hello!!!" you call in happily, Chaeyoung smiles at you as she walks away from the set to hug you.

"I missed you" you say as you both walk to an empty room so you can talk in peace.

"Me too" Chaeyoung replies but in some weird tone.

You sit down on a couch as she takes your hand in hers, a light sigh falling from her lips.

"Are you okay?" you ask worriedly. Chaeyoung is silent, but then-

"My company wants me to break up with you... it's just to start with, they don't want to ruin my reputation, they say after a year or so we can do things together in public too" she says, her voice breaks, but in the end it sounds like she agrees and wants to take a year off??

"Chaeyoung..."

"You know it's my dream..." she says, since this conversation started she hasn't even looked at your face once. You wipe a tear from your cheek.

"You know I've always supported you. Then I'll do it again now," you say, standing up and walking out of the room, you hear Chaeyoung say something but you're too afraid to look back.

You came to support her, but it seems you did in a different way.

"I love you forever," she said as you left.

"I love you too," you say to yourself as you wave to a cab.

Here in this world you can't be together, but that's okay. You love each other.

"Do you think they hate us?" asks Chaeyoung, quietly and fearfully.

"I don't. I honestly don't want to think about it" you answer and sigh.

In this universe, you also love each other, but no one knows but the two of you.

You are sitting on a terrace of a bar, among young adults like you it is known as a safe place for "people like you", the extra exclusive terrace is as good as dark, a few candle lights on the tables from the different people. Half empty drinks on your table. Your view of the sea, the waves as good as silent.

"No matter what they think of us, I will always love you" you say and smile, your hand on hers. Your cell phone rings, a call from your mother.

"Hold on a second" you say and answer it.

"So how's the date going?"

Right. You told her you were out with a male friend. You sigh.

"It's going fine."

"I hope he likes you, you should finally marry someon-"

"I have to go, see you later mom." you hang up and turn off your phone.

"Your mom is bugging you again?" asks Chaeyoung, you nod.

"How about we go for a walk?" she smiles.

"I'd love to" you both put money on the table and walk out of the bar, a walk along the water, your favorite activity, unobtrusive yet somehow beautiful too. You walk hand in hand, Chaeyoung kisses your cheek. She's been doing it for years, but every time you get butterflies in your stomach. You sit down on a bench, your head on her shoulder.

"Chaeyoung?" it's quiet.

"Hm?"

"I want to go to another city..

With you" you say, it's not a question, just a fact. It's a sentence full of love.

"Me too" she says and smiles.

"I want to marry you" Chaeyoung says, it's just like you said, a fact, full of love, like a proposal.

"Then let's get married" you kiss her, slowly and so soft.

In this Universe you're scared to show your love.

"Its funny to think about us in different universes" she says, your beer already empty, your mind slowly coming back after you were thinking about everything.

You and Chaeyoung in different places.

"You know... it's interesting and all... but I'd much rather just be here, in the present universe. With you," you say, while looking at her. It's more of a whisper, but loud enough for Chaeyoung to hear.

She smiles at you and nods.

"You're right" she says, setting the beer in her hand on the floor and turning to you, her hand on your cheek.

In this universe, you are good friends.

She comes closer, her warm breath on your lips, she looks into your eyes, then at your lips, and back into your eyes.

You both come closer, her lips on yours. A slow, pleasant kiss.

Maybe you are more than friends, but it doesn't matter. You have each other, and you would rather be nowhere else but here.

[feralferretxp]

Headcanon: Bang is from a rich household/had a noble upbringing

Alright, I know this post is quite long compared to what I normally post. Just kinda went off with it, heh. I've had this post idea for a loooooong time but finally got around to this, so let's go!

So I don't know how many people also think this, but I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar that Bang is from a wealthy family and had some sort of noble upbringing. Like kinda Similar to Shaggy from Scooby Doo (these two actually have a lot in common the more I think about it) But anyway, I'm gonna give some evidence to support this headcannon.

First off is his full name: Bangford Bipplebop III. I mean, come on, that's one fancy sounding name. Plus, this means he's part of a lineage of some sort.

Now for clips:

In the 1st clip, Bro's legit using gold as a napkin while eating chocolate. He loves that bar of chocolate more than a bar of gold, which is saying something. Either he has no worries about wealth or just that he's a big foodie. Could be both ngl

The 2nd one is just him showing off his money. I mean, nothing really to add here. I know it could just be for a gag, but still.

So Bang doesn't show concern about wealth. Plus, look at Bing's reactions of concern and shock in both clips, which would be a typical person's reaction to seeing these things, but Bang just rolls with it, I guess.

I could also go off about the whole "Stocks" episode in Answer Time S2, where Bang basically gets dragged into starting a multi-billion dollar business that he didn't even want to start at all. He just wanted to learn what stocks are for a question. When the company's stocks plummeted, he wasn't as sad or devastated as Sue, the investor who helped start the business. He was never in it for the money or cared about having it.

Another point is that he's shown to have proper etiquette and manners, despite being depicted as laid-back dude who's very relaxed.

The 3rd clip is when 341B was talking to Lady Eleanor III, a royal architect for the Queen. While the other members chatter and greet her casually, Bang merely waves politely and even puts his hands behind his back as a sign of respect. What a distinguished little gentleman

And the 4th one is when they said hello to a kid named "King" and Bang does a kneel/bow gesture. Bing also does this, but I think he does it in a more silly/less serious way because you would think then that this is a group gag for all of them to bow, yet Bo doesn't. Bang does it more formally.

So yeah, Bang knows proper etiquette when dealing with noble people, so he must've learned this somewhere. Perhaps when growing up.

I just also like this headcanon in general since even if he had a wealthy upbringing, he's very humble and kind. He's not snooty or upright, which not saying all rich people are like that, but just showing how he made his own choice at one point in his life to just be loose and down to earth. He doesn't care about having wealth, but rather values friendships and the simple pleasures of life. Plus with him being super coded as a hippie type, I imagine he went that route despite what his parents wanted or expected of him, with Bang also being part of a lineage and such.

I do wonder if we will ever get to see his or the rest of 341B's families and what they're like. I'm just really curious and love learning about the worldbuilding of the storybot world and seeing glimpses of 341B's lives outside of work. I love seeing stuff like that in stories.

But yeah, let me know what you guys think or want to add to this theory/headcanon! I don't personally think this is something hard to get behind, I mean, just his name alone gives off some sort of impression that he's not just some average joe off the street.

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟩

The Best Meal Money Can Eye

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: After deciding to head to Rosie's Emporium, you realize you'll have to take the old fashioned method of travel instead of using your eye network, as you can't afford Alastor discovering your powers. As you make your way to the front of the hotel and out the lobby, you think you've gotten away without anyone noticing. Until Alastor himself materializes behind you and insists you join him for a meal in Cannibal Town before you both go to Rosie's together. While you find him irritating, you acquiesce. A little diner meal of fried eyes does sound like a nice treat. However, Alastor doesn't take you to a little diner. In fact, this place is unbelievably fancy, dimly lit, and slightly secluded. You're not believing what you're seeing. There's no way in Hell that Alastor means this to be a date, right?!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cannibalism

Getting to Cannibal Town has taken you longer than you’d anticipated. You want to use the network of eyes that connect all of Hell for you so easily, but after observing Alastor’s shadow being far… ‘friendlier’ than you’d anticipated, always listening, always watching at the most inopportune moments, you decide to go the old fashioned way. Looks like I won’t be using the eyes to materialize around or in the hotel. What a waste. So many eyes and I can’t even use them as transportation. At least I can use them to see.

So you leave your room and locking it behind you, you stick the key in your non-subspace pocket. Then, after a quick walk down the hallway, you descend the stairs.

You hear movement in the kitchen, but the lobby is otherwise empty. Even the bar is empty; Husk otherwise occupied. So you make your way to the front doors.

Just as you push through the double doors and out into the bright hellish sunshine, thinking you’d managed to exit the building without being noticed by any of the residents of the hotel, you see Alastor materialize behind you.

“And where might you be headed off to, darling?” He looks at you, all smiles as always, eyes glinting with something, yet of what you’re uncertain.

You turn to face him, pulling your hairpin out to turn it into a cane as you do. “I decided to head to Cannibal Town. I’m running low on eyeballs. I miscalculated how many I’d be eating. Plus I can stop in and surprise Rosie, tell her that I’ve settled into the hotel.”

“Allow me to accompany you! I was just on my way to one of the eateries there myself. It’s a lovely little place. You’ll eat with me, and then we’ll go to Rosie’s together.”

He didn’t actually plan on going to Cannibal Town. You reason to yourself. If he had, he’d already be there, by means of his shadows. Instead, he’s here, talking to me? Why? I’d much rather go alone, be able to gossip with Rosie about him, but instead he’s here. Yet, a nice meal at a cannibal diner does sound lovely, even if it is with him. I could go for some fried eyeballs. He studies you as you think, but waits until you reply, a look in his eye you assume is amusement. “I…suppose I could be amenable to such an experience.”

“Well then, shall we go my dear?” He answers immediately, like he had known it would be your answer all along. He holds his arm out for you to take, and you consider asking him if he’s feverish. This is the first time he has ever given consent for you to touch him.

This is a test, you decide as you blink back at him, and I have no idea how to get a passing grade. You swallow and link your arm with his, your arm resting gently on his bicep.

Using your cane impedes walking with him like this, so you shrink it and carry it as a baton behind your back, almost mimicking how he is carrying his.

While he chatters on and on about most things most often, he is quiet for once, content to walk in silence with you, arm in arm. You walk this way for several blocks, listening to the startled yells as passersby recognize him, or rarely, the both of you. While the recognition is entertaining, the silence between you is not. It sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine, and you pray he doesn’t notice. “Are you alright, my dear?” He asks, your prayer evidently unanswered.

Avoiding the question, you ask him one in turn. “Why don’t you ever call me ‘Theia’? What’s with this ‘my dear’, ‘my darling’ business, Alastor?” The way you say those pet names drips with irritation, despite your smile.

“It is because, my dear, if you’re going to tell me an alias and openly admit that it isn’t your real name, I have the right to call you anything I like. It’s an added benefit that it flusters you.” He smirks, and your smile, still on your face as it always is, grows tight and you glare at him, and try to hide your flush, though whether it’s of embarrassment or something else even you’re not sure.

“Well I’m comforted knowing you haven’t managed to catch feelings for me. How dreadful that would be.” You snark dramatically.

“Of course not.” He actually shudders. “That would truly be absolutely horrid. Me? Feelings? Unthinkable. I am unshakeable, as always, darling.”

“And where will you escalate beyond these insufferable pet names, Al? Will you whisper sweet nothings in my ear to fluster me next? Shower me with useless trinkets and baubles I have no desire for, just to see me on edge, wondering what your next move will be? Or is that too romantic for the big bad Radio Demon to handle?” You should know better than this. You’re playing with fire, and it will only get you burned, but you’re afraid you might like the burn too much. You know he doesn’t have interest in such things, with you or anyone. In his next breaths, he confirms this for you.

“Of course not.” He replies with a surprisingly jovial chuckle. He is remarkably unphased by your words, or at least not outwardly. He leans down and whispers into your ear as you continue to walk, “Courtship is a dance I have no interest in partaking because romance is a waste of time and energy. Anyone swept away by desire has already succumbed to its spell. However, I am aware that words of meaning are far more valuable, darling, especially when traded in secret. I don’t give gifts, but if I did, they’d be the most interesting, captivating, and useful items you’ve ever owned. I’d have you wrapped around my little finger.You’d be smitten, drunk, obsessed, addicted. You’d crave me, desperate to spend every waking moment by my side.” You shiver as you flush, your body betraying you as he smirks, knowing he’s caught you. You stumble a little but you manage to remain upright. Admittedly, him holding onto your arm has a significant part in that. You’re still smiling, somehow. “And then I’d tell you that I don’t love you, that I never have, and I never will.” He pulls away then, and, still holding onto your arm and now at a respectable distance, as if he hadn’t just practically just uttered filth in your ear, declares loudly, “Ah, we’re here!”

As he pulls you to the front of the restaurant, you let him lead you as you find yourself deep in thought. So deep that you don’t notice the name of the place. He’s just trying to rile me up, you decide, and he’ll use my weakness against me if it’ll let him see what I’m hiding from him, from everyone. I can’t let him win. I won’t let him win. I don’t have to let my weakness be my downfall. I don’t have to tell him anything, no matter how much he chooses to make me uncomfortable with his affection, unearned or otherwise. It’s not as if he’d try to actually woo me…wait, is this…a date? In shock, you shrink your staff and slip it into your hair.

While you were zoning out, the waiter placed you at a booth away from the other patrons, alone in the corner. When you look around, this is not a diner, and you’re for once grateful you were overdressed for such an establishment. This is Tourniquet, ahigh class establishment usually reserved for couples. The cannibals at a nearby table appear to be in their Sunday best, as ironic of a statement as that seems to you aside. The tables are all nice, pristine blood red tablecloths and luxurious black leather booths. There is a lit candle on the table, and as a staff member approaches, he offers a bottle of blood wine for the table before he even hands you both your menus, then pours the wine into two glasses when Alastor accepts. He sets the bottle aside for more to be poured later.

The menus are in English, though for a moment you were worried they might not be. French, maybe, or Italian. While you know French fluently, your Italian is poor at best. Yet, it is the prices, the significance of the quality of the establishment that concerns you the most. The selection is pricey, and while not too much more than what you can afford, you know you’ll be insisting you go dutch while he will insist on being the perfect gentleman. FUCK, you swear so loudly in your head it seems as if it echoes. THIS IS A DATE. Or, you reason, at least the appearance of a date. His goal is to throw me off balance. You remind yourself. Don’t let him succeed. Be patient. Wait for an opportunity to surprise him, and throw the balance in my favor instead. You make an observation as you watch him carefully reading the menu. “Why did you choose this place?” You glance around at the other patrons in the restaurant. They are all couples of various ages, sitting close and seemingly smitten with each other. It is in striking contrast to how the two of you are sitting, almost rigid in your seats and as far away from each other as you can be, crammed into a tiny booth. “This clearly isn’t your usual venue.”

“Any excuse to try out a new restaurant with a lovely lady.” He says easily as he flips a page, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the candlelight.

Damn him and those gorgeous eyes, you think, and then you nearly glare at yourself for your thoughts betraying you. You pick up your wine and sip it, despite wanting to gulp the entire glass and pour yourself another. It is not sweet, as you’d anticipated, but bitter and nutty, tangy and bold. You keep your smile as neutral as you can manage and decide to zero in on the menu in front of you, desperate for a distraction. You mutter a ‘“Hmmm,” and decide to let him lead the conversation next if he so chooses.

The list of options is surprisingly short, though there are four full pages to view, the last full page is exclusively drinks and desserts. Despite the list being so short, there’s still a number of options that would suit your palate. Ooh, is that an eyeball pudding for dessert?

A different waiter comes over and asks if you are ready to order. Alastor looks to you and you nod in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to speak. “Venison bourguignon, bloody and hot.” You aren’t aware there are other deer sinners in Hell, but one must have been killed for this meal at the very least.

You swallow, finally finding your voice. “Cup of the eye soup, grilled eyes in vitreous humor with garlic and butter.” Then an idea. “And a few eyes for the wine.”

“Absolutely, madam. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“That’ll be all for now.” Alastor answers for you both. You let him. You lean back in your booth, trying to further the distance between the two of you. He leans forward to close the distance that you try to gain as the waiter walks away. “So tell me my dear, why do you like eyes so much?”

“I’d wink it’d be fairly obvious, Al.” You say gesturing to yourself. Your eyes on your dress squinting at him with amusement. “You’ll have to eye buttering me up better than that. As the seeing goes, don’t bite off more than you can view.” You aggressively leaned into eye puns to comfort yourself. It’s…not working, either. You still feel on edge, unsure, and frustrated. You breathe, sip your wine. The waiter brings a basket of eyes for you to put in your glass.

“Now, now, dearest. There’s no need to lash out or make a spectacle of yourself.” He says with that honeyed voice of his, and you don’t mean to start to relax but it’s working.

Damn him, using my comfort puns against me. You take a breath, and let yourself relax. If I let myself, it means he can think he’s won without him winning. You tell yourself, though you’re not sure you believe it. Fine, you decide. I’ll play eyeball. You lean in towards him then, letting your hands lift from your lap and onto the table. Your right plucks a few eyes from the basket and drops them into your wine, which you take a sip of, then set it back on the table. You rest your hands in front of you, one circling the base of the stem of the glass, the other palm down on the table.The eyes on your wrists blink at him. “I’ll only tell you about myself if you tell me about yourself. Your real self, not this,” You gesture to him, “cultivated mask of an image you show to the world.”

He scoffs and sips his wine. “This is my real self, dear. It’s not as if I have anything to hide.”

“Oh contraire.” You eye him, all of yours half lidded as you sip your wine. It tastes even better with the eyes inside it. “You have plenty to hide. We all do. Sure, you’re a cold, calculated killer. You prefer venison, making you a cannibal as a deer sinner. You like your coffee black and your jazz light. You’re an overlord, so you own far more souls than on which I could ever consider keeping a watchful eye—not even just one.” You smirk at your joke then continue. You’re surprised he’s letting you talk this long, but you seize the opportunity and don’t turn back. “Those are all surface traits. That’s like saying that I like eyes, that I have twenty-nine of them, that I prefer whiskey, my coffee and tea black, but all of them I will always prefer with eyes. I am more than that, just as you are more too. If you aren’t willing to let me take a peek beneath the surface of yours, why should you get even a glimpse of mine?”

He raises an eyebrow at you as you sip your wine, letting an eyeball fall into your mouth. As you chew and swallow, he asks, “What kind of peek do you propose?”

“Show me inside your radio tower.” You reply easily, then hold up a hand as he opens his mouth. “Not right now, of course. It would be a waste of a delicious meal and a wonderful afternoon.” Just as you say this, a waiter sets down your cup of eyeball soup. It’s steaming. You pick up your soup spoon and take a bite, one of the eyeballs and a handful of noodles on your tongue. You lick your lips in appreciation and take a sip of wine. “After Rosie’s, show me where you work. You show me the radio tower, and I’ll answer one question you wish to know. If I refuse to answer the question you have chosen, I will grant you the opportunity to ask another instead.”

“My, my, how magnanimous.” He says with a hint of sarcastic flair. “I find these terms agreeable. Shall we make this a deal?” The sparks of his power fly out from his hand as he holds it out to you, and you squirm in your seat.

You smirk. “Oh now you want to make a deal with me? Over an eyeful little thing like this? They always warn you about making deals with the Radio Demon, you know. They never warn you what deals with me are like. Want to know why?” You take a few more bites of your soup while it’s still hot, drinking the rest of your glass and letting the other eyeball fall into your mouth to chew and swallow.

“I’m sure you’ll bore me with the answer even if I say no, darling.” Alastor says as he takes a sip of his wine, retracting the offered hand. His eyes still sparkle with interest even as his words lack enthusiasm. He pours you another glass of wine and adds a few eyeballs to it for you.

Before you can answer, the waiter arrives, bringing Alastor’s bloody venison as you finish your eyeball soup. As you set your bowl aside, the waiter sets your grilled eyes before you. It makes your mouth water.

You slice into one of the eyes and catch a glimpse of reflective silver. “Mmm, a nocturnal. I haven’t had tapetum in years.” You take a bite then, and the burst of flavor is exquisite. You nearly moan at how well made this meal is. You can barely remember a meal as good as this. As you sip your wine, you watch him cut into his own meal. It oozes. It looks as if it barely touched the flames, exactly as he’d ordered. He spends an awfully long time with his eyes closed and chewing, so his own meal must be excellently prepared as well.

He notices you eyeing his food as you cut and eat another bite of yours. “Would you like to try some, my dear?”

“I don’t usually eat my food raw. I wouldn’t say no to a taste, however.” You expect him to cut off a piece and set it on your plate, but instead, he cuts a slice and feeds it to you. You fail to hide a blush as you close your mouth around the bloody meat. It’s not at all what you anticipated. While you still prefer eyes by far, it is rich with flavor. He eyes you as you chew, swallow, and after a few moments, take a sip of your wine.

“That was quite delicious. I can see why you enjoy it. Would you like one of my grilled eyeballs, Al?” You slice another piece and make sure it has a bit of tapetum on it, offering it to him in turn.

You watch as he leans forward to take it into his mouth, his tongue wrapping around the eye before he closes in on it, his own half-lidded. He’s watching you—not the food—as he does so. You feel your cheeks get hotter. Damn him and his stupid face, making me blush like this. You watch as he chews and swallows, curious to see how he will evaluate it. “The spicing is not to my personal choice but I do see the appeal. If spiced at all, it should have a kick to it. I should make you my Jambalaya sometime, my dear. It was my mother’s recipe. Now that has a kick to it. It was one of her favorites.”

“You love your mother very much, don’t you.” You observe from the way he looks as he speaks of her.

“Of course I do!” He raises an eyebrow as he cuts another piece of his venison. “What child doesn’t love their mother?”

“One that was abused by theirs, typically. Not that I was, I just know that happens.” You say with a shrug.

“What was your relationship with your mother?” Alastor asks, curious, after he sips his wine.

You take a bite of your meal, chew, swallow, and drink another sip of your wine before you speak. “My mother’s…always wanted what’s best for me, even if her actions didn’t speak in the same direction as her words. Though, to be fair, her relationship with my father wasn’t always great, and father’s word’s law.” You take another sip of your wine. “Loved me very much, cared for me as best they could. I didn’t live up to their expectations, of course, but children rarely do.” You shrug. “So basically a very average family dynamic, from what I understand.” You take a bite of your food, chew, swallow, then ask him, “You were an only child, weren’t you. Raised by your mother.”

“Were we a psychiatrist in our past life, my dear?” He raises an eyebrow, not answering but also not disagreeing with your assessment.

“No, but it doesn’t take psychiatric training to be observant about people. You act like an only child, showered by affection by a single parent. Meanwhile, I am the way I am partially because of my three younger siblings.”

“My, my, your parents certainly were…busy.” Alastor raises an eyebrow at you.

“My father wanted a son, but it took three girls before he could get him. My family was and probably still is the old fashioned sort, despite the modern times.” You shrug as you continue to eat your meal. “You don’t seem like the type of man who would be desperate for children, though, much less worrying about a male heir. You were never married, no children. Bachelor, and not in the confirmed sense. People never appealed to you in life, nor do they in death. Your mother was too good a woman to pester you about grandchildren, even if she did want them, and she did, as most mothers do, but as she pestered you enough about finding a nice young woman to settle down with I imagine that was enough for her to know that it wasn’t going to happen, even if she didn’t ever understand why.” You take a sip of your wine and let an eyeball fall into your mouth.

“How could you possibly know that?” He asks in between bites of venison. He had stopped looking at you. He may still be smiling, but you’d struck a nerve. Good, you think, let him be the one on edge for a change.

“It’s simple, really. I don’t know much about history, but you died around the nineteen thirties, right? Life was different than it is now. ‘Traditional’ expectations of marriage and families were still seen as commonplace, to the point that it wasn’t tradition, it was just expected. Men married women and had children. Women provided for and cared for the children, maintaining the home, cooking, and cleaning, while men worked outside the home to provide for said wife and children. Children became adults, and followed in their footsteps. Why it wasn’t really until the first World War that things started to change, and only then because someone had to work in the factories while the men were at war.” You take a bite of your meal. It is nearly finished at this point. “So of course your mother was not only hopeful but expecting you to marry some pretty girl and have children with her. It was just how things were done.”

“What about you, darling? Ever been married?” He looks at you then, eyes half-lidded again as he sips his wine and takes another bite of his also mostly gone meal.

“Thank goodness, no, though almost. Ran away from an arranged marriage.” You finish off the last of your wine and Alastor refills it immediately, adding another two eyeballs to the glass.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised. “I didn’t know arranged marriages still occurred.”

“They do, though not very often anymore.” You shrug. I wish I hadn’t brought it up. The wine is making you far looser than you’d intended. You take another bite of your food.

“Your family must have had some notoriety, then, to have your own family deciding who the father of your children was to be.” He decides as he polishes off the last of his meal.

“Something like that.” You reply vaguely. I’ve already said too much. You polish off yours as well, taking the last bite.

He sips his wine and hums in response. You sip yours too, hating another glass to go to waste despite your meal being finished. The waiter comes by to clear the plates, then asks if you desire dessert. Alastor answers for you. “The meal was delicious, as I had anticipated. We’ll take the check now. Dessert will be elsewhere tonight.”

“Absolutely, my good man.” The waiter bows.

As he turns to leave you call out, “Two separate checks please!”

“Nonsense, darling. I invited you out to this meal. Allow me to pay for it.” He sips his wine, daring you to disagree with him.

“Let me go dutch or I’ll tell Rosie you took me on a date.” You reply simply, daring him to continue to argue with you.

“You wouldn’t.” He looks both alarmed and mildly disgusted.

“Is that not what this is? Alastor, look around you. All I have to tell her is that you and I shared a meal together at Tourniquet and she’ll be able to fill in the blanks with her own assumptions, as she’s known to do.”

The waiter looks uncomfortable.

“You will pay for our next meal and you won’t tell Rosie about this afternoon.” Alastor decides, as if it is fate.

You pretend to mull it over. “What’s stopping me from telling her anyway?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how your heart seems to do little flips in your chest at the idea of another meal with him and failing.“You like getting a rise out of me, but I know Rosie would just love to ask you all sorts of questions about it.”

“You are a painfully insufferable woman, aren’t you.” He narrows his eyes and they’re threatening to turn to dials. The waiter looks frightened. You’re slightly aroused.

“You love it.” You counter, as if it, too, is obvious.

“I pay for dinner, order you the eyeball pudding, you pay for our next meal, and you don’t tell Rosie about this afternoon.” Alastor counters instead of an answer. You feel a small thrill at the knowledge that he hasn’t denied loving your presence in his life.

“You pay for dinner, order me the eyeball pudding, I pay for our next meal together, and I tell Rosie we had lunch together but I don’t tell her where. Final offer, take it or leave it.”

In lieu of agreeing, he turns to the very frightened waiter. “One eyeball pudding and the check.”

The waiter agrees breathlessly and leaves.

You smirk back at him over your wine. You got what you wanted. You’d been eyeing that pudding since the beginning of the afternoon, after all.

A/N: Hope you liked the little date scene! Theia is already kind of attracted to him so it's easy to see her leaning into this, even as she knows she shouldn't be. Chapter 8 will be Rosie's Emporium and then to Al's radio tower for the aforementioned two questions. Anyone have guesses on what those are and how it'll go? *Smirks* Hope to see you in the comments!

(Bonus points to anyone who catches my Welcome to Night Vale reference. I couldn't help myself; it was right there.)

First || Chapter 6 || Chapter 8

[moon-blanket]

My world is forever changed by the Cataclysm. Here is my descent to madness.

There's So Much More in my notes app, but that would make this post MILES long. So i've condensed it to the highlights :3

It's That Time of Year Again

Reminds me of the Prologue of the first Vaxis album from Coheed and Cambria for absolutely no reason at all. This is probably something only I will understand. And this is okay.

Light the Match

I just realized that Asher has taken over David's low, rumbly voice :((

Milo's "who you callin' a runt" had me on my knees. And Asher whispering to him afterward YEAAAAAAAH.

Alexis "shared a bed" with Quinn for FORTY YEARS ??? LMAO ??? The way Vincent drags Alexis's name through the mud is a little hilarious though, so bold.

One Misery for Another

I cannot get over how drastically different Imp!Lasko is from Prime Lasko. It's an entirely different person. I'm into it though.

Lasko wanting to continue their conversation when the "normal business hours" are over is a little unnerving !! That's a little icky sire !!

----

VINDEMIATOR MY BABY MY BABY I COULD CRYYY !!!!

He sounds so relieved to see them. I'm going to go Nuts.

Him hating that Freelancer has to put up with so much just to be able to See Him, and them saying that it's all worth it :(( He sounds so SAD. He just wants them SAFE :(((

THE RETURN OF "My Love" YEAAHHAHAHAAA.

Holy shit the Demons are gonna take over the Academy. Just the idea of all of the Demon Boys knowing each other makes me giggle though :3

Vin doesn't want Freelancer in any more danger than they already are just to help them in their cause :(( and he Knows that they would do it in a heartbeat regardless :((

ooough my freaking GOD Vin reminding them that they don't owe any of them to do this, He's the one that owes his life to THEM :(( HE JUST WANTS THEM HAPPY AND AT PEACE, AND HE WANTS TO GIVE IT TO THEM SO BAD. WAAAAH.

God the acting in this video is SO GOOD ROOOOOAR.

Was Anton in this before he was introduced in the Prime Universe ? bc that's Cool if that's the case.

The Luxury of Morality

WE BACK WITH ASHER YAAAA I'M SAT AND I'M LISTENING.

He already sounds like he's warmed up to Babe a significant amount. He sounds so soft. I'm shaking the bars of my cage about this.

Asher mentioning Avior is So weird to me. My worlds are colliding.

Once again he sounds So Much like David and that makes me So Sad.

"I'm already dead. We all are. I'd rather go out knowing I tried something. Anything." i'm tearing UP.

"You want to know so bad ? Sit." AAAAAH OKAY !!! OKAY !!!

Alexis killed the Keaton Pack all by herself ?? Oh my god ???

OUGUGHHhhash Asher saying that Babe gave him and his Pack something to fight for :(( A way for his anger to actually Mean someething. To make something Good of his life for once.

He's forever grateful to them WAAAH. OUCH DUDE. Okay yep he's my Imperium Favorite. We have a Winner !!!!

What You Deserve

Oh, it's Imperium Vega !!! he's actually very sweet, I see the appeal now. This is so nice.

----

OH we're picking Right Back Up with Freelancer and Lasko. This seems.... kind of normal right now. I feel Dread.

Asking about partners... saying "That body..." TO them... HEY. Leave them alone >:(

"You're with your own kind" is a CRAZY thing to say Lasko !!

VIN HAVING TO WATCH THEM DO ALL OF THIS ? OH MY GOD. VIN WANTING TO JUMP IN AND SAVE THEM I'M GOING CRAZY !!!! Hearing him this heated has me kicking my feet !!! and giggling !!

Dude i'm scared while Freelancer is doing this !!! the door rattling is frightening !!!

HE TOOK ALL THE AIR OUT OF THE ROOM ??? WHAT THE FUCK ??

Lasko these pain sounds are So Interesting !!!

"Get your Pet to Safety" / "They are Not my Pet." / "You and I use different words for the Same sentiment. Get the "human that you care for" out of here"-- EATING THIS UP WITH A FORK AND KNIFE.

VEGA CUT LASKO'S THREADS LETS GOOOO.

Worth Dying For

"Say hello to Scorpio !" / "It's Scorpius"-- this is so cute LMAO. WOOO !!!! HI GBA !!

ASH WANTS TO OVERCLOCK HIS CORE ?? WHAT.

----

JETT ?? COMISSIONER JETT ??? CONSUL JETT ??

DAMIEN EXECUTED ANGEL ??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING.

Angel you are a Hero. Rest in Peace you will be So missed. I love you forever.

----

Milo is Such a good Beta. And a good Friend. He's so concerned for Asher :(((

Asher really is cookin' up a plan fr. I feel like it sounds good in theory, but i just Know that this shit is going to go south real quick.

Milo saying Asher's Full Name instead of "Ash" about all of this :(

I LOVE MILO SO MUUUCH I'M WEEPING HE CARES SO MUCH AND SO DEEPLY. HE'S BEGGING ASHER TO LET HIM BE ABLE TO HELP :((((((

MILO KNOCKING OUT ASHER ???? ASKING FOR HIS CORE TO BE OVERCLOCKED INSTEAD ?? IT'S THE INVERSION ALL OVER AGAIN ?? HE'S GONNA TRY AND TAKE ALEXIS OUT HIMSELF ?? MILO HONEY PLEASE.

Truth Will Out

Sam what the fuck are we doing outside of the academy right now sir !!

Now why do i think he's lying about really wanting to help out against the Imperium.

----

Starlight has officially earned their petname :')

After Avior pointed out how it never stops raining, I think i get why Gavin said that storms remind him of Aria in his one HBW audio.

----

"You're too gentle, Pet." yeah i'm going to go nuts about this.

The way Vega talks about them and the trust they put in him :((

Oooh Vega called in the Vampires. That's intriguing. General Vega sir yes sir o7.

THEY STRIKE TONIGHT ? WHAT.

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VINDEMIATOR TAKING CARE OF FREELANCER WOOOOO.

Freelancer wants to run away with Vin and forget everything :(((

He wants to save the world specifically so Freelancer can live. What if I start crying again. Get them their little house in the woods NOW.

His little "but what if they fail ?" HURT. OUCH.

"Put your arms around my neck. Hold onto me. We're getting out of here." oh my god i'm INSANE. THE DELIVERY WAS PERFECT. The quiet reassured determination oh my god oh my god.

But it also !! Scares me !! What if he really IS what they need to save the world ! aahhah oh no !!

if i said i wanted more Sad Gavin would all of you be mad at me. Him professing his love in 500 little ways through tears Got Me. That was delicious. Can we have More of that please.

Tantum Tyrannus

This title goes So hard by the way. If google serves me right it means "Great Tyrant." I'm sure You All knew this already. But i did not.

Oh my god is this Sweetheart asking where Milo is. IT IS.

Sweetheart insisting they come save Milo too RAAAAH. They pulled the "I'm not letting my Mate die when i can Do something" card and it worked LETS GOOO.

----

NATE WEXLER IS HERE TOO ? No way this man is voiced by Erik. Man Damien said Fuck Global Warming.

----

ALEXIS VOICE !!! This was Groundbreaking when it released. I'm glad they got the same VA for the Summit. Hey girlypop. How are you.

MILO OH MY GOD. SHE BROKE HIS ARM DUDE ?

SHE FELL FOR THE BAIT DUDE LETS GOOO. That seemed too easy. What !! IS MILO OKAY. PLEASE LET HIM BE OKAY. Milo you are my Hero do not die.

----

Asher throwing Alexis's head down in front of Vincent is ICONIC.

"Impressive bite." / "Want me to show you ?"-- Yeah i'm on my knees about this.

MILO'S ALIVE WOOO !! ASHER KILLING VINCENT WOO !!!! SPITTING HIS BLOOD OUT !!! ASHER TALBOT THE MAN THAT YOU ARE !!!!!

Last Wish

All of my notes this section have :((( on them LMAO. I was SAD.

Milo's little "hey" when Asher opens the door :((( he sounds so exhausted this whole video :((

We're back to Inversion magic worries oh no. Asher reassuring Milo that he's still family regardless, just like David did in the Prime. I need to stop crying PLEASE.

Asher admitting to Milo that he couldn't have done it alone. Milo telling him how important he is to the Pack :((((

MILO ASKING WHY THEY'RE STILL CALLED SHAW PACK :((( BECAUSE THEY'LL ANSWER TO HIM REGARDLESS :((((

Oh my fucking god the reason being that Ash doesn't need to be honored with the name, David and Darlin' do... and he's not ready to give up David's name yet :(( OUCH.

WHEN HE SAYS DAVID WAS HIS MATE HIS CORE STAYS DARK :((( So the Shaw Pack is a way of keeping that feeling alive in a more Human Way.

ASHER CRYING IN MILO'S ARMS :((((((((

"I love you, Ash. Please come home." STOP MAKING ME CRY.

Asher saying "Take care of each other, okay ?" to Sweetheart and Milo. you know the way he meant it. I'm going to YELL.

----

Vega reminding Avior that he is needed to lead, but the strike is happening now-- so Vega will do it. Scary !!

Despite their arguing, Vega refuses to fight Avior because he respects him. That's nice.

VEGA CAN SEND PEOPLE BACK TO ARIA ?? HE CAN RIFT ?? You know. This makes sense giving that we know that Vega is as old as he is now.

Okay. Well. Goodbye Avior and Starlight ! I was about to wonder if they get stuck in Hell again, but immediately got my question answered LMAO.

The mentioned tears and voids, like in Prime. Are those holes in the Meridian ?? They have to be right. That's why Project Meridian exists. Wires in my brain are connecting now. I understand.

This Meridian is loud as FUCK.

"Child of Land. You are needed." RETURN !!! LETS GOOOO !!!

----

Asher hitting the door... kinda got to me !! that was a little hot !! I kicked my feet about it a little bit !!

BRACHIUM ????? What the hell are you doing here loca !!!

Finale | All Cruel Things

FIFTY ONE MINUTES ???

Vega is scary !! But the words he is saying are poetic as fuck !!

----

THEY BOUND ALL THE INVOCATIONS TO BRACHIUM ???

OOoh Brachium being the First exiled Demon. How interesting.

Asher talking about how there's No One Waiting for him. That there is no "Other Side" to get to. David isn't waiting for him somewhere :((( Everything he ever cares for keeps Dying. And are Gone. :(((

I am just sitting in awe at this whole interaction. I am Mystified.

----

Sam's evil laugh !! Hello sir !! Is this Sam and Vincent talking. Do you think they're besties :3

This whole conversation between him and Damien is. yummy.

----

E'LAETUM AND MIN'ARA !!! Hi guys !! Or you !!

"Let us speak through you" oh my GOD ? They got Blake'd. They stopped Vega's rift !!! I'm sure that's what happened in Prime too.

"Bring us a Sovereign" Do you think this is the solution in Prime also... do you think this is what Hush is for. Lots of things to think about this.

Once again this Meridian is loud as FUCK !!! OUCH !! i'm just trying to hear everyone Talk dude. Please be so nice to me.

THEY TOOK EVERY SOVEREIGN ?? ESSENTIALLY KICKED EVERYONE OUT OF ARIA TO FEED ?? FLOODING IT WITH DEMONS ??

ECHO ???

----

Sam turned Damien ... . . .. oh my god. HE MAKES HIM LICK HIS BOOT ?? CALLS HIM A BITCH ??? WHAT IS HAPPENING LMAO. Thinking lots of things right now. Lots and lots and lots of things.

----

SAM CROWNING HIMSELF KING ??? Okay that's kinda a slay. I see the intentions he had on wanting to help Vega.

This place is about to go fucking Crazy with all the Vampires. Asher and Avior you gotta get your people OUTTA HERE.

ECHO AGAIN ??? Ooough it's the ending !! Honestly what an amazing ending. What a great cliffhanger, even though it's not a cliffhanger at all-- it's an end. Ending two worlds just to save the divider. They did in fact Trade One Misery for Another, oh the cruel irony.

Surely this won't happen in the Prime right ? haha. . ..

----

THERE'S MORE ??? A POST CREDITS SCENE ?? I wonder how far into the future this is. Probably not too terribly far.

SAM GOT HUXLEY AS DAMIEN'S MEAL ??? OH MY GOD ??? Doomed Romance....

The tension is CRAAAZY. HE'S TURNING HIM INTO HIS PROGENY ??? HELL YEAH DUDE.

Final Thoughts: This was AMAZING !!!! Why did I avoid this for so long. How could you all keep this from me. Asher, Milo, and Vindemiator are my babygirls. I could literally think Forever about the Imperium Wolf Pack, and I hope Vin and Freelancer are able to keep their peace somewhere in the woods. I have a bunch of Imperium Fics that need rereading ASAP. The brainrot is Disasterous. You are my hero if you read ALL of this. I owe you my life. I'm so sorry lmao.

[quinloki]

omg it's so hard to be a responsible adult and not stay up and have my little daydreams while I listen to music xD and I unfortunately have to work tomorrow since our company doesn't consider it a holiday T_T I'm glad I could send you something in return to kill you bc you always kill me <333

I think I can officially say I got the sabo brainrot, damn (jk)

omg okay so I was also thinking how you'd meet ace and I'm like duh school a man like whitebeard would prolly want his sons to go out and experience the world especially if they're running a major business! and I'm like omg imagine ace in college it opens up so many dumb shenanigans that you both have so much dirt on eachother and you really give him a good wack when you find everything out because you overlooked so much it made you mad! like ace would always treat for meals or drinks and you obvi talked about his job after college, but he never mentioned WHERE he was going to work in a mailroom!! or that it was his dad's company!! that bastard

lolol and for some (mild) tension you meet shanks and he is just like heavyyyyyy flirting and izou finds it hilarous how annoyed sabo and marco look (and pops is like leave my future daughter in law alone xDDDD)

the tension in that hotel room after everyone is aware of the shower xD throw in a little bickering over who should sleep where, bc obvi you're so shaken up right? and they argue over who's bed you should sleep in so they can comfort you >>

the polycule would be interesting I won't lie idk how the dynamics with those two in particular would be tho bc honestly they give me such similar vibes sometimes. I mean I read sabo/reader/ace sometimes but ace is a puppy dog so it's a different dynamic >>

I could picture like, sabo does the more dangerous work, so you're officialy dating marco the ceo and you get dressed up and go to events with him but sometimes his little brother offers to take you home bc you're soooo tired from interacting with all those business peeps and sabo is just such a good younger brother to take care of his bro's girlfriend such a gentleman (nvm that you're going back to sabo's room and not marco's) like rather than a poly they just both share bc you couldn't pick they're just both too good IDK MAN I JUST WANT THEM BOTH SO BAD T_T

ok but the riskiest part of being the weakness is the fact that pops basically parades you around and calls you his daughter in law and nobody can figure out exactly what it is that got him to favor you so much but you run with it when you need to (like when ace/luffy are being a little shit)

also random thought before anyone officially starts dating, you start going to events with ace bc you get hired for the company or something (maybe ceo's secretary >> since ace is gonna be the boss someday!!) and people just assume you're dating and when pops calls you the daughter in law they're like oh congrats to the lovely couple and you both just look at eachother disgusted bc ew, no (like you'd also rather lick his face than anything romantic bc you've seen him eat food off a bar floor and other disgusting habits and absolutely not) and then everyone is just confused (incoming shanks flirting at that moment sounds perfect xD) then you realize getting called the daughter in law means pops has some idea of what's going on and now you have to figure how much and how mortified you should be

So there's a comic out there called something like Him & Him & Him, that's basically a girl and three guys (an uncle and twin nephews), and it's porn with a dash of plot, but I like the way it was done. That comic makes me think of what Sabo x Marco x Reader would be.

Which, to make it concise, in the comic, the lady marries the uncle legally, but all of them live together, and it's like you were saying "Oh what a good brother he is, looking out for Marco's fiance like that."

So yes, yes I like that head canon very much. We were going to split this into two different Pick One endings, but fully polycule works too.

It certainly turns into Two Against One though, cause in this situation the reader is the puppy dog >.>

Gods the kink and dynamics I could explore....

heck, Kaz, HECK I already have plenty to work on but this is killing me. Marco brainrot is real, and Sabo is just rushing the gates I swear, and now all this - ALL THIS DELICIOUS chatter and idea swapping and head canoning and world building KAZ I NEED TO WRITE THIS.

The world can blame you, I'm making notes, it's going into the primary rotation. I'll finishing Birds of a Feather and put this in its spot and I hope you're happy (affectionate).

I love the secretary idea too and the misunderstandings XD

And I think Pops likes the reader because she's a capable fighter, and not afraid to defend people, and also his sons want to protect her and he's like "Yeah, no, I get it." but less romantic and more "This smol creature reminds me of Ace and I love them both." sort of thing XD

[dykepuffs]

I feel like a good way of seeing your own culture is defamiliarisation - You almost definitely have routines that you do, ways that you choose to do things consistently even when that isn't the only possible way of doing it. Culture isn't just literally the things your parents pass down, it's how you use the things around you (public space, clothing you wear, the natural environment, how you're expected to interact with strangers, etc) - If you have an automatic reaction to a stranger saying "Hallo how are you?" - Even if the reaction is to think "Uh that's weird!" You have encultured responses.

Picking from the examples you gave: (incredibly long post below the cut)

When you go into a thrift shop, what you see as worth-buying vs trash, as "for me" v "not my thing" is culture. A thrift shop being a place that you go to find things is part of your culture (many people wouldn't think of going there at all, because buying secondhand stuff is seen as unclean or shameful in their culture) - And even having thrift shops at all is a cultural thing (We don't have them here, we have charity shops, secondhand shops, and vintage shops and they're three different things).

You look for recipes on the Internet- but which recipes you look for at all is cultural, which recipes you think sound good is cultural, which ingredients you're familiar with and able to experiment with is cultural, vs which ingredients you see as exotic or unusual and need to keep to the instructions for. Even feeling like the way to find a recipe is to look on the internet, rather than asking someone in your family, or not making new foods at all, is an encultured expectation. What foods do you think are normal for breakfast, and which ones would you think of as being an unusual breakfast (even if you do eat them)? Do you eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper, or breakfast, dinner, tea? When do you expect to eat during the day, is it one meal, two, five, eight? If you want food between meals do you consider thar an extra meal (elevenses, supper, brunch) or not? Which of those meals is it normal to eat alone and which do you eat in company? Are there any meals that are seen as more intimate to share? Do you have restaurants, and when is it normal to go to a restaurant? How many of your own meals are you expected to cook in a week, and what changes that expectation?

Even the absence of passing things down is a culture- A culture where instead of listening to folk tales around the fire or learning to play guitar from your elders, you're given your entertainment and moral lessons by videos - which, at least at first, will be the films and TV that your parents or guardians choose to show you- is an unusual culture.

If you live in the US, even if you aren't Christian, you probably celebrate Christmas- Or if you don't, then your routine around that week is probably disrupted by business closures so, what do you do on that day? The things that you choose between to do then are your culture, whether that is with family or alone.

Does your culture have events that family members are expected to go to together (weddings, New Year, birthdays?) and how are they marked? What happens if you don't mark them, is that something seen as rude or noble or just strange? Who are you expected to spend that time with?

You can definitely say things like "my culture doesn't have any formal ceremonies for coming of age", if you're thinking about how you don't have a bar mitzvah or a quincanera - but does your culture have the idea of "your first car" as a socially significant thing? Or what about "virginity"? - You can say "We don't have superstitions or fairies" but do you plan to start things at New Year or make New Year's Resolutions, and what kind of things are seen as a normal resolution in it? How seriously are they taken? You might not have things that you think as traditional clothing, but would you wear a white wedding dress to go to the supermarket? If you would, do you think other people within your culture would find that surprising? (Did you understand what I meant by white wedding dress and does your culture use them?) Are there clothes that men in your culture wear but women don't, or vice-versa? Who breaks that rule and how?

It's not offensive to think of yourself as not having a culture - But it does set yourself up for making the mistake of thinking "I do things the most neutral and normal way possible, and everyone else is deviating from that in a way that is Cultural". It's like "I don't have an accent" - your accent might be the most common one where you live, or very close to the most common ones shown on TV, or even your dialect might be one that is codified as Standard English where you live, but you definitely have one.

Your culture's traditions don't have to be unique or restricted to only your people at all either- My culture has a tradition of head-covering for married women, and plaited hair for unmarried ones. In the c20th it isn't universal, pretty much older women do it consistently, but we still recognise it as something we do... And the same tradition exists to some extent in dozens of other cultures, often using the exact same kind of headscarves, because there are only so many ways to wrap a head. It doesn't stop being your culture just because you share it with others.

Maybe your culture has a tradition of men having short hair and women having long hair, with implications about the character of people who break with that tradition (are they seen as gender-non-conforming? rebellious? Does their hair changing indicate affinity with another culture or just a dissatisfaction with yours?) - What does your culture say about hair? Does it imply anything about someone's character for them to have long hair? A shaved head? To cover their hair tightly right down to the forehead so that not a strand is seen? To dye their hair? To wear a time-consuming style? What are the limits of "normal hairstyles" and who breaks those rules?

'White Americans don't have any culture, they're just [normal/boring/generic/empty]. 'Culture' is when you're quaint and exotic and have interesting ethnic foods and holidays." is such a grating bit of nonsense to have somehow become progressive commonsense in a lot of places.

[goblinontour]

Alone, Together

cooking, eating, fucking

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

warnings: lawyer!alex, smut, just normal fucking, alex & his cocobolo (less this time, but still present)

word count: 7.2k

It was a rare occurrence that Alex was cooking. You perched on one of the bar stools at his island, watching him with an amused smile. The kitchen was immaculate, each appliance gleaming as if it had never seen anything but coffee and reheated takeout. Because, that was the reality. Today, though, there was something simmering in a pot that had your curiosity piqued.

“Is this a special occasion?” you called out, leaning back casually, arms crossed.

He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “Nope…Maybe. Just thought I’d waste some time like a normal person.” he said, stirring the sauce with exaggerated motions. “Though honestly, I still think it’s a dumb idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You still think cooking is just a fancy way to waste time?”

He turned back to the pot, his shoulders relaxing as he stirred. “Exactly. Why spend an hour cooking just to spend another hour eating? I’d rather order in and only waste half of that time.”

“Right. You know, Alex, then you’re wasting someone else’s time cooking for you.” you pointed out. 

He chuckled, a warm sound that echoed in the space, and turned to you, eyebrow raised, as he set the spoon down momentarily. “But they’re getting paid for it, so it’s not wasting time. Simple economics, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Only you would make that argument.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “And only you would let me win it.”

“Or it just means you’re being lazy.” you countered, tilting your head playfully.

“Lazy? I like to call it efficiency. Lazy or efficient, you decide.” He shot you a grin before returning to the pot, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Speaking of efficiency, how’s the case with, uh, Henderson was it? How’s that going? Any breakthroughs?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Not as much as I’d like. He’s being uncooperative, as usual. I swear he enjoys dragging things out just to test my patience.”

Alex nodded. “Sounds about right. You should hit him with a motion. It might scare him into cooperating.”

“Yeah, maybe.” you replied, leaning forward. “But I don’t want to show all my cards too soon. Plus, I might need to save that for when he really pisses me off.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Just don’t let him get under your skin. You know how I feel about letting clients dictate the pace.”

“Right, right.” you said, smirking. “I remember that time you told a client they were being ‘insufferable’ during a meeting.”

He feigned innocence. “I was merely being honest! He needed to hear it.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Honesty doesn’t always get you a good outcome.”

“Maybe not, but it does feel fucking good in the moment.” he winked, his eyes sparkling. 

As he continued, you felt a sudden impulse to be closer. You stood up and moved behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He paused mid-stir, humming softly at your touch, leaning back slightly against you.

“Hey there.” he murmured, a hint of surprise in his voice. He left the whisk in the pot, placing his hands on top of yours, rubbing over your knuckles with a gentle rhythm. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to be close to you while you do…whatever this is.” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. 

He chuckled softly, glancing back at the sauce, steam curling up to meet his face. “It’s my attempt at culinary greatness. You know, a chef in the making.”

You snorted. “Sure, let’s go with that. I’ve seen you master a coffee maker, but cooking is a whole different level.”

He turned slightly, meeting your gaze with a teasing smile. “You underestimate my skills. I could be the next Iron Chef, is that what it’s called? Or, at the very least, I won’t set off the smoke alarm.”

You wrapped your arms a little tighter around him. “I have faith in you, sort of. What’s the secret ingredient, Chef?”

Alex glanced over his shoulder, a playful smirk on his face, his dark hair slightly tousled. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, eh?” he quipped. “But it’s mostly just me hoping this doesn’t end up in the trash.” His expression turned slightly more serious as he leaned into your embrace. “So, are you gonna tell me what you wanted to share? Because I’m really hoping it’s what I think it is.”

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of your news settle in your stomach. “After dinner. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

He sighed dramatically, though the twinkle in his eyes didn’t fade. “Fine, but you’re making me curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets.”

“Just focus on your culinary masterpiece.” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder before stepping back to let him work.

He turned back to the pot, a contented smile still on his lips as he continued stirring. “I can do that. But you know I’ll be expecting the details afterward.”

“Deal.” you said, settling back into your stool, anticipation bubbling beneath the surface as you watched him move about the kitchen, an unexpected domesticity woven into his actions. 

Dinner was over. Alex had just set his fork down with a soft clink against the plate. He wiped his chin and mouth with his hand, trying to catch the little specks of sauce that clung to the stubble along his jaw. The sauce had smudged slightly, and the way his lips quirked up made it clear he didn’t care about perfection. Just getting the job done.

You were still finishing the last bite of his extremely mediocre spaghetti. Spaghetti you appreciated nonetheless, more for the effort than the execution. He wasn’t even pretending to wait for you to finish. His eyes were already on you, full of expectation, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.

You sighed, glancing up at him. “What?”

“Tell me.” he said, his voice soft but eager, as if he’d been holding back for the past half-hour and was finally letting it spill out.

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head with a half-smile. “My god, Turner, you’re like a child.”

“Come onnn.” he groaned, leaning forward a bit, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Please, tell me, tell me, tell me-”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll tell you.” you interrupted, laughing as you set your fork down in the almost-empty plate, still dotted with remnants of sauce. “Impatient as ever, I see.”

He grinned sheepishly, leaning back again in his chair, fingers still fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. His foot tapped lightly under the table, like he could barely contain himself.

“So,” you started, taking a breath, “about the firm-”

“Our firm?” he cut you off instantly, eyes bright with excitement.

“Yeah, our firm…” You paused for a moment, letting the words settle in the air between you. He was watching you so closely now, his brows furrowing just a little as if trying to anticipate what you were going to say next. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to find the right way to put it. “So, I was thinking…what if it wasn’t ‘us’ but…‘you’ and ‘me’?”

His smile faltered for just a second, and he blinked, processing. “Go on.” he said, though there was a slight tightness in his voice, like he wasn’t sure where you were going.

“We find an office together.” you continued, choosing your words carefully, watching the way his fingers stilled on the napkin, his eyes fixed on yours. “We share rent, expenses, everything. But…I am me, attorney at law, and you are you, Alex Turner, attorney at law. Both free to practise as we see fit.”

His mouth twitched at the corners as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table, narrowing his eyes just a little, like he was trying to see the full picture. “Separate firms…under one roof?” he said slowly, tilting his head, brow furrowed.

“Yeah.” you nodded, gaining a bit of momentum. “Why not share a ride? You do things your way, and I do them mine. Not partners, exactly…”

“Solo practitioners…together.” he completed, his voice quiet, almost like he was speaking the idea into existence. He sat back again, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it more. His lips parted, and for a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with a half-lost expression, as if trying to see all the angles of this new idea you were offering him.

You bit your lip, waiting, your heart hammering just a little. “What do you think?” you asked softly, not sure how he would take it.

He stared at the table for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly again, then he exhaled a long breath. “I, uh-” He paused, looking up at you with a bit of that boyish uncertainty you didn’t see often. “I mean…yeah, I think it could work. I really do. But…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But?” you echoed, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach.

“I guess I always pictured us doing it together. Like, actually together, as partners. Officially. You know, Turner &…” He waved his hand in the air, as if searching for the name that belonged next to his. “I like the idea of having you with me.”

His eyes softened, that vulnerability creeping back in as he let his hand drop to his lap. He shifted slightly in his seat, his leg bouncing under the table in a nervous rhythm. 

“Look…” you said, leaning in, trying to ease the weight you could see settling in his features. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I do. But I also want to be…me, you know? You run things your way, and I need to run things mine. No compromises. It doesn’t mean I don’t want us to be-” You stumbled, feeling the weight of what you were saying. “I mean, this way, we still have each other. We still share everything.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping for a second before finding yours again, that intensity returning. “Yeah, no, I get it. Really, I do. You just want-” He scratched his jaw, “You just want your space to work how you need to work. And we’d still be in the same place, so…yeah.”

You exhaled, relieved to see him processing, though the uncertainty still hung between you. “Exactly. We’d still be together. Just…independent too.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Leave it to you to make independence sound romantic.”

You smiled, the tension starting to ease from your shoulders. “Well, it kind of is, isn’t it?”

He raised his eyebrows, looking at you with a glimmer of amusement. “Okay, fine. I see the appeal. Solo practitioners together.” His eyes flickered to yours again, more sure this time. “I can live with that.”

You smiled, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Good. Because I really think this could work for us.”

He pushed his chair back slightly, standing up and moving around the table toward you. As he approached, he bent down, his hand resting on the back of your chair as he brought his face closer to yours. “You know what? I think we’re gonna be just fine.” He kissed you lightly, his lips still tasting faintly of the spaghetti sauce, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“An A for effort for the meal by the way.” you teased, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

He grinned, his eyes warm and soft now, all traces of tension gone. “Next time, we order in.” He tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face, the flicker of excitement behind his eyes growing brighter. “Solo…together.” he repeated, testing the phrase out on his tongue like it was something new he hadn’t tasted before.

He took a step closer to you, his hands still on the back of your chair, but his voice was gaining momentum. “Solo together…That’s actually…perfect.” His eyes locked onto yours, lighting up with an energy you could feel sparking through the air between you.

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, the idea catching fire. “No one stepping on anyone’s toes…” he continued, his voice rising in enthusiasm. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your hand, pulling you up from the chair with surprising strength. “This is it!” He was grinning now, practically glowing, his excitement infectious as he tugged you toward him.

Before you knew it, you were up against him, your hands pressed against his chest. He didn’t stop there, though. In one swift movement, he lifted you up, his hands firm around your waist as he effortlessly placed you on the table. The cold surface under your thighs was a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating off him.

“Alex-” you started, a laugh escaping your lips, but he was already kissing you. His mouth crashed against yours, hungry, eager. You barely had time to process the intensity before he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips.

“Solo…together.” he murmured between kisses, his hands now cupping your face as he pressed closer. “I love it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, each word punctuated by another kiss. You could feel the warmth of his stubble brushing your cheek as he moved from your lips to the side of your neck, his voice a low, breathless murmur. “We’d be our own bosses…No one telling us what to do…”

You gasped softly as his hands slid down your back, gripping you tighter, pulling you even closer to the edge of the table. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as his mouth found yours again.

“And-” another kiss, deeper this time, his hands roaming, the intensity between you building with every second, “we’d still get to come home to each other…Every single day.”

He pulled back just long enough to look into your eyes, his pupils dark, his face inches from yours, breathing hard. “Fuck, this is such a good idea.” His voice was rough, unrestrained. “No compromises, no pressure…but still together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a breathless sound caught between the rapid beats of your heart. “I’m glad you like it.” you managed to get out, your voice shaky but full of warmth.

“Like it? I fucking love it.” he growled, his mouth finding yours again, more desperate now. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he kissed you harder, his breath hot and ragged. 

You could feel the excitement vibrating through him, the way his body pressed against yours, each kiss deepening with the weight of his growing anticipation. “Solo practitioners…but always together.” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with something close to awe, like he couldn’t believe how perfectly the idea fit.

The table creaked beneath you as he leaned into you, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingers splayed against the small of your back. His kiss was urgent, full of need, like he couldn’t get enough of the idea, of you, of everything that was spilling out between you.

“We’re going to be unstoppable.” he whispered, his voice a low, husky rasp. “You…and me.”

Your head was spinning, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding on as his kisses grew more fervent, more insistent. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you against him like he wanted to fuse you together. Every word he spoke between kisses buzzed with that same electric energy, his excitement fueling yours.

“We’re going to be so fucking good at this.” he said breathlessly, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. His gaze was intense, almost overwhelming in its rawness. “Just you and me…killing it, every single day.”

And before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, his body pressed against you, leaving no space between you as his hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly as if he was trying to get you closer, as if you weren’t already as close as you could be. 

Alex’s excitement grew like wildfire, his hands moving with purpose as he reached for the plates still scattered on the table. With a quick sweep, he pushed them to the side, the sound of ceramic sliding across the wood sharp in the air. You barely had time to react before he gently but firmly guided you down, your back hitting the surface of the table. His body hovered above you, his face inches from yours, eyes dark with hunger.

You felt the heat of him pressing against you, his hips grinding into your thigh, the hard outline of him unmistakable even through his clothes. His breath was ragged, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck as he groaned softly into you.

“You’re eager.” you managed to say. 

“You bet.” he whispered, a smile curling at the edge of his lips as he pressed his mouth to your neck, kissing his way down your body, even through the fabric of your shirt. His lips left a trail of heat as they moved lower. 

His hands slid over your hips, gripping you with a mix of tenderness and desperation, fingers brushing just under your shirt as he kissed his way further down your torso. His stubble grazed your skin as he paused at the hem of your jeans, his breath warm and steady against your stomach.

“Fuck- I wanna fuck you here.” he murmured, his voice thick with need. He pressed his face into your belly for a second, inhaling. “Can I fuck you here?” he asked, his voice low, rough, a plea that sounded more like a demand in its urgency. 

The question hung between you, his hands stilling on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles against your skin as he waited for your answer, his eyes locked onto yours. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, his body tensed above you, ready to close the space between you in a heartbeat.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze never wavered. “Yes.” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could second-guess it. 

His lips twitched into a grin, but it was hungry, almost feral. “God, you have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.” he growled, kissing your stomach again, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands were already moving, deftly undoing the button of your jeans, tugging them down your hips with a quickness that made your breath hitch.

As your jeans hit the floor, he kissed lower, over the curve of your hip, his hands kneading the flesh there before he pressed himself harder against your leg. You could feel him, all of him. 

He hovered over you again, eyes locked on yours as he nudged your legs apart with his knee. The friction between your bodies was maddening, and you could feel his impatience in every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath. “I’ve wanted you like this, right here, all night. Now I'm just waiting until I’ll get you on my desk…in our office.” he whispered against your ear, his voice a low, hoarse rasp as he kissed along your jaw, his body pressed into yours so firmly you could barely breathe.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Your cocobolo?” you asked, the absurdity of him obsessing over his desk even now making you bite your lip.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his expression full of dark amusement, a cocky grin spreading across his flushed face. “That’s right.” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry growl as he leaned closer, his mouth brushing yours with every word. “Fucking on my fucking cocobolo.”

The way he said it made you laugh softly, but before the sound could fully escape, he giggled, too, vibrating against your lips. It was that kind of infectious, unguarded laugh that made your chest warm, the kind of laugh that only Alex could pull off mid-seduction, somehow. 

His hands roamed over your body, tugging your shirt higher, fingers brushing your skin, sending sparks wherever he touched. He pulled back, just for a moment, his eyes flicking down your body, taking in every inch of you laid out beneath him. “Look at you…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Without waiting, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tugged it gently, making you gasp. His fingers slid down your sides, hooking under your underwear, dragging them down as he pushed you further back on the table, the edge digging into your back but you barely noticed, too focused on the way he was looking at you. 

His hands were on your thighs, spreading them further open, his mouth back on your neck, murmuring into your skin. “I need to feel you.” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he rubbed himself against you, his erection pressing hard into your thigh through his pants. “I need to be inside you…right now.”

His desperation was palpable, but there was something tender in the way his hands gripped you, in the way he kissed your collarbone. Alex’s breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps as his hands fumbled with his zipper, the sound of it cutting through the heavy tension between you. His eyes never left yours, as he freed himself, his cock hard and straining in his hand. There was no hesitation, no teasing now. Just pure urgency.

He pushed your legs further apart, the rough edge of the table biting into your skin as he positioned himself between your thighs. And then, he was inside you. The force of it knocked the air from your lungs, his cock filling you completely, stretching you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. You gasped, hands flying to grip the edge of the table as it wobbled beneath you, creaking under the weight of his movements.

He didn’t hold back. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into you, fast and rough, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. The table shook beneath you with every thrust, the sound of it scraping against the floor barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies colliding, over the ragged groans that escaped him every time he buried himself inside you.

“Fuck-” he groaned through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel the bruises forming. His pace was relentless, his cock slamming into you over and over. “You always feel so good…so fucking tight.”

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but hold on as he pounded into you. His eyes were wild, locked on yours as he watched your every reaction, his mouth falling open in a breathless groan each time you clenched around him.

The table rocked beneath you, on and on, the legs threatening to give way, but neither of you cared. It only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, deeper, his hips grinding into you with a roughness that bordered on desperate.

His hands roamed over your body, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as his mouth crashed against yours in a brutal, hungry kiss. His tongue was hot and demanding, his teeth scraping your lips as he kissed you like he was trying to consume you entirely.

The pace was maddening, his hips never faltering, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, making your body tremble beneath him. 

“Alex-” you managed to gasp out, your voice barely more than a breath, but he cut you off with another hard thrust, a groan escaping him as he felt you tighten around him.

“I know-” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough, barely holding back. “I know, baby…I’m close too.” His movements became more frantic, more desperate, his body trembling as he drove into you, pushing you both closer to the brink.

Any control he might’ve had moments ago slipped. His hands were everywhere. Gripping your thighs, pressing into your hips, sliding up your sides. He needed to feel every part of you, to hold you closer. 

“Fuck.” he groaned, his voice a low rasp as he buried himself deep inside you again, harder and faster. He was losing it, his rhythm faltering as he got lost in the sensation, in the heat of you around him.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the way his cock stretched you with every ragged, unsteady thrust. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he cursed under his breath. 

You could feel him trembling, his body straining as he teetered on the edge, each thrust messier than the last. His mouth found yours again, a desperate, sloppy kiss that was all tongue and teeth. The heat between you was unbearable now, overwhelming. 

“Fuck, baby...I’m gonna come.” he groaned, his voice breaking as he thrust into you hard, hips slamming into yours with a final, urgent rhythm. His body tensed above you, his breath catching in his throat as he lost himself in the overwhelming sensation. His body shook with the force of it, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he spilled into you, warmth flooding between your legs as he gasped against your skin.

For a moment, it was just him, messy, overwhelmed, trembling above you as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, his cock still pulsing inside you. His breath came in heavy, ragged bursts, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly came down, his body pressed against yours in the most intimate way. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“That…” he whispered, barely able to form the word as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “That was…Jesus, that was…” He trailed off, too overwhelmed to finish the thought, his body still draped over yours, warm and heavy, but instead of slowing down, he rolled his hips again, a slow, deliberate thrust that made you gasp. He didn’t stop.

You could feel him still hard inside you, the slick heat of him moving against your sensitive walls as he resumed his rhythm, slower at first, but with that same intensity building all over again. 

“You didn’t come yet.” he whispered. His lips grazed your ear as he spoke, his hips bucking into you again. “I’m not stopping until you do.”

You moaned softly in response as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more insistent. The table beneath you creaked again, the wood groaning under the pressure of his movements, but all you could focus on was him, the way he felt inside you, the steady, relentless rhythm of his hips, pushing you closer to that edge.

His fingers slid up your sides, brushing under your shirt to find the bare skin of your waist, gripping tightly as his mouth found yours again. 

“I love you.” he groaned into your mouth, his voice hoarse as he pushed deeper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of you loud and wet in the small space between your bodies. “So much.”

Your hands flew to his hair, nails digging into his scalp as your body arched against his, a moan spilling from your lips as you felt the tension coil tighter inside you.

Alex was laser-focused on you, his cock pounding into you harder with each passing second. “Come on, baby.” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust deep, grinding into you just right. “Let go. I want to feel you come…Please.”

That was all it took. The pleasure that had been building finally snapped, your body tensing beneath him as the orgasm ripped through you. Your muscles clenched tight around him, a cry breaking from your throat. 

Alex groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his thrusts, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm. “There you go…” he breathed and he kissed you softly. “That’s my girl.” he murmured against your lips. 

He stayed there, buried deep inside you, still hard, his hips barely moving in slow, lazy circles. He groaned softly, but you could sense something building again, the tension in his body still present, still tight. His fingers dug into your hips just a little harder, his breath hitching, and without warning, his hips jerked forward, instinct taking over as he thrust deep again, making you gasp.

“Shit-” he muttered, his voice shaky, almost surprised. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, his body reacting on its own, still desperate for more. You could feel it too, the way his cock twitched inside you, his muscles tightening, and you knew he was close again. 

“Oh- oh god…” he gasped, his voice catching as he thrust into you hard, the pleasure building too fast, overwhelming him. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder. His entire body tensed, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he came again, barely able to process it, barely able to hold back. His release hit him fast and hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled into you once more. 

“Oh-” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips bucked one last time, his body shaking as the second wave of pleasure crashed through him, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed. 

He stayed like that for a moment, completely still at last, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still twitching inside you as the last of his release emptied into you. His fingers were trembling, his muscles slack as the intensity of it all finally hit him.

“Fuck...I didn’t-” he started, his voice cracking before he could finish the thought. His chest was still heaving as he looked at you, the dazed, wide-eyed look on his face betraying just how overwhelmed he was. Slowly, a lazy grin began to spread across his lips, like he was finally processing everything. “I didn’t think I’d...come like that again.” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “You…you’ve got me all kinds of messed up.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, your own breathing still unsteady. “Oh yeah?” you teased, your voice still breathless but playful, a little proud even. “Didn’t think you had another one in you?”

His grin turned more wicked and he opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could, you clenched around him reflexively, your body still sensitive. The reaction shot through him like electricity. He tensed, his whole body going rigid, and a groan slipped from his throat as he closed his eyes and his hands clutched the edge of the table, unable to take any more.

“Shit- don’t…I can’t.” he gasped, his voice trembling. “I can’t take any more.” He pulled out quickly, wincing as he did, his legs unsteady. “Not again...you’ll break me…I’ll die.”

You chuckled softly, a shiver running through you at the sudden loss of him, but the sight of him stumbling back from the table, almost collapsing, was too good. He looked utterly spent, but there was something ridiculously cute about it.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” you teased, smirking as you shifted on the table, watching him try to steady himself.

Alex shot you a half-hearted glare, though his smile was still there. “You keep doing that, and you’ll have to carry me out of this room.” he muttered as he staggered toward the nearest chair. He grabbed it, dragging it over with a dramatic sigh and practically collapsing into it with a groan. “I swear, I was two seconds away from my knees giving out.”

You laughed, still lying on the table, legs trembling slightly as the last waves of pleasure still lingered. “My poor, poor man.” you teased, throwing him a mock pout. “The table wasn’t so bad though, was it?”

Alex leaned back in the chair, still catching his breath, and gave you a lazy grin. “Oh, no complaints.” he said. “I mean, it was touch-and-go there for a second, but I think the table and I made it through.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back against the table, and let out a sigh of contentment. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one doing all the work.”

He shot you a playful look. “Oh, come on, give me some credit. I’d say I held my own pretty well. My knees would disagree, but they’re quitters.”

“You’re the one who wanted to fuck here.”

“Fair point.” he replied. As he sat, his hands absentmindedly reached down to tuck himself back into his pants, his fingers moving with a casual ease despite how shaky he still was. Once he’d zipped up his pants, he groaned, shifting in the chair as though trying to get comfortable.

Without a word, he reached for the buttons on his shirt, popping each one open slowly, his chest still rising and falling with every deep breath. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and pulled it to the sides, letting the cool air hit his skin as he leaned back. 

“Much better.” he muttered to himself, his head rolling to the side to glance at you. His chest glistened slightly with sweat, his skin flushed, and his breathing was still a bit unsteady as he sat there, letting the shirt hang loose on his arms like he’d given up entirely on any formality. 

“Cooling off?” you teased. 

He chuckled, eyes half-lidded. “Trying to. You’re too damn good at making things…hot. God…I’m wrecked.” he muttered, half to himself.

You snorted, your whole body feeling warm from the banter. “Next time, maybe pick a less risky location, Mr. Turner.”

He laughed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and shaking his head. “No way. The danger’s part of the fun.”

You laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “You know,” you said, voice still a little hoarse, “You’re dripping from me all over your floor now.”

Alex looked at you, dazed but amused, his eyebrows raising slightly as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “That’s fine.” he replied, waving his hand dismissively as if it was the least of his worries. “The floor’s seen worse.”

“Worse than this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“Oh definitely…absolutely.” he replied, sitting up slightly as he looked at you with mock seriousness. “I’ve dropped coffee, spilled stuff...once I even dropped a whole sandwich, oh- and, you won’t believe this one, one time I kicked over a glass of wine trying to catch a football. You’re just adding to the legacy.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Glad to know I’m in such good company.” you said with a chuckle, too exhausted to argue, and shifted slightly, your body still feeling heavy from everything. 

The mess of the moment didn’t seem to matter as much as the calm after the storm, both of you still caught in that lingering post-high. 

“You know, as much as I’d love to keep chatting about your floor’s sordid history I-”

“I need a shower.” he interrupted, his voice rough, like it took every bit of energy to speak, as if even just that required effort.

“Yeah, that. Me too.” you echoed softly, still not moving from the table, your limbs too relaxed to even think about standing yet. You both stayed like that for a few more seconds. “Come on, get up.” you said, finally mustering the energy to sit up on the table, your legs still feeling shaky. “If you’re going to shower, you need to move.”

Alex was glued to you like a second skin. His damp hair, still slightly mussed, was pressed against your shoulder as he half-draped himself over you. He wrapped one arm around your waist, fingers absently tracing the curve of your hip as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, so close you could feel the soft puffs of his breath. 

“Tired?” you asked, running your fingers lazily through his hair.

He let out a low hum, not bothering to lift his head. “Maybe, a bit.” he mumbled into your neck. “I just like you like this.”

“Like what? Barely able to move under the weight of your body?” you joked, but the affection in your voice softened the words.

“Exactly.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Just want to be close to you...Is that a crime, counsellor?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Not yet. But you’re on thin ice.”

Alex chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your shoulder. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to be careful. Wouldn’t want to be thrown out of bed for being too affectionate.”

“Who said anything about throwing you out?” you teased, shifting slightly but not making any real effort to dislodge him. “I’m too comfortable to move.”

“Good.” he sighed, his body relaxing even more into yours. “I’m not going anywhere anyway. You’re stuck with me like this now.”

“I can deal with that. It’s kinda nice, actually.”

“Nice?” he muttered, half asleep but still stubborn enough to keep the conversation going. “Just nice?”

“Alright, fine.” you admitted with a smile. “More than nice. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He grinned lazily against your neck. “Too late.”

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, his body practically draped over yours. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled, but Alex, in true form, couldn’t resist.

“Did you know,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “that penguins propose by giving their mate a pebble?”

You snorted, caught off guard. “What? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” he replied, lifting his head slightly to look at you with an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “They find the perfect pebble, you know? And they give it to the penguin they want to mate with. It’s very romantic.”

You laughed softly. “Why do you know this?”

He shrugged, settling his head back down on your shoulder. “I don’t know, I think I saw it on some nature documentary. Thought it was cute.”

“So what, are you planning on proposing to me with a rock you find on the sidewalk?” you teased, running your hand absently through his hair again.

Alex chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Maybe. If I find a really good one, you never know.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’d prefer something a little more...you know, traditional.”

“It's sorted then.” he said, his voice low and sleepy again. “No sidewalk rocks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence again, the two of you just enjoying the feeling of being close, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against yours. His fingers resumed their lazy tracing over your hip. You felt that familiar warmth flood through you, feeling his quiet need for affection, and you turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his still-damp hair. “I love you too, you know.” you murmured softly. 

Alex hummed, pressing his face even closer to your neck, like he was trying to burrow into you. “I know…” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

You paused, frowning a little as you tilted your head to glance down at him. “Thank you?” you repeated, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you thanking me for that?”

He shifted a bit but didn’t move far, his face still pressed against you. “Hmm?” he murmured, clearly not understanding your question at first.

Even though he couldn’t see it, you smiled, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. “Why are you thanking me for loving you?” you asked again. “That’s not exactly something you need to say ‘thanks’ for.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel him thinking, his fingers pausing their gentle movements on your skin as if he was trying to find the right words or come up with a good reason. But then he sighed, his breath warm against your skin, and you could almost feel the smile on his lips.

 “I don’t know.” he admitted quietly. “I just…yeah, I don’t know.”

You let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused by how endearing he was when he got like this. “You don’t have to thank me, Alex. I love you because I do. It’s not a favour.”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough so that he could glance up at you with those sleepy, half-lidded eyes of his. There was something so soft about the way he looked at you right then. “I know.” he said softly, his voice a little raw. “But still…thank you.”

You gave him a look. “You’re ridiculous.” you whispered, reaching up to brush your thumb along his cheek. “But I love you, ridiculous and all.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that always managed to make your heart skip creeping across his face. “I’m just…I don’t know. Grateful, I guess.” he murmured, fingers resuming their soft tracing along your hip. “You put up with all of my bullshit. I get clingy, I say weird stuff, and you’re still here.”

You rolled your eyes but your heart was melting a little. “I’m here because I love you, not in spite of all that. Those are the things I like about you.” you said, your tone soft but teasing. “Even the weird penguin trivia.”

“Even that?” he asked, lifting his head more to look at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

You nodded, grinning. “Especially that.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m really lucky, you know,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, “To have you.”

“You’re getting too sappy on me, Turner.” though there was no denying the warmth in your chest. “But...yeah. I’m lucky too.”

He laughed softly, pressing another kiss to your temple before settling back down, his head resting on your shoulder again. “Okay, okay. No more sap. Just...let me be like this for a while.” he muttered, his body curling back into yours. 

“Stay as long as you want.” you whispered, your fingers trailing up and down his back in slow, soothing motions.

“You’re so stuck with me.” he mumbled, already half-asleep again, his breath evening out against your skin. 

“Yeah, you’re basically a human blanket right now.”

“Mmm, sounds about right.” he muttered, his voice fading into a drowsy murmur. He snuggled closer, if that was even possible. “I could stay like this forever…just you and me.”

“Me too.” you whispered. “Now sleep, Turner. I’m not going anywhere.”

a/n: i love him. (yet another version of alex i made up and became obsessed with)

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[markantonys]

My Mom Reacts To: wheel of time season 1 (this is mostly just a compilation of her commentary, but i do allude to a couple of significant book spoilers in my commentary on her commentary)

names she has called rand: brand, ran, land. she hates that there is one character named rand and another named lan. thankfully she didn’t catch tam’s name or she would’ve lost it.

for a while nynaeve was known only as “the woman who was cleaning the pool”

mom when nynaeve showed up at the end of episode 2: who’s that? me: nynaeve, the wisdom from the village mom: me: you know, that community leader mom: me: [sighing] the woman who was cleaning the pool mom: oh HER

me towards the end of episode 2: [pointing at perrin] what’s his name? mom: i have no idea

she loves egwene’s name because it sounds arthurian and she loves arthurian stuff. she’ll be pumped to find out about elayne, gawyn, galad, and morgase.

20 minutes into episode 1 she was like “there’s too many characters to keep track of” and there were 7 characters. what would she do if confronted by the 2,000 characters in the books.

mom: i’m gonna have to find a list of characters on the internet me: DO NOT GOOGLE ANYTHING RELATED TO WHEEL OF TIME

of course, this is the woman who intentionally googled history spoilers when we were in the middle of watching i medici. do you see where i get it from.

“hmph, i don’t like that he [lan] helped her [moiraine] mount her horse when this is supposed to be a world where women are in power” if THAT bothered her, then boy she would’ve hated the books jfkgh

mom when rand and egwene are kissing: are they gonna die :( me: [shrugs while holding back tears]

haha i think she thought one or both of them was going to be the Innocent Villager Casualty Of The Inciting Incident, she didn’t know they were the main characters! she also thought tam was dead after the trolloc attack, but this is a rare fantasy series where the parents are (mostly) allowed to live.

while nynaeve and egwene are listening to the wind: “now i’ll be scared to go for walks when it’s windy”

that shot of padan fain during the battle: “hmmmmm he doesn’t seem too concerned.............”

mom as the kids are leaving the two rivers after the battle: they must all have pstd! me: ptsd? mom: yes

she’s a little confused but she’s got the spirit!

me, who has never watched prime video on a tv rather than a laptop: i can’t figure out how to skip the recap of the episode we just watched 2 seconds ago mom: no no that’s okay, i need it

moiraine: there are more dangerous things than trollocs in the world mom: [visibly dismayed] i don’t see how THAT can be true

overall she is very concerned with logistics, i.e. how do they get enough to eat while they’re riding all day? did the horses have water to drink when they were camped in shadar logoth? while dana was chatting with rand in his room, who was running the bar? who will run the bar now with dana dead? how did rand get his coat back when he didn’t have it after dana chased him out of the room and then he left right away with thom? a woman after robert jordan’s own heart.

my dad: isn’t there a rope attached to the ferry that they’ll be able to use to get them? lan 1 minute later: [cuts said rope] dad: [approvingly] good

he will seem to be not paying attention and then randomly chime in with a prediction that is totally correct (he also called that dana was being suspiciously welcoming and buttering rand up in order to harm him in some way)

mom roasted rand for a) setting up his sleeping bag by himself away from the rest of the group when there are trollocs after them and b) just falling asleep after seeing moiraine take egwene off alone rather than being worried about egwene. she doesn’t know she needs to cherish rand being able to sleep while it lasts.

what she did not roast rand for: mistrusting moiraine! i was very pleased that she was still suspicious of moiraine despite the show making her the main character and less mysterious than in the books.

[camera shows lan during the manetheren song] mom: [chuckling] i can’t imagine HIM starting to sing

she was devastated by the horse dying in shadar logoth and spent the next two (2) episodes asking me repeatedly if the other horses made it out safely

dad in the 1x03 cold open: i thought they [trollocs] were afraid of water me: only deep water nynaeve: [emerges from the water and kills the trolloc] dad: well, looks like they should be afraid of shallow water too

rand: i thought moiraine was more your speed mom: did...........did he say................moi- me, hastily intervening lest she worry they’re trying to set up matraine: it was just a joke!

mat to rand: you’re the reason we’re in this shit town to begin with mom: well YOU’RE the one who stole that dagger!

she got so mad about mat (and rand) wandering off and touching things in shadar logoth after lan specifically told them not to touch anything

“rand chopped all that wood and mat served 2 drinks! 😤”

mom when the farmer says they’ll have to muck out the stables and the camera cuts to mat: he’s thinking “ugh i have to do WORK?”

i don’t think she’s a big fan of mat so far djfkjgh

oh no actually mat did get some points because when rand was hollering for perrin and egwene my mom was like “he’s gonna draw all the trollocs right to them!” and approved of mat saying the same thing a moment later

she LOVED dana’s bit about the horse trader with no horses, that got her biggest laugh so far. the runner up was nynaeve’s “i said you could ask, not that i’d answer.”

when lan says “stay there” to nynaeve and rides off mysteriously: “he’s gonna kidnap another aes sedai to heal moiraine” honestly he Would

thom to mat: what farmboy from the two rivers has met a trolloc? mom: a lucky one me: [kid with veins popping out as he tries to resist saying something meme]

every time anything even remotely unusual starts to happen she immediately goes “is this a dream????” and 90% of the time it is not a dream, but she’s in the right mindset!

she didn’t like the logain scenes because she thinks he’s “creepy” lmao

mom when the aes sedai are talking about the different color ajahs: oh, like those colorful women in the opening credits! me: [wiping away tears of pride]

haha i definitely am doing with her the same thing i always roast book readers for doing to show-onlys, assuming she won’t understand something but she actually did and explaining something she’d already figured out! in my defense, my mom is very much NOT a fantasy person and typically gets very very confused by many tv shows (she is the person constantly asking questions during the movie jdkfjg). but she did pretty well keeping up with the lore and plot etc, which tells you that the show did a great job making the story accessible for newcomers and casual viewers! all the different names and terminology tripped her up, but the actual concepts, she got pretty solidly.

she went “awwww i liked him :((” when lan was dying, i’m thinking he might be a fav (along with nynaeve, and she seemed invested in rand too especially in the last couple episodes)

post-episode-4 prediction of who is the dragon: either “the girl” (egwene) or “the red-haired boy, land” but not “the other two” (mat and perrin). i tried to get her to consider nynaeve as a candidate but she tossed that idea immediately due to nynaeve being too old. can’t fool her!

we watched the first 4 one night and the second 4 the next night, so before starting i quizzed my mom on names and she immediately called rand “land” AGAIN jkjfg but she got mat and perrin right, and she called egwene something that kinda sounded like egeanin lmao. but rest assured, by the end of the season, she knew rand’s name!

both parents were pressed about how long it should’ve taken rand and mat to reach the city judging by how far away the bridge across the river looked in that aerial shot when they were looking at the mountain, logistical concerns strike again

nynaeve: if i’m as powerful as you say i am, maybe it’s you aes sedai who shouldn’t underestimate me mom: i LIKE her!

she also really liked stepin and was so sad when he died, so take that, stepin subplot haters. it worked for new viewers!

loial is my dad’s favorite character, rightfully so. although he did ask if he was “the shrek of this show” when he first showed up jkjfg

mom when dad was blathering about something during the scene where perrin was telling egwene about laila: [genuinely mad] STOP MAKING SILLY COMMENTS!! THIS IS SERIOUS!!!

me at adult siuan’s entrance: see the tattoos? that’s the little girl from the opening scene, it was a flashback mom: whoa. good thing i have you to explain things

but then in episode 7 she figured out that the cold open was depicting rand’s birth right when tam first had the line to rand about finding a baby in the snow, before it actually went back and finished out the scene

dad, who used to work in local government, during the scene in the hall of the tower: this is just like town meeting

“so if moiraine swore not to return until the amyrlin seat called her back, what happens if someone else becomes amyrlin 🤨” my mom is thinking like an aes sedai! although i then pointed out that moiraine changed the wording to siuan’s name instead. still, good instincts!

egwene: what happens to the ones who aren’t the dragon if they go to the eye? mom: she’s the smart one

“i can’t believe they’re just blindly following moiraine in there. i wouldn’t be getting on this bus!” mat 🤝 my mom

both parents chose rand for their final dragon predictions. i guess he just has Special Chosen One energy despite the show’s best efforts to throw people off the scent haha

my dad’s reasoning was “i don’t like the red-haired one, so it’s probably him” betrayed by my own father! he did not have a reason why he didn’t like rand though lmao

the egwene-loial-rand exchange about loial trying to list things that are worse than falling into a bottomless pit brought the house down djfkg loial is very beloved here

min got quite a few laughs in her various scenes, i'll admit! she does have some good lines

“they’re both big and they both brood” was another hit lmao it’s iconic!

my mom when egwene is the only one arguing in favor of going to the eye just on the smallest chance that doing so could save the world: “she SHOULD be the dragon, she has the highest moral ground”

while lanaeve and randgwene are having their moments: “but poor perrin is all alone :(”

it was getting late but she insisted on watching the last episode because she couldn’t wait a whole day to see what happened, i think we officially have a new WOT fan! at one point she did say “i wish the books weren’t so long, i’d be interested in reading them but i don’t think i can do that” lmao Felt

she kept going “but who IS that guy???” about ishamael and i’d just shrug mysteriously haha i didn’t want to lie and say “it’s the dark one!” but i didn’t want to give away spoilers by saying he WASN’T the dark one. the struggle! i feel all you pre-show readers’ pain now.

at this point my dad had fallen asleep and spent the rest of the episode snoring and drowning out the show and not getting woken up by loud battle noises, so no more commentary from him. dads just be like that.

my mom was SO upset when she thought loial and nynaeve had died, i had to reassure her right away that they weren’t dead rather than saying Watch And Find Out (and loial’s alive status wasn’t confirmed in the episode anyway)

she kept being like “but how are there 14 books???” she really was thinking the eye of the world confrontation would be all there was to it

and then she still asked “does rand just wander forever by himself and go mad?” as if she didn’t know there were 14 books

when it showed The Western Shore she said “oh, this was where ships were disappearing” i was so impressed, man, i barely even remembered that throwaway line!

mom: do rand and egwene get back together? me: i’m not going to spoil you mom: no just tell me i don’t care me: okay. they’ll see each other again but they don’t end up together. mom: [as if i’d dealt her a mortal blow] NO!!!

randgwene shipper #1 i guess awww but she doesn’t even know elayne and aviendha yet! she has no idea what excellent ships are in store!

[barbiewritesstuff]

Chapter 3: Friendly Jealousy

-- This one is kinda short, sorry --

Tag list:

@unsure-but-trying

@n3v43hj

"You should tell her" Lieutenant Robert Floyd was three pints of beer into the evening when he decided to strike up a conversation with Hangman. He looked lonely, alone sitting in a corner, looking longingly at his friend. She was chatting -- holding court, really, she was very magnetic-- with Phoenix and Fanboy.

"Bobby, my friend, I would rather die" 

"You might" Bob replied "Think about it, if you don't great, you got it off your chest. If you do, you don't have to deal with the outcome"

"You are convinced she doesn't like me back, huh?"

"You're a jackass, Hangman, no offence."

"Not to her. Never to her." He said "Which is my problem. I think she likes me back and I would rather she didn't live the nightmare of losing a boyfriend when losing a friend is painful enough."

He had gone back from his original idea that she didn't like him back after that jog on the beach. There was something in the way she looked at him then, and now, as she glanced back at him every few minutes to ask if he was okay.

"You're not saving her from pain, you know. You're just prolonging it. Because if you die, she's just going to be losing a 'could-have-been-more-than-a-friend'. So I say tell her."

Hangman drunk to that. He downed his beer, narrowly avoiding brain freeze. 

Bob clapped him on the shoulder.

"I have had a lot to drink, and we're going in the morning. We might die. So, I'm in the mood to do something stupid. Either you tell her or I do, Hangman." 

"Are you threatening me Bobby Boy?" 

"Yes." 

Hangman pushed himself off of his window ledge and walked towards Y/n. She looked really nice in that red dress, it hugged the curves just right. And by the placement of Fanboy's hand on her back, Hangman could tell that Bob wasn't the only one in the mood to do something stupid.

"Can I borrow you for a minute, please" 

They went outside, the cold air feeling like a slap in the face compared to the hug-like temperature of the bar.

The door shut behind them.

"You okay? You sound a little off"

What Hangman had wanted to say was "I'm in love with you. I didn't know, but now I realise that I have always been in love with you. You're air I breathe, the food I eat, the water I drink. You are on my mind from waking up to going to bed. You are what I wake up for. So, if you'll have me, I think we could have something great."

What came out of his mouth, however, was something that would have scared any one else off: "Will you marry me?"

Y/n stood there for a minute with her mouth open, unsure of what to say. 

"Oh God, i've fucked it up" Hangman thought "Why would I even say that?!" 

What if he had misread everything?

"I feel like that's more of fifth date thing…Maybe we could start things of with a first date?" Y/n said with a breathy chuckle "I like the enthousiasm, though" She winked and he sighed, relieved. 

"First date sounds good. What's your opinion on kissing before the first date, since you're a dating expert and all that"

"Advised."

Hangman would havr been happy to just hold her, but kissing was much better. Her lips were soft and she was gentle. It was long and drawn out, and by the time it was finished, Hangman was drunker than any alcohol could ever make him.

[localwebslingers]

There was a pause before Peter hummed after a moment, “Maybe, but I don’t really have anyone to go with me somewhere like that. Seems like it’d be less fun that way, you know?” he offered. It wasn’t really something he’d talked about with Harry, usually too busy focused on either talking about the differences between their two worlds or what they were working on in the lab to really say much else. Nothing that could be considered personal. Less now from an overabundance of caution, not anymore, and more of it just not coming up. The closest they’d gotten was Peter talking about his Harry, the brief bit that he had.

…but he didn’t really have friends. Not from work, not from school, at this point not from his own universe. Even if he wanted to go out and try things, it would be alone, and that really wasn’t his idea of a good time. He’d rather be out all night as Spider-Man with nothing to do the whole night, than go to a bar alone where he could do nothing but drink and be left to himself.

It was only a few blocks away and, while looking down other alleys to make sure that no one had suddenly appeared in the area, they’d made it to the building without any trouble. The street was empty, there were only distant sounds of the city in passing bursts, and that seemed to be exactly what Harry had described needing. It wasn’t perfect or glamorous but it was going to be quiet and isolated and should skate under the radar of the hunters. Just what the doctor ordered. Peter looked over and nodded before motioning for Harry to follow him across the street, “No problem, for either of those.”

He was just glad that he’d known of a good option at all.

“There’s a fire escape two buildings over,” he pointed over to it, the stairs on the front of the building, “and the gaps between should be close enough to jump them. Unless you want me to help you up instead. Which I can definitely do.” Harry still seemed like he was doing better. Tense, but a lot less severe than earlier. Still, Peter was trying to be mindful of anything but might cause any of those instincts to flare up in a way neither of them wanted, “Once we get you inside I can go see about grabbing something for you to eat that can hold you over until morning at least.”

\\ @inhcritance \\

If it weren't for the visor, the hood, the fact that he was being hunted and that he was far too aware of every little noise and movement, it all might have seemed like a normal night out, insofar as there was anything normal in his situation, or there had ever been.

He still found it not too surprising that Peter's college experience was not being exactly as usually advertised.

"I was never too much of a party animal myself." He admitted, keeping an eye on their surroundings as they walked, for all he kept his head mostly low. "It's still worth trying once." He added, not entirely joking.

He hasn't liked large parties, nor had he been too fond of the chaos and the alcohol. He'd known far too well that there would be consequences if the press caught him in any questionable situation, and so he'd been careful. Smaller parties, however, he'd enjoyed, once people had stopped approaching him in hopes he'd be the one paying for everything.

They were soon moving away from some of the noise, the city growing calmer around them, and Harry cautiously allowed himself to relax slightly, only tensing as they got to the place and he focused his senses on checking for any potential intruders.

There was just quiet, however, and it would do more than well enough, for an emergency. And so he nodded, as Peter spoke, before considering the matter of food.

He'd bought enough to last him a week, and it pained him that it'd be wasted like that, and yet... The place would be watched, almost certainly. So all he could say was nod, knowing his smile wouldn't really be visible.

"Thanks." He settled for, gratitude clear despite the remaining tension. "And thanks for checking on them as well." He added, referring to the people at FEAST.

They deserved so much better than to be targetted because of him.

@localwebslingers

[bobateastay]

where you at? - k.ys

kang yeosang x gender neutral!reader

part of the 1-800-HOTTER-THAN-U series

nsfw content - do not read or interact if you are under 18

cw - non-idol!au, porn without plot, semi-public, under negotiated kink, crossdressing, feminization, furniture(?) humping, cumming in clothes, nipple play, cum eating/sharing, 'pussy' used to refer to yeosang's ass, petnames (dollface, baby), alcohol

word count: 2.6k

a/n: if you would like me to write a part two please let me know because i would be super down to write one <3

There was a reason Yeosang didn’t go out to clubs alone. It wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy the loud noise or sweaty crowds of people, nor was it because of the occasional unsavoury drunk guy that for some reason thought it was fine to grab his ass without asking. No, Yeosang was pretty tolerant of all of those things despite his generally quiet nature. The reason Yeosang always relied on you and the rest of his friends when going out was because he was quite possibly the most careless drunk on the planet.

Even with somebody else by his side, he always somehow managed to lose a shoe or his house keys or get lost or left behind while you were club-hopping. None of you were sure how he managed to survive his Friday and Saturday night escapades, but all that mattered was that he got home - or at least to somebody’s home - safe and sound at the end of the night.

Even so, losing him on the way to the second club out of the five you’d planned on visiting for the night was a new record.

“He was just with us,” Wooyoung insisted, chewing on his straw while he dialled Yeosang’s number again.

“He might’ve lost his phone,” you supplied, rather unhelpfully, while you typed out another concerned message to Yeosang, dotted with the heart emojis that your somewhat tipsy brain was so fond of. Beside you, San snorted at the sight of them. “He only had a vodka lemonade though, there’s no way he’s wrecked already.”

“He might be getting his back blown out,” San said, looking wistfully at the guy he’d unsuccessfully tried to flirt with at the bar.

“Gross,” Wooyoung whined, glaring at his phone screen as it went to voicemail once more. “He’s not gonna fuck a stranger if he’s not drunk.”

“You never know,” you mumbled, glancing down at the unanswered text messages on your phone screen. “Let me just go back to the last place and check there, I haven’t gotten a drink yet.”

“Yes please, thank God,” Wooyoung sighed, holding his own drink close to his chest. San pressed a wet kiss to the side of your head, giggling when you wiped the feeling of it away afterwards. “And ask him why he’s not answering his phone when you find him!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, straightening the straps of your dress and returning a kiss to San’s temple. “See you soon.”

The last club you’d been at was just a couple of streets away and while you were sure it was impossible for a practically sober Yeosang to get lost without managing to get through at least three clubs, you didn’t want to speak too soon. On the way there Yeosang was nowhere to be found, and a pout formed on your lips as you pushed your way into the club you’d been at just half an hour ago. You looked around the people closest to you and realised it might be a better idea to ask the bartender rather than pushing through the crowd.

You’d only taken a few steps towards the bar when you felt a hand close around yours, followed by a giggle. You turned to find Yeosang standing behind you, just as inebriated as he had been when you’d left him behind. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Where were you, Yeosangie? Why didn’t you come with us?” you asked, giving his hand a squeeze and fondly straightening out the shirt he was wearing.

“I lost my phone,” he replied with a huff. You rolled your eyes. You really couldn’t take your eyes off of him for even a second. His eyes lingered on your dress, looking up and down the shiny fabric before he let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Can you help me look for it? I was just about to check the toilets.”

“‘Course,” you sighed, wrapping your own arm around his waist. You leaned closer to him as the two of you made your way through the rest of the people in the club, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. “San thought you were getting fucked but Wooyoung was convinced you wouldn’t fuck a stranger if you weren’t drunk.”

Yeosang’s posture stiffened slightly as you spoke, and he shuddered in your hold when you pulled back from his ear. He leaned into you this time, his lips soft and moist with the cherry flavoured lip tint you’d gifted him a few weeks ago.

“If they were hot enough then I might’ve made an exception,” he replied, making you giggle.

Your arm slipped away from his waist as you pushed open the door to the first toilet, looking around the small room with a raised brow. Yeosang stepped past you to look inside, pout on his lips and cheeks flushed pink as he kicked lightly at the trash can.

“You think you put your phone in the trash?” you asked incredulously. Yeosang shrugged, waving his hand for you to move out of the doorway.

“Let’s check the next one,” he mumbled, hand resting on your lower back until you stepped away from him to look around the next bathroom. Yeosang stood in the doorway, lips pressed into a thin line when you turned around to look at him.

“It’s not here,” you sighed, stepping forward to leave the bathroom only for Yeosang to stay stockstill in the doorway, eyes fixed on a spot close to your feet. “Yeosang? Can we check the next one? Wooyoung and San are waiting for us.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to tell you something,” he said, eyes lifting from your feet to look at the bottom of your dress instead. You nodded and gestured for him to continue. “I really like your dress.”

“Oh,” you replied, brows drawing together in confusion. “Thanks, Yeosang.”

“Can I touch it?” he blurted out, eyes lifting to make eye contact with you. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing out loud, stilling when you realised that Yeosang was serious. You cleared your throat and nodded.

“Sure. Lock the door though,” you said, smiling when Yeosang did as he was told without any hesitation. No wonder it was so easy for him to get laid, you thought absently. His hands found your waist easily, already accustomed to the action thanks to the touchy friendship you shared, but this time his fingers weren’t focused on your body, instead rubbing the smooth fabric of your dress between his fingertips with concentrated eyes. It was a rather short, hot pink dress and it shone beneath the lights in the cramped toilet, stretching a little whenever Yeosang tugged on it harder than he should have. The colour looked pretty against Yeosang’s skin and you realised suddenly that you’d never seen him wear anything hot pink. “Do you like it, Yeosang?”

He nodded, moving his hands upwards to toy with the straps on your shoulders.

“I love it. It’s so pretty,” he murmured, smoothing his hands down your sides. “I haven’t seen you wear it before.”

You smiled, reaching up to rub your thumb over the birthmark by his eye before tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Do you wanna try it on?” you offered. Yeosang’s eyes widened, cheeks turning red as he made eye contact with you.

“What?”

“Do you wanna try on the dress?” you repeated. “I bet you’d look hot in it.”

Yeosang glanced down at the dress once again before nodding eagerly.

“Yes, please,” he whispered, leaning back against the sink to watch you take off the dress, his eyes flicking back and forth between your body and the pink fabric that he was so enamoured with. The minute the dress was off of you he scrambled to take off his pants and t-shirt, impatiently shoving them into a small pile on the edge of the sink. Now that he was undressed, you could see how hard he’d gotten while playing with the fabric of the dress, the bulge in his briefs flexing slightly against his underwear when you held out the dress for him to put on.

“Come here baby, I’ll help you,” you hummed, smiling when Yeosang once again obeyed without question, one hand holding onto your arm for balance as he stepped into the dress. He gasped quietly as you pulled the straps over his arms to rest on his shoulders, eyes wide and shining as he looked down at the dress hugging his body. It took a few adjustments - your figure didn’t really match his after all - but the dress did manage to fit him, although it was tighter around his waist and hips than it had been around yours and made his hard on obvious through the fabric. You grinned at the sight of him, his cheeks and ears turning red as he ran his fingertips up and down his sides. You felt your own underwear get wet the longer you stared at him. “You look really fucking pretty.”

Yeosang smiled shyly at the sound of your words.

“Yeah?” he asked, tugging the dress down and sucking in a breath when it rubbed over his erection.

“Yeah. Prettier than any other girl in this club,” you said, grinning when the words made him squirm. “What is it baby? You like being the prettiest?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, hands forming small fists at his sides as he tried not to touch himself.

“Here, turn around for me,” you whispered, grabbing his waist and turning him around to face the mirror. Before you had the chance to speak, Yeosang let out a moan at the sight of himself, melting into your touch when you squeezed his waist. “See how pretty you look baby?”

Yeosang nodded, pressing his bulge forward against the sink as he watched you run your hands over his chest, your fingers stopping to toy with his nipples. Yeosang let out a quiet moan, arching his chest forward into your touch.

“Please,” he whimpered, watching your fingers pinch his nipples through the dress.

“Please what?” you asked, letting your chin rest on his shoulder. You pressed soft kisses along his neck while he began to grind down against the sink, biting and sucking on his skin until Yeosang’s eyes were brimming with tears, threatening to spill over with each dark hickey you added to his neck. You smiled when you noticed how he was shaking in your arms. “Come on dollface, tell me what you need.”

“Tell me I’m pretty again,” he pleaded, voice strained as he pressed his dick harder against the sink. You giggled, moving one hand away from his chest to squeeze his hard on. Yeosang let out a choked moan at the feeling, rutting forward into your touch.

“My pretty boy,” you hummed softly, only for Yeosang to shake his head, his movements coming to a stop as he turned his head to look at you.

“Not like that,” he mumbled, nudging his nose against yours. His lips were close enough for you to smell the artificial cherry flavour on them, almost overpowered by the smell of vodka and lemon from the drink he’d been sipping on earlier. His breath ghosted over your lips as he spoke. “I want you to call me a pretty girl.”

You smiled, closing the gap between the two of you with a messy kiss, Yeosang’s teeth biting at your lips every time he got the chance, drool slipping down his chin as he began to grind into your hand again. The taste of vodka and lemonade still lingered on his tongue and you realised with a shudder that he could probably taste rum and coke on yours as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. You squeezed his chest and broke the kiss, lips close to his ear as you began to whisper.

“You’re such a pretty girl for me Yeosangie,” you whispered, stroking him through the fabric of the dress. You pinched one of his nipples roughly, tugging on it until Yeosang cried out, his slick, swollen lips parting as he panted softly. “Your tits look so cute in this dress.”

Yeosang squeezed his thighs together at the sound of your words, hips bucking forward clumsily into your hand. God, you’d never seen Yeosang look this hot.

“I’m- Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpered, watching his reflection in the mirror through teary eyes as you stroked the bulge between his legs. You giggled at the awestruck look on his face as he watched his reflection shudder when you began to grind your hips forward against his ass.

“You’re gonna squirt in your pretty dress, Yeosangie?” you teased, unable to bite back your grin when Yeosang nodded quickly. “Don’t you want me to fuck you first? Or is your pussy too impatient for that?”

“Fuck!” Yeosang whined, his eyes squeezing shut and knees buckling as you watched a wet spot spread through the dress by the head of his dick, cum leaking onto your fingers through the fabric. Yeosang kept whimpering as he rode out his orgasm, mumbling your name and cursing until all of the words jumbled together. You cooed at the sight of his red cheeks, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses to his neck while he humped your hand.

“Good girl,” you whispered, kissing the shell of his ear. “You look so pretty when you’re cumming.”

Yeosang only shivered at the sound of your words, finally opening his eyes to admire his fucked-out expression and the smile on your lips. When he glanced down at the wet spot on the dress you grinned, wiping the cum off of the fabric with two fingertips and pressing them to his lips. You groaned when he closed his mouth around your fingers, obediently sucking the cum off of them before he turned his head slightly to press another sloppy kiss to your lips, licking into your mouth until you’d both swallowed all of his cum.

“That was-” Yeosang paused, glancing at himself in the mirror once more before giggling. “Shit. That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing too babygirl,” you murmured, drawing a small content sound from him. You nosed at his neck fondly for a moment before pulling away. “Let’s find your phone before Wooyoung kills us.”

“Oh, I didn’t lose it,” Yeosang admitted nonchalantly, turning around to look at you.

“What?” you asked, mouth dropping open when Yeosang just flashed you a sheepish smile.

“I just wanted to tell you that I liked your dress without Wooyoung and San listening,” he mumbled, pulling the dress down over his thighs. You clicked your tongue at him, carefully stroking his hair into place and patting his chest that was still blotched pink from his orgasm.

“Jesus, Yeosang,” you sighed, grabbing his shirt off of the sink and pulling it over your head. Yeosang watched you put his clothes on, face flushing darker and darker as he realised what you were doing. When you held out your jacket to him, Yeosang whined. “Come on dollface. Don’t you want everyone to see how pretty you are?”

Yeosang took the jacket from you with a small pout that disappeared the moment he glanced at himself in the mirror. You smiled. Yeosang really did suit the dress.

“Ready?” you said, holding out your hand to him. Yeosang nodded, lacing his fingers with yours as you stepped out of the toilet and pushed past the line of people that had formed since you’d gone inside. You pressed a kiss to one of the hickeys you’d left behind on Yeosang’s neck once you were out of the club, a grin spreading over your lips. “Let’s go get trashed.”

╰(￣ω￣ｏ)꒰thank you for reading!꒱

taglist: @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @seonghwanotes @xirenex @bcbataro @sannierio @ateezinmymind @daisyboyclub @pseudosoobin @tohokuu @pinki-minki @sanjoongie @th84u

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.