#but I kind of whirlwinded it by volume….

[heynhay]

eating good with your fem kl posts 😫😫😫

that’s chef to you

[cranberrydietcoke]

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 - 𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘨𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦

heavily inspired by this post by @subtlehums

content: 18+, lore accurate luigi, cigarettes, mentions of prescription drugs, guns, L word, established relationship, unprotected p in v, riding, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, kinda emo but fluffy but smutty, he’s so tragically beautiful idk i hope this does him justice

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i am a woman possessed. he is all i think about like its bad. shout out the girlies who found my blog thru tiktok comments lmaooo enjoy

psa: he is innocent until proven guilty! this is a fictional, hypothetical situation in which he did do it.

“𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁. 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗱, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗺, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗻. – 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱.” - tweeted by @ pepmangione, may 1st, 2024.

you missed hawaii. that tiny apartment for just the two of you seemed impossibly big now, as you imagined the sunlight weaving in through the windows, casting shadows of waves onto the kitchen tile. you missed that kitchen, sharing coffee in the mornings before work, baking together. you missed the way the island held you both, lush and warm and predictable. the late nights, the conferences, the schedule – it’s funny how everything always seems so simple in hindsight. he had a way of making it clear he knew best, and you’d stopped arguing years ago. so, when he said to pack a bag for the mainland, you didn’t question it. you trusted him with a kind of faith that went deeper than any earthly explanation could offer.

the frosty breeze whips by you as you step out onto the fire escape of the hostel, headlights and billboards illuminating the city below. you could hear luigi’s furious typing from the chair inside over the sound of honking horns and screeching tires, occasionally pausing to reread it back to himself and flip through the starched pages of the book he’d been in for days. the eraser of the pencil he annotated with was gnawed to damn near nothing. the flick of your lighter shook him from his focus, snapping his head to watch as you wrapped yourself in your fur coat and brought a cigarette to your lips with deep red manicured nails.

“that’s gonna kill you, y’know that right?”

and he was right. not that it made a difference. six months ago, the thought of smoking a cigarette would’ve seemed absurd. now, it almost felt inevitable, like the distance between who you were and who you are had blurred and widened into a festering chasm.

 and yet, here he was – the one steady thing in your life, lounging in the peeling leather of the black desk chair, eyes meeting yours like nothing else mattered. the air inside was thick, saturated with things unsaid. tomorrow would inevitably come, but that seemed irrelevant compared to the man in front of you. you crouched with bent knees, weight balanced on the balls of your feet as you blew out thick spirals of smoke, teetering on the tip toes of your flats with each gust of wind.

“lu,” you strain through quick puffs, tapping a nail to the lit stick, causing ash to fall through the metal bars that held you up and onto the concrete of the new york sidewalk. “please.”  you scoff, lash-lidded gaze lingering over him through the open window, a look that he couldn’t bring himself to argue with. you were the fracture in the foundation of his carefully constructed logic, the one thing he couldn’t solve.

 the first time he saw you at some hazy phi psi social in undergrad, something in him just…stopped. a whirlwind of wild dark hair with an unapologetic laugh that was too loud for the space but too beautiful to be mad at. you spoke with precision, arguing like someone who had points to make, yet there was a strange charm about you, an effortless grace. he had to have you. he assumed that bringing you to maryland for holiday break would be overwhelming, that the sheer volume of his family would cause you to tone yourself down. instead, they welcomed you as one of their own, perhaps because your bold opinions and high standards mirrored theirs. but that was a lifetime ago – before the pandemic, the accident, the surgery. before everything splintered into what it is now.

his puffy, purple-ringed and exhausted eyes follow you as you climb back into the warmth, slamming the window shut and shedding your coat. resting his elbows on his knees, he brought his hands to drag down his face with a deep, weary sigh, letting them fall to his denim-clad thighs with a slap. motioning you over to him with a nod of the head.

brass casings littered the floor, the bed a mess of neon monopoly bills - scattered in the dingy sheets like confetti after some great gatsby party. you’d been holed up in that room for a week now, and his restless energy was palpable. it wasn’t like his stress was something you’d never seen before. in fact, it was normal after all these years. but this. this was a different level. completely enrapturing, not only mental, but physical.

 you slip off your shoes with a soft thud on the floor. your steps are slow, deliberate, as you meander toward him, eyes heavy with sympathy. three sleepless nights had made his face hollow, and he’d refused every pill you’d offered – hydros, oxys, anything to subside the pain. you stand in front of him, positioned between his spread legs. his hands reach to meet your plush hips, each digit pressing firmly into your skin, grounding himself in your presence.

when al pacino said the eyes never lie, he was completely correct. luigi’s were sullen, dark, angry. pleading for help, for recognition. you lift a hand to cradle his cheek, tracing over the stubble that wasn’t there when you left hawaii. wordlessly, you sink to your knees on the warped wood of the hotel floor, looking up into his big brown eyes. your fingers trace a slow path from the curve of his jaw to the firm plane of his chest, before settling your palm on the denim of his thigh, smoothing it up and down his leg. you tilt your head, letting your temple rest gently against his knee.

“i love you, lu,” you spoke in a near whisper against him, gaze fixed on nothing in particular, thoughts somewhere far away. “i just wish shit was different.”

“i know baby, i know,” he answered without hesitation, cooing down at you and bringing a meticulous hand to brush the mess of hair from your face. “we’ll be back home soon, i jus- i have some stuff to take care of, love, you know that.” his voice softened as he looked down at you, coaxing your glassy eyes up to his steady stare. with a subtle touch, he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index fingers, lifting your face to meet his. only inches way, you felt the heat of his breath on your lips, drinking it in.

“i know this isn’t who you fell in love with, n’ i’m sorry. i-i’m a fucking shell,” he rambled, bobbing his head with each word, eyes darting around each feature on your face.

“this world, me, everything, is a fucking lie.” he spat, “just t-touch me so i know that i’m real.”

his eyes were wide and manic, brow furrowing as if every thought, every word, was a battle being played out behind those unblinking, shifty eyes. your mouth hangs open, and every part of you seems to be falling into him, melting in his touch. your eyes are unfocused and glazed over as they follow his, drunk off the very essence of him.

“fuck me so i know that i’m real. i’ve been dying to know if i am.”

heady puffs of breath fell against your face with each word, his eyes drifting down to your glossy pout. he ran his tongue up the curve of your parted lips, a tiny gasp escaping them, your eyes never leaving his. it was perverted almost, urgent and depraved. without thinking, you curl your tongue out, meeting and circling his without your lips even touching, saliva dripping onto the floor below. his hands grasp at the sides of your head, pulling you in closer as his tongue forces its way past yours, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. he stands you both up with a swift movement, each kiss growing deeper, more consuming, as he guides you backward onto the bed.

you can’t help but whimper into his mouth through the soft, wet smack of your lips that fills the room as he lays you on your back, pinned by the wrist in a pool of pink and orange paper money. hot, hungry kisses trailed down your neck and across your chest, his hands firm as he peeled off your white tank top. your fingers roamed over every inch of him – gripping a handful of curls, your palm finding the small of his neck to pull him closer. softly, your hands slid over the hard lines of his shoulder blades, tracing the muscles beneath his skin. for a split second, it felt like undergrad again – fooling around on that tiny twin bed, stealing kisses between whispered laughs and desperately hoping that none of the boys in the chapter house heard you.

“baby, sit back,” you murmur, craning your neck and biting into your lower lip as he licks spirals into the sensitive skin, sending a chill down your spine. with a smirk, he flips over to settle onto the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the cold metal button of his levi’s and squirming out of them. the print of his length pressed through the thin fabric of his boxers as you hook your fingers in the waistband, tugging them to fall around his ankles. you shimmy out of your leggings and black lace panties, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the hardwood.

letting a stringy drop of spit fall from your lips, you work and twist your hands over him, whimpers and pants making his chest fall and rise, head lolling back as you plant tiny kisses on both thighs. turning around with bent knees, hips between his legs and feet flat on the floor, you sink down onto him inch by inch, whining incoherently as it stretches you out.

his hands on your sides, thumbs running down the valley of your spine, molding you like pottery as he guides you up and down. the tips of your fingers balance on the floor as you gently bounce and roll your hips, stuffing yourself over and over again on his cock.

“f-fuck – mine, all fuckin’ mine,” he spoke breathlessly, watching your drooly hole take him in with little plap plap plap’s, the fat of your ass recoiling as his length disappeared into you. his grip tightened on your sides, and you felt his legs getting wobbly under your stabilizing hand. “my girl, my good fucking girl…” he spoke absently, almost to himself, each syllable dripping with lust. appreciation. worship, even.

“god, fuck – please.” you babble, whipping your hair back to steal a glance at him from over your shoulder – all focused and blissed out, slack-jawed as he groped and pawed at the lower contour of your ass, spreading open the sticky mess and watching with wild, amazed eyes at the way you wet him up.

“what, baby? want it inside? yeah?” he panted out with squeaky desperation, lower stomach tensing and turning as you gripped and slid over him. “wanna get pregnant, huh, the way you’re takin’ it – fuck!”

his thrusts got sloppy, breath hitching in his throat and translating to desperate whines as he pumped you full. even if he didn’t come back tomorrow, if you never saw him alive again, he was determined to leave you with a little permanent piece of him. bringing a strong, warm palm to the small of your lower back to slow down your pace and push you off of him, he fell back onto the bed with a sigh, rattling the bed frame with the impact. ribbons of thick, opalescent seed seeped from your hole, all fucked open and raw.

laying together, swimming in those hotel sheets, the cold touch of fingerprints tracing numbers and letters into your thighs. truly believing you both had nothing to lose, even though that was far from the truth because you had each other. the shrill sound of wind against windows was stomach-churning compared to the familiar crash of the ocean, and you’ve accepted that you’ll probably never see that apartment again. even if you did, it wouldn’t be the same. but, you trusted him. believed in him, his capability, his intelligence. holding onto that tiny sliver of hope that told you everything would be okay, he would be careful, come home unseen and unscathed. those worries were reserved for the future version of you, one that could carry the weight of tomorrow in the daylight. all of it – the pain, the planning, the uncertainty – was beside the point now. all that mattered was the shelter of his lingering touch, quieting the rest of the world, only if for a few more hours.

[uchizana]

SPARK

synopsis: in a whirlwind romance, a seemingly perfect relationship is shattered when jealousy rears its head, revealing minjeong’s unsettling obsessions and igniting a battle for sanity between love and darkness.

pairing: toxic girlfriend! minjeong x girlfriend!fem reader

warning(s): fire (uhm yeah...), jealousy, manipulation, toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, victimhood, violence. (let me know if I missed something!!)

word count: 7,2k (i had to rewrite it because my docs hates me and for some reason deleted the file where i had the original work... anyways this version is very similar.)

aespa masterlist.

your relationship with minjeong was complicated.

at first, the world appeared pastel and soft, built on hues of affection and endless laughter. 

you remember the early days clearly — she was the kind of girlfriend who would take you out on dates every weekend,how she would surprise you with breathtaking bouquets, each more vibrant than the last. there were daisies, peonies, and delicate lilies, transforming corners of your home into a floral wonderland. your place started to resemble a botanical garden, petals spilling into every corner, their sweet scents blending with the memories of her laughter.

minjeong had a gift for warmth; there were times when she gazed at you as if you were a novel she could read forever, showering you with compliments that seemed to ebb and flow like the tides; “you look so beautiful today,” she would say, even on days when you hadn’t left the house or merely tied it into a messy bun. she would compliment you even when you forgot to fix your hair or wore an old hoodie. 

her sweet, simple gestures spoke volumes—kissing you on the knuckles, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, and watching you intently when you spoke like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered. sometimes, she’d slip her hands into your pockets while you two held hands, wanting to keep your fingers warm when you forgot your gloves in winter. everything felt right, perfect.

but then, like a sudden storm cloud obscuring a clear sky, everything shifted. the first crack in your fairy tale surfaced when life’s mundane obligations got in the way of love.  one fateful weekend, you had to make a choice — a subject looming over your head like a dark shadow. with an important exam creeping ever closer, you found yourself compelled to cancel your much-anticipated date night with her. the guilt settled heavily in your stomach as you dialed her number, knowing how much she’d been looking forward to it.

“hey minjeong, i’m really sorry…” you started, your palms sweaty around the phone. “i can’t make it this weekend. i need to study. it’s this exam, and—”

nerves consume you, leaving you speechless. there was a long pause on the line. you could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind.

“it’s okay,” she finally said, her voice tight. “don’t worry about it,” her voice chimed back, light yet edged with something you couldn’t pinpoint. “good luck with your studies.” 

there was an unsettling dissonance lurked beneath the surface, leading you to believe she was fighting back something more than disappointment.

“i'm really sorry, baby. i promise i'll make it up to you as soon as possible.” you assure her, feeling the guilt eating away at you and making you feel bad, even when you weren't doing anything wrong other than putting your studies first.

“i told you not to worry about it. i understand, it seems that right now your studies are more important than your girlfriend, i get it.”

you didn’t miss the subtleties in her tone; the tension that suggested she was biting back words that didn’t fit into her kind demeanor.

“anyways, i'll hang up right now. i'll leave you to study in peace.”

however, judging by her tone of voice, you’d swear she was tapping the inside of her cheek with her tongue to keep from blurting out what she was really thinking.

of course, that’s how it was. you used that weekend to study, but there were a couple of changes along the way. you ended up meeting at a friend’s house to study. she told you that she had knowledge of the subject since her sister was studying the same subjects at university and spent nights and nights studying, so inevitably your friend ended up listening to her sister study, whether she wanted to or not, memorizing more knowledge than she anticipated.

you were focused on studying, hair tied in a messy bun, books and notebooks scattered all over the table, along with pencils and empty coffee cups. your friend thought it was kind of funny to see you so focused on studying when most of the time you never studied for tests or even put a pencil down in class, so she had no better idea than to take a photo when you weren’t looking.

you were deep in the grasp of equations and theories when your friend, in a mischievous moment, snapped a photo of you. you had been so absorbed that you hadn’t sensed her reach for her phone.

as she clicked the shutter, the light captured you: hair a mess, scribbles sprawled across your notebook, a look of fierce concentration. unbeknownst to you, that seemingly harmless moment cascaded into something monumental. your friend, having the joys of social media at her fingertips, instantly uploaded it to her instagram stories, a lighthearted snapshot of you crushing it at studying.

minjeong was home, idly watching television, when her phone buzzed, instantly receiving the notification that your friend had made a post seconds ago. why she had notifications from your friends activated and how she managed to get updates in real-time? well, that was a secret better left unsaid. you knew that she followed your friends closely, but you never thought much of it. that was her way of staying connected, of knowing what you were up to, as if weaving a delicate thread between you, even from afar. but this thread snapped when she clicked on the notification.

within moments, minjeong sat frozen in her living room, her heart racing. she glanced at the photo on her phone: you, hair piled haphazardly, surrounded by crumpled papers and empty coffee cups, looking like you were about to conquer an academic mountain. but it wasn’t only that. in the background, through the window, she could see your friend's house, ryujin’s house. the instant flash of jealousy sparked inside her—a gut-wrenching twist of envy that she fought to suppress.

the blossoming rage was immediate and insatiable. she nearly smashed her phone against the wall, leaving it to dangle dangerously from her fingertips, all shatters and anger. seconds felt like hours as her mind raced, spiraling through anger and betrayal with dizzying speed. 

her hand trembled, tightening around the phone as she scanned the comments already popping up, friends praising your focus, others playfully teasing you. each word only fueled the fire in her chest. the image replayed in her mind, vivid and cruel, making her heart race. what had she allowed to slip while you studied with another girl—so effortlessly immersed in the comfort of your friendship while she was left behind?

minjeong felt a sudden jolt of irritation surge through her. the kind that ignited flames of a insane jealousy. the realization that you were spending time with someone else, not just anyone, but with someone who was so visibly present in your life. someone who had now become a part of this moment you were sharing without her. it felt like betrayal—the photos intended to capture your essence instead felt like reminders of her absence.

what did it mean that you were there, alone with her? had you been telling her the truth this whole time about studying together? or had you grown tired of her and her little quirks? it felt like betrayal, visceral and raw. how did her sister's extra study sessions become her own?

in a rise of frustration, she silenced her phone, the sound echoing like a decision reverberating through her thoughts. she tossed it onto the couch and stood there, still as a statue. the warmth of the living room seemed to suffocate her, and her mind whirled with conflicting emotions. without thinking, she grabbed her jacket from where it hung and impulsively marched out of her apartment, slamming the door behind her—her heart racing as the chill of the evening air surrounded her.

where are you going? the question echoed in her mind as she stepped onto the city streets, her breath misting before her in the winter chill. she didn’t know where to go; the cold wind cut through her, much like the realization of what she felt inside. she was filled with confusion, anger, and hurt, questions swirling around her like the fallen leaves.

what if you didn’t want her anymore? what if this was just the beginning of something spiraling out of control? the images of you studying with someone else, laughing and flirting, ignited feelings she hadn’t felt in a long time.

maybe she was overreacting? the right words swirled out of reach, tangled in the threads of her heart. she played back memories—each sweet moment together battling with the icy reality of this new picture, this betrayal. she questioned every second they had spent together, every revelation she had quietly harbored about her feelings for you. you—who were supposed to be her source of happiness, now felt like a threat, a source of pain.

your walk back home is peaceful. the cold breeze of early winter kisses your face, sending tiny shivers down your spine. luckily, you have your coat on, its fabric a comforting barrier against the chill wrapping around the city. 

the faint glow of street lamps illuminated the sidewalk, their lights flickering like distant stars against a darkening sky. the scent of fallen leaves mingles with the faint aroma of smoke from distant chimneys, creating a vivid tapestry of autumn giving way to winter. you found comfort in the rhythm of your footsteps, each echo resonating against the chill of the night air.

as you reached the entrance of the building where you lived, you noticed a profound silence enveloping the space. the usual sounds—the laughter of neighbors, the creaking of doors, the faint hum of life—are conspicuously absent.

normally, you would hear the hum of distant conversations, the clatter of heels on the tile floors, or the soft notes of music drifting from neighbors' open doors. but tonight, the only sound was the faint rustle of your coat as you shuffled inside.

a strange feeling settled over your shoulders, as if the air itself was holding its breath, the kind that prickles at the base of your neck, whispering that something isn't quite right and making you sense that something was amiss. 

you pause for a moment, scanning the darkened hallway, but sigh and shake it off. it’s late, after all; perhaps everyone is tucked away, hibernating in their cozy nests.

you pressed the button for the elevator, the ding echoing through the stillness. as it ascended, an unsettling sense of unease crept in. you can’t even hear the faint sounds of other apartments—the muffled TV shows, the soft laughter, and the rhythmic background of city life. even the elevator seemed to hold its breath, devoid of the usual creaks and groans. you wondered if everyone around you had decided to vanish, leaving you as the sole inhabitant of this quiet realm.

the ascent felt slower than usual, the stillness heightened by the lack of familiar sounds. the soft whir of the machinery felt almost alien in this quiet atmosphere. just when you start to feel anxious, the elevator dings, announcing your arrival at your floor, but you feel unnerved, looking forward to the ordinary chaos of your apartment.

stepping out onto your floor, you adjusted your scarf and made your way down the hallway. rummaging through your bag for your keys, your thoughts wandered to what you’d studied at ryujin’s place earlier. it had been a late session, fueled by coffee and late-night snacks, and a part of you regretted not sending a text to let Minjeong know.

just as you were about to lose yourself in that thought, you felt a sudden grip on your wrist. startled, your heart raced as the hallway light flickered on, illuminating the figure of minjeong standing there, her expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“where have you been?” minjeong’s voice pierced the silence, echoing off the walls. her expression was layered with concern and something deeper—something that sent a shiver down your spine. in an instant, the hallway light flickered on, casting a warm glow that seemed almost foreign amidst the encroaching shadows.

you turned, wide-eyed, the knot in your stomach tightening. “minjeong? what are you doing here? it’s late.”

she narrowed her eyes, and the tension in the air thickened. “i could ask you the same thing. why were you out so late?”

you took a breath, felt the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through you. “i told you i would use this weekend to prepare for my exam, remember? ryujin offered to help me study.” you explained, exasperated. “i forgot to tell you that i was going to her house to study, i’m sorry. but we had a big exam coming up.” you could feel the frustration bubbling beneath your skin, but you tried to keep your voice calm.

minjeong’s frown deepened, her arms crossing over her chest. you could see the gears of her mind shifting, grappling with what you’d just said. yes, she knew you were with ryujin, but verbalizing it seemed to ignite something within her, bringing out the demon of jealousy.

“just studying?” she pressed, her tone laced with skepticism. “how late were you planning on staying?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished. “you could’ve at least texted me, you know. i was worried!”

you raised your hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to keep your voice even. “i’m really sorry; i lost track of time. but you know ryujin is just a friend. we were going over notes, that’s all!”

her voice trailed off, eyes narrowing as jealousy crept into her words. “you’re always with her.”

“it’s just study stuff, minjeong!” you insisted, somewhat defensively. “you know you’re the one i care about.”

her fingers dug into your wrist as she leaned closer, her face betraying a tempest of emotions. “i can’t help it! i just— i don’t like this feeling!”

“feeling what?” you replied, bewildered. the tension crackling between you was palpable, each word finding its mark like arrows in a target as you both circled each other like wary opponents. “i’ll always choose you, minjeong. i just really needed to study.”

huffily, she crosses her arms, her fingers pressing her coat into her skin as if it were a shield. “it’s not about studying! it’s about you being inconsiderate. you could’ve called,” she huffs dramatically.

you feel a wave of frustration surge through you, but you brace yourself against it. “minjeong, you didn’t have to worry. i’m safe, and besides, i didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” your attempt at reason is met with a silence that hangs heavy in the air, tension crackling between you like static.

“safe?” she scoffs incredulously, her eyes narrowing. “you’re out with some girl at her place! i don’t want to sound controlling, but why would you put yourself in that situation without telling me? you could at least consider my feelings.”

“minjeong…” you feel the energy drain from your voice. the conversation is taking an unexpected turn. she knows you well enough to trust you, doesn’t she? you reach out to touch her arm, but she flinches away, retreating into her own anxieties.

“just let me into the apartment,” you plead, desperate to talk this out in private. something inside you hopes that they won’t spiral further into an explosive confession of jealousy and insecurities.

yet she shakes her head resolutely. “not until you explain why i should trust you when you’re out with another girl,” she insists, the fight in her voice wavering but ultimately holding firm.

after much hesitation, you manage to soothe the atmosphere. “i have no feelings for ryujin. our relationship is just a friendship. you're the one i love.”

eventually, after tired back-and-forth, she mutters, “... fine. i’m sorry for overreacting, but i just can’t help worrying… it’s not like anyone really talks to me about these things.” her voice softens, and you recognize that vulnerability; she’s slipping into her victim role again.

you try holding her gaze, searching for the truth behind her words. “it’s okay; i get it. just try to trust me a little more, alright?”

ninjeong smiles hesitantly, but the shadows of her doubts linger in her eyes like a storm cloud threatening to break. you unlock the door and let her into your apartment, unsure of what the night will unfold. the warmth of the living space is inviting, but the tension of the moment casts a longer shadow than you anticipated.

unbeknownst to you, this moment was just the beginning of something that had rooted itself deep in your relationship with minjeong—a well-meaning storm, brewed from jealousy and care, that would spiral and churn in ways neither of you could predict. as she brushes past you into the living room, you reluctantly realize what lies ahead may be more challenging than you’d hoped for.

the argument felt small at first, a mere bump in the road of your otherwise blissful relationship with minjeong. but as the days wore on, it became apparent that the little fight had unlocked something within her, something dark and volatile. the initial infraction—her jealousy over a casual conversation you had with a mutual friend—had spiraled into an endless cycle of blame and resentment.

you still recall the way her eyes had narrowed as she listened, her lips pressed into a tight line. that soft laugh you loved so much had been replaced by a chilling silence. what used to be playfully teasing turned into a gaze that bore down on you, probing, analyzing, judging; it felt like the weight of her disappointment was crushing your chest. once sweet and affectionate, she transformed into someone you hardly recognized—her demeanor twisted, like a pretty piece of art slowly warping into a grotesque figure and you wondered if you even recognized the girl you had fallen in love with.

you found it hard to breathe the first time she turned that silence on you after the argument. sitting across from each other at a cafe, the usual warmth in her gaze had vanished, replaced by an unsettling intensity. you looked everywhere but into her eyes, tracing patterns in the wooden table with your fingers. you could feel her stare, piercing and relentless.

“do you think she likes you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with an edge that made your stomach churn.

“who?” you notice that minjeong's gaze is no longer meeting yours, but is directed elsewhere across the room. you follow her gaze, and you understand what she means; a few tables away is your friend yizhuo, having breakfast and chatting with a friend of hers.

you exhaled slowly, hoping calm would drown the anxiety rising in your chest.

“don’t play coy,” she snapped, her voice suddenly sharp. “you know exactly who i’m talking about. is it really that hard to be honest with me?”

the argument blossomed, each word a petal of bitterness, eventually curling into a thorny reality. you didn’t understand where all this jealousy came from, nor did you grasp why her feelings conveyed so much potency. minjeong used to be the gentle spirit, the one who found beauty in everything—even in the world of people. now, she was the tempest, and you were ensnared within it.

but that wasn’t the end; it was merely the first act in an ongoing tragedy. the discussions didn’t stop. they became a staple of your daily life, an unwanted rhythm that resonated through your days. one friday night, a group of friends decided to gather at a local bar. laughter echoed through the walls, familiar warmth wrapped around you like an old blanket, but not for minjeong.

"are you even listening to me?" she snapped one evening during the dinner with her friends, her voice slicing through the laughter surrounding you like a knife. you had been chatting and catching up with your friends, oblivious to the thundercloud brewing in her mind.

"of course, i am," you replied earnestly, but the damage was done. the disapproval etched across her face was enough to ruin the mood. moments later, she dragged you outside under the pretense of needing air, her grip on your arm like steel.

"what's wrong with you? you've been ignoring me ever since we got here.” she demanded, her voice low but frigid.

you sighed, your heart racing. "it was just a conversation. i didn't mean to upset you."

"you should know better," she hissed, her eyes flashing. “you and your friends always do this. you want to hurt me, don't you?”

the phrase was confusing; what in the world made her think you would ever want to hurt her? yet every rational thought fell away, and you found yourself backpedaling, desperate to soothe the storm brewing within her.

“minjeong, please. i value you and our time together. you know that,” you pleaded.

she just gives you one last look, walking back into the bar, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

you should have known she wouldn’t be willing to play nice. midway through the first round of drinks, you saw it—the familiar grimace twisting her features as she watched you engage in conversation with jimin, a longtime friend. you felt minjeong’s eyes digging into you like daggers, even as a lighthearted joke made jimin laugh. the sweet sound cut you off—no more jokes, no more laughter. as the night progressed and the alcohol flowed, minjeong's attitude simmered, eventually boiling over.

“can we leave?” she demanded, standing abruptly. Ignoring the pile of half-finished drinks and clinking glasses, she grabbed your wrist, her grip hard enough to bruise. you glanced around, trying to gauge the group's reactions, but most were busy enjoying the night. you caught jimin's concerned look—a silent plea for you to stay, but minjeong wouldn’t hear it.

“minjeong, can we just relax for a moment?” you attempted to reason with her, but the storm was too loud, and the chaos was all-consuming.

“no!” she yelled, the intensity of it drawing eyes toward your table. your heart sank; a familiar humiliation washed over you. together, you walked out into the harsh night, the cool air doing little to calm your rising anxiety.

“what the hell was that about?” you asked, your voice strained.

“why were you flirting with her? you were practically hanging off her every word!” minjeong's dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with an unhinged fury. it terrified you. ot wasn't the minjeong you fell in love with, but rather a version twisted by insecurities you couldn’t massage away.

“i wasn’t flirting!” you insisted. “you’re being unreasonable. everybody was just having fun!”

“fun for you, maybe,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “i suppose it’s fun to watch you toy with someone else’s feelings.”

each syllable that slipped from her lips cut deeper than the last, practically shredding at your shared history. you tried to calm her down, stammering words of reassurance, but her only response was a silence so deafening it echoed.

from that point on, things escalated to new heights, a spiraling mess of fights that felt more reminiscent of a battle than the love you had once shared. just a few days later, at a small diner down the street, the situation hit a new low. as the waitress placed the tray on the table, you turned just in time to see her chuckling at something, probably because she thought it was adorable how you misread the name of your coffee when ordering earlier—a routine occurrence that had never bothered minjeong before. perhaps it was the way you returned the smile, or the lingering moment that stretched too long, but something snapped inside her.

the laughter was innocent; the exchange friendly. yet, to minjeong, it was tantamount to treachery.

“let’s go,” she said suddenly, her voice flat.

“what? but we just sat down!” you exclaimed, confusion mixing with exasperation. you detected the faintest tremble in her lips, a prelude to a full-blown tantrum.

“... did you say "but"? seriously?” she questioned, fury painting her voice. you barely had a chance to register the words before minjeong swept her arm across the table, sending the coffee cup crashing to the floor, splattering the waitress and staining the ground with bitterness.

“i’m so sorry!” you blurted, mortification flooding through you as you scrambled to your feet. the waitress stood stunned, and in that moment, your heart shattered into pieces. you apologized repeatedly while trying to help clean the mess, feeling Minjeong’s simmering rage heat the air around you.

“let’s just go,” she demanded, her eyes burning with fury as if challenging you to argue. but deep down, you were terrified of what she might do next. 

she stormed out, leaving you behind to pay for a meal that hadn’t touched your lips but felt heavier than any weight you had ever lifted. you left a generous tip, hoping to at least make amends for minjeong’s volatile behavior, but shame mixed with the taste of your muffled indignation as you left the café.

as you stepped out into the chilly evening air, the weight of it all crashed down on you. you briefly glanced back into the diner to catch a glimpse of minjeong. she stood there, a silhouette against the light, arms crossed, focused on something entirely beyond you. the realization crashed into you like a swift wave—you were lost in a relationship that had morphed into something toxic, a cycle of blame, punishment, and endless misunderstanding.

days of fighting would follow, each one leaving you increasingly drained. you learned to navigate carefully around her feelings, tiptoeing through conversations, wrestling with the fear of provoking another outburst. apologizing became a daily ritual, but it was a fool’s game, as though you were playing chess with a master who already knew all your moves.

nothing you did seemed to satisfy her, and every time you tried to stand your ground, she would employ that give-and-take tactic, leaving you scrambling to retrieve whatever ounce of affection you could salvage.

"you never understand what i need from you!" she'd cry, casting you a withering glare designed to pierce your heart.

you started dreading the moments you once cherished: evenings spent binge-watching shows, the casual strolls in the park, the intimate whispers shared in candle-lit corners of your favorite café. they all became tainted by her increasing paranoia and fury. in those moments, you didn’t catch a glimpse of the girl you fell for; instead, you stared back at a stranger who seemed to lose herself deeper in a well of insecurity with each fight.

what could you say to her to bridge the widening chasm? you wondered quietly if calling her out would work. but it always ended the same.

even in the stillness of your home, you could feel the shadows of her disappointment lurking. sometimes, as you lay in bed, you swore you could hear their whispers, taunting you to spur another confrontation. a ghost of the life you’d built together haunted your dreams, resurfacing in disorienting fragments where laughter hid behind walls built from distrust and rage.

to think, this all started with a simple argument. you sometimes daydreamed of how different your life could be without this turmoil, wondering nervously what life would look like if you weren't continuously tiptoeing around the storm that now defined your relationship with minjeong.

but in the end, naive hope lingered, refusing to extinguish despite the tempest that raged around you. you wanted to believe that one day, she would look at you with warmth restored, rather than that silent judgment that twisted her from within. you held on—because even through the tumult and the strife, there were threads of love that still remained, fragile and uncertain as they wove your lives together, if just for the moment.

the engine hums softly, a white noise glazed over with tension, as you sit in the passenger seat of minjeong’s car. the world outside the window is an endless parade of trees, stretching far enough to feel infinite, but you can’t look away from the gnawing uncertainty that festers in your chest. the conversation that should have been had weeks ago hovers between you, palpable and toxic. as the cityscape fades into desolation, the weight of your relationship stretches thin, hanging by a thread.

you take a deep breath, your chest constricting as you prepare yourself for what you know must be said. conversations about love and loss echo in your mind, gnawing at your resolve. when minjeong’s hand rests on your thigh, a gesture once sweet and comforting, it now feels nearly suffocating. the warmth dissipates under the coolness of your apprehension.

“minjeong, can we talk?” you finally utter, your voice catching slightly in your throat, sounding smaller than you intended.

“what’s up?” she replies, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, though her grip tightens around the wheel.

you hesitate, glancing out the side window at the rushing landscape, the deep green blurring past. “it’s just… i don’t feel that spark anymore,” you say, the words feeling like stones tumbling down a cliff. instantly, the air thickens with disbelief, and you can’t bear to meet her eyes, now glinting with uncertainty in the rearview mirror.

“what do you mean you don’t feel the spark?” she questions with an edge of panic, her tone shifting from casual to razor-sharp, slicing through the tension thickening in the car.

the argument spirals from there, each of you grappling for the upper hand, your voices rising dangerously. you can barely process the words spilling from your mouth as you try to articulate your truth. her eyes flicker with hurt and rage, and you can almost feel the hair on your arms standing on end, bristling under the weight of her indignation.

“there’s something fundamentally broken between us, minjeong! i don’t know who we are anymore!” you’re shouting now, and a rush of adrenaline floods your body.

“i can’t believe you think this is all my fault!” she fires back, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. the car swerves slightly, and you dig your heels into the ground, a jolt of panic coursing through you as the pavement blurs into a double line.

“just focus on driving!” you shout, but it’s too late. you hear her breath hitch, the silence that follows layered thick with unshed tears and suppressed rage. “minjeong, please—”

suddenly, without warning, she jerks the wheel to the side, bringing the car to a sudden stop on the desolate roadside. dust swirls around in the golden glow of late afternoon, the world stilled around you, as if holding its breath along with you.

“what did you just say?” she repeats, her voice trembling with disbelief. her expression morphs, the initial hurt twisting into something darker, and even more frightening.

the air thickens, and you realize you’ve stepped too far. you don’t even recognize the fury in her eyes as she unbuckles her seatbelt and throws the door open, storming out into the open air. your heart races as her figure becomes small against the vastness of the road.

“minjeong, wait!” you call after her, moving to open your own door, only to find you’re locked inside. panic sets in as the automatic locks click ominously, sealing you in with your spiraling thoughts. you pound your fists against the window, frustration clawing at you.

“minjeong!” you shout, trying to wrangle her attention, your voice quaking. she stumbles into your peripheral vision, her back toward you, shoulders taut. then, in an instant, she disappears. heart pounding, you swivel around, confusion spilling into fear.

that’s when you see it. the unmistakable sheen of liquid splattering against the windshield, an eerie reflection of your horror mirrored in the glass. the smell is pungent, and your heart drops as you grasp what is happening.

“minjeong, don’t!” you scream, desperation clawing at your throat, but she doesn't seem to hear you. she is lost to whatever abyss has consumed her; the girl you once knew has vanished.

the gasoline coats the car, pooling in strange little rivulets that trace the car’s contours as minjeong stands in front of you, lost in a trance. a match flickers in her fingers, its flame dancing dangerously close to your cloud of panic. she holds it delicately, her expression unreadable—caught between rage and an eerie calm.

“watch,” she whispers, her voice almost saccharine, but there’s an undertone that sends chills racing through you. “this will bring the spark back, i promise.”

in one quick motion, she tosses the match into the pool of gasoline. time slows; the world compresses into a singular moment of fate sealing itself. 

your heart pounds against your ribs as the flames erupt, turning the world outside into a hellish kaleidoscope of oranges and reds. minjeong’s eyes glimmer with a wildness, a furious passion that you had long thought was reserved for love. it was intoxicating, but now it feels more like poison. the air around you thickens with fumes, panic rising in your throat as you grasp the reality of your situation. she’s gone off the deep end, and you’re trapped inside her fiery cage.

you slam on the windows with both fists, the sound muffled and desperate. “minjeong! open the door!” your voice is panicked, twisting into a shout that echoes through the confines of the vehicle. at first, she appears unfazed, a haunting smirk dancing on her lips. the atmosphere is electric—dangerous and exhilarating—yet your thoughts betray you, reminding you of the dull ache that has settled between you like an invisible rift.

your heart races as the flames erupt, engulfing the car and devouring the serenity that had once swirled between you and minjeong. the acrid scent of smoke fills the small space, mingling with the gasoline that blankets every surface. you pound on the glass, your fists an echo of disbelief and desperation, but minjeong just stares at you, a wild light in her eyes—a far cry from the sweet girl you once held in your arms.

as the flames lick at the trunk and crawl toward the driver’s seat, the heat creeps in, threatening to suffocate you. but more than the heat, it is the sight of her, standing there like a goddess of vengeance, that haunts your mind. where did the girl you love go? the girl who would curl up on the couch with you, giggling at inside jokes, the one who held your hand tightly on late nights?

“minjeong! stop!” your voice is hoarse, but the urgency rings clear. fear gnaws at you, and instinct pushes you to escape. you claw at the doors, your fingers dancing over the locks, but they don't budge. locked. the word loops in your mind, almost too much to bear.

she takes a step back, hitting the pause button on the chaos she has ignited. with trembling hands, you watch her, searching for a glimmer of recognition in her features, something that would remind you of the girl who laughed at your silly jokes and filled your weekends with warmth. Instead, you see a stranger, one who stands poised at the edge of insanity, her smile a grotesque mask on her face.

“did you really think you could just push me aside so easily?” she sneers, the smile twisting into something ugly. “you think you can just extinguish what we had—what i feel?”

you open your mouth to respond, but your breath catches as the fire flickers and dances, threatening to reach through the windshield. the world outside is muted now, as though the encroaching flames siphon away all sound. “minjeong, i care about you! i didn’t mean it like that!” you lean forward, the moisture in your eyes blurring the edges of her silhouette.

“care about me?” she echoes mockingly, the words dripping like venom. “it’s too late for that!” Her laughter rings hollow, shrill against the ominous crackling of fire.

and suddenly, she lunges forward, banging on the glass with the same frantic fervor that fills your chest. “you don’t see it, do you? this is the spark! you killed it! you have no idea what you’ve lost!”

hot tears mingle with the smoke that begins to creep in. panic swells; you lean back against the seat, the metal frame hot against your skin. “please, minjeong! we can talk about this! We can fix it!”

but the light in her eyes dims further, replaced by an overlay of anguish. “fix it?” she whispers, so soft it barely pierces the roar of the flames. “you think you can put a band-aid on this? you’ve already broken what we had. you’ve turned your back on me.”

in that moment, it’s clear that every moment together, every late night and laughter shared, has unraveled into nothingness. you remember the smiles, the moments of tenderness, the nights spent plotting futures together. but now, those echoes fade into oblivion, shattered by this haunting betrayal you never intended.

as the flames crack and wax, throwing shadows across her glassy visage, you strain against the seatbelt, desperate, panicking at the thought of losing her—losing everything you once held dear. “im sorry!” an apology that feels paltry escapes your lips, barely serving to bridge the chasm that has formed between you.

and with a strength you couldn’t comprehend, she tears down the remainder of the emotional barriers between sanity and chaos. as you edge closer, weighed down by the fear that wraps around your throat like a vice, she crumbles. the match she holds wavers, and you catch a glimpse of your minjeong again—a fleeting shadow, a flashing whisper of the girl who loved you fiercely.

you can’t let her go back to this. “listen to me, please! i never wanted to hurt you! i—”

you try to think of ways to escape, but the navy blue interior surrounds you like the jaws of a beast, each lock holding you in place as if the car itself is complicit in this tragedy. “stop this, please!” you scream, voice breaking on the last word. “i didn’t mean it like that! we can talk!”

her gaze flickers, a brief moment of uncertainty flashing in her eyes. it almost seems she is weighing her options, wondering if the anger she feels is worth the girl standing inside the car. you find yourself holding your breath. 

but it’s too late. the flame dances gracefully from her fingertips, and she lets it go, a careless act that sends shockwaves of fear through you. time slows as you watch it fall, the world narrowing to the small, flickering flame that lands on the gasoline-soaked surface of the car. it ignites with an eager roar, consuming the air around you in an instant.

you recoil, bracing yourself against the back of the seat as the fire spreads, heat prickling your skin. the stench of burning gasoline fills your lungs, and the choking smoke twists and turns, curling toward you like a dark hand that wants to pull you into its depths.

“why?” you gasp, your voice a thin wisp of disbelief. is this truly the person you once adored, the one you held under the glow of a streetlight and whispered your dreams to? as the flames grow taller, licking hungrily at the roof, you realize just how far you have drifted from the joyous heights of your early love.

“why?” she mimics, voice eerily calm amidst the chaos of the roaring flames. “because you wanted the spark? you’ve taken everything! sweet moments, tender touches—they were all because of your idea of love! this is what it looks like when you strip away the façade!”

y ou take a deep breath and lean forward, desperate to connect with her again, to reach through the haze of madness and remind her of all that was good between you. “minjeong, please! this isn’t you! let’s just talk—”

your words hang suspended in the air, but she remains unmoved. you can see the resolve etched into her features, a tragic conviction that seems to make her larger than life even in the midst of this crisis. you brace for the worst, your heart thundering in your chest. her face, once the definition of warmth, is now a tempest of rage, pain, and heartbreak.

the very essence of your relationship burns behind her eyes, and there, in that harrowing moment, you fear you’re witnessing the end of everything you’d built together. “you wanted the spark, didn't you?” she shouts, voice cracking under pressure, blending anger and sorrow. “you think you’re just going to walk away from this? no more empty promises!”

you feel it then—the crushing weight of reality crashing down on you. you are two people who have lost sight of why you fell in love in the first place. you have become strangers anchored by memories, and it hurts just as much to acknowledge it as it does to see the fire grow around you.

“minjeong, please!” your eyes burn from the smoke, but there’s a flicker of something within you—an ember of hope. “we can fix this! i didn’t mean to hurt you! i still care about you, i—”

but all she hears is betrayal wrapped in weakness. “you care?” she laughs bitterly, wiping away a tear that trails down her cheek, mingling with the sweat of her panic. “is this what caring looks like?”

moments stretch on as you process her anguish; the flames haven’t just engulfed the vehicle, but they’re consuming the last bits of clarity in the conversation. she takes a step back from the car, eyes wide, the wildness giving way to uncertainty.

desperation drives you as you shout, “minjeong! open the door! we can talk!” you slam your palm against the windows, creating a rhythmic pattern of thuds, shouts blending into chaos.

she watches you through the flames now, the mad gleam returning to her eyes. “talk? do you really think we can talk? this is us now! this is what we were!” the flames illuminate her, making her look almost otherworldly, distorting the very features you once adored.

she watches you, and for a flicker of eternity, it feels like she might relent. the fire licks at the edges of the foam seats, and you can see the panic setting in her eyes, too, now. “you think it’s over?” minjeong asks, her voice barely rising above the roar of the heat. “it’s just beginning!”

she gives you one last look, then turns on her heel, walking away from the car, away from you, running away from the chaos she started.

and in that heartbeat, the flicker from her gaze changes—it morphs into a realization. the spark of love flares within her eyes, a tiny flame that could either save you or plunge you into darkness. what will it be, you wonder?

but will it reach you before the flames burn everything to ash? time is slipping, and you’re left battling a love you once cherished, now clawing at it with words that barely feel like enough.

as the heat intensifies and the situation ticks dangerously close to a breaking point, you wonder if love, once passionate, can be rekindled, or if it is destined to blaze out in a storm of fury and flames. would it matter if you escape if the love is lost in the inferno?

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Telling Hugh Dancy about trans masc Will and more...

As some of you already know by now, I went to Boston Fanexpo this past weekend for another stop on the unofficial Hannibal 2024 Reunion Tour.

I had planned to do autographs on the Friday before the Hannibal panel and had brought some gifts for Hugh which included a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, which I compiled and edited last year. I also got him to sign my own copy (above).

It all moved quite quickly, but I did have the chance to explain that it's a volume by and about trans, non-binary, and genderqueer Fannibals that includes art, fics, essays, and personal pieces. He seemed intrigued and I said I hope he'd have the chance to read it and that the art isn't explicit/sexual but some of the fics are - he laughed and said he appreciated the warning.

It was all quite the whirlwind, especially after coming all the way from the UK, so I was absolutely mortified when I remembered the next morning that I had talked with a few trans Fannibals who had specifically asked me to let him know that he/Will is a trans icon. So I went back up to see him again on the Saturday morning when it wasn't too busy (and get more stuff signed) and this is what happened:

[I wrote notes down right after so this is as close an account I can get without having filmed it!].

Me: I saw you yesterday Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: I gave you a book Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: well, I forgot to tell you. A few trans Fannibals reached out to me to tell you that Will is a trans icon to them and we all love you for it. Hugh was surprised (in a nice way) and I was pretty much going to walk away then - job done and feeling like time for me to stop bothering Hugh lol. But before I could walk away he sort of held out his hand to stop me and said something along the lines of - I don't mean this in a disrespectful way, don't take it the wrong way... I'm genuinely curious- I get that it can be about identity- but what is the connection to Will and being trans? Luckily - my essay in the book is exactly about how Will can be read as trans, so I sort of gave him a summary of that. I explained that (obviously) both Will and Hannibal can be read as queer, and that - especially as both characters have dominant masculine and feminine traits, it's also easy to read them both as trans or in some way genderqueer. He was nodding and agreeing, so I further explained that with Hannibal, he is fully formed - he's already whatever he is - which Hugh also agreed with. But that Will is still becoming, still transitioning and therefore can be more relatable to trans fans who see that journey in themselves. So although it's not necessarily the same journey - there is enough to it that it resonates with trans people. I said that in the show there is also the added bonus of Will being seen and accepted for who he is, just as trans people wish to be. He was nodding along and agreeing with me and then he thanked me for explaining that. It was pretty quiet previously but I'd been there a few minutes so the queue was building up a little but he was so focused on me - so genuinely intent on hearing what I had to say and learning more. SO I CARRIED ON. (lols) I explained to him that it goes further than the show, that we have found a community in the fandom and that many trans people have a catalyst in their life that sparks their journey - like Will had in his friendship with Hannibal. For us it might be a person, an event, or even a TV show. I explained how the fandom are so supportive of trans people - that we are SEEN. That I for one wouldn't have been able to afford top surgery without the kind donations of Fannibals back when I was not in a good place (mentally or financially). That we all help each other and for some of us that has been life-saving. He did the hand on heart thing and said "wow" and was clearly moved. I said to him that so much of this is in the book, that I completely understand if he doesn't want to read the fanfic, but I really hope that he will at least read each of the personal pieces - that each of the fics and art also have a little write up from their creator about what the show and/or fandom has meant to them and their gender journey - how important this has been in our lives. He repeated a couple of times that he would definitely read it. I thanked him and he held out his hand and gave me the most genuine hand shake I've had in my life.

I want to really stress here how much this was instigated by Hugh. That he really wanted to know more and understand and didn't even look at the slowly growing queue but was instead intently focused on knowing more about the trans Fannibals and about why this show and the characters mean so much to us.

I then went off and spoke with a few Fannibal friends in the queue before getting around the corner to another Fannibal friend and having a bit of an emotional moment/breakdown. I can't even explain how grateful I am that he gave me the opportunity to explain all this to him. And I was especially glad I got to tell that Will is a trans icon because I'd have felt terrible if I'd have not done that after people had asked!! Thank you for trusting me to pass that message on for you!

💖

I know for many of you Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal might have gone a little under the radar. So here is some more about that >>

It was compiled last year for Trans Hanni Day, edited by Max Turner of (and in conjunction with) A Coup of Owls Press - and published under Max's ACoO imprint.

It features essays, personal pieces, fanart and fanfic by and about trans, non-binary, genderqueer and otherwise non-cis Fannibals.

IT IS FREE TO DOWNLOAD, however we ask that if you do that, please consider donating to one of the linked trans orgs if you can afford to (or a similar organisation/charity of your choice).

It can be purchased on Amazon, however, as the proceeds go to charity, and Amazon only gives royalties, more is earned/given if bought directly via Max's shop.

Dearest trans Fannibals, please know that YOU ARE SEEN!

[puppym3]

I’m kinda new to tumblr tbh but I need someone to write this so here goes lol

I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write a smut story where Chan is feeling kind of insecure about himself and the reader ends up jerking him off while like cooing to him how pretty he is

basically a fic where the reader praises the fuck out of Chan cause he deserves it 🥰

.·:*¨ insecure!bangchan x reader ¨*:·.

wc: 1.3k (the shortest i've written)

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, kinda subby chan?, established relationship, insecurities, comfort, praise, body worship, sweet, fluffy, slight oral (m. rec), handjob, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: omg. i just finished writing and i was about to go to bed and then i read this and immediately needed to write it. tysm @hyunjinx42 for this suggestion <3 i hope it lived up to what u wanted

i love getting suggestions so if anyone has anything they'd like me to write, pls lmk!!! i also have a taglist if anyone is interested!

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You and your boyfriend were nestled comfortably on the plush, oversized couch, the soft glow of the table lamp casting a warm, inviting hue across the cozy living room. The air was filled with a serene ambiance, created by the gentle hum of the TV, which played a movie neither of you were particularly invested in. The flickering light from the screen danced across the room.

Your head rested gently on Chan’s broad shoulder, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest providing a comforting background to your quiet evening together. His arm, strong and reassuring, enveloped you in a protective embrace, pulling you close to him. The plush blanket draped over both of you felt like a cocoon, wrapping you in warmth.

Chan’s fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, his touch light and soothing. Yet, there was something different about his demeanor tonight. His usual warmth was overshadowed by a distant look in his eyes, as though his thoughts were caught in a whirlwind of uncertainties and insecurities that clouded his mind.

Sensing the shift in his mood, you shifted slightly, your instincts telling you that something was amiss. “Hey, Chan,” you said softly, your voice tender and concerned. “You okay?”

He sighed deeply, a sound laden with unspoken worries. His gaze flickered briefly to the TV screen, but it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere. The movie played on, a mere backdrop to the inner turmoil that occupied his mind. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, but his voice lacked its usual warmth, replaced by an undertone of hesitation.

With a gentle movement, you propped yourself up on one elbow, your eyes locked on his troubled expression. Your heart ached at the sight of him so distant, and you knew he was carrying a burden he wasn’t ready to share. “You don’t seem fine,” you said, your voice carrying a quiet intensity. “You’ve been distant for a while now. Talk to me, what’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, a fleeting moment of vulnerability crossing his features. He nervously bit his lower lip, a gesture that spoke volumes about the feelings he was experiencing. “It’s just… stupid thoughts,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your frown deepened, your concern growing. “Chan, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? No matter how silly it seems, I want to know what’s bothering you.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of apprehension and sadness. “It’s just… sometimes I can’t help but think you could be with someone more attractive. Someone who’s… I don’t know, more everything than me.”

The words struck you like a cold wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. It had never occurred to you that he, the sexiest man alive, might harbor such insecurities about his appearance.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Chan continued, his voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and self-doubt. “Like, I see the way other guys look at you, and they all seem to be models or something. And then there’s me. I mean, I know I can be sexy when I try, but it takes a lot of effort and makeup. Sometimes I just feel like you could do better, you know?”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you shook your head vehemently, your heart aching for him. “Chan, that’s not true,” you said firmly, your hands gently cupping his face. “You know that’s not true. You’re right about one thing—you look nothing like those other guys.”

You trailed your fingers down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate care. As you slowly opened the shirt, revealing his well-defined muscles, you couldn’t help but admire the smoothness of his skin. Your touch was tender, each movement imbued with love and reverence.

“They could never look like you,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his neck. “They could never have this sexy body, and your sexy voice, and your adorable dimple.”

As you kissed a trail down his chest, your lips lingering on his skin, you felt the tension in his body begin to dissolve. Your hands roamed over his muscles, appreciating the hard-earned contours of his physique. You adjusted your position, gracefully moving off the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

Your hands traced the lines of his toned abs, your fingers gently caressing the faint lines and bumps that spoke of countless hours in the gym. “Too sexy,” you whispered, looking up at him with a playful yet adoring smile.

His face flushed a deep crimson, and he looked down at you, his breath hitching in his throat. The vulnerability in his eyes was palpable, but there was also a flicker of desire that ignited as he watched you.

Your hands moved lower, reaching the waistband of his jeans. With a slow, deliberate motion, you unbuttoned and unzipped them, pulling them down along with his boxers. The anticipation in the air was electric as you exposed him to your view.

His half-hard cock was freed, and you wrapped your hand around it, gently stroking it.

"Nobody can have a prettier cock than you," you murmured, admiring its size and shape. "Not even a porn star."

Your hand ran slowly up and down his length, looking up at him.

He groaned, his cock twitching in your hand.

You smiled, moving closer. You pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, then licked the slit, tasting the bead of precum that had formed.

"Did I mention the sexy voice?" you asked, looking up at him again. "And the pretty face? And the way your dimple looks when you smile?"

You gave the head a kitten lick, your hand moving faster.

"So beautiful," you whispered.

He moaned, his cock throbbing in your hand.

You smirked, pressing a wet kiss to the head. "Too bad nobody else can have you, you're all for me," you murmured, your other hand giving attention to his abs.

His face was flushed as he watched you touch him.

You stroked him faster, kissing his cock again. "I bet none of those guys could make me cum like you can," you whispered, licking up the side of his cock. "No one makes me feel as good as you."

His cock twitched in your hand, and he bit his lip, stifling another moan.

"Nobody stands a chance against your hot body, your cute face, and your amazing cock," you whispered, pumping him faster. "You're so sexy, you're too much."

He gasped, his cock pulsing in your hand. He was close.

"You're mine," you whispered, stroking him faster.

"Yours," he groaned, his cock throbbing in your hand.

"So pretty honey, nobody else compares," you mumbled, stroking him harder.

You pumped him faster, eager to feel him cum.

"Come for me baby," you whispered, licking the tip of his cock.

His body tensed, his hips jerking as he came. His cock throbbed, shooting hot cum over your face and hand.

"Even pretty when you cum," you murmured, stroking him through his orgasm.

His body shuddered as he finished, his cock twitching a few more times before he relaxed, breathing heavily.

You released his cock, smiling up at him. You looked up at him through heavy eyelids. "So sexy, and all mine."

He smiled, reaching for your face, and pulling you up for a kiss.

You smiled, breaking the kiss. "Is that enough proof?" you asked, wiping his cum off of your face.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back onto the couch.

"Thank you for that, I love you," he murmured, holding you close.

"I love you, too," you said, nuzzling against him.

The two of you lay there in each other's arms, the TV still humming in the background.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

taglist for my beauties: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

[dark-l-angel]

can i request for a olderbat!damian wayne x reader whose his controversial young wife :3

feel free to ignore if not comfy for ya😚

Sorry for the title 😕 pls help me in the comments 🙏🏻 😭

I couldn't find a title

Olderbat!Damian wayne x controversial young wife!reader

The Batcave was unusually quiet that evening, save for the soft hum of monitors and the occasional shuffle of papers. Damian Wayne, now in his late thirties and fully embodying the mantle of Batman, stood at the central console, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviewed the night's surveillance footage.

The Batcomputer blinked with updates from across Gotham, detailing the latest criminal activities and potential threats. It was a routine night in the eternal battle against crime, yet Damian's thoughts drifted, uncharacteristically distracted.

A soft rustle behind him broke the silence, and Damian turned to find (Y/N) leaning against the Batmobile, a playful smile gracing her features. She was a stark contrast to Gotham's darkness—youthful and vibrant, her presence a beacon of light in the cavernous depths of the Batcave.

"You're up late," she remarked, her voice echoing softly in the cavern. "Anything I can do to help?"

Damian's gaze softened as he took in the sight of his controversial wife. (Y/N) had been a whirlwind in his life—a breath of fresh air amidst the shadows that had long defined him. Her free-spirited nature and unwavering optimism had challenged him in ways he never expected, yet he found himself drawn to her energy like a moth to a flame.

"I could use your perspective on this," Damian admitted, gesturing towards the array of screens displaying Gotham's ongoing turmoil. "There's been an increase in gang activity near the docks. It's unusual for this time of year."

(Y/N) stepped closer, her eyes scanning the data with a keen interest. "Maybe they're planning something big," she mused, her mind already racing with possibilities. "What if they're using the docks to smuggle in weapons or drugs?"

Damian nodded, impressed by her quick grasp of the situation. Together, they delved into analyzing the patterns and potential motives behind the criminal surge, their minds synchronizing in a way that spoke volumes about their partnership—both in crime-fighting and in life.

As they worked, Damian couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had led them to this moment. Their relationship had sparked controversy and raised eyebrows among Gotham's elite, who couldn't fathom why someone like Damian Wayne would choose a partner so different from the expected mold.

But to Damian, (Y/N) was everything he never knew he needed. Her optimism tempered his cynicism, her boldness challenged his cautious nature, and her unwavering support anchored him in the storm of Gotham's relentless challenges.

They had met unexpectedly at a charity gala, where (Y/N)'s sharp wit and unyielding compassion had captivated Damian's attention. Despite their age gap and the world's scrutiny, they found solace in each other's company—a refuge from the expectations and demands of their respective roles.

And now, as they stood side by side in the heart of the Batcave, Damian felt a surge of gratitude for the woman who had reshaped his world. (Y/N) had not only accepted the darkness that defined his nights but had embraced it with a courage and determination that mirrored his own.

"You know," (Y/N) spoke up after a moment of shared silence, her voice gentle yet filled with conviction, "they'll never understand us, Damian. But that's okay. We didn't choose the easy path, but we chose each other."

Damian turned to her, his heart swelling with a love that defied expectations and surpassed words. Without hesitation, he reached out, pulling (Y/N) into a tender embrace—the kind that spoke of a lifetime of battles fought and victories won together.

In the quiet of the Batcave, surrounded by the echoes of Gotham's chaos, Damian Wayne and (Y/N) found peace in each other's arms—a love that defied the darkness and illuminated their path forward, together.

And as they stood, united against the night's endless shadows, Damian knew with unwavering certainty that with (Y/N) by his side, he was stronger than ever—a Dark Knight who had found his light in the heart of Gotham's perpetual storm.

☆ I hope you like it ☆

[felinecyan]

Turned Tables

[Toshinori Yagi x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Although being with All Might meant you’d have to be saved twice as much as a regular civilian, it didn’t mean he was completely invincible. Sometimes, he also needed saving, and sometimes, you were the only one able to do it.

WC: 1859

Category: Mega Fluff

My beloved 🥹🥹

『••✎••』

If your future self told you that your life would be filled with the most bizarre, unpredictable situations and involved with the number one hero in all of Japan, would you believe it? Absolutely not.

If you had asked your younger self what she imagined her future to be, you could never have come up with something so ridiculous. The mere thought of All Might being your soulmate would have sent you into hysterics.

But that was then.

And this is now.

You weren't sure how it had happened, and you called it cliche, but you swore it had been a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. I mean, he saved thousands of people on a daily basis. There was no reason he should have paid attention to you.

He was just doing his job.

It was only chance that the villain that had been terrorizing your neighborhood had targeted you. It was luck that All Might had just happened to be passing through when you found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

In the end, you were unharmed.

All Might had arrived just in time, disarming the villain and delivering him to the proper authorities.

You had thanked him, of course. Maybe it was your calm nature or perhaps the fact that you had remained surprisingly unshaken during the encounter. But somehow, fate decided that the two of you were perfect for each other.

The second All Might had turned his back to you and begun to walk away, he froze. It was as if the air had suddenly gone stale. All Might felt an overwhelming presence behind him and a voice that seemed to be calling out to him. He hadn't even known that you had followed after him.

He spun around quickly, and the next thing he knew, his vision went white.

When the world came back into focus, he saw you standing there. You were looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite understand. Then you smiled.

It was like he had been blinded.

And don’t worry, you were the same way.

Your life was a whirlwind of activity after that.

You had learned his true form, not that it mattered much. Toshinori Yagi, or All Might, was still the same man you had fallen for. He was sweet, funny, kind, and everything you could ever ask for in a soulmate.

He did tend to be loud at times, accidentally yelling when he was nervous, and sometimes the volume of his laughter was a little too much, but those were the small things.

You were sure the press would have had a field day with your story. After all, not many people got the chance to date All Might.

It had taken you a while to get used to the sudden increase in popularity. It had gotten so bad at one point that the two of you had resorted to disguises when going out on dates.

Of course, his disguise choices were less than ideal.

You had laughed when you saw the first wig and mustache; it was such a poor attempt at blending in. But you had to admit, his smile had never looked so good.

There was one thing, though. Something you both dreaded and knew was inevitable.

The villains.

All the popularity and attention was a two-way street. You had gained fans, but you had also drawn the attention of his enemies. Most of the time, you could brush it off as if you were some overzealous fan trying to get close to All Might. But every now and again, a villain would come looking for trouble.

Those were the days you worried.

It was a constant concern that plagued both of you.

What if he couldn’t make it in time? What if something happened to him? What would happen to you?

These thoughts always manage to find their way into your mind. Nightmares mostly. The thought of him not making it in time to save you was what you feared the most.

It was a terrifying thought, but that’s what it was. Just a thought. Because he was always there.

Every. Single. Time.

It really made you realize why he was picked to be the symbol of peace. He was the number-one hero for a reason.

Him saving himself, though? Yeah… that was a little harder.

He could handle civilian savings. He could handle villains, and he could handle the regular fans. But the fangirls? That was something else entirely.

One of the things he had never quite gotten used to was their obsessive behavior. They could be rather scary at times. And they were always a bit too… forward with their advances.

Most of the time, it was fine. He was polite and would smile and wave at them, as a hero does. Occasionally, though, he would get cornered.

And today was one of those days.

It had been a busy morning, as usual. There had been a bank robbery, followed by a mugging and an attempted kidnapping.

All in all, just another typical day.

Now, he was making his way back home through the streets of Musutafu. He was looking forward to relaxing, maybe having a nice bath and a nap.

He could use a break.

But just as he was beginning to think he might make it back home without incident, a group of girls spotted him.

"It's All Might!"

He knew what was coming next. He didn't have time for this.

"Please excuse me, ladies," he called out to them. "Duty calls."

But his attempts were in vain.

They weren't having it. He thought he was super speedy, but apparently, he had met his match.

The next thing he knew, a mob had formed, and he found himself surrounded by a bunch of overly excited teenage girls.

"Oh my god! It's really him!"

"He's so handsome in person."

"Can we have your autograph?"

"Hey! Hey, All Might!"

He had barely gotten the chance to say anything.

"Yes, well-" he was cut off before he could continue.

"Can I feel your muscles, please, All Might? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"I'm sorry, but-"

"My sister would be so jealous if she saw me hanging out with you. She loves you, y'know. Can I have a hug?"

He was overwhelmed.

He felt his patience waning. The more they pressed, the further his smile became.

"If you would just-"

He tried again. Useless.

"Hey, hey, All Might! Can I touch your hair? It's so big. It must be soft."

He was completely and utterly stuck. Every second that goes by was a second too long. More girls kept showing up.

It was a nightmare.

"I'm very sorry, but I have somewhere to be."

He could barely get a word out, and he was too exhausted even to move.

"Oh my god, are you blushing, All Might?"

He wasn't. But his smile was becoming increasingly strained. God, they were persistent.

Then, like a light shining from above, he heard it. His savior's voice.

"There you are," you said as you made your way through the crowd.

You pushed your way to the front and placed your hands on your hips. You looked absolutely annoyed.

"What did I tell you about wandering off? We're supposed to meet my parents in half an hour. Do you want to be late? You know how my mom gets."

His eyes went wide, and he let out a nervous laugh. That was a complete lie on your part; your parents weren't exactly expecting you anytime soon, but they didn’t need to know that.

"Right. Right, of course, my love," he said.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. It was amazing how you could find him in a crowd so easily.

He was a good head and shoulders taller than everyone around. His hair made him stand out. And, of course, his booming laughter was always a dead giveaway. But, still, he was amazed at your speed. Sometimes, it feels as though you have a secret radar that lets you know when he's having lady trouble.

You leaned into his embrace, and his strained smile relaxed.

"You’re so good to me," he whispered.

He planted a kiss on your temple. Then, a mischievous grin formed.

"Sorry, ladies, but I have a prior engagement," he said. "Maybe next time."

Since your glare was fixed on every girl that was surrounding you, they finally took in his words and backed away.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, of course," one of them said.

"I can't believe I just met him. I can't wait to tell my sister," another said.

"That was so awesome."

"See you later, All Might."

"Goodbye."

They scattered like a bunch of cockroaches, leaving the two of you alone.

The moment they were gone, All Might's demeanor changed. He let out a sigh of relief and pulled you into a proper hug.

"How do you do it? It’s been decades, and I still can't escape the fangirls."

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him.

"They're persistent; I'll give them that," you said.

He was tired, so you were careful when pulling away. You were sure his exhaustion was due to his hidden condition.

"We should probably get home," you suggested. "You could use a break… and a nap."

"Sounds perfect," he said.

You were just about to start heading home when you stopped. Something about the look on his face made you think.

"Is everything okay, my love?" he asked.

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowed in confusion. You could only smile.

"Y'know, you never did answer her question," you said.

"Huh?"

"You know, about the hair. Is it as soft as it looks? Because I've always wondered that myself. I’m always too short to reach."

Laughter flooded the air as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. The smile returned, full force.

"You’ve felt my hair before, darling; it’s all you ever do."

"Yeah, well, I was distracted."

"Distracted, huh?"

"Extremely."

"Well, here," he said. "Feel to your heart's content."

He leaned down so that you could run your fingers through his golden locks. And just as that one girl had guessed, it was incredibly soft.

“I could never grow hair this nice, no matter how hard I try," you mumbled.

"It's a burden, but someone's gotta bear it."

He stood upright and looked down at you, a smile gracing his features.

"Alright," he said. "Shall we go now?"

"Just one second."

"Huh?"

He raised a brow in confusion. But you didn't answer him. Instead, you grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him down to your level. Close enough, at least.

"Wha-"

You stopped him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It caught him off guard, but it didn't take long for him to reciprocate.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you slightly. This allowed you to reach his cheek. He was still smiling when you pulled away.

"Now," your voice was on the verge of a whisper.

"Now, we can go."

[mariclerc]

Can you do a fic where the reader works for Ferrari and has been friends with Charles for a long time, and recently Charles and the reader have a friends with benefits thing going on, but the reader is actually in love with him. Then when Lewis moves to Ferrari, he takes an interest in the reader, the reader decides to give him a shot and stops the situationship with Charles and he realises he doesn't want to let her go.

thank you for this request, this was a little bit hard to make because i was looking at how to develop the story but I really liked how it came out, I hope you like it!

Confusions at work | cl16 & lh44

Summary: when you have feelings for your situationship but a new person gets in the middle of it. Warnings: a little angst, confused reader, and fluff at the end.

The garage bustles with mechanics working on the gleaming red cars. You lean over the table to see the monitor with the different strategies for the first practice session of the day. Charles walks towards you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Looking stunning with that frowned face y/n... As always.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. You have known Charles since his great season in Formula 2 back in 2017, by then you were already working as an internal race engineer in the Haas team, you were practically like Sheldon from the big bang theory - a brainiac. Upon meeting Charles there was an instant connection, it was as if you had always known each other, eventually, you were promoted from Haas to Ferrari in 2019, just the same year that Charles was promoted to the red team too, and ever since then the easy camaraderie between you has turned into something more... A secret, friends-with-benefits situation that both sets your heart ablaze and tears it in two.

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the cameras, Perceval. You know perfectly well I can take you down with a bad strategy any day.” you chuckled.

Charles feigns offense, but his laughter betrays him. You share a comfortable silence, a familiarity that speaks volumes. The moment is shattered by the arrival of Lewis Hamilton, the new star driver at Ferrari. Arriving at that first meeting at Maranello his gaze settles on you, a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes. Fred had offered you a change of position with Adami to be Lewis' race engineer, but the comfort and confidence you already had working with Charles made you decline the offer, likewise, working with a seven-time world champion is a privilege, since you can learn a lot from him, but you and Charles had practically grown up together at Ferrari and out of loyalty to him you stayed with him.

-

The following weeks are a whirlwind. Lewis tries to get close to you, and as a result, you end up having some dates and night-outs with him. He is charismatic, attentive, you dare to say that he's a bit similar to Charles in so many ways since both of them treat you with such care and kindness. You find yourself drawn to his confidence and outgoing demeanor, a stark contrast to Charles' usual genuine and soft care towards you. Guilt gnaws at you, but the thrill of something new is intoxicating... And with a little sadness in your heart, you decide to end things with Charles... At least for a little while you try to understand what your heart wants.

One night you went to Charles' apartment, and you entered with the extra key that he had given you a long time ago. Charles' apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the usual post-race buzz. You stand awkwardly in the living room, avoiding his gaze.

You gulped. “Charles... I think we need to talk.”

He looks up, a frown creasing his forehead. The air crackles with unspoken emotions. “Y/n what's wrong sweetie? Did I do something wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “It's about this.” you sigh. “This thing between us... It can go anymore.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air, Charles' frown deepens, his eyes searching yours. “Is it Lewis? Is this about him?” he asked.

The truth hangs on your tongue, a bitter pill to swallow. “Maybe, maybe not... The point is, things need to change... We need to take a break... At least for a little while.”

Charles stands abruptly, his frustration palpable. “Just like that? We throw away everything because of... what? Because some shiny new toy showed up?” His words sting, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes - a vulnerability you haven't seen before.

“It's not that simple, Charles. You know it's... Complicated.”

Tears well up in your eyes, this isn't how you imagined this conversation going. You practically run out of Charles' apartment, frustrated because you don't know if you did the right thing and at the same time you don't know if being with Lewis is the same as being with Charles... Because at the end of the day, he somehow manages to see through you and understand you on a level that Lewis cannot.

-

Days turn into weeks, you and Charles avoid each other. The only words that come out of your mouth are simply a "hello" and a "see you later", occasionally long sentences when you're giving him directions during the race or at the team debrief, the air is thick with unspoken tension. The joy has gone out of working at Ferrari... You see the way Lewis looks at you, but a hollow ache fills your chest. At night you constantly think about what you would be doing with Charles at that exact moment, perhaps cuddling up watching a movie, or a normal date at his house eating pizza, wearing matching socks and playing Mario kart... And even though Lewis takes you to glamorous galas, lavish dinners and so on, you don't complain about it, on the contrary, you're grateful for it, but, there's nothing like that instant connection with Charles.

One afternoon, Charles corners you near his car. His eyes are stormy, a mix of anger and something else you can't decipher.

You hear him sigh. “I miss you y/n... Like hell.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You miss him too, the easy banter, the way he understood you without words, the way his eyes spark every single time he was next to you.

“Charles... I...” you say shyly but he cuts you off, his voice rough.

“Don't... Don't tell me you miss Lewis...because if you do, I'll understand. But at least know this – this thing we have, it's real, at least for me. It's more than just crazy strategies and stolen kisses after victories. Maybe I haven't said it, haven't shown it the way you deserve, but I care about you, y/n... A lot.”

His confession hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable, you've never seen him that way. You can see the years of unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface. Tears prick your eyes, blurring the image of Charles in front of you.

A million things fight for dominance in your mind: the thrill of the new with Lewis, the comfortable companionship with Charles, the undeniable spark you share with him.

Taking a shaky breath, you meet his gaze.

”Charles, I... I don't know what I want... I mean, Lewis is exciting, a new challenge. But with you... it's different, it's easy, familiar, it's warm. But it's also... frustrating you know? You never give anything away, never let anyone in all the way.”

A flicker of pain crosses Charles' features. He reaches out, hesitantly placing a hand on your arm. “I'm scared y/n... Scared of losing you, scared of letting myself feel something this real. But if you're willing to take a chance, maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out together.” he says softly.

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken emotions. You look into Charles' eyes, searching for a glimpse of the future you both could have. The weight of the decision settles on your shoulders. You glance around the garage, the familiar red of the Ferraris a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. Lewis' confident smile flashes in your mind, but it's quickly replaced by the image of Charles' vulnerability, a side you've never seen before.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Charles' gaze, a flicker of determination replacing your earlier uncertainty.

“Okay Charles, let's figure this out... Together.” you say softly.

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him. He pulls you into a tight embrace, the scent of his familiar cologne grounding you, it feels like coming home.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for taking a chance on us.” he whispers in your ear.

You pull back slightly, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “Just don't expect me to lose in the strategy game anytime soon, Leclerc... This isn't over yet.”

Charles throws his head back and laughs, the tension finally breaking. He ruffles your hair affectionately.

“I wouldn't have it any other way amour... Wouldn't have it any other way.” he smiles. (love)

-

The garage and the pit wall is mostly deserted, the day's work winding down. You're packing up some of your things when Lewis approaches, a determined look in his eyes.

“Hey, y/n! Can I talk to you?” he asked with a friendly smile on his face.

You hesitate, then nod, gesturing towards a quiet corner. Lewis leans against a wall, his voice gets a little serious.

“I saw you and Charles... And I get it now, there's something there, a history I can't compete with.” There's a hint of disappointment in his voice, but mostly understanding.

“Lewis, I... I'm really sorry. Things just moved too fast too soon, and I realized what I was risking.” you say softly but Lewis offers a shy smile.

“No need to apologize, but follow your heart, y/n! That's all any of us can do... Besides, maybe next time on the track, I can finally knock your team off that top spot in the strategy battle.”

A genuine smile graces your lips. “Don't count on it, Hamilton. But hey, maybe we can grab a coffee sometime and hash out some friendly competition strategies. No promises on who'll win, though.”

Lewis chuckles, the tension dissipating. He extends his hand for a handshake. “Deal! And good luck with Charles. He's a lucky guy!”

You shake his hand, a newfound sense of clarity settling within you, he gives you a warm smile and a friendly hug. As Lewis walks away, you glance towards Charles, who's watching the exchange with a hint of possessiveness in his eyes. You catch his gaze and he winks at you, a silent promise hanging between you.

He walks towards you with a little smile on his face and takes you in his arms.

“So... How about we get out of here? I could use a real shower you know?” you say and Charles' smile widens, genuine relief washing over his features.

“Sounds like a plan. My place, or yours?” he asks softly.

The air hangs heavy with unspoken possibilities. You know this is a turning point in your relationship, a chance to rebuild something stronger.

“Your place only if you promise to make that killer pasta dish you always brag about.” you say teasingly.

Charles lets out a mock groan, but there's a twinkle in his eye. “Fine, fine. But you have to help me chop the vegetables! No bystanders in my kitchen, okay?” You laugh, the tension finally breaking. As you finally grab all of your things, Charles slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Come on, sweetcheeks. Let's get out of here before someone challenges me to another mario kart race.” he smiles softly. “You know I can't resist a good challenge, especially when you're involved.”

You nudge him playfully, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest.

”Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, Leclerc. But just you wait, next time I'm schooling you.”

Together you walk out of the garage, the setting sun casting an orange glow across the racetrack. The future is uncertain, but with a newfound commitment to each other, you're ready to face it head-on. You and Charles head towards his car, the promise of a home-cooked meal and a chance to reconnect hanging heavy in the air.

[azuredawn81]

mein liebling part 1 | nico hischier x fem!reader

❤︎‬ summary: nico and y/n meet at a local coffee shop.

❤︎‬ pairing: nico hischier x reader

❤︎‬ content: meet cute

❤︎‬ word count: 1.2k

❤︎‬ warnings: none

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

y/n l/n stepped into black swan, a cozy, dimly lit space with exposed brick walls and soft jazz playing in the background. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and the low murmur of conversation created a comfortable hum that made it feel like the world outside didn’t exist. this café had become a second home these past seven years in new jersey.

it had been a whirlwind first day at rutgers—her new beginning as a phd student. she had spent hours going over complex equations, diagrams, and research proposals, and by the end of it, her mind was buzzing with a blend of excitement and exhaustion. as much as she loved biology, the sheer volume of information in her new field was overwhelming. it was the perfect mix of challenge and opportunity, though, and that was what made her unstoppable. she thrived on it.

y/n sat down at her usual table, setting her bag on the ground next to her. it had been a pretty long day, meeting her professors, her mentors, the other people in her program. lots and lots of people, lots and lots of names.

her laptop was open in front of her, the blue light radiating of the screen with an almost taunting glow. she had one tab open, her email inbox. the one at the very top was from her high school biology teacher.

y/n l/n,

i heard you started your phd. congratulations! that’s such a big step and i’m proud of you for making it this far. i know high school wasn’t exactly easy for you. just keep going. it’s important for there to be more women in science.

if you’re interested, i have your old-

her reading was interrupted by the barista shouting her name. “y/n? pumpkin spice latte?”

she stood up and walked over to the counter. when she reached to grab her drink, she felt a hand brush hers. she looked up and almost fainted.

looking back at her was a face she was very familiar with. when she went back home to visit, she’d seen him. he’d been this larger than life figure on ice. he was tall, with tousled dark hair and the kind of smoldering intensity that made y/n’s heart beat just a little faster—especially because she knew exactly who he was. of course she knew who he was, why wouldn’t she know the captain of her dad’s favorite team? why wouldn’t she recognize nico hischier?

“you look shocked.”

her breath caught in her throat. she was staring, and she knew it. stop it, y/n. stop it.

“a little bit.”

“how come?”

“what are you doing here?”

“well, i live in newark and i like coffee”

the way he talked was just so enchanting for y/n. that deep timbre, the accent, oh that accent. he could say anything and she would fold. her phone’s terms and conditions, the instructions for her washing machine. anything would sound the word of god coming from his mouth.

“sorry for bumping into you.” her voice was slightly higher than usual, strained from the embarrassment she felt. she quickly tried to regain her composure. her fingers tightened around the cup, her white nails sparkling under the café’s lights.

“no harm done,” he replied smoothly, his tone casual but with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “i’m nico,” he added, offering his hand with a grin.

“y/n.” she shook his hand. it was a good, firm handshake. the kind her father said a boy needed for him to approve.

they stood in the slight silence of the moment, the sound of the café's chatter filling in the gaps between them. his hand was still holding hers, neither of them breaking the handshake. they walked back to y/n’s table, nico sitting across from her.

“so,” nico began, propping his chin up on his hand, “what brings you to black swan today? aside from, you know, the need for caffeine?”

y/n’s brow furrowed slightly as she eyed him. the question was simple enough, but it felt oddly probing. she was used to conversations with purpose—her work, her research, her path forward in academia. but nico seemed to want to know about… her.

“just here to work on… on phd stuff.”

"phd, huh?" nico raised an eyebrow. "in what?"

"biomedical engineering," she said, trying not to sound too smug about it, though she couldn’t help the proud edge in her voice. "at rutgers. started today."

“nice, beauty and brains.”

y/n blinked, a slight flush creeping up her neck. you are not freaking out. you are not freaking out. you are refined. you are 25. you are highly educated. her father and brother would never let her live this down if she made a scene.

“what’s your specialty?”

“my specialty?”

“aren’t you supposed to have a field of focus?”

“oh yes, i do. pharmacology.”

“which is?”

“the study and creation of medicines.”

“that sounds fascinating," nico replied, his smile widening. "but complicated, yeah. i’m more of a simple guy when it comes to science. the only thing I know about pharmacology is what’s in the little bottles I take when I’m injured.”

y/n chuckled, her nerves slowly dissipating. her walls slowly came down with each word nico said.

“most people are like that,” she replied, leaning back slightly. “but it’s really about understanding how the body reacts to specific compounds. you’d be surprised how much it can affect everything from recovery to overall performance.”

“sounds like you know your stuff,” nico said, clearly intrigued.

“seven years of college will do that.”

“what made you choose it?”

“my mom… um…. she was pretty sick when i was young. she’s not here anymore.”

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have asked.”

“you didn’t know. it’s fine.”

nico nodded, his expression thoughtful. “well, it sounds like you’re doing some real-world work. that’s awesome.”

y/n felt a rare moment of connection, one that she hadn’t expected in such a casual setting. as the minutes passed, the initial awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by a flow of conversation. nico didn’t seem like the type to be intimidated by her intellect, nor did he treat her as just another fan on the street. they talked for what felt like hours, with y/n explaining the intricacies of pharmacology and nico sharing stories about his family back in switzerland, his voice warm and engaging.

finally, y/n glanced at the clock on the wall. she hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. tt was getting late, and she had an early day tomorrow. she reluctantly stood up, glancing at nico, who had been engrossed in their conversation.

“i should probably get going,” she said, offering a small smile. “i have work to do.”

nico stood up with her, his smile soft. “it was really nice meeting you. maybe we can do this again sometime.”

her heart gave an unexpected lurch. he idea of meeting him again felt almost too surreal, but she found herself nodding.

“sure,” she said, voice steady but her insides fluttering. “i’d like that.”

“gute nacht und süsse träume, y/n.”

“what does that mean?”

“good night and sweet dreams.”

tags: @verycoolusername1 @tomskookie @dream-girl06 @skepvids @devilinpradaheels @lolatokki

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[corrupte3d-mindz]

Love ur cillian fics!! Especially the singer ones!! Could you do cillian x younger singer reader inspired by Barry appearing in Sabrina’s please please music video!! Or just Barry and Sabrina in general…

Or

Cillian x younger singer reader inspired by how Taylor changes the lyric to “the guy on the chiefs…” when travis is watching

🌸🌸🌸

Lights, Camera, Cillian

(41)Cillian Murphy x (25)F! Singer Reader

Summary: Cillian gets to be apart of a music video.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: you're 4'11

soft! Cillian, cocky! Cillian, lovey dovey Cillian, kissing, lap sitting, age gap by 16 years.

Inspiration: Please Please Please - Sabrina Carpenter

The set was alive with the hum of activity, a symphony of controlled chaos, a hive of activity as crew members darted about, adjusting lights and setting up equipment. A controlled chaos that always came with the territory of shooting a music video.

The lights cast a warm glow, creating an ambiance that matched the mood of the song they were filming for: 'Please Please Please.' Crew members moved with purpose, adjusting cameras, perfecting lighting, and setting up props. The director's voice cut through the noise, orchestrating the myriad tasks with the precision of a maestro conducting an orchestra. The air was filled with a mixture of anticipation and the faint scent of coffee, the lifeblood of early morning shoots.

She stood inside the makeup trailer next to the love of her life; Cillian sat in the makeup chair, his posture relaxed yet his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thrived in front of the camera, but this was different. A music video required a different kind of performance, one that was more abstract and emotive. The makeup artist's brush moved expertly across his skin, adding subtle touches to enhance his natural features. The bright, overhead lights cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the deep blue of his eyes.

He glanced her way, who was standing a few feet away, talking animatedly with one of the crew members. She was a vision of grace and beauty, her petite yet chubby frame exuding an aura of confidence and poise. Her chubby cheeks, which he found irresistibly cute, were flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with creative fervor. She turned to look at him and her eyes met his, and she smiled, a gesture that always had a calming effect on him. He returned the smile, though it was tinged with a hint of nervousness.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched her, the corners of his lips twitching upward. Turning his attention back to the mirror in front of him, he quipped, "Haven't been in handcuffs in a while..." His witty remark was accompanied by a playful glint in his eye. Her response was immediate, her expression shifting to one of mock annoyance mixed with embarrassment. "Cill-...hush ..before I duck-tape your mouth shut." Cillian chuckled softly, the sound a deep, rich timbre that resonated in his chest. He met her gaze in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe...I'll hush if you give me a kiss, eh'?"

Her reaction was swift, the playful banter eliciting a smile that lit up her face. She crossed the short distance between them, her movements graceful and assured. The makeup artist, sensing the intimate moment, finished her work and discreetly moved to the other side of the room, leaving them in a bubble of privacy amidst the chaos. She reached out, her fingers gently lifting his chin, forcing him to look at her. The touch was soft, yet it held a firmness that brooked no argument. As she leaned in, her lips parting slightly, Cillian felt his heartbeat quicken, the anticipation building between them. He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a tender caress.

When their lips met, the world around them seemed to blur, fading into insignificance. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a melding of mouths that spoke volumes in its simplicity. Her lips were soft and warm, moving against his with a sweetness that belied the fiery passion lurking just beneath the surface. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth, seeking hers in a dance as old as time. Their tongues met, tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness. The kiss grew more intense, more fervent, as they lost themselves in the moment. Cillian's hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her close, while her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the embrace. The connection between them was palpable, a living, breathing thing that seemed to pulse with its own rhythm.

As they kissed, Cillian's mind wandered to the many moments they'd shared, the highs and lows of their relationship. This was just one more layer to their ever-evolving story, a testament to the love and trust that bound them together. The sound of the director's voice calling out that it's time barely registered with the both of them, their focus entirely on each other. Finally, they pulled away, breathless and flushed, their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding. Cillian smiled, a soft, affectionate curve of his lips that spoke volumes. "That was some kiss," he murmured, his Irish lilt adding a melodic quality to his words.

She laughed, a light, musical sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Well, I had to shut you up somehow," she teased, her eyes dancing with mirth.

He grinned, his heart swelling with love for the woman before him. "I'm not complaining, love. Not one bit."

The whole crew and everyone else involved were taking a lunch break. She sat comfortably in his lap, her petite frame fitting perfectly against him, her presence a soothing balm to the frenzy of the day. Cillian's phone was resting on her lap, allowing her to read along as he typed. It was a simple gesture of inclusion, a silent communication that spoke volumes about their closeness. Its screen lighting up occasionally with messages. He was responding to texts, but his attention was divided, his focus constantly drifting back to her. Her hand moved gracefully, picking up a plump, red strawberry from a bowl that was on a table next to them and brought it to her lips. She took a delicate bite, the juice staining her lips a deep crimson. The sight was mesmerizing, a small, intimate moment that felt like it was just for them.

She shifted slightly, her gaze catching his. A playful smile curved her lips as she picked up a strawberry from the bowl beside them. "Strawberry?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur as she held the ripe fruit up, turning her head to look at him fully.

Cillian's eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned her smile, a subtle warmth in his expression. He reached up, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the strawberry. The contact was brief but intimate, a silent acknowledgment of their bond. He brought the fruit to his lips, taking a delicate bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a delightful contrast to the faint tang of the earlier scene still lingering in his mind.

"Delicious," he murmured, his accent giving the word a soft, lilting quality. His fingertips lingered against her hand for a moment longer, tracing the delicate lines of her skin. There was something profoundly grounding about these small touches, a reminder of the simple pleasures that made life meaningful.

She giggled, a sound that seemed to lift the weight from his shoulders. "I'm glad you like it," she replied, her tone light and teasing. She leaned back against him, her head resting comfortably against his chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, a soothing counterpoint to the frenetic energy around them. He continued to text, his thumb moving deftly over the screen, but his focus was divided. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the scent of her hair mingling with the strawberries, created a cocoon of intimacy that made it hard to concentrate fully. He didn't mind; these moments were precious, a respite from the relentless demands of his career.

"Who are you texting?" she asked, her curiosity evident as she glanced down at the screen.

"Just checking in with my agent," he replied, his voice a low murmur against her ear. "Making sure everything's set for next week's shoot."

She nodded, her fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt. "You work so hard, Cill." He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "And you don't? Look at you, running this whole show," he gestured around the set with a tilt of his head, his admiration clear in his voice. She blushed, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink. "It's different. This is just one video. You do this all the time." He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against her temple in a tender kiss. "Doesn't make it any less impressive. I'm proud of you."

Her eyes softened, and she shifted to look at him more directly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the background noise. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that tugged at his heartstrings, a reminder of how much she valued his support. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sounds their breathing and the distant clatter of dishes as the crew finished their lunch. Cillian continued to text, his free hand resting on her thigh, the simple contact grounding him in the moment.

"_______! _______! Over here!" A voice suddenly called out, breaking their serene bubble. Both of them turned toward the source of the voice, their expressions curious. It was one of the directors of her music video, a broad grin on his face as he waved enthusiastically. He held up his phone, capturing a quick photo before turning back to his work.

She wasn't upset by the intrusion; she merely shrugged, a resigned smile on her lips. Their relationship hadn't been officially confirmed to the public yet, and moments like these, while slightly invasive, were to be expected. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Guess our secret is gonna be out," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a musical lilt to his words.

She giggled, popping another strawberry into her mouth. "Oh well, it's not like we were hiding it very well," she replied, her voice light and teasing. "After all you are in this music video..."

Cillian sat in a cold, metal chair, his body tense with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He was clad in dark jeans and a simple white tank top; that contrasted sharply with the white dress she wore. She lay languidly on the worn couch, the white dress clinging to her curves, the slit in the stomach teasing a glimpse of her soft skin. Her eyes, full of intent and unspoken emotions, locked onto Cillian's. He mirrored her gaze, his hands resting on his head, fingers threading through his hair. His blue eyes held a mix of intensity and seduction, and as he bit his bottom lip, he projected an air of smoldering confidence.

The director called for silence, and the set fell into a hushed anticipation. The music began to play, its melancholic melody filling the air. She started to sing, her voice a sultry, captivating whisper. "If you wanna go and be stupid," she sang, her eyes never leaving Cillian's. The words dripped with a mix of challenge and allure, drawing him in. As she stood up and began to walk toward him, her movements were deliberate, each step echoing with purpose. She held up a pair of handcuffs, the metal glinting in the light, and dangled them in front of his face as she sang, "Don't do it in front of me." There was a playful defiance in her tone, a daring edge that sent a shiver down his spine.

Cillian’s mind raced, thoughts intertwining with the rhythm of the music. He knew his role, every action and reaction meticulously rehearsed, yet the raw energy of the moment made it feel new, almost dangerous. He kept his eyes on her, his breath shallow as she moved behind him, continuing her song. "If you don't wanna cry to my music," she sang, her voice wrapping around him like a silk rope. He dropped his arms as rehearsed, feeling the cold steel of the handcuffs snap around his wrists. Her touch was both gentle and firm, and he exhaled sharply, memories of more intimate settings flashing through his mind. There was a vulnerability in his position, a surrender that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

She picked up a roll of duct tape, and began to walk back to the front of him; her eyes flicking up to meet his as she bent down to meet his eye level. The air between them was electric, charged with the tension of the scene. She tore off a piece of tape; the proximity making his heart race. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the intensity of her gaze, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hands. As she placed the tape over his mouth, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. She cupped his face gently, pressing a kiss to the tape, a gesture that was both tender and taunting. His eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the sensation, the softness of her touch contrasting sharply with the roughness of the scene. She pulled away from his face leaving a big red kiss mark in the center of the tape.

She walked off camera, her figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the frame. The director’s voice broke the silence, "...AND THAT'S A WRAP!" The declaration echoed through the garage, and the crew erupted into applause, the tension of the shoot dissolving into relief and satisfaction. Cillian remained seated, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The handcuffs were quickly removed, and he rubbed his wrists, feeling the slight indentations left by the metal. She rushed back to him, her eyes sparkling with excitement and pride. The both of them went to hug each other. The crew bustled around, dismantling equipment and discussing the day's shoot, but for Cillian everything else seemed to blur into insignificance. All he could focus on was the woman in his arms, her petite frame fitting perfectly against him, her warmth and presence a soothing balm to his earlier nerves. He cupped her face gently, his fingers grazing the soft, delicate skin of her cheeks. His thumbs traced the gentle curve of her jaw, his touch tender and reverent. Her eyes, wide and filled with emotion, locked onto his, a mixture of relief, pride, and love shining within their depths. She was beautiful, radiating a glow that seemed to light up the entire room.

"Baby, I'm so proud of you," he murmured, his Irish accent giving his words a lyrical, intimate quality. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, each word imbued with the depth of his feelings. His eyes, a striking blue, bore into hers, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her breathe catch in her throat.

As he leaned in, time seemed to slow. The noise and movement around them faded into a distant hum, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. His lips met hers with a slow, deliberate tenderness that quickly blossomed into something more powerful, more urgent. The kiss was intense, a mingling of breath and emotion that spoke of their deep connection, their shared passion. In that moment, it was as if nothing else existed. The warmth of her body against his, the taste of her lips, the soft sigh that escaped her as they kissed—all of it combined to create a cocoon of intimacy that shut out the rest of the world. He could feel her heartbeat, quick and steady, mirroring his own, a rhythmic reminder of their bond. When he finally broke the kiss, they remained close, their foreheads touching, breathing in sync. Silence enveloped them, a comfortable, shared silence that spoke volumes. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. His eyes never left hers, filled with a mixture of admiration and adoration.

"You were incredible out there," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have no idea how proud I am of you."

She smiled, a shy, almost bashful smile that made his heart swell with affection. "I couldn't have done it without you, Cillian. You being here means everything to me."

Author's Notes:

I think I’m getting burnt out guys..ahhh; please forgive me if this is ass.

The other asks are being worked on, I just need to recoup.

I hope I did this right, either I'm dumb which is a really good option; which...yeah that's probably it. But yeah its like a behind the scenes of the music video lolz, I'd had to watch; but I do like the song; 100% helps is she has a behind the scenes video for it so yeahhhh.

[lieutenant-mcmuffin]

FUCKING BLOWN AWAY BY THIS WEEKEND

I have a photo-op with Misha tomorrow and I'm so nervous. This has been a whirlwind of amazing and insane experiences.

It almost felt hollow to meet Jensen because it went by so fast, and part of you wants to feel like you mattered to someone you've watched on TV for so long, and I know the fans matter to the guys of course, but on an individual level it's almost impossible because of the sheer volume of people they meet. It was amazing, though. Jensen made prolonged eye contact with me and Misha, Mark, and Ruth said my artwork was amazing, and DJ told me my name was beautiful 🥹 Sam was so kind and she is so so so gorgeous, Richard Speight had an entire conversation with me about my city and Billy Moran congratulated me on this being my first convention 😭

[jgoddesstarot]

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

✨ Visit my shops at Ko-fi.com or J.Goddess Tarot✨

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, King of Cups, Strength, 6 of Pentacles, The Devil

My charming Pile 1's, your first encounter with your future spouse will be nothing short of a magical whirlwind.

The 3 of Pentacles opens your reading, a sign of mutual effort and collaboration. Upon meeting your spouse, you'll quickly notice their dedication and commitment not just to their work, but to their relationships. You'll be drawn to their ability to harmonize, to create beautiful things from raw materials. They'll be a listener, a collaborator, a willing partner in the dance of life.

However, the 9 of Swords indicates an element of worry or fear. This may stem from past experiences or uncertainties about the future. My dear Pile 1's, remember that it's normal to feel a degree of anxiety when meeting someone who strikes your very soul with such impact. Take this as a sign of the depth of the connection you're about to form.

The King of Cups, combined with the Strength card, speaks volumes about their emotional maturity and strength of character. They'll approach you with compassion, kindness, and an emotional depth that you may find incredibly appealing. Their strength will not be the loud, brash kind, but the quiet resilience that comes from a deep emotional understanding and control of their feelings.

Next, the 6 of Pentacles suggests a person of generosity, someone who believes in sharing their wealth—be it material or emotional—with those around them. You'll be touched by their willingness to offer support and kindness without expecting anything in return.

Lastly, The Devil card may appear ominous, but in this context, it signals a strong physical attraction and passion between you and your future spouse. There's a magnetic pull that you can't ignore, a raw, all-encompassing desire that will both scare and excite you.

In conclusion, Pile 1's, your tarot spread paints a picture of a first meeting that is both emotionally profound and physically intense. You'll encounter someone who's emotionally mature, supportive, passionate, and a little bit intimidating. However, remember that the butterflies in your stomach are merely signs of the deep connection you are about to form. Embrace this moment, my dears. After all, love is all about taking the leap into the great unknown.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 2 of Wands, Ace of Cups, Knight of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Pentacles

Hello, my Pile 2's. Your tarot spread starts with the 2 of Wands, signaling that your first reaction to your future spouse will be one of intrigue and fascination. This card suggests a world of possibilities, hinting at the adventure that your relationship will become. There will be this undeniable urge to know more, to explore the depths of this individual and the potential of your union.

The Ace of Cups following indicates that this curiosity will soon blossom into profound emotional affection. It promises a rush of emotions, a surge of feelings that may feel overwhelming, but in the best possible way. This person will trigger a depth of emotion within you that you may not even know you were capable of experiencing, but you'll adore every moment of this whirlwind.

The Knight of Wands further suggests an exciting, passionate energy. This person will ignite a fiery spark within you, one that fuels your spirit and drives you forward. Your future spouse's charisma and zest for life will both inspire and thrill you. They'll be someone whose enthusiasm is infectious and whose spirit is impossible to resist.

The King of Swords, however, brings a note of caution. This person will challenge you intellectually, forcing you to question and push your boundaries. They'll be sharp-tongued, cunning, and wise beyond their years. At times, you may feel slightly intimidated by their intelligence and their ability to cut through to the heart of matters, but remember, this intellectual stimulation is a vital part of your connection.

Finally, the Queen of Pentacles ensures that alongside this intellectual challenge, there's also a deep-rooted stability. Your future spouse will be grounded, dependable, and nurturing, providing a firm foundation for your relationship. They'll care for you in a way that is both practical and loving, making you feel cherished and valued.

In conclusion, my beautiful Pile 2's, your future spouse will be an intoxicating blend of intellectual stimulation, emotional depth, and passionate fire. They will be both your safe harbor and your grand adventure, a person who will make your heart flutter and your mind whirr. Though it may feel like a roller coaster at times, remember to embrace the ride. After all, isn't that what makes life—and love—so thrilling?

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: 4 of Swords, 5 of Swords, Justice, The Lovers, Knight of Swords

Welcome, my beautiful Pile 3's. Let's delve into the magic that lies within the cards and recognize what they hold for your first impression upon meeting your future spouse.

The 4 of Swords greets us first, denoting a sense of calm and tranquility. Your initial encounter with your future spouse will likely be one of peace and stillness. They may not be the loudest in the room, but there's a quiet strength about them that will draw you in, a serene confidence that speaks volumes.

Next, we have the 5 of Swords, a card that often symbolizes conflict or tension. But don't be alarmed, dear Pile 3's! This tension isn't a harbinger of distress but rather an intriguing spark, a stirring frisson that piques your interest. There's a healthy intellectual debate, a spirited exchange of views that will leave you both exhilarated and intrigued.

Our third card, Justice, appears to tell us that your future spouse will strike you as fair and balanced. They have a strong moral compass and a deep commitment to truth and integrity. This sense of justice will manifest as a refreshing honesty and transparency that will resonate deeply with you.

The Lovers card then presents itself, signifying deep affection, romantic love, and unification. This speaks to the instant emotional connection you will feel with your future spouse. They will engage your heart in a way that feels both magical and incredibly real, sparking a connection that feels as if it was written in the stars.

Finally, we come to the Knight of Swords, a card that embodies determination, action, and intellectual prowess. This suggests that your future spouse will impress you with their ambition and drive. They'll have a clear vision of what they want in life and the determination to achieve it, which will inspire you to pursue your own goals with renewed vigor.

In conclusion, my captivating Pile 3's, meeting your future spouse will be a profound experience that will stir your soul. They will be a quiet storm of tranquility, intellectual stimulation, integrity, deep affection, and ambition. Embrace this journey, for it leads to a love that’s both exhilarating and deeply grounding. After all, your future spouse isn't just anyone—they're the person with whom you're destined to share a love written in the stars.

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[tokkiwrites]

in which kraven gets very jealous and needs to remind y/n that she's his. this is a continuation to another one-shot i wrote (check pinned 📌)

tags: keaven x fem!reader, afab!reader, use of y/n because yes, dom!kraven, kind of dark kraven of you squint, sub!reader, degradation, deah (mentioned like twice), pet names (kraven calls reader doll, bun, bunny, pet), kraven likes to be called master (ik right?!?!?), p in v sex unprotected (don't be whimpy, wrap that pp), lmk if i missed anything !!!

it was O8:O4 PM, where was she? she'd been such a good obedient pet up until now. Is this the moment she wanted to slip? as those thoughts fill kraven's mind, the sound of keys jangling at the door snaps him awake.

she's here.

y/n timidly pushed open the door to her cozy apartment. A faint blush graced her cheeks as she entered, her sparkling eyes revealing a hint of embarrassment.

she knows she's late.

Carrying her books and course materials, y/n's steps were light, almost as if she tiptoed through the space. Her frame was adorned in a pastel sundress that swayed with every movement. A subtle floral fragrance trailed behind her, making kraven visibility hard.

As she walked further into the apartment, she set her books down onto the couch before stopping in front of kraven, who was sat in the doorway to her room.

" 'm sorry for being late. "

"care to explain why you're late, bunny?"

" had to stay a bit more at uniㅡ teacher said he needed my help with something."

he...

HE?!

"what did he need that was so important, bunny, hm?" kraven stepped closer to y/n, dragging his calloused finger over her rosy cheek.

moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a cold glow on them. It was evident that kraven wasn't going to let her off with just a warning, no matter what the motive for her being late is.

With a sigh that ragged through her throat, y/n looked up at kraven through her lashes, hoping he'd at least be a bit more endearing this time.

"answer me, doll. y'know i hate when you make me ask twice, yeah?" y/n swallows thick, nodding her head in response. "heㅡ um, he wanted me to ask where i got my p-perfume fromㅡ he wants to get it for his, uh.. girlfriend..."

kraven's gaze sharpened, turning into a piercing stare that seemed to bore into her soul. His jaw clenched. "that so?"

his silent but intense gaze spoke volumes, conveying the deep displeasure with the situation. "p-please don't do anythingㅡ he was only being nice-"

But her words were abruptly silenced by her boyfriend's stern command, "quiet."

A shiver ran down y/n's spine as she felt a mix of fear and anticipation. She knew she should run, remove herself from the brewing storm, but something inside her hesitated. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins or the thrill of the forbidden, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

Her heart raced, and a warm, tingling sensation spread through her belly. It was a confusing mix of emotions - fear, desire, and a hint of excitement. She wanted to reach out to him, to ease his worries, but the intensity of his gaze had her frozen in place.

In that charged moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and she couldn't deny the want of the storm that threatened to consume them bothㅡ her even more.

As the tension hung heavily in the room, kraven took a slow, deliberate step towards her, his eyes still locked onto hers. His earlier anger seemed to have evolved into a complex whirlwind of emotions, making his intentions unclear.

y/n's heart pounded louder in her chest, her breaths shallow as she watched him approach. She couldn't decipher what he was thinking, but a part of her yearned for his touch, even in this moment of uncertainty.

His other hand, which had been clenched tightly at his side, slowly reached out, hesitatingly brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "beg."

"s-sorryㅡ?" she stammered, her voice trembling. "i said beg. beg if you don't want me to take you to his house, fuck you in front of him then rip apart his body right after."

"k-kraven Iㅡ"

"so you want that."

"god, no! 'course i don't i justㅡ he was just being friendly, you know..." she whispered, her voice quivering. "you know I'm only yours."

kraven's face contorted with a mixture of anger and jealously, eyes glinting gold. y/n's words hung in the air. His grip on her hair tightened slightly, causing a sharp pain that made her wince.

"think that's enough, bunny?" he hissed. " think you can just say those words and everything will be fine? you are mine and that's why I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take you away from me."

kraven's words were laced with possessiveness, and y/n could see the turmoil within him. she struggled to find the right words to soothe his anger, but at the same time she wanted to let her mind go blank. in this moment ㅡ his idea sounded kind of good.

for a long, tense moment, kraven didn't speak. The room felt suffocating.

"on your knees."

"whㅡ" taken by surprize, she's pushes down, making a loud thud as she hit the cold floor.

"c'mon, bunny...you know what i want." he smiles darkly, hand still tangled in y/n's hair. "make that pretty head of yours think and tell me what i want to hear, yeah?"

kraven's smile sent a shiver down her spine. she knew what he wanted from her. Her mind raced, struggling to find the wordsㅡ her heard pounding in her chest, the loud thumps echoing in her head, nothing was accepting to leave her lips, it was all getting stuck.

"c'mon, doll. don't make me wait." he growls menacingly.

"p-pleaseㅡ" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "please, i know I've been bad. and iㅡ i need to be punished for what i did, i shouldn't have worn that perfume to his class."

"yeah.." he hums reaching for her chin and making y/n loon up "but you were a little whore who wanted to get attention, yeah?"

"y-yes.."

"guess i should fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?"

the room seemed to close in on her, the tension and lust between them so palpable. "gotta hear you beg more, though. gotta hear you cry before i fuck you stupid."

fear gripped her heart, the intensity of his demands and his dark demeanor filled her with a deep sense of the situation. Simultaneously, desire smoldered within her. His possessiveness, his filthy wordsㅡ the raw power he exuded ignited something in her she couldn't explain. the intensity of his words, though tinged with danger, had a mesmerizing effect on her.

towering above her, in the night's veil, kraven was shrouded in darkness, his presence like a labyrinth and his power over y/n like an unsolved puzzleㅡ an unspoken rule.

she should be more scared of him, yet she sits there and takes it, each of his commands, she obeys and does as she's told. his strength was evident in every moveㅡ he didn't need to say a word. he's a silent tempest that leaves an indelible mark.

y/n leans in forward, palms flush to the floor "please show meㅡ show me how to be good, please... i don't wanna think, jus' want to be you dumb bunnyㅡ"

"you're so pathetic, doll. even from the first day i saw you, i could smell it on you... could smell you were made for taking this cockㅡㅡ made for me to break and use."

y/n presses her thighs together, her panties now wet with her slick, sticking to the fold of her pussy. "k-kravenㅡ"

slap.

"wrong." he chuckles murkily "try it again, pet."

y/n sniffles, her cheeks stinging from the harsh slap delivered to it. "master."

"see, that wasn't so hard, huh? now...you gonna be a good girl and listen to me?"

"y-yes, master."

kraven hums, rubbing his finger onto the cheek he slapped, smiling contently as the skin flushed a bright red.

"get undressed and bend over the counter. now."

y/n swiftly compiles, scrambling to her feet and discarding the frilly dress she had on. her skin tightened as the cold air hit it. even so, she still removed her panties that had accumulated a big wet splotch in the middle of them.

obliging kraven's orders, she bends over the counter, her bare ass and cunt on full display. "mm.." kraven licks his lips before palming the small of her back "so pretty for me, bunny."

she completely shattered under his touch, his fingertips drawing small fires that spread through her in clusters, a desperate whine escaping past her lips.

"master, pleaseㅡ" kraven strongly grabs her by the hair, pulling her in a way that makes y/n arch her back. he leans into her ear, his enormous bulge pressing firmly against y/n's ass.

"did i say you can talk yet? are you so dumb, bun?"

y/n shakes her head, mewling at the sensation of kraven's facial hair against her skin.

"wanted to fuck you stupid, but since you're such a dumb whore already ㅡ maybe if i fuck you hard enough ... I'll bring some sense in that pretty brain of yours, yeah?"

y/n bites back another moan, succumbing to kravens touch, his palms making their way up her torso and to her breasts, kneading them roughly.

pushing back her hips in gripe, she manages to gets her face unwaveringly pressed to the countertop "don't be greedy now, doll. gotta see you work for it..." with that he nimbly plunged two fingers into y/n's mouth, making her gasp.

"suck if you want this cock inside of you, pet."

that's all she needed to hear, fleetly wrapping her lips around his thick fingers, sucking and swirling her tongue around them like there was no tomorrow. drool started to drip down her chin, her moans vibrating vigorously onto kravens skin.

pushing the fingers deeper, he wins a muffled gag, her tongue pressed flush against them. "yeah, good fucking pet." her walls were twitching around nothing, her warm wetness spreading between her thighs that were parted by kraven's knee.

he retrieves his fingers from her mouth, y/n starting to pule at their sudden lack. kravens laughs, as if mocking her at the same time pulling his sweatpants down only a bit, letting his dripping cock spring free and slap against his abdomen.

"want me to prep you, doll?"

"n-no, masterㅡ please..."

"fuck, bunny, ill rip right through you." he smiles somberly "you're such a filthy, filthy girl."

inhaling a sharp breath, her muscles tense up as kraven plunges inside of her wetness all at once, with no warning. she writhes in pain, tears already welling at the corner of her glossy eyes.

"fuck, look at that tight pussy swallowing me all in." he groans, sinking his fingernails into the plush of her skin "c'mon, doll, show me you're sorry for being such an attention whore. show me you're sorry so i don't kill that bitch and fuck you over his dead body."

it was all so wrong, so dirty and vile, but it was making her tummy churn and blood pulse through her veins like nothing else. she felt so insane for liking the ideas kraven put into her head, she loved feeling insane as long as he was with her.

her head now filled with murky thoughts, vision hazy, y/n feels her body being plunged further into the kitchen surface, hips violently crashing agains the hard material. "you take this cock so well, bunnyㅡ fuck!"

his movements become so fast, it sends y/n practically into another dimensionㅡ at least that's how she feels. her eyes roll back, and for a second, she's pretty sure she can see into the future.

"gonna come, bunny? huh? you gonna come around my cock?"

"yes, m-aster!" her body feels warm and fuzzy as she senses her orgasm approaching. "p-leaseㅡ!"

"go ahead, doll." kraven grunts, hitting that spot perfectly. he feels himself close too, brows furrowed as he pushes inside deeper and harder. "shitㅡ bunny, I'm gonna fill you up so good. gonna make you keep this cum inside of you all day."

with a loud plead, y/n releases, her walls tightening around kravens shaft, causing him to growl. she starts shaking, her thighs uncontrollably wriggling, barely holding herself up if it wasn't for the counter.

kraven pumps himself a few more times, at last releasing and painting y/n's insides with warm, white ribbons. they're both left panting, y/n babbling incoherently.

"thank y-ou, kraven.."

"you liked it?" he asked, amused. "so that's why you keep on misbehaving, bun. "

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎  토끼's NOTE : hi guys!!! this might have some grammar mistakes, oh WELL. its 2.1k words so kind of short SORRAYYY, wrote this for a special someone u know who u are wink wink ;) but thank you all for supporting me, i know im at the beginning of my journey, but I've already grown so much. hope you enjoyed day 7 of tokki's kinktober <3 (now proofread !!)

[ghuleh-recs]

Hey did you know one of my favorite people was born today?! It's @ramblingoak's birthday and it feels very fitting to me that she gets the first mixtape: volume two (you can find vol. 1 here)! As per usual, I have compiled a list of some of my favorite fics to celebrate Oak Day.

Where to even begin with Oakie? Well you'd be hard-pressed to find a more supportive person in this entire fandom. She's an incredible friend who always ALWAYS has a kind word to add in the tags and/or a sexy photo of papa to brighten your day when you need it most. If that weren't enough, Oak is a truly wonderful writer. I dare you to find a collection of works that feel more cinematic. I reread her writing whenever I need to feel something™—which is to say: often.

All that to say: Oakie I adore you and hope you have a fantastic birthday. Everyone go leave some kudos and comments as a lil gift. Or maybe even a birthday tip!!

recs under the cut.

Clockwork Hearts - Copia x Reader T, 3.7k

The Ghost universe set in a world of machines and magic. This takes place in a new alternate universe series I'm working on, Clockwork Hearts. Eventually there will be a Copia x Reader main story but for now I've been working on small little fics that take place in that world and I'll be adding them here.

Wholesome Headcanons - Primo Thinking About His Brothers - Primo G, 1.3k

Someone on Tumblr asked for any wholesome Papa headcanons I had and I rambled about how Primo felt about his younger brothers. Perhaps a spiritual sequel to Dumbasses.

Naps With Copia - Copia x Reader G, 8.9k

Just a series of drabbles/ficlets featuring you napping with Copia throughout the abbey.

The Repugnant - Mary Goore x Reader E, 4.6k

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Tales From Lucifer's Hollow - everybody x everybody E, 15.6k

Short snippets of what life is like for the ghouls and humans that live in the picturesque (and Satanic!) town of Lucifer's Hollow. This is an alternate universe series I'm working on that will feature lots of drabbles and one-shots here as well as longer fics focused on particular pairings in the future. To begin with most of these will be based on the prompts for Mushy May on Tumblr.

Another Round - Secondo x Reader E, <1k

Just some all night worship with your Papa…

To Tease A Cardinal - Copia x Reader E, 3k

While your Cardinal is away on tour you can't help but tease him from the comforts of his own bed…

Shooting His Shot - Terzo x Omega E, <1k

It's the Winter Olympics and Omega gets distracted hearing his favorite ABBA song playing nearby…

Copia on ICE! - Copia x Reader E, 14.8k

At what would probably be your final Winter Olympics you needed to focus on realizing your dream of winning gold. You definitely didn't need to start a whirlwind romance with world famous speed skater Copia Emeritus…

Suggestions - Copia x Swiss T, 1k

From a prompt list on Tumblr, an Anon wanted Papa x Swiss with a kiss "as a suggestion"! a very thorough kiss with some suggestive stuff after hehe

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

You've always got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[vernons-girl]

Hi hii, i'm here to request another comfort Jun fic. He deserves more fics written about him he's such a healing soul :(( maybe something about Jun being down or insecure and reader just comforting him? Honestly you can choose plot just put some heavy angst and hurt/comfort into it please. You're amazing, keep writing <33

( also i might be a regular anon so is it okay if i be your 🥯 anon )

a glimmer of hope | wen junhui

angst,hurt to comfort,w.c:0.4k a/n: thank you for your request, this is really short i'm sorry :( but i hope you'll like it!! and ofc you can be my🥯 anon! this is so cute kfjvdkjvj (you're my first anon omg)

Jun sat on the edge of your shared bed, his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly together. The weight of insecurity bore down on his shoulders like a heavy burden, pressing him deeper into the abyss of self-doubt. His thoughts were a whirlwind of negativity, each one a sharp blade tearing away at his fragile confidence.

He had always struggled with feeling inadequate, never quite measuring up to the expectations he imagined others had of him. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed like he was always falling short, always disappointing those around him. His mind echoed with voices of criticism, both real and imagined, each one chipping away at his sense of self-worth.

In the dimly lit room, he felt utterly alone, suffocated by the darkness that seemed to seep into every corner of his being. He longed for someone to understand, someone to reach out and pull him from the depths of his despair.

And then you appeared, he suddenly saw light in the darkness, was it the light from the living room or your presence ? It didn't matter to him, because you were here.

Sensing something was off, you approached him cautiously, your steps soft against the floorboards as you made your way to his side. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a silent gesture of support.

Jun flinched at your touch, his muscles tensing beneath your gentle grip. He felt unworthy of your kindness, undeserving of your compassion. But still, he couldn't bring himself to push youaway.

"What's wrong, Jun?" you asked softly.

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat like shards of glass. How could he possibly articulate the storm raging inside him, the crippling fear that threatened to consume him whole?

"I... I just feel like I'm not good enough," he finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his words, the pain etched into every syllable. You knelt beside him, your eyes meeting his with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes.

"You are more than enough, Jun," you said firmly, voice tinged with conviction. "You are strong, and capable, and worthy of love and acceptance. Don't let anyone, not even yourself, convince you otherwise." you declared.

Tears welled up in Jun's eyes, his defenses crumbling in the face of your unwavering support. He leaned into your touch, seeking solace in the warmth of your embrace.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to believe your words, to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was deserving of happiness after all.

And in that fleeting moment of vulnerability, surrounded by the darkness and the pain, he found a glimmer of hope—a fragment of strength to carry him through the darkest of nights : you.

[onboardsorasora]

My brain hurts and I'm watching Project Runway. Please do not perceive me lmao

Fashion designer Daniel who has to dress new IT model/entrepreneur Max for a big fashion event. Daniel is well known for his volume and prints and structure and Max is a minimalist who wants none of that. He would much rather wear a vneck and jeans than half the things he wears for photoshoots.

When Daniel asks him what he wants him to design, Max jokes and says just that, a vneck and jeans. Daniel is floored and thinks he’s taking the piss. Why was he hired, if Max didn’t want anything he could produce.

“Honestly, my manager chose you.” Max shrugs and leans against a bare wall. Daniel is flabbergasted maybe. “I agreed because I thought you were cute.”

“What?” Daniel didn’t think he was serious. But Max didn’t laugh.

Max spends the entire consultation time flirting with Daniel who literally couldn’t help himself. Max goes home with Daniel and they spend the two weeks leading up to the event together in a sort of whirlwind romance. He’s in Daniel’s studio and watches him work on other commissions from the bed they fuck and cuddle in. He admires how massive Daniel’s personality is and how he uses that to transform his pieces. Because Daniel– the person is smaller, lithe and compact in his body. But his smile is wide and his character is larger than life.

He tells Daniel this, wooing him with his truth and Daniel can’t help but fall in love with Max. He’s magnetic. Straightforward and kind. Daniel watches Max sleep in, watches him be confident in his skin, in his looks. His laugh and smile make him completely different from ‘model’ Max. Max is a total babe and a boy next door and Daniel thinks he’s the sexiest when his hair is messy from his hands running through it all the time. Or when he’s complaining that someone is cheating in FIFA online. Daniel loves his lisp and how his face scrunches when he’s truly happy.

Max goes on the red carpet for his event in the world's most perfect white v neck tshirt, that emphasizes his broad shoulders and perfect chest, and blue jeans that hug his thighs and ass.

Daniel’s love letter to him.